Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Criminal Minds, I just like to take liberties with them.

Bingo Prompt: Wildcard (sexual abuse)

Full warnings: Abuse, non-con, underage.

"I didn't tell you the entire truth when we had that discussion in Owen Savage's room… about that day in high school with Alexa Lisbon and the football team…"

The words floated in the air above the two men where they lay in bed at Morgan's place. Though the room was dark, though they had been on the cusp of sleep, Reid's voice did not get swallowed up by the night. It was more than a year after they had visited West Bune, Texas, but Derek still remembered his and Reid's conversation that day with a clarity that better befit his lover's memory. In fact everything about that case stood out in his mind; His obvious, inane fishing at the briefing when Reid was late–"I hope it was a she" after Rossi's "I hope it she was worth it"– had been an obvious attempt to determine the young man's sexuality. In a room full of profilers, he couldn't believe he had said something that so blatantly betrayed his motives. After he'd gotten together with Reid, Prentiss teased him about that moment "You may as well have written one of those little 'Do you like me? Yes or No' notes with the little check boxes– you were that obvious".

He would have chuckled but for the more powerful memory of the painful clenching of his heart as he sat across from Reid in Owen's darkened room; Reid in the chair at the boy's computer desk, turned to face him, seated at the foot of the boy's bed, Reid's voice as he tried to control the volume, speed and clarity of his words when he'd first told Morgan about being duped into thinking he was going to meet a girl he liked only to be stripped naked and tied to the goal posts by the football team. It was only now that Morgan realized that Reid had skipped over a large section of the story– how he'd managed to get free– skipping to the end where he got home after midnight only to find his mom suffering an episode, unable to help him at all. Morgan knew why, because many times he had skipped over sections of stories, to avoid telling people his darkest secret and, like a bloodstain, dread started to seep through the older agent's skin.

"I know," was all he managed to mumble. He turned on his side, the moonlight from the not fully closed drapes revealing the room enough to see Reid's face mostly illuminated in the dark. He was on his back, head turned in his lover's direction, chest exposed, sheets covering the lower half of his body. Big brown eyes appraised Derek and he tried to communicate what he was feeling: I love you, please tell me what happened without speaking the words. The marker of his success came when Spencer, still keeping eye contact slowly shifted onto his side to face him.

"It was…" his voice cracked and he made a small noise to clear his throat before starting again, "It was, um… Blake Christie who untied me." He was not maintaining eye contact anymore and deep inside, Morgan knew why. He watched his lover's face, sparing his gaze for only a second to watch nimble fingers trace a wrinkle in the sheet between them. He said nothing, letting Reid talk. He had grown used to the way that Spencer revealed details about his life– in small bursts, never revealing too much at a time.

"He was a member of the team… a second stringer I think…" there was another pause in which Morgan became hyper aware of how fast his own heart was beating, anticipating–no dreading– what was to come.

"He was nice, he apologized and told me, he hadn't wanted to do it… that the other guys had made him feel like he had to join in. He told me that they were out at a bush party and he'd felt bad, so he came back to get me. That was at 9:43, according to his watch."

Morgan's stomach flip-flopped at the knowledge that over two hours had lapsed between when Reid has been freed from the goal post, and when he had actually arrived home. Why hadn't he questioned it before? That was easy– the case.

"He told me, he had no idea where they put my clothes, so he'd loan me some of his– which was ridiculous really because I was so much smaller than him– but I didn't care, I was just thankful that I wouldn't have to walk home naked." Reid paused again and swallowed, finally making eye contact with Morgan, searching for reassurance in his lover's intent gaze. He got it in the form of a blind hand wandering across the space between them to tangle his fidgeting fingers in a firm, but very gentle hold.

"When we got to his house, nobody was home– he told me his Dad had taken off when he was a kid, and his Mom was probably working the late shift again, she was a nurse I think. We went in through the garage, so none of the neighbors would see me." Now that he'd found the courage to speak, the story came easier, like recounting the details of a case for a report at its closure.

"We went to his room and he found me some clothes– stuff he'd outgrown…" Reid shuddered as the memory, in full, technicolour clarity, flooded his senses.

"That shirt doesn't have a hope in hell of fitting me again, you should keep it," Blake said from the doorway after Spencer had finished pulling the blue and grey striped shirt over his head. The teen had given him privacy to change, which Spencer found both odd and kind.

