Chapter Text
fragment: (noun) a part broken off, detached, or incomplete; (verb) to fall to pieces
-Merriam-Webster Dictionary
“Healing isn’t linear, you know.”
“I know, it’s just…” Spencer Reid sighed. “It’s just difficult. All my life I’ve been the genius, the one who gets it right away, the one who can do anything. And I know this is normal… but I’ve never been normal. It’s difficult to start now.”
“Hey, you’re the new detective, right? Spencer Gideon?” Shawn Spencer asked the kid setting up his desk.
“Uh yeah, hi,” Spencer Reid said with a small wave. It was weird to hear that last name associated with him, especially so early in deep cover. He was lucky that he was able to keep his first name, that he wouldn’t need to learn to respond to something new.
“I’m Shawn Spencer, psychic for the SBPD. Over there is my partner, Gobbledygook Suitcase - actually, that’s a fun word: gobbledygook. Gobbledygook. Try it,” Shawn said.
“No, I won’t, Shawn. Stop scaring the new guy. Call me Gus,” “Gobbledygook” said. The kid (well, he couldn’t have actually been that much younger than Shawn) looked between the two of them, amused.
Spencer knew from his research that Gus’s real name was Burton Guster. “Psychic, huh? Really? One of my coworkers has a grudge against them,” he asked. Shawn brought his middle finger to press against his temple, eyes darting around, taking in every detail, before closing.
“You recently transferred from DC, where you were highly regarded, probably because you started there as the youngest on your team, but this also meant you’ve had to fight to be taken seriously. You were raised by a single parent, probably one who wasn’t around much. You haven’t had much luck with love, but you’re very close to your former team. Especially… the lead singer of the Grateful Dead?”
Spencer chuckled. “Garcia, yeah. Penelope Garcia. The whole team is really worried about me, but she’s the one that’s at a desk the most. How do I know you didn’t just see my transfer paperwork on Chief Vick’s desk?” Garcia wasn’t supposed to call him, but she does what she wants. The middle part could’ve been ascertained by analyzing his clothes and how they fit. The parts about his teammates were obvious. He had a picture of them on his desk, and Garcia had called him shortly after Shawn had entered the area.
“Because she’s not that careless. And because the spirits speak. They will learn more about you, Spencer Gideon,” Shawn said.
“Also because Chief Vick said she would never hire us again if she caught you in her office again,” Gus said.
“Did she say that before or after you looked at my paperwork?” Spencer asked.
“Oh, she’s told us that many times,” Gus said.
“She just can’t get enough of us. One time-”
Spencer was drowning. Not actually, but that’s what it felt like. His chest hurt, his head hurt, he hurt . He gasped for air that didn’t fill his lungs.
Shawn tuned out the lecture his father was giving him. He had gotten really good at that. It seemed like when his teachers labeled him a bad kid for not paying attention in class and acting impulsively, his dad also labeled him a bad kid and started yelling at him more. Maybe his father’s actions had something to do with the divorce, but that didn’t give him an excuse to treat his son like this. And Shawn couldn’t help it if he learned things too fast for school to be interesting, and if it wasn’t interesting, he couldn’t focus.
Shawn didn’t know what would be more of a disappointment to his father: being as observant and smart as he was but always getting into trouble, or being ordinary and staying out of everyone’s way.
“Your father must be so proud of you,” the teacher discussing his GIEP said. Spencer was smart. He knew the only reason they chose a GIEP instead of an IEP for him was to make him feel better. He qualified for both. He was “gifted”. He needed an individualized education program. This was an attempt to make him feel special, instead of broken. The other kids seemed like they were designed to make him feel broken.
“I don’t see how my father is relevant, considering he hasn’t been in my life since I was in elementary school,” Spencer said.
“Spencer, you’re barely ten. Most kids your age are still in elementary school. Even if he’s not a part of your life, surely he’s still proud of you,” the teacher said.
“Oh, you heard from William?” his mother asked, seemingly coming out of a trance.
“No, she didn’t, Mom. She was making an assumption,” Spencer said, making a mental note to make sure she was taking her meds.
Shawn Spencer. He was easy to track; the numerous articles and newspapers about him would make for a stalker’s dream. And apparently it did, if the articles he found were credible. If things had worked out, he would have been incredible in the BAU. He had a record, though. It could be brushed off as teen stupidity, especially for how short and minimal the record was, and as he got older, that could work in his favor.
The difficult part was tracking him down before he started Psych. He didn’t stay in any place, any job, for too long. Like permanency meant a promise he didn’t want to keep. No further run-ins with police, though, besides the odd cop finding him sleeping in his car. It was clear why Santa Barbara police were the only police on Shawn’s record. His father was the one who arrested his son.
-floating away from his problems. The little voice in the back of his brain that told him this was a bad idea grew fainter and fainter. He struggled to put the dilaudid vials on his coffee table. He sank backwards into his couch, his head feeling free.
For just a short time, he was free.
