Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, the characters from the show, etc. I am not making any money off the writing of this story.

This was originally a drabble from BonesBird's drabble challenge on FaceBook. 500 words were, for once, just not enough so I finished it and this is the result. The lyrics below are the lyrics for the challenge and the inspiration for the story.

Another turning point a fork stuck in the road

Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go

So make the best of this test and don't ask why

It's not a question but a lesson learned in time

Reid sat down at his home desk and pulled out a small bottle. 30-year-old single malt Scotch was pricey but he'd saved up and intended to savor the treat. Tonight was his and his alone. Leaning back in his chair, he allowed his mind to wander and remember.

30 years, he'd survived 30 years on this planet. He'd survived. Sometimes it still amazed him he'd made it this long. Bullied, shot, tortured, drug addiction... How had he made it this long again? Who could've guessed that the young skinny kid with horn-rimmed glasses reading Proust with his mother would become a FBI profiler? He was grateful to his mother for encouraging him as much and as often as she could. She'd meant more to him for longer than anyone else had. His team was now included on that short list, but he hadn't known them as long.

She had always encouraged him to think critically, never taking an author's words at face value. There was always more to a story than the words on the page. Sometimes they just read and enjoyed the rhythm of the story washing back and forth over them. It was one way to help with her episodes, even before his father left. They would sit down and Spencer would read to her. Tristan und Isolde was always a favorite. After his father left, he knew he would have to be the one to step up and care for his mother. He wasn't willing to risk anyone finding out about his situation. It took a toll on him; he discovered looking back. Things he'd wanted to do simply became impossible. Chess club, debate club, extra computer classes had to be shoved aside and ignored. He taught himself about budgeting and made sure the bills were paid. His Mother's pension from the universities allowed them some comfort. A small smile formed on his lips as he remembered chatting with the school secretary one spring. He'd ended up being 'contracted' to do the taxes for most of the staff. The money he made became his allowance. Most of it was spent on indulging his sweet tooth and books.

Books, thankfully his Mother never noticed the extra books in the house. Perhaps because there were always alot of books in the house, she never detected a few more. Any more modern looking books were kept in his room. By the time he was seven, she only came in there to help him make his bed. That was always easier with two people, no matter how old one gets. Fiction became his escape. To visit another world, someone else's life for even a brief period was exhilarating.

A tear crept down his face as he recalled that day on the football field. He was upset and relieved that his Mother never noticed. He wanted her to comfort him. To be the 'Mama Bear' protecting her cub, he wanted her to reassure him that the world wasn't as bad a place as he now feared it may be for him. She hadn't been taking her medicine and could always tell when he tried to slip it into her food. She was the new professor, in her mind. Flush with new knowledge and wanting to share her passions with her students. He was grateful, even at the time, for his mind that allowed him to be able to keep up and pretend to be one of her students. She always took a proverbial shine to him, even when she didn't realize he was her son. He stayed away from school for almost two weeks until the bruises, and his ego, had healed enough to return. For the rest of his high school days he made sure never to be caught alone with anyone. Period. He'd made it. His Mother even managed to make the ceremony. The picture of him in his cap and gown, flush with success and her in her best dress, arm around him proud smile so big, still brought a smile to his face whenever he looked at it.

Caltech was more of the same. However, the bullying wasn't quite so fierce. He was usually assumed to be a faculty member's son when he was out in the common areas. Running around doing errands on days off from school, or maybe he was being home-schooled. He enjoyed the challenge his professors seemed willing to provide. The discussions with some of them made other areas bearable.

He wanted to learn more about the technology that was changing the world and tried computer classes and a computer club. The club was worse than the high school football players were. When he'd pointed out the problems with the logic in the arguments of PC vs. MAC, they beat him with old keyboards, called him more names than he truly cared to recall, and kicked him out of the club. He knew his detesting of technology mainly stemmed from that. The reminder of what he couldn't do in high school didn't help either.

After completing his Mathematics PhD, he wanted to go to MIT for some engineering courses. The idea was cut short when he'd had to take a term via correspondence. His Mother's medicines needed to be adjusted again and he couldn't risk leaving her on her own. UNLV opened their libraries to him and even had him give small lectures mainly to professors. He didn't want to speak in front of students. It would only make him a target.

Attending Gideon's lecture changed everything. He'd finally been able and willing to commit his Mother the year before. He'd kept their house in Vegas, and rented it out to a lovely retired snowbird couple. He liked to be in Vegas for the summer. It was never an easy season for his Mother and being close made him feel better. After about six months in Bennington, Diana had surprised him by quietly thanking him for having the courage to do what he'd needed to do. Gideon's words lit a longing in him that he'd never felt before. He'd always assumed that he would end up in academia in one way or another. If he was lucky, perhaps he could be an analyst in some fashion. Profiling would be something completely different. It represented a chance to help people like himself years before.

He would be able to make a difference in so many lives. A chance to escape a nine-to-five office-bound job that seemed to be all he was headed toward in his life. His mind would be challenged. His body would definitely be challenged. It seemed like it hit so many points, some he didn't even realize were on the list.

