Chapter Text
The ticking of the clock echoed loudly in the otherwise silent room. Occasionally the shuffling of feet or the clearing of throats broke the monotony, but mostly the eight people gathered were deathly quiet. Dr. Malachi Benson surveyed his patients with practiced eyes, searching for clues to the inner turmoil they obviously suffered. Despite having spent last night and the morning resting from their ordeal, all of the team members were apparently exhausted. They were cleared by the doctors to leave, but the Bureau required a counseling session before they could be released. This group of highly trained agents wouldn't be easy to reach despite the trauma they endured only one day previous. The vast differences between them made it difficult for him to properly access their needs. The only thing he knew was that they had to cope with their issues as a group.
"Does anyone have anything to say about the video?" His deep voice shattered the agonizing silence and seven pairs of eyes jumped from various places in the small room to meet his gentle gaze. If I can just get one of them to crack, I think the others will be easier. The video footage taken from their captivity should help. It occurred to him that he was using the same techniques on them that the terrorists did-using their weaknesses and feelings for each other against them. But I'm trying to help them cope, not hurt them. He studied each set, analyzing which patient would be the best target for his first attack. He evaluated their haunted expressions, his training deducting ways to exploit any weakness he found. He settled on a suitable victim.
"Emily." She jumped in surprise at hearing her name, and then anxiety covered her features when she realized he wanted her to talk. "Can you share your thoughts with the group please?"
She stared at him for a long moment, then her eyes shifted back to the arm of the couch next to her. "I don't have anything to say," she replied softly. The tears filling her eyes spoke otherwise. Dr. Benson let out a small sigh as he realized how much work was in front of him. He glanced around the room again, and then he went back to his chosen victim. He knew Emily from previous psych evaluations, so he felt he stood the best chance with her.
"May I ask why you are so upset then?" he hoped his voice was soothing and inviting. Her tear-filled eyes met his again. "Emily," he began, but he could practically see the floodgates opening as sudden, quiet sobs shook her.
"I…I just feel so …useless!" The sudden outburst between gasping breaths surprised the entire group. All of the team members looked at her, while Dr. Benson felt barely disturbed by the statement.
"Why is that Emily?" He tried to keep his voice encouraging.
"Because, I was supposed to help…and I…did nothing! I just sat there and did nothing while everyone was counting on me!"
Well, this is a good start. "Who was counting on you?"
She finally looked up, and glanced around the room briefly before settling her gaze on him again. "They were. I was supposed to help them and I failed."
"What could you have done?"
"I could have…." Her angry statement stopped as soon as it started. She seemed completely thrown by not having the answer to his question. "I should have…"
"What?"
"I don't know," she reluctantly admitted. "I guess…well I should have come up with something!"
"There isn't anything you could have done."
The sound of a different voice prevented him from responding to Emily's statement. He turned in the direction it came from to see Hotch looking at her intently with tiny tears glistening in his eyes. He debated for a moment whether to speak or to watch and see how things play out. Before he decided, his patients took control of the session without his interference.
"What do you mean?" Emily seemed genuinely taken aback by Hotch's words. This could be very good. I know none of them have spoken about what happened yet. Maybe they will open up to each other even more than they would to me.
"I mean exactly that. You couldn't have done anything to make the situation better neither did you make it worse. It was what it was and your actions didn't cause it." Hotch's firm tone surprised even Dr. Benson. I wonder if he'll l accept that same logic when it is applied to him?
"But…"
"No but, Emily," Gideon interrupted her. "You hold no blame for any of this. You refused to give in to pressure, and that is all any of us expected of you. Period."
"He's right, Emily," Morgan's deep voice interrupted.
"How do you know?" Her tone was harsher he was used to hearing from her, even during emotionally charged psych evaluations.
"I know, because I've spent most of the last 72 hours replaying every action that I made, every word that I said. I've second-guessed all my decisions and evaluated every scenario to see if anything I did, or didn't do, would have changed the outcome of what happened to us…" Morgan paused to catch a breath, but he didn't continue immediately.
"And?" Emily prompted when he took too long to resume his story.
"I got nothing. Nada. Zilch. There isn't a damn thing I could, or would do differently to affect the outcome."
"But you could have been killed!" Garcia interjected as she turned to face him.
"That's true, but at the time I did what I thought I had to. I thought that Reid was in trouble," Morgan's eyes wandered over to Spencer, who was sitting as far away from the group as he could get in the small hospital waiting room, "so I did what I was told to try and keep him safe. Maybe I acted rashly but I didn't really have a choice, and I'd do it again-even knowing what I know now."
"I wish I could say the same," Garia spoke sadly next to him. Her eyes shifted to the ugly patterned carpet instead of meeting the questioning looks from her team members.