"Thanks," the preteen murmured, still a little unsure of what to think of the young man in front of him.

"You're welcome… um… do you want something to eat… I guess you haven't had dinner…" the teenager looked vaguely guilty as he cast his gaze down to the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.

"I should– I should go home…"

"I guess you're right…"

"You know that feeling you get? When something is wrong in a situation?" Reid's voice was shaky, going high as it often did when he was desperate to get a point across, Morgan nodded, one stiff, single movement, knowing what was coming.

"I ignored it."

"So did I," Morgan murmured, his heart already breaking for what he knew he was about to hear.

"Come on… you'll like it," Blake's voice was in his ear, heated and slick. His hand was guiding Spencer's across naked skin that the adolescent hadn't dared glimpse at. Gym class was awkward enough, all averted eyes, and paranoid glances– no touching–ever, if you did, you were gay– which Spencer would have had no problem with– if he hadn't been the youngest kid in the school.

"You do me and I'll do you. It feels good…"

It had happened so fast. One minute he'd been pulling away from Blake, stuttering excuses, telling him 'thank you' but he could walk home. The next thing Spencer knew, he was on his back, Blake's fingers manipulating the button and fly on his loaned jeans.

"Don't… Blake I don't want to… please… I–" The warmth of a hand wrapped around one of the most intimate areas of his body made him stop mid-stutter. Blake glanced down and smirked.

"If there's grass on the field play ball…" Spencer went crimson immediately, familiar with the euphemism from crude remarks about girls at school. He knew that even if he tried to run, he wouldn't succeed. Blake was much bigger than him…

"Calm down, it's not going to hurt or anything kid, now hold still." Warm breath, familiar because it had been near his ear, against his lips and now… much lower. A whimper broke free from his throat. He could feel the vermillion of his face spreading down his chest and back. Soon he was sweating, the moisture gathering in his lower back, under his arms, across his forehead. Suddenly Blake stopped and sat up. His blonde hair slightly ruffled, his cheeks flushed as a sly smile made its way across his face.

"I told you you'd like it," he mused, "Now it's my turn, then I'll finish you."

Reid's face contorted into a grimace as the next sentence left his lips;

"He performed oral sex on me and I performed oral sex on him… it was my first time doing anything in an intimate capacity with anyone." Morgan closed his eyes as Reid's statement stoked the coals of an anger he thought he'd extinguished once Buford was caught.

The taste was musty but Spencer couldn't bring himself to register a verdict of disgust– he couldn't feel anything but fear. One of the jock's powerful hands held the back of his head, forcing him to stay still where he was on his knees at the edge of the bed while the larger boy thrust into his mouth.

"You're good at this…" the older teen grunted.

"I'd just turned twelve a few months before, he was seventeen." The tint of shame in Reid's voice was palpable and all Derek wanted to do was reach out and kiss the pain away– but he knew, more than anyone else could, that it wasn't possible.

When Blake orgasmed, the fluid shocked Spencer and he yanked his head back, choking and gaging, as he tried to clear his throat of the viscous liquid before finally coughing, bent double, spitting into the wastebasket at the side of the bed. His ears were still ringing from the force of his retching when Blake pulled him up from the floor and switched places with him, shoving him back against the mattress.

"You did so good… you're a natural… let me finish you…"

"After… he offered to drive me home," Reid's voice was small, quiet and hoarse as he made his confession, "and because I didn't know where I was… I let him."

Morgan's heart pounded against his ribcage with bruising force as he remembered his abuser doing the very same thing– driving him home… after.

"Reid…" he kept his voice calm as he reached out with it in the dark, but the young doctor kept speaking.

"My mom didn't even notice I wasn't wearing my own clothes, didn't ask where I'd been," he said softly, miserably, "So I just took a shower and I went to bed. "

The image of a broken young man, trying to wash away the feelings of shame and guilt, as if they were stains that could be erased hit a little too close to home for Derek, and against his will, he felt his eyes tearing up.

"You know what the worst part was?" Reid said after taking a long, shaky breath. He didn't need to say it for Derek to know what it was. Nonetheless, the young man's eyes met eyes that shadowed his own sadness, almost as if to seek permission before continuing.

"I had to see him at school for the next few months until we graduated, and I was always afraid he'd do it again– he never did."

The room was silent for almost a full minute before Reid spoke again.

"Derek please… say something."

