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The mid-summer afternoon finds JJ, Reid and Morgan sat around a small desk strewn with files and photographs in the stuffy police precinct at the centre of their latest case. The sticky heat is oppressive and leaves them all even more desperate to find a lead amidst the mess of evidence in front of them.
JJ reaches for her coffee cup and takes a long drink, picking up a photograph and scrutinising it. “It doesn’t add up. The stab wounds to Lucy Everett’s shoulder don’t match the other two victims at all.” She hands the photo over to Derek, whose eyes narrow as he inspects it.
“Everett was the third vicim, right?” JJ nods. “So do we have an evolving M.O., a different unsub, or is he devolving? Losing skill?”
“I can’t see it,” JJ shakes her head “It doesn’t make sense for an unsub so routine to suddenly change his ritual. We profiled that he thrives on routine. Why change?”
“There must be some other factor we’re not aware of yet,” Morgan comments.
JJ sighs. “What do you think, Spence?”
Reid’s head lifts. He takes the photo from Derek and examines it carefully, and then picks up a second picture from his file and holds it up for comparison. “Actually, I—“
And then he halts.
“Spence?” JJ prompts, smiling slightly.
Spencer’s eyebrows furrow subtly. He puts the photos down on the desk in front of him robotically, the movement unnatural. “Uh—” he swipes an uncoordinated hand across his face—“sorry, uh…”
“Take it easy,” JJ says, concern rising. She touches a hand to Reid’s forearm lightly. “You okay?
“Uh huh,” Spencer says, but his eyes seem fixed on the centre of the desk, unable to move. “Sorry,” he repeats, “I, uh, I don’t…”
“Spencer, you good?” Morgan tries to get through to him. “Talk to us, pretty boy.”
Reid fails to reply as his awareness fades, his eyes beginning to blink repetitively. His breath hitches as the fingers of his right hand touch his head delicately, the motion repeating several times.
“JJ, get Hotch,” Morgan murmurs lowly. “I think this is a seizure.”
JJ stands immediately, stepping out to call their unit chief. A short conversation later, she re-enters the room, pocketing her phone and approaching Spencer.
“Reid. You’re good, man. It’s okay,” Morgan soothes, his eyes fixed worriedly on Spencer’s temple where his fingers continue to tap. JJ stands behind Reid’s chair, placing a palm on his shoulder, trying to ignore the way his breathing sounds laboured and uneven, hitching every couple of seconds, minute gasps leaving his mouth.
“I’ve never seen this type of seizure before,” JJ admits quietly, looking to Morgan as her fingers absently trace a pattern on Spencer’s shoulder.
“Complex partial.” Morgan smiles slightly when JJ raises her eyebrows at him. “What? I did my reading.”
“What’s happening, then?” JJ asks.
“Seizure that starts in one place in his brain and takes away his awareness. It can spread, or… I don’t know, move? From one part of his brain to another? There’s simple partials, too. I don’t know if he gets those,” Derek recites, recalling the information he’d read during a long, sleepless night of internet searches. “They’re like this, but he stays aware. And they’re also— wait, Spencer?”
Derek cuts himself off as he notices the repetitive movements cease. Reid blinks hard, squeezing his eyes closed and then forcing them open, sighing quietly. His chin drops to his chest, and his breathing finally returns to normal.
“Hey, Spence?” JJ squeezes his shoulder and lets go, walking round the table to take her seat again. “Are you back with us?”
Spencer’s head lifts. His eyes find JJ and he frowns, confused.
“It’s okay, kid,” Morgan speaks up. Spencer’s gaze tracks over to Morgan sluggishly, as though it takes great effort for him to follow the source of the voice. He brings his right hand to press against his temple, massaging gently.
“Uhh,” Spencer drawls, frowning at Morgan. “I—sorry. What?”
“You just had a seizure, pretty boy,” Derek informs him calmly.
It takes a moment, but Spencer’s face crumples with upset as he registers what Morgan has said, tears springing to his eyes.
JJ reaches across the table to place a comforting hand on Reid’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t get upset. You can’t help it.”
Reid shakes his head, a sad pout appearing on his lips. “Feel really… ugh.” He’s slurring minutely, the only physical evidence of the lingering effects of the seizure.
At that moment, Hotch appears in the doorway, expression concerned. He looks at the back of Reid’s figure, still and upright, and seems to relax slightly, some of the tension evaporating from his form.
“Hey, Reid,” he greets, moving to stand behind JJ to be in Spencer’s immediate line of sight. “How are you feeling?”
“Headache,” Reid answers shortly, the hand returning to massage his forehead. “Feel sick.”
“Yeah, you probably will for a while,” Morgan says gently.
Hotch frowns. “Do you want to go back to the hotel for a while? Get some rest?”
“No, I’m… I’m good. Just need a minute.” Reid exhales a few slow breaths, willing the residual nausea away and trying to clear his head.
When he looks up, he finds the other three watching him expectantly, Derek with a single eyebrow quirked upwards. “I mean it,” Reid says, “I’m good. Stop staring at me.”
“Are you sure? You just said you had a headache,” Morgan says tentatively. “Nobody’ll think any less of you if you want some time to rest up.”
For a brief moment, Spencer looks like he’s going to object and insist he’s fine again, but instead his shoulders slump and he winces, huffing out a sigh. “Yeah. Okay. I will go back.”
“I’m headed that way to meet with Lucy Everett’s sister. I’ll give you a ride,” Hotch offers.
“Thanks,” Reid stands shakily, grabbing his messenger bag. He turns to Morgan and JJ. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t have any epiphanies without me.”
Morgan grins. “Course not, pretty boy. Couldn’t do it without you.”