"What do you mean, Baby Girl?" Morgan asked as JJ and Emily simultaneously yelled "What?"
"I could have done so many things differently. I should have paid more attention to our surroundings in the parking lot…I should have fought back! Something, anything! I…"
"Garcia stop," JJ commanded firmly. "What happened was much more my fault than it was your's."
"How do you figure?" She asked as she wiped away a few stray tears from her eyes.
"Because, I took the drink, even after warning you not to. I let my guard down and put myself in a situation where I couldn't defend either of us. It was stupid, and reckless, and…"
"Completely unavoidable," Hotch interceded. "None of you," he looked at each team member as he spoke, "could have done anything to prevent what happened. This was well-planned and well-executed, and one way or another this would have happened. Morgan, you thought Reid was in trouble. It turns out that he was, so you acted on accurate information. The outcome was less than desirable but there was no way you could know that before hand. Emily, JJ, Garcia, Reid, you were all ambushed, caught off guard. You had no reason to suspect an attack. None of you are to blame."
"If anyone is at fault here, it is myself, and by extension Hotch." Gideon's calm voice stated quietly as he glanced to Hotch for confirmation. "I called him. We knew there was a trap, and we willing walked into it with no back-up, no escape plan, and no idea what we were doing. If we had played this smarter we might have ended this whole saga before it got too far along."
"But regardless of what happened," Hotch continued, "we have a responsibility to lead and protect this team, and under the circumstances we made the best possible decision. We have to accept that, and try to move forward from here."
A few tiny smiles appeared. Dr. Benson could almost see the weight lift from a few shoulders. It amazed him that just a few reassuring words could make such a difference to the team's mental well-being. Not that any of them are recovered, but this will get them on the way.
A nearly inaudible mumble startled Dr. Benson away from his thoughts. He scanned the room for a clue as to who had spoken; all eyes appeared to be on Reid.
"Did you say something, Spencer?" He couldn't help but be hopeful that Spencer would speak without being prompted.
"No," came the subdued reply. Dr. Benson raised his eyebrow in question, but Spencer wasn't even looking his direction; he appeared to be examining the pattern in the wallpaper next to him. Dr. Benson decided that forceful action would be required to get Spencer talking.
"Spencer. Why don't you tell me why you feel so guilty about your part in the events over the weekend?" He felt slightly amused at the shocked, disgruntled expressions that followed his question. Spencer's head jerked up and pained hazel eyes met his briefly. Just as suddenly, Spencer looked away.
"I don't know what you are talking about." The reply was terse and unusual for the Spencer he knew. That's a good sign; it means I'm getting to the issue-slowly.
"I think you do Spencer. I am trained to determine when someone is carrying around guilt. I'm not saying you don't deserve it, but I want to know why you have it." He waved a hand to silence the irate protests forming around him. The ploy worked as Spencer uncurled from his seat and turned a furious glare on him. He found it hard to suppress a satisfied smirk as he knew he'd hit the mark and the issues would hopefully surface.
"Why do I have guilt? Why do you think I have guilt? It should be pretty damn obvious to you Dr. Benson."
"There are many possible reasons Spencer, some of which have been addressed already this afternoon. But your particular reason is yet to be told."
"Well how would you feel if you gave up classified information to terrorists so they could use it to invade a government institution and release a federal prisoner possibly involved in planning an attack on our country?" He'd risen from his seat while talking, and his volume increase as he stood.
"Well, I imagine I'd feel pretty guilty…"
"Yeah? Well, I don't have to imagine because I know how it feels!"
"But you didn't actually give up anything Spencer."
"But I was willing to. When I agreed to help I didn't have a plan. I had no idea what I was doing except that I needed to prevent what was about to happen."
"And what was that?"
"You already heard Garcia's story about them coming in with the knife. I had to stop them and I did so by doing exactly what they were trying to get me to do in the first place. I gave in. I yielded, surrendered, capitulated, whatever you want to call it. I cracked, just as planned. They knew I was the weakest link and they played against that, and against my past experiences to get me to cooperate."
"It doesn't seem that you had much choice Spencer…"
"I did have a choice! I made a choice. Did you see anyone else agree to help? JJ could have died, Hotch, Morgan, and Emily were injured. Did any of them agree to help? No, just me."
"But Sweetie, you were just trying to help me. You can't blame yourself for that," Garcia interrupted his vocal argument.
"Yeah man, I mean you were the only one of us that even attempted anything. If it had up to me we'd probably all still be there," Morgan interceded.
"Regardless of all of that, I no longer trust myself to maintain confidentiality and I want to make sure that I'm not in a situation where I have access to information that others might try to get a hold of."
"What are you saying Reid?" Gideon's concerned voice broke in.
"I'm saying that I can't do this anymore. I can't be vulnerable anymore. I can't be trusted anymore." He turned to face Hotch directly, "I'm tendering my resignation, effective as soon as I've finalized all outstanding work."
