Fragile Souls 1
Title: Fragile Souls
Chapter One
Fandoms: Buffy, CSI, CSI: NY, NCIS, Criminal Minds, Torchwood (not in this part, but soon), other fandoms to come.
Rated: R or NC-17
Spoilers: At this point? None.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, CSI, CSI: NY, NCIS, Criminal Minds, or Torchwood.
WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of sexual slavery and abuse of a child, the use of a child in pornography, child prostitution, physical abuse of a child, emotional abuse of a child, neglect of a child; graphic descriptions of torture and murder; drug use, mental illness, terminal disease.
Other Warnings: This story is set, in the beginning, in the US Foster Care System, however it is not an accurate depiction of the Foster Care System as I made changes in order to have it fit in the story. Also, it is slash.
Summary: Six abused and traumatized child geniuses all live together at Mrs. Maxwell's Foster Home. This is the story of their past, and the journey into the present- and the Clan they formed out of the love they share. A clan that includes a seventh child genius met later.
Children are resilient, they bounce back easily; but they are also fragile souls.
August 19, 1988
Xander is the first boy to arrive at Mrs. Maxwell’s Foster Home. Not the first boy ever, oh no, but rather the first boy out of six that would become fast friends. He stares at this strange woman. Her hair is yellow-gray and looks like it is about to fly off her head, standing out in all sorts of directions. Her eyes are a steely blue, but they hold a hint of warmth in them. Her cheeks are red, but not the ruddy red his parents were every time they drank alcohol. She has a nose a bit too small, and her teeth are a bit too large for her mouth and her lips are pursed and thin. Her dress looks like his mother’s did when she had headaches in the mornings, bright and swirly with big flowers on it.
She smiles at him, and it’s a nice smile, he thinks, not a mean one. He doesn’t say anything as she swings open the door and ushers him and his social worker- Miss Linda- inside. She pointed to the corner with toys and told him to “Go play, I need to do some grown-up talk.” He nodded and went to the corner; he already knew that Miss Linda was telling Mrs. Maxwell about him.
He already knew about himself, and the stories she was telling. He knew about his parents selling him to The Smiling Man with the funny way of talking when he was six, and about the smiling man taking him on a plane trip to the city with the giant buildings where he lived with a bunch of other kids, he could hear them, but he never saw them, so he didn’t have any friends. He knew about the box-room he lived in, and the funny clothes The Smiling Man and his friends, Mister Camera Man and Money-Holder made him wear. He knew about the pictures where they made him stand in funny positions even though he was naked, and he knew about the other men- The Touching Men- who would come in to his box-room after giving money to Money-Holder and touch him all over, even inside him, and who made him touch them and he didn’t like that.
But he liked the box-room and The Smiling Man and Mister Camera Man and Money-Holder lots better than he did his parents with their smelly breath from the alcohol and the mean stuff they did. The Smiling Man never called him mean names, and he never took his food away and ate it in front of him like his mom used to. The Smiling Man never took metal fire pokers to hit him with or whipped him with his belt like his dad used to. The Smiling Man never called him his “little ash tray” and put out cigarettes on him, and The Smiling Man gave him food and water every day (and sometimes if he was real good Mister Camera Man would give him candy).
They gave him books to read in his box-room, and Money-Holder would come in sometimes and teach him numbers and stuff. He told Xander he was a smart little boy, and told him about his son who was bigger than Xander, and would sometimes tuck him into bed with a kiss on his head, just like he did for his son, Xander liked to pretend. Xander really liked Money-Holder, he never touched Xander or made Xander touch him, and he always said sorry to Xander after The Touching Men came, that he had to make money for his son, that he was so sorry, but always as a whisper- like a secret. Xander didn’t know why he did that because Money-Holder always made sure that none of The Touching Men hit Xander (he broke the one who had tried arm), so Xander always said that “it was okay, and he didn’t do nothing wrong”. But that would make Money-Holder cry.
Xander knew all the stuff Miss Linda was saying, he knew about the Police-men coming into his box-room and picking him up and taking him to the police house, where he had to tell the story about his mom and dad and The Smiling Man and Mister Camera Man and Money-Holder and all of The Touching Men.
