All standard author's notes and disclaimers apply.

Again, there's a flashback of the rape, which is marked with an asterisk if you want to skip it.

This takes place during Memoriam, after the case is solved and before Reid returns to Quantico.

Epitaph

A breeze pulled through Reid's wavy locks hanging just above his shoulders, tossing them gently as he stood motionless in the quiet cemetary. There were hundreds of rows of granite and marble headstones, many belonging to the rich and famous entrapeunures of Las Vegas and others belonging to the meager and unexceptional working class, a few that were relatives of Reid's and one that was Riley Jenkins. But it wasn't Riley Jenkins' grave he stood at, nor was it Ethan Hayes', though the fresh mound that his body lay under was visible in the distance.

Reid's jaw clenched rythmically as he stared at the polished white marble embossed with ornate gold fillagree, words long ago memorized and dismissed as falacy flowing beneath it, but he hardly saw the stone at all. While his body might be at the cemetary, his mind was circling around the events of the last several days- or perhaps the last twenty-three years would be more correct- trying to make sense of it and put it all in order. So many things were not what he'd thought they were, there were so many more complexities to the life and death of his family than he'd ever known before, things about his father he hadn't wanted to believe. It was so much easier to be angry at him and to blame him for everything that had happened after he'd left; forgiving was difficult.

Letting go was even harder.

Pain inflicted decades ago resonated in every molocule of Reid's body, drained and weary by a lifetime's struggle and the sudden and unexpected closure he was struggling to come to terms with. Everything was connected to everything else and the ramifications of this new bit of history was disconcerting and confusing. Gary Michaels raped and killed Riley Jenkins; Lou Jenkins killed Gary Michaels; William Reid covered up his wife's involvement; William's guilt led him to abandon his wife and son; his son was brutalized and raped by a school bully. The symetry begged for some kind of significance but Spencer knew there was none. They'd somehow come full-circle and he hadn't been prepared for the revelations or the closure from his past, as staggering as its form was.

It all seemed so futile; the past couldn't be changed and the future had been made from its ashes. There was no reason or logic for the things that had happened- none that could be fought, anyway- and that was difficult to accept for an accademic. Perhaps even more so for a son or a helpless little boy. Reid felt both better and worse for the things he'd discovered the last few days, on one hand having the answers he'd needed for so long but on the other hand those answers shook his previous conceptions about his father, his family's downfall, and himself to the core. His self-image had always been marred by his abandonement and by what Mark Maloney had done to him and now it seemed, in many ways, that he was seeing himself for the first time.

He didn't know quite what to think about what he saw, but he was relieved to realize that person didn't have anything to prove. To anyone.

Still, he'd ended up at the cemetary paying his respects- not to the memory of the man whose headstone laid at his feet- but to lost innocence and to remind himself of the victories he had achieved over the tragedies of his life. Death wasn't and would never be something he rejoiced in but knowing he lived and made a difference and hadn't been overcome by the horrors he'd endured while Mark Maloney lay in the ground gave him a sense of vindication. He'd won; he'd keep winning by putting men like Maloney away and Maloney would never hurt another little boy the way he'd hurt Spencer again, silenced and forgotten in his grave by the multitude. It was just as well that the world didn't know the truth about Maloney; there were enough monsters without him.

"Hey," a familiar voice behind Spencer softly called, making him start slightly.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Morgan walking towards him. "How did you find me?" Reid asked as Morgan sidled next to him.

"You weren't answering your phone. I wanted to make sure you were alright." Morgan stated, hedging his friend's question.

It didn't go unnoticed. However, Spencer was too occupied figuring out just how "alright" he was to reply immediately, not wanting his other thoughts to show. He nodded his head slightly- more to convince himself than Morgan- and swallowed dryly. "I'm fine."

Morgan was clearly skeptical but didn't push it.

Spencer gave a quirked half-smile. "That still doesn't tell me how you found me." he reminded, putting the focus back on Morgan.

"I had Garcia track your cell." the other man admitted.

By-passing the legal ambiguity of the action, Reid looked away and shook his head. "Remind me never to get on her bad side." he quipped softly.

Morgan smiled at the rare bit of humor but sombered quickly when he followed Reid's gaze down to where it had fallen on the headstone. He silently read the name and dates of birth and death but, other than the kid being young, it meant nothing to him and gave him no clue as to why Reid would be visiting the grave. "Did you know him?" he inquired gently, aware it could be a sensitive subject.

Reid hesitated before answering. "We went to highschool together." he informed, his voice monotone to keep any other emotions from filtering in.

Morgan silently observed the tension in his colleague's body. "Were you friends?" he asked.

Friends? Reid's chest heaved and his eyes darkened as he stared at the scrawled name on the headstone, being transported back...

*Cold and terrified, Spencer shivered as rough, callous fingers combed through his hair. The hand slid down to his cheek and caressed the tears that were trembling from his wide eyes but there was nothing comforting about the touch, and Spencer couldn't refrain a whimper. "Please- please let me go! I want to go home!" But Maloney ignored his pleas and instead strong arms encircled Spencer. "Please!"