Dr. Benson felt the waves of shock from the group slam into him like a physical force. He took in the faces around him displaying various levels of surprise and sadness. The voices clamoring in the small room made it difficult for him to pick out the actual words. After a few moments he regained control of the group so Spencer could finish what he was saying. Spencer didn't actually get to speak though.
"Reid, do you really mean that?" Hotch's voice held both confusion and worry.
"Yes, I do Hotch."
"Then I don't accept."
"You what?" The look of surprise on Spencer's face almost brought a chuckle from Dr. Benson.
"I don't accept your resignation; at least, I don't accept until you've had some time to process everything that happened and make a rational decision."
"I've made my decision Hotch."
"But you aren't thinking clearly. It's been less than 24 hours since you, and all of your team members, were held hostage by terrorists. You haven't even been home from the hospital yet. You can't make this decision now and I won't even consider it until know that it is what you really want."
"You can't do that to me," he said, but his voice was quiet and plaintive now, all of his anger having burned out.
Hotch stood and approached Reid in the center of the room. He put a hand on each of Spencer's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. Even from his position Dr. Benson could see tears glimmering in Spencer's eyes. I think they've finally reached him. He just needs a bit more time and reassurance and I think he'll recover nicely…
The reassurance came unexpectedly as Hotch did something entirely uncharacteristic. He pulled Spencer close into a tight hug. Dr. Benson couldn't hide the small laugh as Spencer gasped in surprised and the team members nearly fell out of their seats. After a moment Hotch stepped back and gave Spencer a tiny smile. Then the floodgates broke open as silent tears ran shiny streams down Spencer's face.
"Oh sweetie!" Garcia pushed past Hotch and wrapped Spencer in a bear hug as he sobbed into her shoulder. She stroked his hair and whispered softly until he calmed down and pulled away and wiped his eyes.
"Sorry Garcia," he said as he looked at the wet spot on her shirt.
"No problem honey. It's the least I can do for our heroic genius."
"Heroic? I'm anything but heroic."
"Really Spencer?" Dr. Benson interjected with a slightly teasing tone. "Why don't you tell them how SWAT found out where you were?"
"What?" Morgan sat up straighter in his chair. 'You called them?"
"Why don't you tell them the story Spencer?"
He nodded and curled up in his chair again. He sat quietly for a moment before he began. "Like I said earlier, I didn't have a plan when I agreed to help. I just hoped that I could stall or fake it long enough to come up with something. They weren't going to let me use the computer myself, so I made up a story about the security level being on a rotating password and needing to track the pattern of numbers to figure out which is being used. I made it sound complex and finally they agreed to let me do it instead of one of the technicians. I figured out the password right away, but I fooled around for a while, pretended like I was having trouble. I didn't want to take too long because they'd figure it out. So I signed on and started looking around. I was stalling for time until I finally came up with an idea."
He paused for so long that Dr. Benson prodded him a little. "What was your idea Spencer?"
"I, um, I remembered Garcia showing me how the inner-agency communications work. It's used to send information over a secure Internet line. I tapped into it and sent a message to the local PD. I told them who was here and had them contact the Bureau as well. I made sure they could track the location."
"Oh sweetie that's brilliant!" Garcia's face showed pride and surprise. Spencer blushed a bit at her praise, and Dr. Benson knew that telling them the story would help him, and them, tremendously.
"So what happened when SWAT came in?" Gideon asked curiously.
"It was chaos. They were caught completely off-guard. There was a gun on the table nearby me, and the SWAT team thought I was one of the technicians. I tried to explain, but of course they didn't believe me." He paused and let out a small chuckle. "They thought I was trying to "resist arrest", hence the bruises." He indicated his face as he spoke.
"Wow, so you really are our hero!" Emily said partly in jest and part in awe.
"Not really," he replied modestly. "I just did what I had to do. Anyone would have done the same if given the opportunity."
"Not necessarily, Reid. None of us came up with the idea," JJ supplied
"Yeah, well," he said as he studied his feet.
"Ok everyone," Dr. Benson called their attention to him. "I think that we've made wonderful progress today. I'll sign off on all of your release papers so you can go home, and I want to schedule another session next week when you all get back from your time off."
He felt satisfied to see relieved, happy smiles fill the room. Various calls of "Thank you, Dr. Benson" met his ears as they gathered their things in preparation for leaving the hospital. A smile graced his lips as he watched them exchange hugs and pats on the back and soft words about what to do during their enforced vacation. The atmosphere was completely different than it had been nearly two and a half hours earlier-the group was relaxed, less burdened, and ready to continue their lives and jobs. He could only imagine that their bond as a team would grow from the shared experience, and he eagerly anticipated what the next session would reveal.