Chapter Text
Spencer Reid wasn’t expecting balloons or cake. Birthdays had never really been about that for him. Still, as he watched his teammates shuffle into the bullpen that morning—Morgan with his usual swagger, Emily balancing two coffees, JJ flipping through a case file—he thought, just maybe, someone would remember.
They didn’t.
Hotch called a briefing at nine sharp, the team packed their bags, and they were on a plane before lunch. No one said a word.
Rossi noticed Reid was quieter than usual on the jet, but chalked it up to another late night reading. He’d long since learned that pushing the kid to talk usually backfired. So instead Rossi slid a file across the table, murmuring, “Thought you’d like this one. Heavy on the geographical profile.” A small gesture, meant as kindness—but not the one Reid had secretly hoped for.
Garcia video-called from Quantico, filling the cabin with neon-colored warmth, launching into one of her monologues about cyber trails and digital breadcrumbs. Reid managed a smile at her theatrics. But even Garcia, who seemed to know everything about everyone, didn’t mention the date. She signed off with a blown kiss to Morgan, and that was that.
Reid told himself it didn’t matter. He was used to being overlooked in that way, used to being the one who remembered other people’s birthdays, anniversaries, obscure facts about their lives. He buried himself in case details, in probabilities, in data. He told himself it was fine.
But when he came home after midnight, his apartment was quiet in a way that scraped against his chest. Thirty years old. No candles, no cards, not even a voicemail from his mother—the doctors at Bennington probably hadn’t told her the date.
He sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of books, journals, articles he’d been meaning to finish. Achievements lined the shelves: degrees, commendations, case files filled with lives saved. A whole catalog of accomplishments. And yet, for the first time, Reid looked at them and felt…empty.
He had given his life to the BAU. To work. To chasing monsters.
And in doing so, he realized, he hadn’t built much of a life outside of it.
Reid leaned back in his chair, the silence pressing in on him.
Thirty.
An age that sounded both impossibly old and frighteningly young. Old enough to have something more. Young enough that maybe...if he was brave, he could still change course.
For the first time in a long time, Spencer Reid let himself wonder what he was missing.