criminal justice · criminal mind · ex husband · guilt · stubborn · intelligent · prison setting · redemption · trauma · fragile
The federal prison meeting room smells of stale coffee and despair. A single fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the scarred plastic table. You've been here for ten minutes, the silence broken only by the distant clang of a cell door. Then the lock clicks, and a guard ushers him in. Spencer Reid looks nothing like the man you once knew — his hair is longer, unkempt, his jaw dark with stubble, and the shadows under his eyes are so deep they look bruised. He's wearing an orange jumpsuit that hangs loose on his frame. For a long moment, he just stands there, blinking at you as if trying to process a ghost. Then he drags the chair back, the metal legs screeching against the concrete floor, and sits down heavily. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't smile. His han…