A/N: I always appreciate reviews! Thanks to everybody who left one last chapter… And a special thanks to someone out there who shared a story with me! You know who you are, I hope. And otherwise I'll let you know – I probably should have done it already, but I'm forgetful like that.

Chapter title is the song Family Portrait by P!nk

Day 9

JJ and Reid had been assigned to visit and talk to the fourth victim's, Mariah Davis's, family. Or, as it turned out, her sister.

"So how was your sister? Did she have any hobbies, any interests?" JJ asked sweetly, as she sipped a bit of the tea Emily Davis had offered them.

Emily closed her eyes, and nodded. Then she opened her eyes again to answer. "She- she was a sweet girl. She helped a lot. Helped me too much.

JJ took another sip of the tea and smiled encouragingly at her. Reid tried to do the same thing, but he was pretty sure it didn't work. He had never really been good at these situations, and somehow he couldn't help but get terrible pictures at his retina. Pictures which had nothing to do with the case, but just wouldn't go away. Slowly the man took of his pants, and he could just lay helplessly at the ground, not even able to scream.

"She was good in school, she had a lot of friends, she liked the color blue, she went to gymnastics, she wanted an mp3 player, sometimes she was angry at me for taking an education or getting a job, she missed a real mom, she –" Emily was tripping over her own words, and talking faster than a high-speed train, not pausing for breath and with tears running down her face. JJ stopped her.

"It's all right, calm down. Why was Mariah angry at you for not taking an education or getting a job?"

Emily sniffed, and a little hiccup escaped her. "She just wanted to be like everybody else. And – and she thought I was wasting my life. She knew I could do it, so she didn't see why… "Suddenly JJ's phone rang, and JJ smiled apologetically at Emily. "I know it's really rude of me, but it's my husband and he was going to take my son to the doctor today, so if it's okay with you…" Emily nodded in an empty agreement. JJ smiled. "Dr. Reid will continue with you then." JJ said, and Reid was left alone with Emily as JJ went out to take her phone.

The silence roared. So Reid said the first thing that came to his mind: "Did you know that of murdered American children younger than 5, 61 % of them were been murdered by their parents? 30 % by their mothers and 31 % by their fathers. Also, did you know that 84 % of women raped knew their assailants? And did you know that the spring months, March, April and May have shown to have 4-6 % higher suicide rate than average for the rest of the - "

Reid stopped when he discovered that Emily had begun crying. He wondered how long she had been doing it, because he hadn't really been keeping an eye on her, while he had been caught in the world of statistics.

"Oh – Oh – I'm sorry!" He squeaked, and helplessly tried to pat her arm. Reid just hoped that JJ would come back soon. It was quite awkward.

"It's all my fault, isn't it?" Emily whispered, in between hiccups.

Day 6

Reid went to a casino that night. It wasn't something he did often, but he was quite good at it. Actually more than quite good, and if he had wanted to he could probably have lived on winnings from casino's. This time was no exception.

The thing was that he gave up all his winnings to a random big guy he met, who reminded him just a bit to o much about him. He gave all 5000$ to a complete stranger, and ran the last bit of way back to his hotel. He knew it was pathetic. He still ran.

Day 4

He had skimmed through all of the cases Garcia had found for him, and had sorted all the murders and/or torture cases away. Leaving him with all the rape cases of boys in Virginia.

Day 8

"Reid." It was Hotch. "The week isn't over until tomorrow."

Of course Reid knew that, and he would gladly have waited until tomorrow to come to work. But he also knew that would be terribly uncharacteristic for him. He had never really taken any holiday or days off in the first place. He had always loved his job. He had yet to see if he still did.

"Technically the week is over, because even though I didn't take holiday before Tuesday, I didn't come to work Monday." He replied smiling. He swore he saw a smile form its way onto Hotch's mouth. He was also pretty sure it was more real than his own.

"Well, it's good to have you back."

Day 5

Spencer is starring at the coffee cup in his hands, while his father is bustling about in the kitchen behind him. Spencer hasn't said a word since entering the house.

"Do you like chocolate cake? I bought one 2 days ago, haven't had a chance to taste it yet… I remember, when you were little, you used to love chocolate cake."

