Chapter 1: The Beginning of a New Life

Thirty-nine-year-old Professor Doctor Spencer Reid was bent over his huge mahogany working desk in his Florida beach mansion with deeply furrowed brows and an ancient-looking fountain pen that had been outdated sometime in the middle of the last century held tightly in his slightly shaking left hand.

He was mostly right-handed – at least had been. Ever since he'd been shot in the right shoulder several years ago by a cornered and desperate UnSub trying to fight his way through the cordon of FBI agents gathered around him with any means available, he'd been favoring his left hand when it came to writing long assays.

And write, he did a lot. By now, he had published over two-hundred studies in varying topics like Physics, Chemistry, Math, Criminology, Psychology or even – to one of his oldest best friend's, Derek Morgan's, great delight – in Firearms. Yes: firearms. 'I can't believe it, not only has Pretty Boy finally learned to meet his target, he has even gained an understanding of guns!?' – His old teammate had teased him. Of course, they both knew he had been able to shoot better than even the dark-skinned ex-agent himself for a decade before that, but neither ever mentioned this little detail.

Beside the numerous studies, Professor Doctor Spencer Reid had also published two dozen books about the cases they had worked on and the way profilers approached crime scenes and tried to look for the UnSubs' signature despite initially having knowledge solely of the victims and the crime itself. This had been an ongoing joke between him and his surrogate father, David Rossi: whenever one of them wanted to start to write about something, they had to consult the other to make sure he hadn't wanted to write about the same topic first. It was hilarious, at least according to JJ and Emily. 'Like father, like son.' – Hotch had said with a fond smile. And he would know – his own son, Jack, had ended up to the FBI Academy, despite Hotch trying to talk him into choosing law school instead.

So, on one notable occasion, him and Rossi had even had a fight over the case called 'The Blade Killer' that had gone somehow like this:

"Come on, Rossi! You got to write about the Ripper and the woman who poisoned everyone she thought was a competition. Let me have this one!"

"No way, Kiddo. Sorry, but I let you do the crazy maniac with the pocket knife."

"That was my idea in the first place!"

"No, it wasn't, it was mine!"

"NO!"

"YES! I already had my notes when you came up with it."

"Then we thought of it independently from each other, because I had notes too! And I had also talked to three witnesses before you even mentioned you were interested!"

"Well, you should have asked sooner. But it doesn't matter now; I want to do the Blade Killer. I already have an idea how to describe the crime scene with the blood all over the floor…"

"How come the Publisher lets you write all these gory details? They always make me censor myself when it comes to blood! It's unfair! Besides, I drafted two chapters already!"

They heard chuckles then someone cleared his throat behind them. They turned to find the whole bullpen staring at them, smirking or – in some cases (=the newer agents not yet accustomed to their bickering) – looking utterly horrified.

"What!?" – Rossi asked irritated. – "I'm not allowed to have a conversation with my son?" – He asked, addressing all the agents.

Most had the decency to avert their eyes in shame. But, of course, some others didn't have a problem with openly laughing instead.

"Dave, Spencer: have you thought about an alternate solution?" – Grinned Hotch innocently.

"What do you mean, 'alternate'?" – Inquired Reid, trying to ignore the others. He knew they were making a fool of themselves but he couldn't help it: the senior profiler could be such a pain when he wanted to be!

"Well, maybe you could write the book together." – Stated the unit chief as if it were the most logical thing in the world. His declaration was followed by silence, with Rossi and Reid blinking confusedly at each other for a while.

Finally, the older man slowly said:

"I… khm… actually, I haven't thought of it yet. Kiddo?"

"Me neither… Is it even possible though? What would the Publisher say?"

"Who cares?"

"True."

"So, what do you think? Do you believe we could do it without killing each other?"

"I guess… You get all the disgusting details and I get to do the interviews?"

"Deal!"

"Great!"

And so, they had done it. They had written the book together and it had quickly become their most successful work to date; readers regularly sent them fan mail even to this day, saying how the book had changed their lives, how much they had learnt of it. Reid still couldn't believe it and was glad to let the older man handle all the fans and presentations.

Writing came natural to him; he liked it a lot. He always had thousands of thoughts chasing each other in his mind, even when he appeared to be just staring into nothingness. His friends and family knew he never really rested – well, he did, but never his brain. Reid had had a feeling for a long time that he wasn't completely in control of his mind most of the time. Simply put: his mind was way smarter and quicker than him. Spencer Reid, the FBI agent, was always trying to catch up to Professor Doctor Spencer Reid, the scientist, the teacher, the researcher the… everything. And writing helped because then, he could get his brain to slow down a bit, organize the thoughts, try to explain it to others… It calmed him.

