AN: I hope I am not too late in posting this...I was assigned by T and T (The "Dynamite Twins") and Yeogsa (Korean for "Hx") the task of killing Dr. Reid...Medical professional that I am, the Hippocratic oath comes to mind and causes me distress (Just teasing!)...Warning: I went a little kinky and offbeat, considering the topic, so if that isn't your cuppa, I apologize in advance...This story is before Maeve, shortly after Prentiss leaves the BAU...

The Soliloquy of a Genius

There are mornings when a man wakes up and realizes very shortly that it is not going to be his day. Maybe he rolls over in bed and gets a Charley horse in his hamstring and then, in the process of trying to stretch out said hamstring, knots himself unbearably in his comforter. While trying to disentangle himself from the mummy-like wrapping an early seventh-century B.C. Pharaoh would be envious of, he falls out of bed and cracks his head on the edge of his nightstand, giving him a lump the size of the offspring of a Branta canadenis.

Perhaps then, with his aching skull, he rises and heads to his bathroom to retrieve a bottle of acetyl salacitic acid from his designated medication chest. Taking two out of the bottle, the recommended dosage by the good people of Bayer©, he places them in his mouth and then reaches for his water cup. Just as he is about to fill the cup, he looks and finds a hideously atrocious dead bug, lying ventral side up in the bottom.

With the acrid taste of melting aspirin in his mouth, he wanders into the kitchen as quickly as his long, slender legs can carry him. He rushes to his sink and turns on the water, cups his hand, and drinks from the tap like a vagabond that had wandered the desert for years and finally reached an Oasis. Drinking his fill, he then rinses his mouth and spits into a sink that is rapidly backing up with sewage.

Today is that day for me. In fact, that was my morning. October ninth.

I don't mean to be overly somber or dramatic, but the last few months, things have not been going my way. I've had far too much time to contemplate things on my own, too much time to think, analyze, deliberate, consider, and evaluate my life.

I don't like what I see.

Perhaps it's because my birthday is approaching rapidly, like the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. Every year, I compare myself to others that graduated with me, their achievements and accomplishments, and I find myself lacking. I haven't cured any diseases. I haven't invented anything remarkable. I haven't made a fortune and purchased the sanitarium my mother lives in.

Instead, I am a near thirty-one-year-old single man who has done little as far as true advancements and has even less to show for personal experience. I have no one I am dating. I have no prospects. Instead, I am hopelessly in love with my former coworker...and I've never even told her.

Emily.

The thought of her makes me smile—one of the few things that does. Her raven hair. Her saucy attitude. Her indomitable spirit. She's beautiful, but that is only a part of who she is. She has the ability to both nurture and tease, to irritate my mind and to soothe my spirit.

She's the only one I could truly share with. I found myself telling things to Emily I wouldn't dream of telling anyone else. My fears, my hopes...even my desires.

Oh, God...my desires. Closing my eyes, I thought back...and remembered...

She'd been joking, that first time she'd asked me about what I'd craved. Morgan, Garcia, Emily, Emily's lover, and myself had been at a bar, having a few drinks. I'd been interested in her, her company mattering more to me than my pride, so it didn't matter who she'd brought along. Dirk, Emily's lover at the time, had excused himself when the shop talk had been too much, and miracles of miracles, Emily had stayed behind to talk with me. Talk had turned to eroticism, which wasn't too uncommon with the group that had remained. I didn't have much experience, but I liked to listen...even if I didn't tell them that.

"Gonna spank me, handsome?" Garcia teased Morgan.

Morgan leaned closer and growled at his "baby girl", "I think that can be arranged..."

"How about you, Reid?" Emily asked out of the blue. "You like a good spanking?"

For a moment, I'd been transfixed. I'd speed read through that trashy "Fifty Shades" book—admittedly, a little slower through some parts—and really...I'd been curious. More than I wanted to admit to myself, or to anyone sitting at the table.