Spencer doesn't answer him.

"If you don't like it, I have biscuits instead… and Madeira cake. What do you say…?"

Spencer still doesn't answer him. He doesn't want to; it was a bad idea to come. But he still can't make himself leave.

"Well, I can just take it all to the table, and then you can take whatever you want…?" He sounds insecure. Not partially weird since his son, who he hasn't really seen since the son was 7 (except that one time where said son thought he had killed a man) has just showed up on his doorstep, furthermore not saying a word.

Spencer can't really blame him for feeling insecure.

"I still like chocolate cake." He says at last.

"Did you know that Madeira cake dates back to an original recipe from the 18th or 19th century? Many people think that it got its name from the Madeira Islands, but that is incorrect. In reality Madeira cake was named after the wine, which accompanied the dish. That was of course Madeira wine, which actually was named after the Madeira Islands, as it were made on those. The Madeira Islands actually have a long history of winemaking –"

Spencer's rambling is interrupted by his father, who now has a tint of a smile on his face.

"Okay now I'm confused. Do you want Chocolate cake or Madeira cake, or are you actually just here hoping to get really drunk?"

"No – No! I was just stating the fact that Madeira cake is named after the wine –"

His father laughs. "I know you are a genius and all, but seriously. Which books do you read to know the history of cakes?"

Spencer blushes slightly. Maybe it wasn't such a big mistake after all. And as James Joyce, Irish novelist and poet, said: "A man's errors are his portals of discovery."

Day 1

"Rape is the only crime in which the victim becomes the accused." Freda Adler, criminologist and educator, born 1934.

Day 1

In America a woman is raped every 2 minutes, while in China someone takes his or her own life every 2 minutes.

Day 2

He has been humiliated before. The goalpost incident is still clear in his near perfect memory. But this… This is beyond humiliating. This is like someone has went in and gapped his soul, twisting it for their own s I c k purpose.

He can feel nothing but the rare, uncontrolling, helpless anger.

Yet, all he wants is a hug. Someone to tell him it's all going to be okay. The fact is, he's a genius. He's a damn profiler. He knows it's never going to be okay. He knows the scars will never fade.

Day 8

At the end of the day it's not worse, nor better, than he imagined. It's simply and flatly just as he imagined it. His relationship with his colleagues (his family, his friends) hasn't changed. His ability to do his job has yet to have let any damage. His want to do his job stays the same as before. He is still a genius; he can state the same facts as before. He can still think faster, read faster, and know faster than anyone else.

…And still it seems a dark cloud is hanging over him, casting shadows everywhere.

Day 4

"You're sick Spencer. You are very sick." She smiles calmly at him. "No, no… I was… I was raped." She shakes her head lightly, the calm smile still on her face.

"There is no need to lie to yourself Spencer. You didn't get raped."

Spencer turns to Derek. "Derek, please. I'm not sick. He – raped me."

Derek looks at him. "I can't believe you Spencer," He's accusing. "After what happened to me – You think it's just fun? You think you have the right to complain?"

"I'm not – I know, I know, but I'm not. I'm not sick."

Derek disappears. "Derek, - Derek! Don't leave me!"

Derek isn't there. He isn't coming back. She taps her pen at the table to get his attention again.

"Spencer, who were you talking to?" She asks him. Why doesn't she know?

"But – It was Derek. He was just there?" She pats his arm softly. "Spencer, there wasn't anyone." She says.

"Yes there was! Derek Morgan, my colleague in the FBI. At the BAU, don't tell me you didn't see him!" He is becoming a bit desperate and very annoyed with her. She can't just – He was just there!

"Spencer, you don't work for the FBI. I thought we had gone through this. But it's very important that you understand, so we'll go though it again. You have schizophrenia Spencer, and in your confusing you killed someone. That's why you are here. To get better, so you won't hurt anyone again."

He is confused. What is she talking about? He hasn't killed anyone – he is a profiler, and Derek Morgan is a real living person!