But an autobiography? This was something different. The Publisher had been nagging him to do it for two years now and Katie – his assistant (or better yet: 'manager', as she liked to call herself, claiming it sounded 'so much cooler') thought his approaching his 40. birthday was a good time to actually do it. Reid snorted. Pff. Forty… Really? It wasn't nearly old enough to write an autobiography! Besides: why would anyone be interested in his life? He had never done anything worth the paper he was writing on! It was one thing for legends like Jason Gideon or David Rossi to write about basically coming up with the idea of the BAU and building it up from scratch themselves. But him? What should he write about?

Should he begin with his childhood? Certainly not… Who would care about a skinny, lanky, messy-haired child with dark-rimmed glasses and always a couple of bruises to cover up with too big clothes and long-sleeved pullovers to avoid making the authorities suspicious? Should he share the pain he had felt when his father had just left them, never to return, with the entire world? Or the agony he had felt when he had sent his mother away at the tender age of eighteen? Or when she had stopped recognizing him for good? No, no and no. With that, he tore the paper he had been scribbling on from his notebook with a forceful tug and threw it with a well-practiced movement across the room. It landed squarely in the middle of the waste basket.

Yes: Professor Doctor Spencer Reid hadn't changed; he still preferred writing in his a notebook with a real pen, instead of typing his ideas on a computer and squinting at a screen. That part fell to Katie. Poor girl had become an expert at deciphering his messy handwriting over the last two and a half years she had been working for him.

So: if he didn't want to write about his childhood, what should he begin with? Maybe with meeting Gideon for the first time; an occasion that had changed his whole life? Smiling, he began to write again.

Nineteen-year-old Doctor Spencer Reid was excited; he had been waiting for this day to come for ages, and here it was now: the famous Jason Gideon – the LEGEND – had just arrived, at their campus, to give a guest lecture about the work he did for the FBI as a 'profiler'. The teenage genius, sitting next to his only slightly older, also genius friend called Ethan, couldn't wait for it to begin.

"Do you think he'll tell us about real cases?" – He asked, bouncing in his seat like a child in a candy store.

His friends gave a snort.

"I hope he won't show us any pictures." – The older boy hadn't been nearly as excited as his friend. He preferred sitting in his room listening to music or reading a good book to pondering about gory murder cases. It just wasn't his thing at all.

"Oh! Here he is!" – Squeaked Reid, trying to sit up straighter to see the newcomer. Being as young and small as he was, he had to crane his neck even in the front row to be able to see normally.

"Good day, everyone." – Began the lecturer. – "My name is Jason Gideon and I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Of course, all of you know what the FBI is. But do you know anything about the BAU?" – Some people shook their heads sheepishly and Gideon chuckled kindly. – "It's all right. By the time we'll be finished with today's lesson, you will all have a general idea about our work. So, let's begin…"

After an hour and a half they indeed knew a lot more than before.

"Oh. My. God." – Exclaimed Reid, still under the influence of the whole new world he had learnt about while several students filed out of the auditorium, hurrying to their next class. – "I want to do this!"

"You already did." – Groaned his friend. – "I can't believe you solved all the cases he presented to us. He said one of them was an old, unsolved mystery and you just unraveled it! Now you might get a medal or something…"

The young genius didn't appear to have heard his friend though.

"This is soooo amazing! I want to become an agent!"

"I thought you wanted to be a mathematician and physician." – Reminded him Ethan, getting somewhat annoyed. He hated that the younger one seemed to be so much better than him in everything they did together. Not only were they friends, they were also each other's biggest rivals.

"Not anymore. I think- Oh! He's coming our way!"

"No, he's not."

"Yes, he is."

"He's no- Mr. Gideon!"

The older man smiled warmly at the two youngest students.

"Young men. Did you enjoy the lesson?" – He asked them both but his eyes lingered just a tad bit longer on Reid.

"Yes, sir." – Nodded Ethan politely.

"Incredibly!"

Gideon chuckled again.

"The way you think is amazing, Mr…?"

"Reid, sir. Doctor Spencer Reid."

"Doctor? How old are you?"

"Nineteen. But I'll be twenty soon."

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"If in eight months is 'soon'…"

"Shut up. It's just seven months and 29 days."

"A doctor at that age… Are you a genius?"