He pushed himself in the Academy. He'd pushed to be accepted into the program period. He wanted his Mother's blessing. He explained how he would be helping people. How much he wanted to help, he wanted to be able to protect the scared boys and girls. This wasn't a muscle job. He would be using all his mind's power and prowess along with his physical body to do this. She'd been persuaded, and gave her blessings to him and on him freely. The Academy was ruthless. He practiced and trained and practiced and trained. Some of the physical courses he'd passed barely, but he'd passed every single one of them. He was secretly very proud of himself for that fact. It wasn't hard to see that the 'brain' portion of the training wasn't an issue for him. He'd started training long before joining. Not that he'd admit it to anyone, but he had even gone so far as to work with a personal trainer for a month in California. The advice and regimen had helped immensely. The morning run was still something he enjoyed and was grateful that the Bureau usually put them up in a hotel with a gym. It seemed like everyone else on his team was a night-workout person. He preferred the morning. A quiet cup of coffee, some basic yoga stretches, and he was off for a bit of weights and a lot of running. Hotel employees tended to overlook the posted gym hours for the FBI and he made a point to thank the desk clerks that let him in after hours.

Thinking about Gideon's departure made the remnants of his smile fade completely. It still hurt. Looking back now, he could see the signs that no one could see at the time. Facing Bale was good for his mentor; otherwise, he probably shouldn't have come back after Boston at all. Teaching only brought back memories better left alone. Each class wanted to know. Reliving it for them each time didn't help Gideon put it behind him. Leaving so soon after Hankel, Reid was glad he'd made it as far into his own recovery as he had before that. Looking back, he wasn't positive he would've relapsed, but it was a definite possibility. He proved to himself that he was stronger than he thought. He didn't like that it had taken so much effort to 'kick the habit' but he was better for the experience.

Getting shot in the knee sucked. No matter how one looks at it, knee injuries suck. That whole time was such pain for the team, but it'd forced them to lean on one another. They had had to become a stronger family or they would've been torn apart. Hotch was and is their rock, but even rocks will break under enough pressure. They supported one another and especially him coping with Foyet and Hailey's death afterwards. Morgan and Rossi were and are especially helpful to Hotch. Doing what they can for paperwork and other duties so Hotch can get home at night for Jack. Reid does his part by helping Rossi and Morgan with their regular files. He doesn't mind. Paperwork is soothing to him. The rhythm of the pen across the paper is almost as calming as music some days. There's a degree of normalcy in it that keeps some of the proverbial monsters at bay.

Prentiss' 'death' and return tore the fabric of their team nearly apart. The timing was a bit ironic when he thought about it. Thirty is one of the first adult milestones where one can take a real look back at what one has done so far. He'd just begun thinking along those lines when the whole business with Doyle had happened. With the resolution happening how it did, he'd been so hurt; all he could do was lash out. Lash out at those still around, lash out in ways he'd never been able to do with those that had hurt him so deeply before. Looking back, he felt a bit of guilt about how he'd chosen to do it. He did feel better for having aired his feelings.

An ironic smile tugged at his lips, he purposely hadn't kept count of the number of miles he'd pounded out in his hurt. He pounded out his grief on the shooting range and his rage on the track. It was such a sweet release. He could let go and just be. No more expectations about forgiving, when he was still dealing, he still was in a way.

He knew deep down, he would forgive in time. He just needed that time.

Looking down at his nearly empty glass, then over at the clock, Reid was glad it was a Friday and there was no work tomorrow. It seemed like his team had forgotten his birthday. Not that he wanted to wear that silly birthday hat again, but it would've been nice to be remembered.

He supposed all the business with Carolyn coming back into Rossi's life and the decision that she had presented to him distracted everyone. He was a man of science, but even so, he had a feeling that this situation wasn't going to end well.

He would be there for Rossi, he decided. He would be there in whatever way Rossi needed him to be, even if it was just observer.

He would look to repairing some of the bridges between him, JJ and Prentiss. He still didn't like their actions, their deceit.

Unconsciously squaring his shoulders, he continued. He wouldn't turn his back on his feelings or their years of friendship. He would fight for this and work on it, as a thirty year old should.

Standing up, he moved over to the spare mirror hanging on the back of his home office door. He had come this far. He could keep going.

Happy Birthday to me, he thought and walked out of the room.

Maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had, and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

~ Anonymous

Dedicated to my parents who have been so supportive over the last couple of years, ever since I got the notice from my last job in particular

Reid drank single malt Scotch for my Dad… I asked about traditional birthday drinks and he said that if I was going to have him drink Scotch – it had better be single malt.

This turned into a rather cathartic experience. I'm at about the same point in my life as Reid and MGG are, so I think there's more of me in here than usual, as much as it's Reid's experiences.

To those reading Reid's Surprise:

I promise I haven't given up on it. I'm working on it as I feel up to it and Daffyd (my muse) allows me to do so.

TTFN,

Dragon

PS: Please review, I really do appreciate hearing your thoughts.