The Intelligence Control and Analysis Program

Chapter 1

JJ ducked her head, and Hotch got the feeling it was hardest for her to keep her eyes dry.

"Yeah, well—" Genius laughed, somewhat like a giggle and a chuckle blended together, "—of course my voice is lower, Mom. I went through puberty." He laughed again—softer, weaker, sadder. "I'm—I'm really tall. I'm taller than Dad." Sniff. "Is—Is your hair still short? Or did you grow it out again?" Sniff. "Oh, Mom, don't be silly. I like it both ways."

Rossi slowly got up from his chair and grabbed his coffee cup. "I think I'll top this off," he whispered, and then he made his way over to the door, opening it as quietly as he could.

Emily cleared her throat and quickly followed him, but JJ and Morgan stayed.

Genius swallowed hard, struggling to keep his voice even remotely level. "I don't... I don't know when or... if... I'll ever talk to you again... or see you, and I want to make sure... I want you to know that I love you, and I... I need you to know that I spend... every day of my life proud to be your son." He sniffed.

Hotch glanced over in time to see Genius curling up a little tighter, trying to utilize what little privacy the corner offered.

"I know you do, Mom. I know. No, no, don't—" Genius shook his head. "Mom, don't, please. I love being a genius. I love who I am. I wouldn't want to be anybody else. How I live isn't your fault, you didn't do this to me. You still think I'm perfect, right?" He paused. "Then don't blame yourself. You made me perfect. Take some credit." He paused again, and then he laughed softly. "I love you, too. I miss you, and I—"

Silence.

"Mom? M—Mom?" Pause. "Mom?" Pause. Sniff. "Stayed on too long."

Hotch stole another glance in the general direction of the corner, and then he pushed the file in front of him toward Morgan. "There are a few different plots of land near military depots that would facilitate a secondary location for the torture and the storing of the bodies."

Morgan nodded. "We said, based on the preservation and M.E. report, that he has to have some kind of freezer, but it could just be something thermal. Maybe something considered to be military equipment? If he had the time and dedication to keep putting ice and preservatives in with the bodies..."

"Uh, Spencer." JJ frowned slightly. "That was your name, right? You feeling better at all?"

Hotch turned to look over his shoulder, taking the offered phone from Genius' limp hand.

Genius only glared. "You don't get to use my name. You call me Genius." He mumbled something further under his breath but clearly didn't intend for it to be heard. "What do you want me to do, Agent Hotchner?"

Hotch glanced up at him, and then he looked at the work spread out in front of them. For a moment, he considered inviting Genius to join them and share the work, but there wasn't much they could do until the TAD replied.

Besides, Genius looked exhausted.

"You can go lie down. You look tired."

Genius blinked, confused. "I... I am. That's—observant."

Hotch offered a very slight smile, not wanting to come across as cold.

"I... I'll just sleep then." Genius looked at Hotch suspiciously. "You don't want me to put the whiteboard back the way it was? I can. I have an eidetic memory."

Hotch shook his head. "No, that's alright. Just get some rest."

Genius looked at Hotch for a long moment. "Um... okay. Thanks, I guess." He rubbed the back of his head, perplexed, and ambled back to the corner. "Let me know if you change your mind." He dropped unceremoniously to the floor, curling up with his back to the corner.