At first, there'd been a joking look on Emily's face, but I'd taken too long to answer, and she was far too astute to let it slide. Now, there was genuine curiosity on the face of the ebony-haired beauty sitting across from me. I knew she wanted an answer, but I didn't know how to phrase my reply. I didn't know if I really knew what my reply would be.

But deep down...I did.

As I looked into her sincere, dark chocolate eyes, I felt myself opening up. I wanted to tell her, and I knew I'd be safe if I did. Morgan and Garcia were far too into each other to care about my answer, although one or both might have teased me relentlessly if they overheard, and I really wanted to continue being honest with Prentiss. We'd always been honest with each other.

So I took a deep breath, and I prepared myself mentally and physically.

"I don't know. I've never tried it," I answered honestly.

Emily's perfectly arched brows rose, but only a millimeter. She picked up her drink, the ice cubes glinting in the bar lights as she swirled it. "Sounds like you're interested."

I took another deep, steadying breath. "I might be."

Prentiss took a sip of her drink, slowly, trying to remain cool and hide her discomfiture. That technique might have worked on Dirk, but not on me. I catch even the slightest nuances in behavior—it's my job.

By the time she put her glass down, she regained her composure, and the cool, unswayed Emily returned.

"So, you want to spank a girl?" she teased, the corner of her mouth rising. "Kinky kinky."

She was diverting the conversation with humor, but something inside me made me want to answer, get it out in the open. Almost more than I needed air to breathe.

I shook my head. "Not quite."

One brow rose this time in question. "You don't want to spank a girl, but you still want to experience spanking?"

My heart was pounding in my chest as my chin dropped in just the slightest nod of acquiesce, and as I did it, that was exactly what I wanted.

I don't think I'd even known until that moment...and who I wanted it with.

Emily's huge brown eyes widened with pure shock she didn't bother to hide this time. "Oh..."

As she stared at me, my will disintegrated. Dear God, what had I been thinking? What kind of sick craving had I admitted to? Out in the open? To a girl I have a crush on?

Embarrassment and shame flooded me, and I stared morosely at my beer that I had gripped tightly in my hands. I didn't want to see her, or look in her eyes to see the disgust that surely—

Suddenly, her hand came in to cover mine. Her nails were dark, the color of Merlot wine. They were beautiful, powerful, in command just like she was.

"I think I that can be arranged..." she replied, in the same tone Morgan had used to Garcia.

My eyes flew to hers and I saw a heat I hadn't seen before, and immediately, my groin grew heavy with lust.

I shake my head and slam my palm against my desk. It didn't do any good to remember. She was gone. For three months. I'd let her go. She'd been looking for reasons to stay, and I couldn't say what I felt. Why did the memories, so fresh and real, have to haunt me? Even now, I can feel the tenderness of her touch, the exquisite pleasure-pain that rocks my soul. I am tortured far more now that I was addicted to drugs.

Her touch is the true drug for me.

Rising from my desk, I grab my satchel and throw it over my shoulders. I head out the BAU doors without a word to anyone and head to the streets. I'm not thinking as I cross the street, not listening. I only see the "don't walk" sign beginning to flash. I have plenty of time.

A fast-moving car approaches me. I look up and my heart leaps into my throat.

My last thought is of her...

I wake in what feels like my bed. I thought clouds in heaven would feel softer and would smell less like faded Downy© fabric softener. I roll over and immediately get a Charley horse. The pain is incredible. I didn't think there was pain in Heaven!

Oh, God...did I go to the other place?

I open my eyes slowly and notice the familiar surroundings of my room. I am wrapped, like a mummy, in my comforter, and the stretching was making the knots worse. I glance at my alarm clock. October ninth. I roll over carefully, falling out of bed, but avoiding hitting my head again, and shuffle out of my comforter and run to the living room. I turn on the TV, and Matt Lauer's program states it is October ninth.

I sit on my couch and stare at the television set in utter disbelief.