Work Text:
It dawned on Spencer, as he sat through his fourth round of holding music, that he didn’t care anymore.
He could hear his coworkers lamenting over their weekend plans, and all he could muster up was resentment as his own spare time was spent on scheduling appointment after appointment, medication review after review and jumping through loopholes set up by their insurance, knowing if the tip of his toe even grazed the bar, he’d be sent tumbling into another round of phone calls. Doctors explaining everything registered as much as the traffic he walked by on the way to work. Seeing his email clogged with messages from the sanitarium got him as worried as not being able to finish reading a magazine provided in a waiting room. He couldn’t pinpoint when this stopped being the most important thing in his life and shifted into just another task he needed to complete before the day was over.
He’d either been getting or recovering from a cold in the last month, never fully regaining the ability to breathe through his nose and, at this rate, he didn’t believe that he’d get it back. Blinking felt like a Sisyphean task. He used to be able to juggle all of this whilst reading five books a day, but he just couldn’t hack it anymore. He was exhausted. His own doctor’s office kept emailing him to schedule follow-ups, but any plan would get hijacked by work or his own mother’s failing health. He’d apologise, but he never felt sorry for anyone but himself, yet even then, he couldn’t really care.
Spencer didn’t care about anything.
He put the phone down, unable to bear any more of the copyright-free jingle some receptionist ten years ago found would cause the most despair, and stared at nothing. What’s the point? His mum would always be sick. His life would constantly be interrupted so he could try and save hers. Was it worth it? When he asked himself that question growing up, he’d say yes without hesitation. Now he didn’t have an answer at all. His shoulders sagged. Guilt did its best to creep in, but the overwhelming notion of feeling nothing at all was too rooted in the ground.
“You in?” JJ asked excitedly.
“In for what?”
“Going to the bar after work? I heard they’ve got karaoke, and I’ve finally got a babysitter for the night. You didn’t have anything planned, did you?”
When was the last time he planned something for himself? Not a necessity or tiny decision. A plan where he could go somewhere, do something, and not have to worry about slipping away before the end to answer a phone call or type out an email.
Halloween, his mind supplied. He wanted to see a showing of The House of Wax, the original, not the remake, and he’d tried to invite some of the team, but they’d been busy. He hadn’t minded and went by himself, but before he got to the end, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Under the glares of the other cinema-goers, he escaped outside and listened to a nurse hurriedly explain the latest antic his mother got into. Antic. No, it’d been an incident. Antics are what mischievous children did.
It was June now.
“I’m busy,” he lied.
“Oh. What did you have planned? Maybe we could tag along before we hit the bar? It won’t be any good until after eight anyway.” He sighed. He didn’t have the mental energy to come up with anything. His mind was just blank. Static.
“I lied,” he stated.
“You don’t have to go, Spence,” she said, her voice much softer now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the team staring at him. Appraising him. Trying to climb over the walls he built up to get a peek inside.
“Okay.”
“Are you feeling alright?” He shrugged. “What’s wrong? Is it your mum again?”
For some reason, that hit him wrong. He couldn’t just feel bad. No, his mum had to be somehow involved in everything in his life, including all his highs and lows. They assumed she was doing well when he was happier than usual and asked about her when he was particularly quiet. Sometimes he just did well. Sometimes he just felt sad. It tainted everything. It was an oil he couldn’t clean off all his accomplishments and all his shortcomings.
“Not everything is about her,” he barked. That irritation was the most he’d felt in a while. It would’ve felt good if JJ didn’t turn her nose up, crossing her arms across her chest to await an apology he had no intention of giving.
“Well, there’s obviously something going on.”
“Just leave it. Go have fun at your bar.”
“I don’t like your tone.”
“It’s the only tone I have for you.”
“Reid, do you wanna go home with a black eye?” David questioned, trying to offset the tension. It must look bad if he was the one trying to de-escalate things. That would’ve had Spencer put in his place any other day. It didn’t today. He wanted to light a match and set everything on fire, then disappear into the flames and hope he never walked back out.