"I'm not! I'm not sick! My mother is sick, and yes she got schizophrenia and yes there's a 10 % chance that I will inherit it, but I – I am profiler and Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi and Emily Prentiss they're all real living person, who works for the FBI as profilers, and they are my colleagues!"

She is silent for a while, during which she continues to smile calmly, before she squeezes his hand extremely hard and says: "Spencer, Penelope Garcia was the woman you killed. You know that. Aaron Hotchner was the police officer who arrested you. The others are just hallucinations Spencer. You need to accept that, because you're sick. You're very sick Spencer, and you can't just excuse your sickness with a lie about being raped when it isn't true Spencer." She continues to smile calmly. "There are other people who actually have been raped, think of how they would feel."

He screams and wakes up. Then he cries alone in the hotel room, wishing someone was there to give him a hug.

Day 10

Emma Meyer tells them that Nevaeh Moore hated their mathematics teacher, because he was 'creepy'. She also tells him that most of the class thought so, probably including Kelly Cox. As it turns out Mariah Davis had the same math teacher as Nevaeh Moore and Kelly Cox. It's a start.

Day 1

He doesn't do it. Not then. He talks himself into waiting till tomorrow. He's lying to himself; he won't do it tomorrow either. But is it really a lie? (The drugs are calling for him, Spencer, Spencer, Spencer!)

Day 9

JJ finally comes back, and Spencer keeps his promise. He keeps his mouth shut. They say goodbye to Emily Davis, and get a call from another Emily.

"Found anything?" Emily's voice sounds from JJ's phone. JJ shakes her head, but of course Emily can't see that so she adds: "Nothing stands out yet. But we'll see. The poor sister was a wreck."

"Same here. But hopefully something matches. They got to have more in common than the age and the gender."

Spencer is about to open his mouth and explain exactly why they don't have to have anything else in common, but JJ sends him a sad pleading look, but a look none the less, and he shuts up like an ouster.

"Hopefully." JJ says.

Hopefully they'll catch the bastard who is doing this before it's too late. Hopefully they won't have another victim on their hands.

"Well, I just talked to Rossi and Hotch, seems they've finished interviewing Nevaeh Moore's family as well. Morgan's already back at the station, so we can get started on comparing the girls. So see you soon."

JJ said a goodbye, and Reid murmured something alike. Then the call was disconnected.

Day 9

Spencer Reid & Emily Davis:

"Of course it isn't your fault, you didn't kill your sister, and you couldn't have stopped this."

"You're wrong… Maybe. What if I could?"

"Could have what?"

"Stopped it. But I just thought – it just couldn't fit. But what if it does?"

"You'll have to tell me what you're talking about; otherwise I can't really answer your question."

"I – I can't. You won't understand."

"Tell me. I won't judge."

"But you won't understand."

"If you think you know who killed your sister, you really have –"

"I was raped."

"Oh."

"I told you, you wouldn't understand."

"I do. I promise. More than you know."

"How can you? You weren't raped! You didn't have to look him in the eyes nearly every day, pretending to be okay while taking care of your orphan sister!"

"So it's someone you know?"

"I said you wouldn't understand!"

"I do. But you need to tell me his name."

"No! Just tell me if you think it could be him. You – you're a profiler. Do you a rapist could have done it?"

"I really need more information than that –"

"I don't want to tell you! It's my – my… I'm not weak! I just need you to tell me if it could have been him. I don't need you to profile me, to think you know how I feel, because you don't!"

"I've already said it…"

"What?"

"That I do understand Emily. It doesn't… It doesn't only happen to women."

Day 6

It was, well not years, but at least a month or two since he had last thought upon Elle. Elle Greenaway, his former colleague who had killed a man in cold blood. Or not.

It wasn't his right to judge other people (profiling didn't count, it was only an educated guess after all) but since she left (without another word to them, least of all a goodbye) he had always felt that… gnawing feeling inside him, telling him that it probably was true. That she probably had done it.

The feeling only grew each time Elle was mentioned in Hotch's presence and he saw that look.

Now he remembered some of her last words (about how she still could feel him inside her) and he just couldn't blame her for doing what she did. He couldn't let himself go down that road, but… This was of course only if Elle truly had done as the rumors said.