And the Police-girl they had talk to him was super nice, and had him draw lots of pictures and let him play with toys and books. But she frowned when he said he was eight; he thought he was at least, because he was six when his parents sold him to The Smiling Man, and The Smiling Man had said that he couldn’t believe he’d been their two years already right before the Police-men came, and six and two made eight. And he knew his first name was Xander, but his parents never said his last name, they mostly called him “Boy” or “Dumb ass” and maybe that was his last name? She asked if he remembered anything else, and he said he remembered a little red haired girl named Willow who was real nice, and wanted to be his friend. And they had been friends for Three Whole Days! But then his parents gave him to The Smiling Man and he never saw her again.
He heard her talking later to another lady (he would later find out this was Miss Linda) and using lots of big words, that he didn’t know, but made sure to remember to ask about later- words like “severely malnourished” and “inadequate provisions” and “physical abuse” and “sexual abuse” and “isolation”.
Then they showed him to Miss Linda and she found him a place to live, with Mrs. Maxwell she said, as long as they got along okay. Miss Linda was nice to him too, and he hoped Mrs. Maxwell was nice and that she liked his new name the Police-girl had given him- He was now Xander Willows, forever and always
It turned out Mrs. Maxwell was nice, and fed him three whole times a day, with snacks too. She gave Xander a big room with a bed in it all for him, and she gave him lots of toys and books and clothes. And when he got scared of the dark, she bought him a nightlight. When his eyes were blurry, she got him glasses. Mrs. Maxwell said he could go to school next year, but first he has to take a couple of tests.
***
March 12, 1989
Beverly Maxwell had been a foster parent for sixteen years, and she had never seen a child like Xander. The boy should have been terrified of everything, lacked any and all trust in adults, anything but the happily babbling bundle of energy he was. But he wasn’t, he was a little boy- eight years old and the size of a six year old- who always had a bright smile and hope in his eyes, who loved to read anything he could get his hands on, even if they were “boring”. The only time she had ever seen him become withdrawn was when she had some repair men in to fix the sink. He had refused to come out from beneath his bed while the men were here. But she could mention that to his therapist “Dr. Frank” next week.
She was worried about him starting school that fall and thought he would most likely be placed below his age appropriate grade level due to a lack of prior schooling, no matter how much he insisted “Money-Holder” had taught him. Thus after taking the grade determination and IQ tests and learning disabilities assessments at his social worker’s- Linda Davies- office, she nearly had a heart attack at his results. The boy was a genius. His IQ was in the 180s, he was on grade level for the average second semester ninth grader. He also had severe ADD/ADHD, which would need to be medicated, and a moderate learning disability dealing with spatial relations.
After discussing where he should be placed they eventually decided on the local Montessori school, so he could move at his own pace. Beverly also discussed with Linda the possibility of her taking in a child close to Xander’s age, he was interested in “getting a brother-type friend,” Linda mentioned she might have heard of a boy or two close to Xander’s age that he would probably get along with, but was “Beverly sure? After all Xander had only been with her for a few months.” Beverly’s curt reply of “Yes and it’s been seven months. He’s an absolute darling.”
Linda looked at Beverly, seemingly scrutinizing her, before nodding and saying she’d look for a fit for Xander and her, it would be good for his socialization skills, which he still had problems in. Beverly smiled, bidding her goodbye and then escorting Xander to McDonald’s- his reward for being so well behaved that day.
***
It was a year before the second boy arrived at Mrs. Maxwell’s, and he had a story as tragic as Xander’s own. By then Xander, who had decided his birthday was April 1st 1980, was almost ten, and the new boy had turned ten on March 9th 1980. The two became inseparable quickly. Spencer Reid was also a genius. He had previously been in public school, ten years old and about to enter the tenth grade, just like Xander, which brought them even closer together.
Poor Spencer Reid had been thrust into the position of caregiver for a mother who had severe schizophrenia when he was seven years old, after his “dirt-bag biological donor” (Spencer’s words) walked out on them just after moving them to Boston from Vegas and had never once paid any form of support. Spencer had tried to manage the funds, buy food and clothes, and pay the mortgage, as well as care for his mentally ill mother, cook, clean and still maintain his grades in classes with students far older than him who routinely beat him, and a mother who frequently didn’t recognize him.
