Chapter Text
Sometimes Spencer Reid hated having an eidetic memory. Sure, there were many things that an eidetic memory helped with, and remembering every place he’d ever been, every word he’d ever read, and every person he’d ever met had come in handy in his line of work more times than he could reasonably count. Except if he thought about it for any length of time, he was sure that he could reasonably count them.
When Reid woke up one morning in summer, he had no idea that it was going to be the start of the most awkward day for him in terms of his eidetic memory. He woke up as usual, took a shower as usual, drank several cups of coffee as usual, and made his way to work as usual. He got to work and started in on the massive pile of paperwork that plagued their jobs—as usual—and watched as the other team members filed in in varying states of chipper, sleepy, and grumpy.
Garcia came to say her customary bubbly hellos before secreting her way into her lair, exchanging varied innuendos with Morgan, whose replies were halfhearted and had been since he had recently broken up with his girlfriend. Morgan hadn’t shared the details of what led to their breakup, but he’d been grouchy more or less since it had happened. Rossi came in looking like he could use another cup of coffee, and JJ appeared as perfectly put-together as always. Blake’s desk still sat empty—they hadn’t managed to find a suitable replacement for her yet, and part of Reid was secretly hoping they never would. That post seemed cursed—and Reid was tired of meeting and becoming close with the people (inevitably women) who filled the post only to have them move on.
Reid sighed and drank his fourth cup of coffee to the sounds of clicking keys and soft conversation until Hotch’s head poked out of his office. They all automatically looked up at the appearance of their boss.
“Meet in the conference room in ten. We have a case,” Hotch said in his usual businesslike manner before disappearing back into his office without preamble. Reid pursed his lips thoughtfully as he wondered what their new case would be—something that would take his mind off their newest team member’s departure, he hoped, as he absently rubbed at the still-raw, forming scar on his neck from their last case together.
And that was how Reid ended up sitting in the conference room for what was undoubtedly the most awkward briefing of his life.
“We have two victims thus far, both found in the greater Los Angeles area. Both male, both Caucasian and roughly of the same age. Both suffered blunt force injury to the head and were stabbed multiple times. Cause of death on both victims is blood loss from the stabbing,” Hotch prefaced, letting Garcia press the buttons on the remote to bring up the image of the first victim.
“The first victim’s name is Paul Dunn, age thirty-seven,” Hotch said, and a picture of the man’s body—nude, facedown, and bearing some visible bruising on his torso—dumped in what looked like the area behind a store, next to dumpster. There was also bruising around his wrists, indicating he’d been restrained.
“He was found three weeks ago behind a supermarket with seven stab wounds to the chest,” Hotch continued, and Reid mentally catalogued the information—the stab wounds weren’t visible in the initial shot because he’d been stabbed in the front but dumped facedown. “He was reported missing the day before by his mother when she couldn’t get in contact with him, but investigation revealed that he hadn’t been heard from for more than two days prior, indicating that he may have been held for up to three days. Head wound is partially healed, indicating that he may have been hit over the head by some sort of blunt object and incapacitated before he was taken.”
Garcia hit the button again and brought up a picture of the man’s face—and Reid felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. Reid never forgot a face, and he knew that face. The name hadn’t struck him at first—how many Paul Dunns must there be in the world?—but there was no mistaking the face.
For a moment, Reid felt as though he was going to hyperventilate, and he had to force himself to gulp in a deep breath. With 3.858 million people living in Los Angeles according to the most recent census, what were the chances he’d recognize a random victim, even if he had lived in the area for so many years while attending Caltech? He’d aged, certainly, since Reid had seen him, but it was unmistakably the same man.
Reid suppressed the very rare urge to curse and tried to bring his mind back to the case. The man wasn’t a friend, wasn’t someone he’d known well. Was someone he’d barely known at all. It wasn’t relevant, and there was no reason for it to distract him from the case. Or so Reid told himself.