Normally it was rage that bubbled up inside of Derek when he thought of anyone hurting someone he loved, but now, seeing his lover so bare and vulnerable, his normal response of aggression in times of helplessness and anger buried itself, in favor of offering something much more constructive: comfort. Though he knew he shouldn't Derek couldn't help himself, he reached out and pulled his lover in close, the long, lean body pressed against his, head tucked under his chin. He let the tears slip from his eyes and land in the nest of chestnut curls under him.

"I love you Spencer Reid," he murmured. He could have told him it wasn't his fault, that he'd been a kid, but he knew that the young man before him already knew that. He could have asked him if he'd sought help, but he didn't, because he already possessed intimate knowledge on the topic, and knew the likely answers.

They lay as they were for several minutes before Morgan finally loosened his hold, letting Reid get into a more comfortable position, where the men could look at one another once again. One question was plaguing him though, and he could not resist asking it, no matter how bad it sounded.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked softly. Though they had only become more than friends in the last six months, they had been coworkers, and then friends for some time now.

"That day?" Reid asked, voice betraying a small amount of incredulity.

"No, not then," Morgan replied, recalling how the case in West Bune had been difficult for Reid– and he'd only had part of the story at the time. He felt a pang of guilt on behalf of the whole team for the way they had treated Reid when he was so sensitive to Owen's state of mind. Though Reid had been short, insensitive and even borderline unprofessional towards local law enforcement, he'd had reason to be. Investigating what had happened to Owen had brought forth unpleasant experiences and unresolved injustices.

"I wanted to tell you as soon as I knew about… about Buford… but I just– I couldn't do it. Though it sounds ridiculous, I felt that by sharing that detail you that you may have thought I was somehow mitigating the trauma you had felt. It also meant I would have had to tell you about everything that had happened that day and I wasn't ready to do that. Then we had the case in Georgia and I wanted to tell you after– but I was so messed up from the Dilaudid I didn't think you would believe me, even if I told you. Then Gideon left and… it just… a time never came up. In Annapolis, when I woke up and you were eating my Jello– that's when I knew I had to tell you sooner rather than later. It sounds stupid but it was then that I realized I couldn't die with this secret."

Derek vividly remembered the day they'd gone to investigate Dr. Nichols' lab and Spencer had been exposed to a deadly strain of anthrax. They had just started seeing each other three months prior and he had been devastated by the thought of losing him.

"You never told anyone else?" he murmured in disbelief. Reid shook his head.

"Did you know that less than three percent of male sexual assault victims report the crime? The closest I came was with Gideon when my high school reunion came up… he asked me if I was going, but I told him I was too young to really relate to any of my peers… and three days later I needed to defend my dissertation anyway…"

Derek let silence wash over them again as he thought about the years of silence both he and Reid had nursed, and in the name of what? Protecting someone who didn't deserve it. He'd gotten justice, but what about Reid.

"Did you ever…" Derek chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before starting over again, "Do you know where he is now?"

Reid shrugged before vocalizing his answer.

"Geographically speaking, he is probably located within the Tri-State area of the university or college he attended. I've never bothered to look into it. I don't have any desire to confront him. Especially not after you were forced to confront Buford."

Derek nodded his understanding. He didn't blame Reid for not wanting to see his abuser ever again. It sickened him to think that someone could have preyed on him at his most vulnerable– the youngest kid in the school, skinny and shy, with too much on his plate. It saddened him to know that they had more in common than he thought.

"Do I– do you think of me differently now?"

Reid's voice as it reached out in the dark, sounded more pleading, more heartbroken than ever before.

"Yes," Derek replied, keeping his voice gentle and soft and he heard Reid's labored swallow, "And no," he added. Reid exhaled a puff of air through his nose, heart pounding.

"You are still the same man; you are my best friend, my partner and my lover," Derek replied gently, "but now, you are also a survivor." Reid smiled, his signature, slight twitch of the lips when someone was telling him what he needed to hear, and Morgan very cautiously leaned forward and pressed his lips to the expression.

"I love you," he said very seriously when he pulled away.

"I love you too," Reid whispered, voice hoarse, betraying how he actually felt– liberated. The heavy thing he lugged with him everywhere that seemed to gather more weight and darkness with each struggle seemed less cloying, lighter. It would always be a part of him, but the burden of carrying it alone, hiding it from others, had been lifted. The final bridge to that particular part of his past, set alight.