Unfortunately there isn’t much a seven and a half year old can do for money, even a genius seven and a half year old. This is exactly why Spencer Reid ended up selling himself on a street-corner to make ends meet right before his eighth birthday. His neighbor ran a popular “business” in Boston. Spencer had approached the woman, and worked out a deal to receive 80% of the cash, if she would advertise for him. It had worked for the next two years, enabling Spencer to be able to make ends meet, until the police had arrested his neighbor.
Unbeknownst to Spencer his neighbor had kept records of every single transaction, as well as a file on him, filled with comments from each of his “customers”. Not only that but she had recorded the precise reasons he had come to her for help in the first place, which had led to his mother being institutionalized and Spencer being placed into foster care, with Miss Linda Davies as his social worker in a strange fluke.
Within a week Spencer had been firmly ensconced in Mrs. Maxwell’s home. As he and Xander grew ever closer, able to speak to one another about the horrors they had each experienced, that no other would ever understand to the fullest extent, which allowed them both to heal.
***
Danny was the third boy to arrive at Mrs. Maxwell’s. But it wasn’t a normal foster home anymore. With the discovery of little Xander’s extraordinary intelligence, as well as young Spencer’s brilliance (as well as their insistence that they should help other smart foster kids have a good home to learn in), Beverly Maxwell and Linda Davies had searched for another boy in the area who would get along with their sweet little charges, a boy as intelligent as they were, but she’d nearly given up hope before she saw a new boy’s profile entered into the system, eight months after Spencer and Xander had become joined at the hip on the day they met.
Danny Messer was twelve years old and small for his age. He’d been placed in foster care after his parents and eighteen year old brother had been arrested for various crimes. His father, Louis Messer was in the mob, and had been arrested on sixteen counts of first degree murder, nine counts of second degree murder, thirteen counts of assault and battery, racketeering influenced and corrupt organizations (RICO), money laundering, bankruptcy fraud, embezzlement and twenty- seven counts of narcotics distribution. The scars on Danny’s back added on the charges of child abuse and neglect, as well as Danny’s testimony that his father would bring him along when he went to “collect a payment in either money or blood” as a way to introduce him to the “family business” once he had turned ten.
His brother, Louis “Louie” Messer Jr. was in a local gang known as the Tanglewood Boys and was charged with two counts of second degree murder, one count assault and battery with intent to kill, conspiracy to commit murder, three counts of assault and battery, possession with intent, and four counts of narcotics distribution.
His mother, Paula Giustiniani Messer was charged with bankruptcy fraud, money laundering, fraud and embezzlement.
Danny, however, was an extraordinarily intelligent little boy. He was at about the same grade level as Xander, but due to the nature of foster care, was put into a standard 6th grade classroom, where he’d been bored. This boredom led to complaints from his teacher about his lack of attention in class. When asked why he didn’t pay attention by his school principal, he opened up his backpack and withdrew a copy of The Physical Chemistry of Lipids: From Alkanes to Phospholipids Volume 4. The only thing he said was “I find this book far more interesting then listening to Ms. Paulson tell us the different parts of a plant.”
He was being held back in a normal school, and although he had lived in New York City his entire life, when Linda had spoken with him and his social worker, Martha Pearson, he had expressed an interest in moving to Cambridge, due to the local colleges and the fact that he “…wants to be the big brother this time”. After a good hour and a half of discussion it had been decided, Danny Messer was moving to Mrs. Maxwell’s, and was extremely excited about “…finally getting out of the monotony of elementary school, and having two new brothers as smart as he is…”
***
The next arrival was Greg Sanders, Greg was eleven, halfway between ten (almost eleven) year olds Xander and Spencer, and twelve year old Danny, who had been at Mrs. Maxwell’s for four months when Greg arrived. Greg’s history at least was nowhere near as tragic as Xander’s or Spencer’s, and not as bloody as Danny’s. Greg’s parents were addicts, and when he’d entered kindergarten the teacher had noticed the signs of neglect.
He’d been about thirty pounds underweight, and every bone in his body could be counted. His lunch (when his mother was sober enough to pack it) was the barest of meals, and most days he had no food at all. His clothes were invariably far too large or far too small. He often came in with bruises on his arms, or burned fingertips. He shrunk away from any attention paid to him, preferring to hide in a corner and read high school chemistry books.
This was how Greg ended up in his Grandparents custody, loved and cherished and encouraged. Then when he was seven tragedy struck again, his Nana Olaf had a heart attack and passed away, leaving him and his Papa Olaf devastated. His grandfather had decided to move them to Salem, where his sister lived.