Reid's jaw was clenched almost to the point of breaking but, recalling himself to the present and the question he'd been asked, he forcibly relaxed just enough to answer Morgan. "No." The bitterness was not veiled and, after a moment, he elaborated. "He was a linebacker on the football team."

Morgan knew the significance of that- what the football team had done to Reid as a child- and comprehension dawned with a pang, no further explanation being needed. He glanced back down to the headstone, scrutinizing it for insights on the man who had participated in the cruel prank that had scarred his young friend. He didn't find much but, then again, he hadn't expected to, either; pact mentality was enough to drive even normally decent people to do terrible things.

He returned his attention to Reid, studying his expression and trying to pick out what he was thinking- exactly what had brought him here after the revelations of Riley Jenkins' murder and the confrontation with his father. Was he laying something to rest? Re-evaluating events? Trying to make sense of it all? Or was he simply sinking into the tragedy of things that couldn't be changed? It could have been any one of those things or none of them but, feeling that pushing Reid for information wasn't the right move right now and would only make him clamp up more, Morgan decided to switch topics for the moment.

"I thought you would have been halfway back to Quantico by now." he commented offhandedly.

The corner of Reid's mouth twitched dismissively as he stared with deep intensity at the headstone from beneath a furrowed brow. "I'm catching the next flight out." he answered softly but readily. "I actually have to head to the airport soon for check-in."

It didn't sit well with Morgan that Reid already had an escape plan to avoid Morgan's inquiries but he also knew he couldn't fight it and shrugged, smiling wistfully although it was only for show. "Gotta love commercial flights." he quipped with a grimace.

Reid huffed softly at that and nodded sympathetically. There was a brief silence before he spoke, his thoughts torn between two places and having trouble keeping in the present. "When are you leaving?" he asked, forcibly keeping the conversation safe.

"Tomorrow." Morgan couldn't help but grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Rossi's dragging me along to the America's Got Talent show tonight!"

"The what?" Reid repeated, looking up at Morgan for the first time with a baffled expression.

Morgan chuckled, not surprised that Reid didn't know what he was talking about. "America's Got Talent?" he restated, giving Reid a chance to recall if he'd ever heard of it. At his silence, Morgan elaborated. "It's a TV variety show; the top acts perform in Vegas after the finale. Turns out Rossi's a huge fan of the runner-up; some pianist singer. But trust me, he didn't get me to go along without some serious stipulations!" he added meaningfully.

Reid could only guess what those stipulations were and figured he was better off not knowing. His gaze returned to the headstone and he became somber again as the brief distraction faded along with his interest, his thoughts firmly being pulled back to the past. His chest felt heavy with things unspoken, with the secret weight he found himself suddenly longing to share with Morgan- his best friend and the one person who could truly understand what he'd been through- but his eyes burned knowing he couldn't. He'd never known how to say or tell those things and he didn't want to be identified by what had been done to him- didn't want Mark Maloney to have that power over him- and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, rocking on his heals uncertainly and biting his lip.

"I've spent my whole life learning everything I possibly could, how everything works and why." he found himself unexpectedly relating out loud, although his voice was barely a whisper. "I thought if I could just learn enough, I could make sense of everything and control my life... But some things don't have answers; somethings can't be changed or prevented."

So many things; his parents, Riley, his mom's illness, death and murder and pain, and Mark Maloney. Reid looked up at Morgan suddenly, his wide bright eyes seeing directly into the other man's dark ones. "And somethings are buried long before they're ever put to rest." he stated. Unbidden tears leaked out and streaked down his cheeks and he turned his head away, ashamed as he swallowed hard and discreately wiped them, though there was no doubt that they'd been seen.

Morgan stared at Reid with shock at his openess and pain clamped his heart for his friend. He knew Reid would be okay- that he was simply processing things- but that didn't stop him from feeling the profoundness of being allowed into this private moment and the inner turmoil of his friend, and he wanted to comfort him, somehow...

Morgan put his hand on Reid's shoulder. "Reid-" he began but stopped himself, realizing that, even though he'd never addressd Reid by his first name, it was no time to be formal. "Spencer-" he started again, the name only slightly strange on his tongue, "what happened was terrible and you have every reason to be confused and hurt and angry. No one is going to begrudge you that or think less of you for anything you're feeling."

Reid didn't respond, still turned to hide the tears he was attempting to control. He knew that what Morgan said was true but he couldn't tell him or anyone about Maloney or admit there was more going on than just his father's failings. His team knew more about him than anyone else ever had and he'd let them in farther than he'd ever let anyone- Morgan in particular was his greatest confidant- and he'd become ever increasingly confident and trusting in his "family"...

But there were some things he'd never tell anyone.

"You are one of the strongest people I know." Morgan continued with admiration and sympathy as he studied the profile of Reid's face and his reactions "But it's in the past. It's over, and you came through it. It can never touch you again."

Reid flinched under Morgan's hand as he heard something else entirely than what was intended but he knew Morgan didn't mean that kind of touch and didn't want Morgan to think that's where his mind had gone. Hoping futily that the other agent hadn't felt the small jerk, he nodded stiffly. "I know." Amazingly, his voice didn't waver and had the steel of conviction in it.