“The second victim’s name was Kirk Graves, forty years old,” Hotch plunged on, obviously unaware of Reid’s persistent inner dialogue as Garcia pulled up a second picture, nearly identical to the first. “He was found three days ago, dumped in a similar manner to the first victim. Nine stab wounds to the chest, found dumped behind a motel in Burbank. He was also reported missing two days prior by his partner when he failed to come home the previous night and he also suffered blunt force trauma to the head that was partially healed.”
Garcia pulled up an image of the second man’s face, and Reid was more than certain that he was going to vomit very soon. Because he knew this man as well; there was absolutely no mistaking it. He remembered the face—fifteen years older now, but no less attractive for it—as if he’d seen it just yesterday.
“What’s the connection between the victims?” that was Morgan’s voice popping up and jerking Reid out of his reverie. His heart was still beating uncomfortably fast.
“As far as the local police can tell, there is only one—both victims were homosexual. Victim number two was in a committed relationship with his partner, and victim one was single but openly gay,” Hotch explained succinctly. “As far as the local police can tell, though, they don’t seem to have known each other. I’m going to have Garcia look into it and see if there is some deeper connection, but for the time being, we have to assume there is a possibility that these are some kind of hate crime. The local gay community is on high alert. We need to catch this guy. Wheels up in twenty.”
They all took that as the dismissal that it was, but Reid lingered in his seat for a minute, his mind racing even faster than usual, wondering what was the correct course of action in this situation. His connection to these men was probably totally irrelevant—it had been fifteen years since he’d seen either one of them—but didn’t he have to disclose a connection to his boss? Could he disclose that connection?
A hand on his arm shocked him out of inner battle. He looked up to see Morgan staring down at him with a concerned expression. “Reid, you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “You’re looking a little spaced-out there.”
Reid looked around to realize that his other colleagues had already left the room, and he felt himself flush in embarrassment. “I…yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Just got lost in my own head for a minute,” Reid said, mentally hitting himself the second the words came out of his mouth. He was a genius and he couldn’t think of a better excuse than that on the fly?
Morgan, however, seemed to take the comment at face value. “With all that’s goin’ on in your head, pretty boy, I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often,” the older man remarked, ruffling Reid’s hair affectionately as he made his way out of the room. “Let’s get a move on, kid.”
Reid felt his heart warm at the affectionate treatment by his colleague—who had gradually become his best friend over the years. And then his stomach fell as he thought about how Morgan’s easy affection toward him might change—inevitably would change—if anything about Reid’s connection to this case came out. Reid swallowed thickly, but even as he thought that, he knew he needed to come clean to his boss. He didn’t think it was likely, but if his connection to the case came out from another source, it would be even worse. At least this way, he could have a tiny bit of control over the message and how it got out.
Steeling himself, he stood up and made his way to his boss’ office, tapping gently on the doorframe because Hotch had left the door ajar. “Come in!” Hotch called, obviously distracted as he double-checked one of the pockets of his go bag, which was sitting atop his desk. He looked up, surprised to see Reid standing there, awkwardly, in the doorframe.
“What is it, Reid?” Hotch asked, his voice stuck in that odd compromise between frazzled and annoyed while still trying to be accommodating. A new case could do that to Hotch.
Reid cleared his throat nervously. “I…I need to talk to you about something before we leave,” he prefaced slowly, again rubbing at the scar tissue on his neck. It was becoming a bit of a nervous habit for him. “It’s about the case.”
That piqued Hotch’s interest instantly, and the frazzled man was gone, replaced at once by the all-business leader and commander. “What is it? Why didn’t you bring it up in the briefing room?”
Reid shifted nervously between his feet before moving all the way into the office and sliding the door shut behind him. Hotch seemed surprised when Reid moved to sit at the chair in front of his desk, but he mirrored Reid’s movements as he sat down, realizing what Reid had to say was serious. Reid began to speak before he lost his nerve.
“I know both of the victims…or, well know is kind of a strong word, I…” Reid trailed off, not quite sure how to finish his thought. Hotch gave him a penetrating look, seeming impatient when his agent didn't move to clarify.