Greg had lived with his Papa Olaf and Great Aunt Brynhild, until his grandfather passed away when he was eleven from lung cancer. His Great Aunt felt that Greg was to rambunctious of a boy to take care of on her own as an eighty-three year old woman, especially since Greg was taking classes at eleven that were meant for sixteen and seventeen year olds, so she signed over custody, and after about two months of being shuffled from foster home to foster home, and finally being diagnosed as severely ADD/ADHD, he ended up at Mrs. Maxwell’s, about three and a half months after Danny had arrived.
Greg got along extremely well with all three of the boys already in residence at Mrs. Maxwell’s and the four grew ever closer, always together.
***
Tony DiNozzo and Don Flack arrived within days of one another, three months after Greg, for completely different reasons, each with their own baggage to carry on their slim shoulders, each of them with their own burdens on their genius minds.
Tony’s parents had kicked him out for “being a disappointment” when he was twelve, and already in the tenth grade. They simply decided he was a disappointment because he had a learning disability- dyslexia. All he needed to correct it was a specific type of glasses. He had long learned how to compensate for it, otherwise he never would have skipped so many grades, but when his English teacher had figured out that this was why he struggled in reading the assignments, but could recite back any word or sentence he’d ever heard, they decided that he was “broken” and that they didn’t want him anymore.
They had promptly given him into the state’s care. After being moved from home to home for six months his social worker, Mark Tomlinson, in New York heard Martha Pearson (Danny’s social worker) talking about “The Genius House” with John Greene (who was Don’s social worker). John Greene was interested in seeing if his genius charge would be able to go out there. This got Mark interested in seeing if Tony would be able to join “The Genius House” as well, after all Tony was thirteen and in eleventh grade .
Don had grown up with a wonderful set of loving parents, unlike the other five boys at Mrs. Maxwell’s (Xander’s parents had abused him then sold him to a pedophile ring, Spencer’s dad had walked out when he was seven, leaving him to care for a mentally ill mother who didn’t know who her own son was, Danny’s were abusive criminals and his father had forced Danny to join him and watch as he beat or killed people, Greg’s were addicts who had him cook their drugs for them, then given him to his loving grandparents before they had died, and Tony’s were severely neglectful even before they had decided he wasn’t good enough for them).
Don’s dad was a decorated police officer; his mom was a housewife who volunteered in her spare time at the local youth center, the women and children’s shelter, or the soup kitchen. When she did she brought her three kids along with her. There was fourteen year old Michael, twelve year old Don, and six year old Samantha. Michael was a grade ahead in school, and Samantha was as well, but Don was the brainiest, twelve years old and in the eleventh grade.
That all came to a grinding halt on April 22, 1991, when one of the men Don Flack Sr. had arrested came to the house at eleven twenty that night. Michael had been in his room, watching the Simpsons, Samantha had been asleep in her bed, clutching her My Little Pony Plush, Mr. and Mrs. Flack were asleep in their own room, and Don was in his “special hideout” reading, with his walkman headphones on.
When the man entered the house, no one heard him. He walked into Michael’s room first, cutting his throat before Michael could say a word. Next he went into the master bedroom, slicing Mrs. Flack’s throat as well. Mr. Flack he took his time with stabbing him four times before Samantha ran into the room, as she screamed Don finally heard something, and he climbed out from the nook behind his headboard, and went to go see what was wrong. He went to Michael’s room first, planning to wake him up to go with him to see what was wrong. Instead he found his brother’s dead body, covered in his own blood.
Standing frozen staring at his brother, he was ripped away when Samantha screamed again, before she was cut off suddenly. He quickly ran to his parents’ room and his sister’s voice, only to find her crumpled body lying in the hall, breathing heavily and covered in blood, and still clutching her plush, which was as red as her nightgown. Seeing her chest still moving he quickly went into his parents’ room, where his mother stared at the ceiling, just as Michael had, and the man was holding his father against the wall, and stabbing him over and over.
His father must have seen him out of the corner of his eye, because with his dying breath he shouted as best he could, even with blood dribbling out of his mouth, “Run, Donny! Take Sammie and RUN!” Turning at the voice Don saw the killers face for only a moment, before he turned around and scooped up Sammie like she did her baby-dolls. He felt her gasping against his chest even as he ran out the front door and across the street.