"It was a car accident." Reid stated abruptly, changing the conversation's direction with the desperate need to flee from thoughts of his past torment.

Morgan was confused. "What?"

Reid nodded toward the headstone. "That's how he died. It was two weeks before graduation." And one week after the football field... "He was coming back from a party with a friend. He was completely drunk but the other guy, James Clifford, was sober and was driving when a dog ran into the road. They swerved, lost control, and ended up flipping into a telephone pole. Maloney died within minutes," he related, his voice thick with mixed emotions, recalling how he'd reacted when he'd learned of the accident the next day.

Morgan's stare had remained fixed on Reid throughout the story, more intrigued with why Reid was telling him about his bully's death than with the story itself, and he studied Reid carefully as he listening, hoping for an insight to what he was thinking and, more importantly, feeling. "And the driver?" Morgan prompted him, seeking more information and wondering if Clifford mattered at all in the story or if the focus of it was solely for Maloney.

"He survived but was paralyzed from the waist down." Reid answered succinctly, a hint of regret in his voice. "Ended his football career."

Interesting, Morgan thought, that the majority of Reid's contempt was for Maloney and the other jockey recieved little of it despite both having been involved in the same bullying. Maloney must have had a larger role in the torment, a leader and instigator, perhaps, while Clifford was just a lackey.

Again, Morgan glanced down to the headstone. "Must have been a hard thing for him to live with;" he stated sympathetically of the driver, "feeling guilty and responsible for a friend's death, as well as the loss of his dreams."

Reid nodded, indicating he was listening and concurred, but his thoughts were far off as he remembered Maloney's funeral, how he'd waited till after it was over to ride over on his bike. His chest had been tight with apprehension as he'd stood at the edge of the cementary, staring at the chestnut casket glittering in the sun, still waiting for final burial. He hadn't wanted to be there, but he'd needed to go, to see for himself that Maloney was truly dead and it wasn't some trick, some way of escaping punishment or further terrorizing the young boy. It may not have been logical but, where trauma was involved, logic mattered little.

Reid swallowed hard in present time as his mind flashed back to the moment he'd approached the casket, walking slowly and fearfully, his hand trembling as he reached for the lid. The colors of the scene were vivid- as striking as if he were there now- and the sound of his shallow, rapid breathing filled his ears as he began to lift the lid, the roses piled ontop of the coffin sliding mindlessly off onto the green grass. The visage of the pale corpse came slowly into view, the lid opening onto the handsome features marred by death, and Spencer's imagination was seized with terrible ideas of Maloney suddenly jumping to life and grabbing him, pulling him into the casket and drawing the lid down to reenact his horrific crime.

Maloney was dead, but his memory was not and Spencer's arm grew tired, burning from the strain of holding the casket's lid open, but he couldn't bring himself to move, to do anything but stare transfixed on the figure of his nightmares. His monster in the dark...

And then suddenly his free arm was grabbed tightly and Spencer jumped in alarm as a gravely voice bellowed, "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Spencer dropped the lid without thinking and it slammed back down, creating a sharp crack that broke all revery, and he found himself looking up at a scruffy old man in a jumpsuit, his heart pounding anew in fresh fear. "This is a graveyard, not a playground. Have some respect for the dead!" the man shouted.

His mind rushed with memories of being pinned and held painfully, of being trapped with no hope of escape of the viscious violating attack, and Spencer's terror skyrocketed, adrenaline flooding his body and, with a twist, he freed his arm from the undertaker's grasp and was running, running as fast as he could out of the cementary and to his bike, the undertaker shouting angrilly at him. On his bike, he pedalled hard, harder than he ever had before, and tears leaked from his eyes as the wind whipped past him, the journey home unremembered as he was chased by the dead...

Pulling himself out of the past, Reid decided he'd been at the graveyard long enough and that he needed to be on his way to the airport. He wasn't sure what he'd hoped to gain from this visit or if he'd been successfull, but he was tired and didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't want to think at all, and Reid turned to Morgan.

The older profiler knew what was coming but Reid didn't want him to think it was a brush off, so he considered his words briefly before breaking the silence, smiling serenely. "Thanks for coming, Morgan."

Returning the smile, Morgan shrugged and gently slapped his friend's shoulder. "Anytime, kid."

Without further communication, both men turned and began walking out of the cementary together.

I'm not entirely sure how this works as an ending, but I hope it's okay. I had a larger idea when I came up with the story but I'm pretty certain I'm never going to write it, so things are going to be left a little unresolved. I had this whole plot in my head how, in present time, the team gets a case where a vigilante is murdering pedophiles and Reid runs into Clifford again, who got into cinematography after the accident and seems to be doing pretty well, but of course he turns out to be the unsub. It would have been revealed in the course of this story that Clifford was himself abused and, after accidentally learning what Maloney did and horrified by the idea he'd had a part in it, intentionally crashed the car, killing Maloney. And, of course, the team would have finally found out about Reid's past. But, I'm not writing that- so is telling you this really nice or really, really mean?

Please review!