A part of him wanted a black eye. He’d enjoy the constant throb of pain whenever he blinked. He’d go so far as to say he’d revel in the way his skin would be pulled tight to accommodate the swelling. Not wanting anything to do with everything for so long almost led him to think of the worst possible thing to say just to get a chance, but he was smart enough to know he didn’t truly want that. It was another fleeting craving for destruction.
Instead, he shrugged and watched the clock. The workday would be over in a few minutes. Months ago, he would’ve thought about what he’d do when he got back to his apartment. Some chores, some hobbies, some more research into schizophrenia he knew his mum wouldn’t live to see. Today? Nothing. He wanted to walk into his apartment and evaporate. He wanted to be some sort of ghost story or unsolved mystery. That sounded an awful lot like suicidal ideation, so he decided it simply wasn’t.
“I’m telling you, he’s getting his teenage angst ten years too late,” Derek teased. There must’ve been something said in between because everyone was moving to collect their things, chatting like he wasn’t there to hear it. In all fairness, he hadn’t been until he tuned in now.
“When you’re done brooding, join us,” Penelope told him as she walked past his desk. “We’d like to have our baby genius back.” He’d like to have himself back too, but that person had been gone for too long.
“Have fun,” he mustered up, much more genuine this time. She gave him a sad smile and messed up his hair for good measure.
“One day you’ll let me see in there.” Not today.
When he put his jacket on, Spencer realised it fit a lot looser. He hadn’t noticed the change, but he’d definitely lost weight recently. His eating habits had become snacking habits as he struggled to sit through any meal he didn’t share with his coworkers. When he ran his tongue along the inside of his lips, he felt the jagged pieces where he’d chewed the skin away, the same on the inside of his cheeks. How many of his calories came from cannibalising himself? Probably too many. His phone buzzed on the desk; the doctor he’d been trying desperately to get a hold of finally called him back, but he left it to vibrate against the wood. He pushed past the team as they hyped up the night ahead and closed the elevator doors before they could join him.
For what it's worth, he did try to cheer himself up.
He stopped by the bookstore, but nothing looked interesting. All the covers were the same shade of washed-out brown, and the blurbs left him wanting more. He left with his bag empty, so he tried to pick up a treat at the store. The food looked disgusting. Everything was too slimy, too dry, too unappealing. Poison. It all felt like poison. He sniffled and got a shitty coffee from the self-serve kiosk instead. He was bumped and shoved as he walked through the street, yet he couldn’t help but feel thankful whenever someone unwittingly forced him to burn his tongue or roll his shoulder in discomfort. At least it was something to feel through the numbness. He continued to walk in hopes of some rushing member of the public to dislocate or scald something.
“Hey, one of your guys forgot his phone,” a cleaner said, handing the small device over to Aaron. “I didn’t want it to go missing in the lost and found. I figured with how often you guys get called out, he’ll need it sooner rather than later.”
“Thank you. I’ll get it back to him.”
“Spencer doesn’t forget things,” Penelope stated gravely once the cleaner had gone back to the office. Alarm bells rang in JJ’s mind, and her anxiety was already climbing, forcing her to pick apart their interactions as far back as she could think. He was losing weight, he looked tired, he’d been irritable, and now he’d left the only means of contacting him behind after leaving without saying goodbye. Tick after tick on a list she never wanted to revisit.
“Maybe it fell out,” Derek suggested as though he could see JJ jump to conclusions.
“Maybe he got sick of the calls. He’s not been off that thing in ages,” David added.
“No, he’d keep it on him. His mother hasn’t been well,” Aaron explained.
“She never has been.”
“Rossi.”
“Not a dig, just a statement. All I’m saying is I’d be sick of it too. He’s been dealing with it long enough.”
Caregiver burnout. The words lit up in neon lights in JJ’s mind. She’d take that over her first assumption any day, even if it could cause her first assumption.
“I’ll get it back to him,” JJ rushed out, snatching the phone from Aaron’s hand.
“I can do it. This is the first time you’ve been able to go out in months,” Penelope offered.
“No, no, I’ll do it. I need to go get changed anyway, so I’ll just stop by his place.” And make sure he was still alive.
