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