SHIELD ME
Prologue
You don't need to be a genius to know that when one of your parents has a genetically passed disease, you have a high probability of developing it yourself someday. When said disease is actually a mental disorder and it just so happens that your entire life is solely relying on your ability to think faster than others, you can easily get obsessed with finding a cure.
People would see you and think you are that perfect, loving and pitiful Candy-like son, selflessly devoted to saving his mother, and the narcissistic part of your personality likes the admiration, feeds on it, even. Yet, there is always that little voice deep inside that reminds you of the truth, and the truth is, you are not selfless. You have nothing in common with pure, innocent Candy; in fact, you are quite the opposite.
You only acted as a perfect son so that your mother wouldn't abandon you the way your father did. You only forced her to get out of bet so that she would give you her attention. You only fed her so that you wouldn't have to eat alone. Most importantly, the only reason why you have spent hundreds of hours reading everything ever written on the subject of schizophrenia – in three different languages – was that the idea of your own mind trapping you into helplessness terrified you. To be lost in a senseless maze of fantasy and fear, to doubt everything you see when you are lucid and only be calm when you are delusional. That is; until someone finally finds out, and has strangers take you away to some cold and soulless place where they would force-feed you drugs that would make your body numb, your mind limp and your eyes empty.
It was never about what would save her. It was always about what could save you. And when, after years of searching and researching, you eventually realize that schizophrenia is truly as incurable as they all say, then you start living your life knowing that whoever would decide to trust and hire you, would be doing it in the venture. You also know that there was only one reason why the FBI would even consider hiring such a high-risk applicant: you would have to be that good. In fact, you would have to be the best.
So you become the best. You memorize books after books at such a pace it almost becomes a compulsive disorder. You decide to apply at precisely 21, on your birthday. Then you wait…and wait. And when the answer doesn't come, you ask yourself "Did I do anything wrong? Was my application too weird, too snobbish, or too messy? Was there something missing, in me? Am I lacking, in any way? Was I just useless to them?" But then, an answer comes…for your best friend Ethan. Jealousy joins paranoia. Of course, your own answer calling you to Quantico comes in the next day, but it's already too late, and by the time you join the Bureau, you are anything but confident. So once again, you rely on your intellect. You wear it like a shield.
Because it's all that you have. It's the only thing that makes you worthy of your badge. And you know that. The little voice, your conscience, tells you that.
However, you soon find out that you're good, you help, you save, and the voice goes silent. You did make the right choice. Four years go by and you're happy. Gideon is the father you wish you've known you're entire life. Hotch canalizes your energy, he gives you focus. Morgan is your big brother. JJ calls you Spence. You don't know if she's your friend or your mother, but truthfully you don't care because you just love her. You look up to Elle for her strength and you admire Penelope's social skills that make people look past her technological superpowers. You love her because she's your opposite: She's hiding her genius behind her emotions as to be loved while you're hiding your emotions under your genius as to be needed.
Everything is well until you get abducted, tortured and hooked on Dilaudid. You stop being a perfect son to Gideon, and he leaves you. The voice comes back, much louder. Only this time, it's not your conscience.
My name is Spencer Reid, and this is how my life went off-tracks.