“Spencer Gideon?” A voice said. Spencer looked up to see two blonde women walking towards him, one older than the other. Chief of Police Karen Vick and Detective Juliet O’Hara. He stood up to greet them.
“Are you settling in well?” Chief Vick asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Spencer said.
“Good. This is detective Juliet O’Hara. Normally, she’s lead detective Carlton Lassiter’s partner, but he’s in the hospital for a while, and you were highly recommended, so you’re temporarily assigned as her partner,” Chief Vick said.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Juliet said, holding out her hand. Spencer shook it, trying not to show his reluctance. He couldn’t afford to indulge himself about germs, couldn’t bring attention to himself. This was the person who was going to be his partner for the next few weeks.
They all hated him. It was his first day at the BAU and they all hated him. Spencer relived the day when he got home, going over all the mistakes, all the little things he did that added up to the big picture: he was a wreck of a person and should never have been let on this team.
He didn’t know how to interact with people, he knew that much, and it was obvious. But this felt excessive. Every little “ thank you , Dr. Reid, that’s enough” rang in his ears.
He couldn’t make these mistakes again. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be normal. He was never normal, no matter how hard he wished. Everything about him went against “normal”.
“-your daughter is brilliant,” the teacher was saying. The words didn’t feel right to Spencer, but Spencer didn’t know why. Nothing felt right anyways.
“Oh I’ve been reading the classics to her since she was in the womb,” Mom was saying. Spencer’s mind drifted away from the room. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right…
“Detective Gideon,” someone called. Spencer didn’t look up from his work. “Detective Gideon!” the voice was closer. Spencer finally looked up, remembering that he now had to respond to that name… that it was no longer the name of his friend and coworker.
“Sorry, I was focused on my work. What did you need?” Spencer asked.
“We just got a case assigned to us,” Juliet said. “Chief called us into her office.”
Spencer stood up. “Well, lead the way.”
Tobias Hankel saved him. He couldn’t save Tobias Hankel. He couldn’t stop Tobias’s father. He couldn’t do anything. He felt so powerless, so helpless, so weak. He felt like that nerdy, young, autistic, trans, misfit kid again. He could’ve been like him.
He could have easily been an unsub. He could still be an unsub.
The thought was enough to make his chest hurt yet full of power. He couldn’t save people if he was an unsub. He needed to save people. He could be like them, but he wasn’t. So maybe they could be like him. He had to take that chance. He gathered up his folders and headed to the jet.
Shawn hated the police. Hated the guts of every last one of them, hated what they stood for, hated how many rules they made people follow yet didn’t follow themselves. He never wanted to be a part of the police. He never wanted to be like his dad. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a whisper that reminded him that that wasn’t the only way to be like his father.
“This is our victim, Harper Hillman. Originally from Las Vegas, Miss Hillman moved here recently to pursue an acting career,” Chief Vick said. Spencer looked at the pictures and felt so many emotions that he felt nothing. His high school bully was dead. It was almost a silly thing to feel emotions over.
“This morning, her boyfriend found her body drowned in the pool of her apartment complex,” Chief Vick continued. “It doesn’t appear to be a suicide or an accident, but there’s no obvious signs of foul play. You need to find out how she ended up dead.”
Shawn pretended to swim into the room before picking up speed and “swimming” frantically around the room.
“What is it this time, Mr. Spencer?” Chief Vick asked, annoyed.
“They’re after me! They plan to kill me! They-” Shawn cut himself off, pretending to drown before jumping back up. “Chief, the spirits are telling me that Harper’s boyfriend is in danger.”
“Her high school class ring was on the side of the pool. Her boyfriend graduated that same year,” Juliet supplied.
“Who liked high school enough to get a class ring?” Spencer asked bitterly.
“Class rings happen to be a sense of pride for when you graduated,” Gus defended. “We can’t rule it out. O’Hara and Gideon, go to the crime scene and interview the boyfriend. If you do think this is the result of a murder, then Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster can join the investigation at Henry’s discretion,” Chief Vick said.
“Let me ask you this, Dr. Reid,” the FBI-approved therapist, Madeleine, said, “why do you do what you do?”
“Why do I do what, specifically?” Spencer asked.
“Work for the FBI. Deal with all these horrific tragedies on a regular basis,” Madeleine said.
“I could give you the basic reasons that I tell most people. That I want to help people, that I’m good at my job, that I want to make a difference,” Spencer said, his voice sounding rehearsed and well-practiced.
“And the not basic reason?”
“That I… I see myself… in some of the unsubs. That if I can help them, maybe there’s some hope for me? I just want to prove I’m a good person,” Spencer’s voice got softer and softer until his last sentence was a whisper.
“You’re allowed to save yourself, you know,” Madeliene said.
“Pardon?” Spencer whispered.
“Sometimes the person you need to save is yourself. And that’s okay. Everyone needs to save themselves in their own way. It’s part of being a person. No matter how hard you try, you will always be human. I think your unsubs remind you of that, that you’re still human. It’s a good reminder. In your mind, if you can save them, you can save yourself. Try just saving yourself for once, no unsub. It might do you good.”