Chapter One
Fandoms: Buffy, CSI, CSI: NY, NCIS, Criminal Minds, Torchwood (not in this part, but soon), other fandoms to come.
Rated: R or NC-17
Spoilers: At this point? None.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, CSI, CSI: NY, NCIS, Criminal Minds, or Torchwood.
WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of sexual slavery and abuse of a child, the use of a child in pornography, child prostitution, physical abuse of a child, emotional abuse of a child, neglect of a child; graphic descriptions of torture and murder; drug use, mental illness, terminal disease.
Other Warnings: This story is set, in the beginning, in the US Foster Care System, however it is not an accurate depiction of the Foster Care System as I made changes in order to have it fit in the story. Also, it is slash.
Summary: Six abused and traumatized child geniuses all live together at Mrs. Maxwell's Foster Home. This is the story of their past, and the journey into the present- and the Clan they formed out of the love they share. A clan that includes a seventh child genius met later.
Children are resilient, they bounce back easily; but they are also fragile souls.
August 19, 1988
Xander is the first boy to arrive at Mrs. Maxwell’s Foster Home. Not the first boy ever, oh no, but rather the first boy out of six that would become fast friends. He stares at this strange woman. Her hair is yellow-gray and looks like it is about to fly off her head, standing out in all sorts of directions. Her eyes are a steely blue, but they hold a hint of warmth in them. Her cheeks are red, but not the ruddy red his parents were every time they drank alcohol. She has a nose a bit too small, and her teeth are a bit too large for her mouth and her lips are pursed and thin. Her dress looks like his mother’s did when she had headaches in the mornings, bright and swirly with big flowers on it.
She smiles at him, and it’s a nice smile, he thinks, not a mean one. He doesn’t say anything as she swings open the door and ushers him and his social worker- Miss Linda- inside. She pointed to the corner with toys and told him to “Go play, I need to do some grown-up talk.” He nodded and went to the corner; he already knew that Miss Linda was telling Mrs. Maxwell about him.
He already knew about himself, and the stories she was telling. He knew about his parents selling him to The Smiling Man with the funny way of talking when he was six, and about the smiling man taking him on a plane trip to the city with the giant buildings where he lived with a bunch of other kids, he could hear them, but he never saw them, so he didn’t have any friends. He knew about the box-room he lived in, and the funny clothes The Smiling Man and his friends, Mister Camera Man and Money-Holder made him wear. He knew about the pictures where they made him stand in funny positions even though he was naked, and he knew about the other men- The Touching Men- who would come in to his box-room after giving money to Money-Holder and touch him all over, even inside him, and who made him touch them and he didn’t like that.
But he liked the box-room and The Smiling Man and Mister Camera Man and Money-Holder lots better than he did his parents with their smelly breath from the alcohol and the mean stuff they did. The Smiling Man never called him mean names, and he never took his food away and ate it in front of him like his mom used to. The Smiling Man never took metal fire pokers to hit him with or whipped him with his belt like his dad used to. The Smiling Man never called him his “little ash tray” and put out cigarettes on him, and The Smiling Man gave him food and water every day (and sometimes if he was real good Mister Camera Man would give him candy).
They gave him books to read in his box-room, and Money-Holder would come in sometimes and teach him numbers and stuff. He told Xander he was a smart little boy, and told him about his son who was bigger than Xander, and would sometimes tuck him into bed with a kiss on his head, just like he did for his son, Xander liked to pretend. Xander really liked Money-Holder, he never touched Xander or made Xander touch him, and he always said sorry to Xander after The Touching Men came, that he had to make money for his son, that he was so sorry, but always as a whisper- like a secret. Xander didn’t know why he did that because Money-Holder always made sure that none of The Touching Men hit Xander (he broke the one who had tried arm), so Xander always said that “it was okay, and he didn’t do nothing wrong”. But that would make Money-Holder cry.
Xander knew all the stuff Miss Linda was saying, he knew about the Police-men coming into his box-room and picking him up and taking him to the police house, where he had to tell the story about his mom and dad and The Smiling Man and Mister Camera Man and Money-Holder and all of The Touching Men.