Spencer should’ve been home by now. JJ had waited in the car for a while before having to get out and pace in front of his apartment building. She didn’t bother getting changed. She could go home after and slap on a dress from college and add to her makeup to make it more going-out-worthy, but she couldn’t skimp on making sure Spencer was okay. She should’ve known when he snapped at her that he wasn’t. She should’ve said something when his clothes were baggier than usual.
She sat on the concrete steps and rolled the phone in her hand. He was still years behind in the tech department. He’d wait until this one died instead of replacing it when it became obsolete. It’d blown up with notifications from the moment it entered her hand. New prescriptions, new research, a follow-up, insurance, taxes, bills- it’d overwhelmed her, and she’d only had it for a couple of hours. It reminded her of when her son was born, but at least she had someone else to share the burden with. This had been Spencer’s life, and there was no one to pass it to when it all became too much.
“Have you come to give me a black eye?” Spencer greeted. Her head snapped up, and she shot to her feet.
“You left your phone.”
“Right,” he sighed, taking it from her and shoving it into the depths of his pockets. “I was looking forward to the punch.” He said it like he was joking, but there was something concerningly sincere about it. She tilted her head to the side in consideration. What would he get out of a punch? Something to focus on. He needed to feel grounded, and he liked pressure, but his usual techniques were probably failing to provide it. Swelling could provide constant pressure without any effort.
“Can I touch you?” He nodded abruptly. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling into a hug, then squeezed tightly. It would be too much for most people. They’d immediately pull back and ask if she was planning to suplex them into the concrete. She felt Spencer relax against her, and when she gently rocked them side to side, he was basically putty in her hands. “You just tell me when you want out, okay?” His hair tickled her neck as he nodded.
“You might get sick,” he muttered.
“You’re not that type of sick, Spence. I think you know that.”
“What type of sick am I then?”
“You’ve hit a limit, and that’s okay. We all do when we spend all our free time looking after people. It gets exhausting, and then it’s frustrating, and then you feel nothing. You don’t help yourself by pushing everyone away.”
“It made me feel something.”
“Does this make you feel something?” He nodded. “I’m guessing it’s better than what you felt before when you snapped at me?” He nodded again. “Then next time, because there will be one, unfortunately, you ask for this, and I’ll give it to you. Even if it’s four in the morning. You can climb into bed with Will and me.” He made a disgusted noise. “What? You want Will all to yourself? He’s married, you know?”
“I’d like out now.” She let go and took a step back to give him space.
“Too much?”
“No, it was nice, despite your comments,” he replied. “It’s just getting late. You should be with the others.”
“You won’t come with me?”
“I’m tired of looking after people. I don’t think I’m in the headspace to herd all of you into taxis at the end of the night.” She nodded. She really hoped they hadn’t made him feel like he was responsible just because he was the sober one.
“What would you want to do instead?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t asked myself that in a while.” She thought about it for a moment.
“I think you’d like a girls' night.”
“There’s a rather obvious problem with that.”
“A girls’ night is a description, not a requirement. It’s just friends hanging out when one of them feels like shit but doesn’t have the energy to get drunk about it. We watch a movie, order some takeout, maybe drink wine when it hits nine, do a bit of self-care. How’s that sound?”
“Intimidating.”
“I’m sensing a but.”
“But it would be nice to be taken care of. For a bit.”
“Then we’ll do that instead.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t-”
“Spencer, we all care a hell of a lot about you. If you need a girls' night, you’re getting a girls' night and all the trimmings. We can go out any time, but we can’t always be granted access to what’s going on in that brain of yours. I bet if I text them right now, Pen will be the first to suggest a whole bunch of stuff we can do.”
“They won’t mind?”
“Watch this.” She pulled out her phone and typed out the change of plans. She waited for Spencer to nod before she sent it off, not wanting to jump the gun. A second passed before Penelope responded with all the things she could bring over, already assigning tasks to the other members of the team. “See? Nobody cares about the place, Spence. They care about spending time with each other. That includes you.”
“When will they be here?” he asked, wiping his suspiciously wet eyes.
“Knowing her? Half an hour at most.”
“Then, do you want to come up and wait for them?”
“Do you want more hugs?” she teased.
“Yes,” he answered earnestly. This guy was going to be the death of her. If he didn’t take himself out first, that is.