"I guess… khm…" – Seeing his friend's sour expression, he quickly added. – "We both are."

"Amazing. And you're interested in Psychology?" – Inquired Gideon. – "Just because the insight you demonstrated shows you have some prior experience with it."

"Well, I read a lot and I have an eidetic memory, so it all sticks with me… And, being the youngest everywhere, I sort of need it too… You know, to assess people quickly, know if someone's a threat… ahm…"

"Quite understandable. But you just solved a cold case not even several groups of trained FBI agents have been able to, only by what I told you… This is definitely more than just deciding if I'm a threat or not."

"Fresh eyes…? But I'm fascinated by this profiling thing. Is there someplace to study more of that?"

"By doing it."

"Oh." – So, there wasn't a way he could do it, since he'd never be accepted to the Academy, he was-

"Would you be interested in joining our team?"

"Huh?" – Way to go, Spencer. You sounded very intelligent! Gideon will soon realize you're nothing but a snotty kid and then he'd leave faster than lightning.

"You'd have to go through training first of course. And we'd have to lift some expectations, like the age requirement." – Mused the agent, more to himself than anyone else. – "I'm not sure they'd give you a gun right away, but it doesn't matter anyway. Our greatest weapon is our mind. We'd have to take it easy with you but again: no problem. We're not the counter terrorism unit, we mostly work in a controlled environment. I'll talk to the others and we'll see… I think I could get you into the program next month…"

"Next month!?"

"Let's talk tomorrow, I'll know better by then. See you here in my next class." – With that, the older man was gone, still seemingly deep in thoughts. Spencer and Ethan remained in their seats for a long time, completely stunned.

When he finished, Professor Doctor Spencer Reid read through the paragraphs again. He had to smile at the memory of his nineteen-year-old self, completely petrified at the very idea of his life changing so drastically and so suddenly, but also feeling, deep down, that this would be something huge. Something there wasn't backing off from. Naturally, his friend Ethan hadn't been nearly as optimistic about this idea as he had been, predicting his best friend's quick demise in the clutches of the harsh reality of the FBI.

"You can't be serious about this, Spencer!" – His friend shouted exasperatedly, having been trying; and failing; to stop the younger man from committing what he had called the biggest mistake of his life. – "They'll chew you and then spit you out and that will be it! You're really ready to give up your life and academic career for this momentarily fascination with something you don't even know much about?"

"But Ethan, Gideon said he'd help me with everything! I won't be alone!"

The older boy almost stomped his foot in annoyance.

"Gideon! Gideon, Gideon, Gideon! It's always him, I don't even hear anything else from you anymore! Are you in love with that old man, or what!? Why would he help you? Come on! He's an agent and he has enough on his plate without mentoring a troubled genius teenager."

"I'm not troubled! And he said-"

"Did you know he left his family? He has a twenty-one year old son he hadn't seen in years, Spencer! Why would he help you if he doesn't even care about his own child? Do you really trust a man like that?"

And if that hadn't been enough, even his mother hadn't been thrilled about the idea and she had voiced her concerns one day when Spencer had visited her at Bennington.

"Baby, are you sure about this? It sounds so… foreign. I would never have expected you of all people to be interested in law enforcement…"

"But why not, mom? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just that you're more of an academic type. You're very young, very small and skinny and… I'm worried, that's all."

"Being a profiler is not so dangerous; Gideon said I'll work more with my mind than anything else. It's like being a psychologist." – He explained, hoping to convince his mother, telling himself if he'd manage that, he'd surely start believing it himself as well.

"But you'd be an agent, right? You'd need to go through training and also carry a gun."

"Yes, mom. I'll begin next month."

"Next month!? Already?"

He sighed tiredly. He had told her at least three times before and she had been that surprised every time.

"Yes, mom. Next month."

"And where is it?"

He had told her that too.

"In Quantico. Virginia…"

"But that's so far away! Are you leaving me?"

"No, mom. I'll never leave you; I'll just be a bit farther away. But I will always be there for you. You can count on me, all right?"

It hadn't been all right, of course. And, in the end, he had even become a liar, though only a year and a half later, when he hadn't been there for her last 'clean' days. He'd been tortured by a schizophrenic maniac called Tobias Hankel instead, and by the time he had escaped and gotten well enough to visit her once again, her memories about her only son and her previous life had been gone for good…

But he was running ahead in time too quickly.