And the Police-girl they had talk to him was super nice, and had him draw lots of pictures and let him play with toys and books. But she frowned when he said he was eight; he thought he was at least, because he was six when his parents sold him to The Smiling Man, and The Smiling Man had said that he couldn’t believe he’d been their two years already right before the Police-men came, and six and two made eight. And he knew his first name was Xander, but his parents never said his last name, they mostly called him “Boy” or “Dumb ass” and maybe that was his last name? She asked if he remembered anything else, and he said he remembered a little red haired girl named Willow who was real nice, and wanted to be his friend. And they had been friends for Three Whole Days! But then his parents gave him to The Smiling Man and he never saw her again.
He heard her talking later to another lady (he would later find out this was Miss Linda) and using lots of big words, that he didn’t know, but made sure to remember to ask about later- words like “severely malnourished” and “inadequate provisions” and “physical abuse” and “sexual abuse” and “isolation”.
Then they showed him to Miss Linda and she found him a place to live, with Mrs. Maxwell she said, as long as they got along okay. Miss Linda was nice to him too, and he hoped Mrs. Maxwell was nice and that she liked his new name the Police-girl had given him- He was now Xander Willows, forever and always
It turned out Mrs. Maxwell was nice, and fed him three whole times a day, with snacks too. She gave Xander a big room with a bed in it all for him, and she gave him lots of toys and books and clothes. And when he got scared of the dark, she bought him a nightlight. When his eyes were blurry, she got him glasses. Mrs. Maxwell said he could go to school next year, but first he has to take a couple of tests.
***
March 12, 1989
Beverly Maxwell had been a foster parent for sixteen years, and she had never seen a child like Xander. The boy should have been terrified of everything, lacked any and all trust in adults, anything but the happily babbling bundle of energy he was. But he wasn’t, he was a little boy- eight years old and the size of a six year old- who always had a bright smile and hope in his eyes, who loved to read anything he could get his hands on, even if they were “boring”. The only time she had ever seen him become withdrawn was when she had some repair men in to fix the sink. He had refused to come out from beneath his bed while the men were here. But she could mention that to his therapist “Dr. Frank” next week.
She was worried about him starting school that fall and thought he would most likely be placed below his age appropriate grade level due to a lack of prior schooling, no matter how much he insisted “Money-Holder” had taught him. Thus after taking the grade determination and IQ tests and learning disabilities assessments at his social worker’s- Linda Davies- office, she nearly had a heart attack at his results. The boy was a genius. His IQ was in the 180s, he was on grade level for the average second semester ninth grader. He also had severe ADD/ADHD, which would need to be medicated, and a moderate learning disability dealing with spatial relations.
After discussing where he should be placed they eventually decided on the local Montessori school, so he could move at his own pace. Beverly also discussed with Linda the possibility of her taking in a child close to Xander’s age, he was interested in “getting a brother-type friend,” Linda mentioned she might have heard of a boy or two close to Xander’s age that he would probably get along with, but was “Beverly sure? After all Xander had only been with her for a few months.” Beverly’s curt reply of “Yes and it’s been seven months. He’s an absolute darling.”
Linda looked at Beverly, seemingly scrutinizing her, before nodding and saying she’d look for a fit for Xander and her, it would be good for his socialization skills, which he still had problems in. Beverly smiled, bidding her goodbye and then escorting Xander to McDonald’s- his reward for being so well behaved that day.
***
It was a year before the second boy arrived at Mrs. Maxwell’s, and he had a story as tragic as Xander’s own. By then Xander, who had decided his birthday was April 1st 1980, was almost ten, and the new boy had turned ten on March 9th 1980. The two became inseparable quickly. Spencer Reid was also a genius. He had previously been in public school, ten years old and about to enter the tenth grade, just like Xander, which brought them even closer together.
Poor Spencer Reid had been thrust into the position of caregiver for a mother who had severe schizophrenia when he was seven years old, after his “dirt-bag biological donor” (Spencer’s words) walked out on them just after moving them to Boston from Vegas and had never once paid any form of support. Spencer had tried to manage the funds, buy food and clothes, and pay the mortgage, as well as care for his mentally ill mother, cook, clean and still maintain his grades in classes with students far older than him who routinely beat him, and a mother who frequently didn’t recognize him.
Unfortunately there isn’t much a seven and a half year old can do for money, even a genius seven and a half year old. This is exactly why Spencer Reid ended up selling himself on a street-corner to make ends meet right before his eighth birthday. His neighbor ran a popular “business” in Boston. Spencer had approached the woman, and worked out a deal to receive 80% of the cash, if she would advertise for him. It had worked for the next two years, enabling Spencer to be able to make ends meet, until the police had arrested his neighbor.