“Reid.”
Reid pursed his lips for a moment, figuring there was only one way to move forward, and that was to plow directly on to what he wanted to say.
“I’vehadsexwithbothofthem,” Reid forced out, not taking a breath. Hotch blinked, not understanding the rushed slew of words. Reid took another deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, before forcing himself to say the words slowly. “I’ve…had sex with both victims.”
It was clear that whatever Hotch had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that, because Hotch stared at him, speechless, for a good fifteen seconds before he could formulate a response, trying his best to appear unshaken.
“When was this, precisely?”
This, at least, was an easy one. “The first victim, Paul Dunn, was three times in February and March of 1999. The second victim, Kirk Graves, was once on November 22, 1999.”
Hotch blinked twice, but he took Reid’s token specificity in stride much more quickly than he took the younger man’s initial confession, although the topic seemed to make him a little uncomfortable. Reid understood—talking with his boss about his teenage sex life was plenty uncomfortable for him as well.
“You were not in relationships with either of these men?” Hotch tested after a moment.
“No.”
“Do you believe that they were intimate with other men at the time?”
Reid gulped, but he knew what Hotch was asking. If these men were promiscuous, then it was more than likely that Reid wasn’t the only sexual partner they might have had in common fifteen years ago. And Reid’s connection to the case was only a coincidence.
“I…I know Paul was. He was another student at Caltech, and he had…a reputation,” Reid felt his face heating as he talked about this. He’d never been comfortable talking about sex, not even when he was having it, and certainly not in front of his boss. “The second victim…I’m not sure. I picked him up at a bar for a one-night stand, so one would tend to assume he wasn’t exactly celibate.”
Reid saw the moment Hotch took trying to reconcile the man he knew with a young man—a teenager—who would pick up random strangers at a bar. Hotch frowned.
“You know what this means, Reid, as well as I do. It’s more than likely a coincidence. The chance that this could be in any way related to you is incredibly slim,” the older man said, keeping his composure very admirably.
“I know,” Reid breathed softly, because he’d been thinking that to himself as well, but to hear his boss—and an experienced profiler—reaffirm his opinion was a bit of a relief. “But even so, if you want me off this case—or if you want me to disclose this information to the rest of the team, I understand.” Even if it would kill him to have to discuss this with everyone.
Hotch shook his head without preamble. “I don’t think your actions fifteen years ago are relevant to this case, unless you foresee yourself having trouble investigating considering the circumstances?” Hotch’s words seemed to become a question at the last minute, as though he belatedly realized his younger colleague might have that problem. Reid shook his head adamantly.
“I…no, I have no problem with it. I haven’t seen either of them in fifteen years.”
Hotch nodded again. “Then I see no conflict of interest here, and I don’t see any reason to divulge any information to the rest of the team, unless you feel you would like to.”
Reid’s eyes shot wide as he shook his head adamantly again, moving to get up out of the chair. “I should get ready to leave—” he started, but Hotch’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Sit down, Reid.”
Reid sat immediately—he’d always been a sucker for that commanding tone from older men. He eyed his boss questioningly, nervously as he waited to hear why Hotch wanted him to stay. Hotch himself almost seemed reluctant to broach whatever topic he wanted to bring up.
“Reid…I know it’s really none of my business, but why have you kept this a secret from us all these years? Did you feel that we wouldn’t accept you?”
Reid’s brow furrowed. “Kept a secret…that I slept with two random men when I was in college?” he ventured, confused. Hotch seemed compassionate but unamused.
“That you’re gay, Reid,” he supplied kindly. Reid’s eyes widened again as he realized what his boss had meant initially.
“Oh! That, I…well, you see…erm…well to be fair, I’m not sure I’d say I’m gay. I mean, most people aren’t exclusively one or the other, but fall somewhere more toward the middle of the Kinsey scale…”
“Reid.” Hotch said it in that commanding tone again, and Reid realized that he’d been rambling. He swallowed thickly.