So, after all the 'well-wishes' (more like warnings and chidings) of his mother and best friend, he had nearly backed out of the whole thing and continued his university studies instead. But only nearly. Telling himself he wouldn't be such a coward and also wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of a man who had done nothing but help him ever since they had met, he had packed up all his personal belongings, sold their house in Las Vegas (his mother had been living in Bennington for over a year back then and he knew she wouldn't need their home anymore either), and – taking a deep breath – he had moved to Quantico to begin his new life as a cadet.

What had he been thinking? 'Stupid, stupid!' – He repeated in his head over and over again as he was standing at the gate of the FBI Academy in Quantico. It was the first time he had left the west coast and he was already cold, shaky and feeling very lonely and lost. All in all: he was miserable and starting to regret the whole thing. Maybe his mother and Ethan had been right all along?

"Feeling all right, Spencer?" – Came the kind, caring voice from behind him. Turning around, he found an amused Gideon looking at him with his eyes full of understanding. He didn't even need to say anything, the man draped an arm around his shoulders and gently gave him a tiny push to get the reluctant young man's legs moving forward.

"Do you think I'll be able to do this?" – Asked Reid as they were walking towards the building where he'd meet the other new cadets. It was a terrifying thought.

"I KNOW you'll be excellent."

"But I can't even run two steps without stumbling over my own two feet! And I won't be able to shoot – I just know that!" – He said, clearly panicking.

"These things don't matter. I told you already: Hotch and I will be there all the way for you, helping you around. You'll join the BAU as soon as you're finished with the basic training and we'll finish teaching you everything. This here…" – The profiler said, motioning around – "… is just your passport into the Bureau. We got a lot of exemptions for you but we couldn't get you out of at least having to pretend to get a training. It's okay though, don't worry. All the sergeants who'll train you know about your situation."

"Great. So they hate me already even before I'll have a chance to meet them!" – Complained the teenager.

Gideon shook his head.

"Nobody hates you. They might not fully understand the situation but they know you're younger than anyone, so they'll treat you accordingly. And you won't be left alone anyway. In just a few weeks, you'll officially join my team to finish your training there. All right?"

Reid took a deep breath and nodded for his mentor to open the door that would let them inside the building.

"Yeah. I guess. Let's do this then."

Even during his initial training, Reid had started to get to know all the members of the BAU team, introducing himself to them in order to make him more comfortable around them by the time he'd be able to join the team permanently. Of course, back then, nobody knew about the horrible accident that would put a halt to Unit chief Jason Gideon's plans and nearly destroy everyone's dream – including Reid's.

The first weeks of the training had gone by very quickly, and – surprisingly to everyone, especially Reid himself – he had done fairly well. Okay, maybe 'well' wasn't the best expression to use, considering he hadn't needed to even try most of the things the new cadets had to face, but he had certainly excelled at all his academic studies (intelligence analysis, languages, psychology, criminology and such things) and also hadn't disappointed in most of the other aspects of the tasks – except for shooting and anything to do with martial arts, self-defense or even running. He had been great at tactics – as long as they hadn't wanted him to demonstrate his skills in field. That one occasion had been the point Gideon and Hotch had had to step in and pull out the 'he's excused'-card. The expression on the sergeant's face had been hilarious and worth all the teasing he'd had to endure afterwards from his mates.

Anyway, in the end, he had become an official FBI agent.

"Congratulations, Agent Spencer Reid. It's an honor having you in our midst" – Said one of the senior agents he had never met before. The man held out his hand for Reid to shake and the young man had to suppress a shudder as he took it. He hated touching people…

"Thank you, sir."

As soon as the ceremony was over and they were finally left alone, Gideon and Hotch stepped to him. The older man affectively patted his shoulder while the younger agent – knowing Reid's aversion to any kind of human contact – presented him with a rare smile that was worth a hundred words.

"Are you excited about beginning your work with us?" – He asked his newest teammate.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner. I can't wait!" – That was true, though he wasn't about to admit that he was also scared to death.

"Just Hotch, please. I told you, everyone calls me that."

"Sorry. Ag- I mean: Hotch."

"So: tomorrow will be a big day for you. All the others are ready waiting to welcome you to the team." – Said Gideon.

"What if we'll get a case right away? I won't even know what to do…"

"Don't you worry about it, son. Taking care of you is our responsibility. We won't let you down."

And of course they hadn't. Not until about a week later…

- Did you hear what happened? – Asked Morgan the sleepy genius without preamble, as soon as he had picked up the phone. Throwing a glance at the clock on the nightstand informed the nineteen-year-old that it was only half past two in the morning.

