A/N: I forgot to mention, this story takes place season 5!

Chapter 2

My eyes flutter as the sun's rays cast a warm sensation on my exposed shoulders. I glance at the clock- 9:06am. Penny is busy peering out the window into the street, birds swooping from left to right while chirping up a storm. I sit up and swing my legs over my mattress, let out a yawn, and stretch. I check my phone and am greeted by a message from Ethan- explaining that he was newly grounded and would not be able to attend the lecture. Unfazed, I step out of my room and make my way down the wooden stairs, Penny following shortly behind. I enter the kitchen and turn on the coffee pot, brew a cup, add cream and sugar, and settle down in front of the television in time for Saturday morning cartoons.

An hour passes by and I jump in and out of the shower in ten minutes, where Penny sits on the toilet lid in hopes of me opening the bathroom window. I let my hair air dry and fashion a loose French braid, throw on a pair of light blue jeans and a grey button down cardigan, slip on my plain black converse. I swing my brown leather satchel over my shoulder, it holding a series of notebooks and writing utensils. My mother is still sleeping when I head downstairs, where I replace Penny's food and water before heading out the door.

I retrieve my bike from the shed, fashion my helmet tight. Pound on the peddles for four minutes and I'm at the metro station, bringing my bike to the designated rack. I weave my bike lock through the triangular frame connecting three support bars, loop it through one of the four holes on my helmet, and secured it.

I hop on the metro leading to Washington DC and situate myself on its plastic yellow seats. Out of my bag I pull The Inventions, Researches, and Writings of Nikola Tesla, along with my head phones. I pop in one ear bud, leaving my left ear sensitive to my surroundings. I bury my face in my book, brain soaking in the sound of Sublime.

The metro stops and I look up from my reading as people pile in. A rather slim man rushes into the car, and in doing so drops a series of papers folders, and I hear the thud of a book hitting the floor.

"Really?" he says, obviously frazzled. We both crouch down at the same time, he picks up two manila folders and a few papers fall out. I snatch up the sheets along with the book he dropped, grinning when I see the title.

"Dragons Of Eden- nice choice" I pipe up as we make accidental eye contact. "Can't go wrong with Carl Sagan" I say and pass over what I collected from the floor.

"Very true" the dark haired man replies with a small smirk. "Thank you, f-for picking everything up" he says while putting said items back into his messenger bag.

"No problem!" I reply with a smile and sink back into my book.

Twenty minutes pass and I am at the foot of Georgetown's largest lecture hall. I step inside to see the hall almost entirely filled. In a sea of college students, I take the empty seat nearest to the stage. Out of my bag, I pull a black spiral notebook and open it to a clean page. I then take out a multicolored ballpoint pen- so I can color code my notes as I write them. Within seconds, the chairman of Georgetown's humanities department emerges from the left door and into the middle of the stage. Behind him follow 3 FBI agents. One agent comes out-presumably in his fifties with an olive-sort complication, dark facial hair with hints of grey. Behind him follows a rather striking woman, thirties maybe, ebony hair and skin almost as pale as mine. The third agent walks in and I do a double take, then a triple take, and realize that it is in fact the man from the metro.

"Weird" I think to myself.

They each stand behind a podium with papers in front of them, and the lecture hall slowly quiets down. The chairman of the Humanities department approaches the middle of the stage, and opens her mouth to speak:

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we have the great pleasure of welcoming 3 members of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit here at Georgetown" her lips stop moving and all 200 people In the lecture hall applaud. The chairman exits the stage.

"Good afternoon, I am Supervisory Special Agent David Ross, and with me here today are SSA Emily Prentiss and SSA Dr. Spencer Reid"

Again, weird.

"We are a part of a seven-person unit located it the FBI head quarters in Quantico Virginia" Agent Rossi introduces, my head pops up from my notebook and a puzzled look forms on my face as his words spill from his mouth. There are 123,497 other people in this world with the same last name Reid, so I examine his features from head to toe and then put it in the back of my head. "It's a coincidence" I think to myself. A coincidence.

"Today we will give you a glimpse into the mind of a variety of killers, and teach you how to pick their brains" Agent Rossi goes on, leaving the students on the edge of their chairs. The agents immediately dive into the analysis of human behavior and the origin of it, myself hanging on to every word.

They speak on how the psychopathic mind differs from the normal, and how they process every day things differently. The more they speak, the more I think about the agent that shares the same last name. As explanations for this that and the other thing are being tossed around the lecture hall, I analyze every mannerism of the young doctor, from hand motions to his speaking a mile a minute.

The agents run out of time in a little over an hour, and apologize for their shortened visit. I gather my things and exit the hall behind the agents, rushing to the metro which I spend twenty minutes on, then I hop on my bike and turning a 20 minute ride into a 10 minute one.

I reach my driveway so eagerly that I don't even bother locking up my bike. My mother's car is absent, presumably in the parking lot of her office building. I brush it off and zoom through the front door, slowing down and treading lightly up the stairs. I reach my room and open my bag, pulling out the notebook I scribbled every detail of the past two hours in. I plop down on my bed with said book and open up my lap top.

I type the doctors name and the state of Virginia into a search engine. Immediately pops up headline after head line with his name plastered all over the screen. I click on the first link: "Child prodigy joins elite FBI unit at age 22". Inside of the article read:

"Dr. Spencer Reid, after graduating high school at just 12 years old, attended the California Institute of Technology and holds PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, with an additional BA in Psychology and sociology-" I scanned the entire article, and then 9 more. I dug as deep as I possibly could, trying to find one thing that would separate the two of us. His intellect surpasses mine of course, him being 27 and me being 15. There's no need to look at the notes I wrote for myself- his image was branded into my brain.

He's tall and lanky, a build comparable to mine, though my legs denser than his. Our skin tones almost identical, facial features strikingly similar. I recall his demeanor being very fidgety, almost verging on nervous.

I quickly shut my lap top and head down to the basement floor of the house, where my mother put the items my father left when I was 7. I pull a plastic lid off of its matching tub, containing old shirts and miscellaneous books, and then I spot a red folder at the very bottom of the bin. I open the folder and my eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

It was a copy of a birth certificate. A birth certificate that answered all of my questions.

I have a brother.