The Intelligence Control and Analysis Program

Chapter 11

Emily rounded the corner and pressed the arrow to summon the elevator, folding her arms across her stomach and idly tapping the manila envelope against her side. "I bet you're missing West, huh? I know I am."

To her surprise, Spencer shook his head, his face scrunching up as he considered the suggestion. "No, actually. I prefer Section Chief Strauss."

"Really?" Emily arched her brows just as the doors opened, and she stepped onto the lift. "Why?"

Spencer joined her, immediately leaning against the wall across from her. He slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Section Chief West is very nice, but... there's a certain safety in realism. You likely don't recognize it because you're not a dependent, but it's the same kind of psychology that makes children crave boundaries." He shrugged again, following her when the elevator stopped on the BAU floor. "Chief Strauss is your boss, but she can't determine anything about your life outside of work. It makes sense that you, someone who is in control of their normal environment, balks when faced with someone like her. But decisions made by Chief Strauss directly impact whether I spend the rest of my life in a cage or not. Chief West is pleasant to be around, but she can be a bit of an optimist. Chief Strauss is more controlled and distanced, but I know she isn't going to try and shoot for goals she can't achieve and, subsequently, incur consequences that come back on me."

By the time Spencer was done speaking, they were already on their way back to the elevator, the envelope having been left on Hotch's unattended desk.

Emily blinked, not bothering to hide the expression of revelation that crossed her features. "I never thought about that. You're right." It struck her, not for the first time, how little control Spencer had over what happened to him, and it left a sick churning in her gut.

Spencer flashed a weak smile. "Thanks for letting me ramble. It, uh... it helps me get out of my head a little when I do, and intellectual conversation always... well, just thank you. I feel better." He rubbed the back of his head, briefly scratching again before dropping his hand.

"You're welcome." Emily gave him a soft smile, once again summoning the elevator with the press of a button. "How about these new rules? How are you feeling about that?"

Spencer pressed his lips together and nodded, swallowing hard. "It'll take some getting used to, but... again, it's good to see the person who will have the biggest impact on where I end up taking this seriously." He stepped back to let someone out of the elevator and then followed Emily inside. "Thinking about the long-term logistics, doing what she can to make sure this doesn't come back to bite us after a couple years in court." He looked down at his shoes, scuffing the black converse against the floor, and a little smile pulled at his mouth again. "It feels good."

Emily smiled just as the elevator dinged and opened up on the ground floor. "Good."

Spencer laughed softly, but his eyes were still downcast. Still, despite the odd contradiction in body language, he seemed to be happier than when they had entered the office earlier that morning.

It wasn't much, but it was something, and with a long, arduous battle against an entire FBI subdivision looming on the horizon... something was enough. If they wanted to make it from one day to the next, it had to be.

"So, what kind of coffee are you gonna get?"

***

Hotch threw the glass doors out of his way and crossed the bullpen in record time, not bothering to turn on the lights.

"Agent—Agent Hotchner? Can you come to—to the BAU? Please? I need you."

Grabbing the door handle, Hotch gave it a hard twist and let himself in, casting a frantic look around the small bedroom. "Spencer?" He took two steps inside and caught a glimpse of stocking feet poking out from the corner between Spencer's desk and bed.