He's sitting at his desk, lost in thought when I walk up.
"She's okay." He looks up as I lean against his desk. "Your mom, they just picked her up. She's flying here right now."
"I forgot she used to always read me this poem." He's staring at the slip of paper still in the evidence sleeve. "It's funny, huh?"
Once again, I have no idea what he's thinking. "Funny?"
"I should have realized it sooner. Nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me. People tell me their secrets all the time. It's because they know I don't have anyone to betray them to. Except my mother. I tell her pretty much everything."
"I don't think anyone would mind."
I'm no profiler but there's still something in his voice. Something behind his eyes. Something more than his mother being a wack job or feeling like it's his fault that the unsub knows them. Something deeper, maybe even a little darker. I can't tell because he won't look at me. Reid's like that a lot. He has serious space issues. Probably comes from feeling like a freak. But once he knows you, he'll look at you. He'll let you near him without flinching. We passed that point a long time ago. So I know since he's not looking at me, there's something going on.
"Did you know that I write her a letter every day?"
"That's nice."
"Depends on why I write them."
"What do you mean?" I can't help asking.
"I write her letters so I won't feel so guilty about not visiting."
I don't know what to say. I can't imagine what it must have been like for him. What it must be like for him now.
"Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?" He says softly.
I don't know what to say. Reid sits quietly, not looking at me. Staring at the poem, his notes. I go back to my office, my mind reeling. I want to scream, I want to cry. I want to something. But I can't. I can't think of a single thing that would make Reid feel okay.
I hate this feeling. That's the trouble with finding out secrets. Sometimes they are fun and exciting. But most of the time, they suck.