- No… Do we have a case? – He asked, trying not to yawn too loudly.

- Kid… Something horrible happened. I don't even know how to tell you.

Sleepiness gone, Reid was instantly alert.

- What? Morgan, tell me!

- The team was called out in the evening for the arrest of the serial bomber Adrian Bale…

- Yeah. I know that. – He had heard the others talking about it. He hadn't been allowed to go, of course. As the newest and youngest member of the team, he couldn't take part in any risky operations as of yet; both Gideon and Hotch had made it quite clear more than once. Morgan, who was battling a nasty cold, also had had to stay at home; much to the older agent's dismay.

- Kid… Listen… A bomb went off…

- No…

- … and it injured several people…

- No!

- … some died…

- NO! Please! No!

- Gideon is fine but very shaken. Hotch is… still alive, as far as I know but… it doesn't look good. But Manson and Loren are dead, along with four other agents and a hostage. It's a mess, Kid.

- Oh, my God. No, please. This is just a sick joke, right? – It had to be! He couldn't believe it. Two teammates dead, Hotch dying and Gideon… What would happen now?

- Sorry, Kid. I'm coming to get you, all right? We'll go to see Hotch in the hospital, meet Gideon there… I'll be there in ten and…

His new friend continued talking until he arrived but Reid couldn't hear him anymore. His mind was flashing horrible images of dead, mutilated bodies in front of his eyes like a movie. First, they were just nameless, faceless bodies but later they transformed into his two dead teammates, into Hotch, Gideon and Morgan, finally Ethan and his mother. He wasn't even surprised when in the end, he saw his own dead eyes staring into nothingness. That was the last thing he remembered before falling unconscious.

The aftermath of the explosion was still a blur, even after so many years, he couldn't exactly recall how Morgan had woken him from his unconscious stupor, gotten him downstairs and into the car before driving him to the hospital. Or how they had waited for news on Hotch and how the ever strong Gideon had seemed absolutely broken and lost.

Gideon… The man had blamed himself for everything. And what had been worse: everyone else but the BAU team had seemed to blame him as well. The man had gotten a medical leave and the team, having suddenly lost four of its members (two to death, one to injury and one to nervous breakdown), had fallen completely apart. With only Morgan and Reid remaining, they hadn't had a chance to do their jobs; especially with Reid being only halfway trained.

The director had been threatening to completely terminate their unit and put them both into other (different) teams.

"This can't be happening, Morgan! We can't allow this!"

"I hear you, Kid. But what can we do?"

They were sitting in the small kitchenette, sipping coffee and talking about what would happen to them now. The other agents were noticeably giving them space, quietly avoiding the two grieving colleagues as if their misery were contagious. Maybe they feared that talking to them would lead to similar horrible things happening to other units too…

"We have to keep the team together! Hotch will come back; I know he'll be all right. And Gideon too! That means there's still four of us, we only need two new members. We could-"

The older agent sighed sadly.

"This is not our decision but the director's. And why are you so sure either of them would even want to come back?"

The nineteen-year-old blinked in innocent confusion.

"Why wouldn't they? This is their life!"

"No: this is their job. It's not the same." – But the kind older agent didn't seem too convinced of that himself. – "Look, Kid. I get it: you just joined and already you're faced with the possibility of losing it all. Yes, it sucks, okay? But it doesn't change the fact that we're most probably doomed."

"What would you do if you couldn't be a profiler anymore?"

"I used to be with the bomb squad. I guess I could always go back there." – Shrugged the older man.

Reid hung his head.

"I wouldn't have a place anywhere else. I guess I'd have to go back to Las Vegas and admit defeat."

Miraculously, it hadn't come to that. Of course Hotch had gotten better and had gone back to the BAU right away – this time as unit chief, since Gideon had still been away. Of course, they had successfully lobbied for new members – and they had gotten a media liaison and a technical analyst. Of course Gideon had come back not long after that and even another member – Elle – had joined.

With that, the team had been complete again and ready for action.

Professor Doctor Spencer Reid reread everything he had written so far and sighed contently. Yes, that had been how his career in the FBI had begun at nineteen years of age, without proper training and – for a while – without even the necessary supervision or even anything to actually do. (Other than trying to keep everything together until things would go back to semi-normal.) Not that the continuation had been anything less complicated, mind you, but that would be the topic of the coming chapters. His work for today was done.

He turned off the lights and decided to call it a night.