Unbeknownst to Spencer his neighbor had kept records of every single transaction, as well as a file on him, filled with comments from each of his “customers”. Not only that but she had recorded the precise reasons he had come to her for help in the first place, which had led to his mother being institutionalized and Spencer being placed into foster care, with Miss Linda Davies as his social worker in a strange fluke.
Within a week Spencer had been firmly ensconced in Mrs. Maxwell’s home. As he and Xander grew ever closer, able to speak to one another about the horrors they had each experienced, that no other would ever understand to the fullest extent, which allowed them both to heal.
***
Danny was the third boy to arrive at Mrs. Maxwell’s. But it wasn’t a normal foster home anymore. With the discovery of little Xander’s extraordinary intelligence, as well as young Spencer’s brilliance (as well as their insistence that they should help other smart foster kids have a good home to learn in), Beverly Maxwell and Linda Davies had searched for another boy in the area who would get along with their sweet little charges, a boy as intelligent as they were, but she’d nearly given up hope before she saw a new boy’s profile entered into the system, eight months after Spencer and Xander had become joined at the hip on the day they met.
Danny Messer was twelve years old and small for his age. He’d been placed in foster care after his parents and eighteen year old brother had been arrested for various crimes. His father, Louis Messer was in the mob, and had been arrested on sixteen counts of first degree murder, nine counts of second degree murder, thirteen counts of assault and battery, racketeering influenced and corrupt organizations (RICO), money laundering, bankruptcy fraud, embezzlement and twenty- seven counts of narcotics distribution. The scars on Danny’s back added on the charges of child abuse and neglect, as well as Danny’s testimony that his father would bring him along when he went to “collect a payment in either money or blood” as a way to introduce him to the “family business” once he had turned ten.
His brother, Louis “Louie” Messer Jr. was in a local gang known as the Tanglewood Boys and was charged with two counts of second degree murder, one count assault and battery with intent to kill, conspiracy to commit murder, three counts of assault and battery, possession with intent, and four counts of narcotics distribution.
His mother, Paula Giustiniani Messer was charged with bankruptcy fraud, money laundering, fraud and embezzlement.
Danny, however, was an extraordinarily intelligent little boy. He was at about the same grade level as Xander, but due to the nature of foster care, was put into a standard 6th grade classroom, where he’d been bored. This boredom led to complaints from his teacher about his lack of attention in class. When asked why he didn’t pay attention by his school principal, he opened up his backpack and withdrew a copy of The Physical Chemistry of Lipids: From Alkanes to Phospholipids Volume 4. The only thing he said was “I find this book far more interesting then listening to Ms. Paulson tell us the different parts of a plant.”
He was being held back in a normal school, and although he had lived in New York City his entire life, when Linda had spoken with him and his social worker, Martha Pearson, he had expressed an interest in moving to Cambridge, due to the local colleges and the fact that he “…wants to be the big brother this time”. After a good hour and a half of discussion it had been decided, Danny Messer was moving to Mrs. Maxwell’s, and was extremely excited about “…finally getting out of the monotony of elementary school, and having two new brothers as smart as he is…”
***
The next arrival was Greg Sanders, Greg was eleven, halfway between ten (almost eleven) year olds Xander and Spencer, and twelve year old Danny, who had been at Mrs. Maxwell’s for four months when Greg arrived. Greg’s history at least was nowhere near as tragic as Xander’s or Spencer’s, and not as bloody as Danny’s. Greg’s parents were addicts, and when he’d entered kindergarten the teacher had noticed the signs of neglect.
He’d been about thirty pounds underweight, and every bone in his body could be counted. His lunch (when his mother was sober enough to pack it) was the barest of meals, and most days he had no food at all. His clothes were invariably far too large or far too small. He often came in with bruises on his arms, or burned fingertips. He shrunk away from any attention paid to him, preferring to hide in a corner and read high school chemistry books.
This was how Greg ended up in his Grandparents custody, loved and cherished and encouraged. Then when he was seven tragedy struck again, his Nana Olaf had a heart attack and passed away, leaving him and his Papa Olaf devastated. His grandfather had decided to move them to Salem, where his sister lived.
