Reid talks. That is his defense mechanism. He can talk his way around any situation, spouting off facts and statistics until his audience tuned out or left him alone.
Reid talked.
There was a time when Reid didn't talk. When his silence was louder than anything he's ever said. He was only 10 when he stopped talking when his mother stopped noticing him as more than a passing stranger and his dad was gone. His teachers noticed, because how could they not? Their only 10-year-old sophomore who only months before could and would say anything and everything he knew.
Reid didn't talk, not because he didn't want to, but more like he had nothing to say. All the facts he knew about parents separating and statistics about how bullies pick their targets weren't enough for him to want to say anything.
Reid started talking again.
It happened one day without any sort of spectacular celebration or even really anyone noticing. He was 11 and a half when he raised his hand in class to correct his instructor. The surprise on his face at Spencer saying his first words all year overtook any irritation he may have shown otherwise.
Talking became his weapon. A sharp-tipped sword and sturdy shield that in his hands cut through his bullies snide remarks and shielded him from the worst of everything life threw at him being a genius.
Reid was 22 when he joined the BAU of the FBI. Youngest agent on the team lead to natural teasing and carefully veiled threats at anyone who dare attack him. It was nice to have that kind of support system.
Reid was happy… until he wasn't.
Nobody noticed that Spencer never said more than was necessary to solve the case anymore. No pleasantries in the mornings, no goodnights, no answer when the group went out for drinks. Slowly they stopped asking.
Reid didn't talk more than necessary for three months, twenty-three days, fourteen hours, and two minutes.
Then Elle left and he talked to fill her silence. When Emily Prentiss joined he slid back into his quiet shell. Morgan looked disconcerted for three days.
Spencer cut off his lines of communication to everyone he could. He sent fewer letters to his mom, three to four a week instead of his usual one a day. Old friends from CalTech were suddenly cut from his life.
Spencer became nothing more than the brain his team knew him as.
Spencer stopped talking.
His retreat into himself was glazed over by the team.
Spencer stopped talking.
His apartment became more of a warehouse, boxes of his stuff lined the walls labeled neatly into three categories: Necessary, Donate, and Trash. The largest pile being donate.
Spencer stopped talking.
They didn't see it coming.
Spencer Stopped talking.
Morgan was angry, he could've stopped this, he could've helped.. but he didn't know. It was his fault.
Spencer stopped talking.
Prentiss couldn't function, he was unendingly kind to her and she never even knew.
Spencer stopped talking.
Hotch closed himself off, his emotionless persona taking over him.
Spencer stopped talking.
JJ talked less, stared at a framed picture of her and Reid at the Red Sox game. No one said a word when they heard sniffling from her office.
Spencer stopped talking.
Garcia was devastated, Reid was her guy her awkward G-man. She didn't see the signs, none of them did.
Spencer stopped talking.
They lowered the casket into the ground, and the heavens opened upon the earth.