“I didn’t…I didn’t set out to keep it a secret,” Reid confessed quietly. “I just…I wasn’t seeing anyone, and so I had no reason to bring it up. Everyone just found it easier to assume I was too awkward to…well, anyway, after we found out about…about Morgan and…what happened to him when he was younger, I was worried about what having a homosexual team member might do to the dynamic of the team.”
Hotch seemed taken aback by the confession, even more so than he had been by Reid’s initial revelation.
“Morgan isn’t a homophobe, Reid,” Hotch pointed out kindly. Reid sighed.
“I know he’s not, but…not actively hating gay people and having to work with one every day, when you were the victim of a male sexual predator in your youth…those are two different things.”
“Homosexuals and pedophiles are not the same thing, and you know that, Reid. And so does Agent Morgan.”
Reid sighed. He knew that Morgan knew that on an intellectual level, of course, but what would Morgan feel if he knew? The easy camaraderie between them, the casual touches, the sense of comfortableness between them would die immediately—Reid was sure of that. And he couldn’t even stand the thought of alienating his best friend. Still, he wasn’t about to argue the point with Hotch.
“I know, sir,” Reid said deferentially, hoping his boss would drop the subject. He did, but not in the way that Reid had been expecting.
“Can I ask you one more thing? What about Maeve?”
Reid smiled softly at the memory of Maeve—even though the memory of her death brought him lots of pain, the sound of her name still brought a rush of warmth to his chest. He’d loved her, certainly, but in more of an intellectual way than anything. He hadn’t even known what she looked like, after all. Not until the end. Whether or not he could have a physical relationship with her…that was a bridge he’d planned to cross when he came to it. Of course, he’d never had to find out.
“I’ve had sex with women a few times,” Reid defended before deflating. “Or…well, twice.”
Oddly, this pronouncement seemed to make Hotch even more uncomfortable than the gay thing had, so Hotch quickly changed the subject again.
“Reid, I just want you to understand…I don’t want you to feel like this is an unwelcome place for you. Like you can’t trust us.”
Reid nodded slowly, a soft smile coming to his face. “I know Hotch, and I don’t feel that way at all. It’s been my choice not to disclose this information, but…I always intended to come clean if I became seriously involved with someone. Keeping it a secret hasn’t been a burden on me, and I haven’t felt as though this is an unsafe environment. Don’t worry.”
Hotch seemed satisfied by his answer. “Okay,” he said, standing up and brushing invisible dust off his pants. “We should get going, then, before the team wonders what’s happened to us.”
Reid nodded, moving to stand up as well.
Garcia came out of her tech lab with her bag, expecting to see the whole team assembled and waiting for her since to Hotch and the rest of the team, twenty minutes usually meant fifteen. Which is why she was surprised to find the rest of the team hovering around their desks, staring at Hotch’s closed office door. Except that one member of the team was conspicuously absent.
“What’s going on? Where’s Reid and Hotch?” she asked as she walked up, heels clicking on the floor. Morgan just frowned and Rossi looked pensive. JJ was the one to finally answer Garcia’s question.
“We’re not sure what’s going on. Reid has been in there for fifteen minutes.”
Morgan’s frown just deepened. “Did you guys think Reid was acting strange at the briefing today?” he queried.
“Reid is always acting a little strange, Morgan—and I mean that in the kindest way possible,” Rossi said, pursing his lips when Morgan wheeled on him, as if about to defend Reid. Morgan calmed at that and settled back down on the edge of his desk, eyeing Hotch’s closed door once again as if it would somehow give him answers.
What seemed like hours later but was actually only another few minutes, the door opened and Reid stepped out, looking startled as he realized the whole team was staring at the door. He shifted uncomfortably, looking as though he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I…I’m just going to get my bag and then we can go,” Reid murmured under his breath, shuffling towards his desk awkwardly. Rossi tossed a glance over at Morgan as if to say, ‘That’s what I mean’ before Hotch came out, telling them in no uncertain terms that it was time to leave and silencing any further discussion of Reid for the moment.