Greg had lived with his Papa Olaf and Great Aunt Brynhild, until his grandfather passed away when he was eleven from lung cancer. His Great Aunt felt that Greg was to rambunctious of a boy to take care of on her own as an eighty-three year old woman, especially since Greg was taking classes at eleven that were meant for sixteen and seventeen year olds, so she signed over custody, and after about two months of being shuffled from foster home to foster home, and finally being diagnosed as severely ADD/ADHD, he ended up at Mrs. Maxwell’s, about three and a half months after Danny had arrived.
Greg got along extremely well with all three of the boys already in residence at Mrs. Maxwell’s and the four grew ever closer, always together.
***
Tony DiNozzo and Don Flack arrived within days of one another, three months after Greg, for completely different reasons, each with their own baggage to carry on their slim shoulders, each of them with their own burdens on their genius minds.
Tony’s parents had kicked him out for “being a disappointment” when he was twelve, and already in the tenth grade. They simply decided he was a disappointment because he had a learning disability- dyslexia. All he needed to correct it was a specific type of glasses. He had long learned how to compensate for it, otherwise he never would have skipped so many grades, but when his English teacher had figured out that this was why he struggled in reading the assignments, but could recite back any word or sentence he’d ever heard, they decided that he was “broken” and that they didn’t want him anymore.
They had promptly given him into the state’s care. After being moved from home to home for six months his social worker, Mark Tomlinson, in New York heard Martha Pearson (Danny’s social worker) talking about “The Genius House” with John Greene (who was Don’s social worker). John Greene was interested in seeing if his genius charge would be able to go out there. This got Mark interested in seeing if Tony would be able to join “The Genius House” as well, after all Tony was thirteen and in eleventh grade .
Don had grown up with a wonderful set of loving parents, unlike the other five boys at Mrs. Maxwell’s (Xander’s parents had abused him then sold him to a pedophile ring, Spencer’s dad had walked out when he was seven, leaving him to care for a mentally ill mother who didn’t know who her own son was, Danny’s were abusive criminals and his father had forced Danny to join him and watch as he beat or killed people, Greg’s were addicts who had him cook their drugs for them, then given him to his loving grandparents before they had died, and Tony’s were severely neglectful even before they had decided he wasn’t good enough for them).
Don’s dad was a decorated police officer; his mom was a housewife who volunteered in her spare time at the local youth center, the women and children’s shelter, or the soup kitchen. When she did she brought her three kids along with her. There was fourteen year old Michael, twelve year old Don, and six year old Samantha. Michael was a grade ahead in school, and Samantha was as well, but Don was the brainiest, twelve years old and in the eleventh grade.
That all came to a grinding halt on April 22, 1991, when one of the men Don Flack Sr. had arrested came to the house at eleven twenty that night. Michael had been in his room, watching the Simpsons, Samantha had been asleep in her bed, clutching her My Little Pony Plush, Mr. and Mrs. Flack were asleep in their own room, and Don was in his “special hideout” reading, with his walkman headphones on.
When the man entered the house, no one heard him. He walked into Michael’s room first, cutting his throat before Michael could say a word. Next he went into the master bedroom, slicing Mrs. Flack’s throat as well. Mr. Flack he took his time with stabbing him four times before Samantha ran into the room, as she screamed Don finally heard something, and he climbed out from the nook behind his headboard, and went to go see what was wrong. He went to Michael’s room first, planning to wake him up to go with him to see what was wrong. Instead he found his brother’s dead body, covered in his own blood.
Standing frozen staring at his brother, he was ripped away when Samantha screamed again, before she was cut off suddenly. He quickly ran to his parents’ room and his sister’s voice, only to find her crumpled body lying in the hall, breathing heavily and covered in blood, and still clutching her plush, which was as red as her nightgown. Seeing her chest still moving he quickly went into his parents’ room, where his mother stared at the ceiling, just as Michael had, and the man was holding his father against the wall, and stabbing him over and over.
His father must have seen him out of the corner of his eye, because with his dying breath he shouted as best he could, even with blood dribbling out of his mouth, “Run, Donny! Take Sammie and RUN!” Turning at the voice Don saw the killers face for only a moment, before he turned around and scooped up Sammie like she did her baby-dolls. He felt her gasping against his chest even as he ran out the front door and across the street.