Epilogue: Where Have All the Good Times Gone?

Six months had passed since the case with Morgan's 'pretty boy.' It had been six months of misery. Six months of a lonely, brooding, sexually-frustrated, moody Derek Morgan who didn't go out for drinks, didn't go to clubs, didn't have any sex . . . Rossi had seriously considered buying the agent a round trip ticket to Detroit just so he could see the other man but decided against it, lest he spoil Andi's investigation and incur her wrath. Still, an angry, ill-tempered Morgan was no fun, even for one day . . . and it had been six long months with no end in sight. He couldn't even ask Andi about the operation because they weren't supposed to know the boy was an agent.

"Will you just shoot me and put me out of my misery?" Emily wailed to JJ.

"Out of your misery or Morgan's?" JJ replied, refusing to accept the Glock that was being offered by her best friend.

"Well Morgan is making his misery our misery so does the answer to that question really matter?"

"Our poor baby is lovesick," Garcia informed her.

"He's lovesick for a barely legal, male prostitute that he's never going to see again! How long are we supposed to suffer?"

Garcia shrugged her shoulders, sipping her coffee as the three women watched Morgan slamming drawers on his desk for no apparent reason.

"Remember what Rossi said . . ." JJ began.

"Oh screw what Rossi said! He's not the one stuck in the bullpen with Morgan the Miserable! If something doesn't change – and soon – I'm either going to kill him or eat my gun!"

"Oh stop being so dramatic!" JJ scolded.

Hotch chose that moment to step out of his office and he convened his team in their war room.

"Is there a case?" inquired Morgan.

"No," he began slowly, "this isn't about a case; it's about us getting a new team member."

A collective groan echoed through the room. True to form, Morgan was particularly vocal with his displeasure. He was too busy complaining to even consider who the new teammate might be.

"What do you know about him or her?" Rossi asked with a sly smile that, if Morgan had bothered to look at his colleague, would have given away what the oldest team member already knew.

"His name is Dr. Spencer Reid. He's from Vegas and he's in his twenties." He glanced down at the personnel file in his hand. "Um, he has three Ph.D.s and multiple bachelor's degrees. He has an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute. IQ is off the charts, obviously."

"Oh yea! Sounds like some prick who'll be full of himself and think he knows everything." Hotch ignored Morgan.

"Well boss man," said Garcia, "when are we meeting this young genius?"

"He should be here any minute . . ." Hotch trailed off and there was a knock at the door. He turned the handle and opened the door a sliver so that the person on the other side could hear his next comment. "One more thing . . . he's a transfer from HTD and Andi says that he's quite pretty," added Hotch with a smile. Morgan's eyes shot up from his phone and his game of Angry Birds. Hotch opened the door and there he was. He was wearing a lot more clothing and had cut his hair, but it was him.

"Um, hello," the doctor said softly with a little wave, "it's very nice to see you all again . . . or for the first time," he added, noticing Garcia. He blushed and looked at his feet. JJ and Emily immediately rose from their seats and hugged him.

"I'm soooo glad you're here," Emily informed him, "you have no idea." Reid gave her an appraising look. "He's been insufferable."

Morgan hung back, taking in his outfit. Corduroy pants, a plain button-down dress shirt, a tie, a sweater vest of all things, mismatched socks and converse sneakers. How in the hell was he able to parade around as a prostitute?

Rossi smiled and shook his hand. "Glad we finally got you where you belong kid."

"Me too; thank you."

Garcia also approached the doctor and JJ took care of the introductions.

"Um, Miss Garcia?" the doctor began.

"Yes boy wonder?"

Reid looked at her, confused by the moniker. "You'll get used to it," JJ informed him.

He nodded vaguely.

"Oh, and no 'miss' just Garcia . . . or Goddess of All Things Known and Unknown," Penelope added.

"Oh, okay then, Garcia, um, it's my understanding that you put together the case files and that you normally do that by way of technology but um, I would like to have a paper file please."

Garcia giggled. "Sure thing baby genius," she replied, standing on her tiptoes to pat his head. JJ dragged her from the room.

Morgan had been lost in his thoughts. He looked around again and realized only he and his pretty boy, apparently one Dr. Spencer Reid, were the only two left in the room.

He stood, pulling Reid into a warm embrace.

"I told you I would come," he stated as he rested his head on the other man's shoulder.

"And I'm so glad you're finally here," Morgan replied, still holding on tight to the young man.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No. I haven't been out with anyone or slept with anyone since before I met you. What about you, any perfect men fall into your lap in the past six months?"

"Alas, no. Just a bunch of pervy assholes." Morgan chuckled softly. "There is one important thing that I want you to know," Reid informed him. "I haven't been with anyone since that night I was with you-"

"Yeah, that's what I thought-"

Reid held his hand up to stop Morgan. "That's important but that's not what I wanted to tell you. What I wanted to tell you was that I had ."

"Wait, say that last part again, slower this time."

"I had never been with anyone before that night," he said as he blushed the color of a tomato.

Morgan stared at him for a few moments. He opened his mouth to speak but no sounds came out.

"In my defense, I graduated high school when I was twelve and finished college by seventeen. That's not exactly conducive to normal social development. Plus I grew up with an unmedicated paranoid schizophrenic – what I told you about my parents, that was all true . . . that really doesn't lend itself to normal social development either."

Without warning Morgan tugged on the doctor moving their rolling chairs as close as possible. He ran a hand through the young man's much shorter hair and pulled him into a kiss. "That was my first and only time with a guy," Morgan quietly confessed.

"I know," Reid said softly as he cupped Morgan's face in his hands and kissed him again.

"So you really finished high school when you were twelve?"

Reid laughed softly. "Yeah, I really did. Wait until you see me read; most people don't believe that I'm reading, they think I just flip the pages."

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

A few moments later Morgan returned with a book on criminology. "I borrowed this from Rossi," he explained.

Reid blushed but accepted the book and began rapidly dragging his middle finger down each page of the book turning pages faster than Morgan had ever seen someone who was actually reading do before. A few minutes later he handed the book back to Morgan. "Finished." Morgan's eyes opened wide as he accepted the book. "Go on and open it to any page . . ." Reid recited various parts back to Morgan. "I have an eidetic memory," he explained. "Basically, if I read it, see it, I'll never forget it."

"You're amazing," Morgan informed him.

Reid shook his head in disagreement. "I'm not. My brain just works faster than most people's."

"You are."

"Wait until I get nervous or anxious and start rambling statistics. Then you'll think I'm just annoying."

"Nah. I like this version of you."

Reid blushed again.

"Any other secret talents I should know about?"

"Um . . . I could solve a Rubix cube by the time I was three, but I don't really know if that qualifies . . ."

"By the time you were three . . ." Reid nodded. "Damn doc . . . what exactly are you a doctor of?"

"Um, Chemistry . . . and Mathematics . . . and Engineering . . . and then I have additional undergraduate degrees in Psychology and Sociology."

"So basically, you're a genius."

"Well I don't really believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified but . . . yes, in laymen's terms, I would be considered a genius."

"I hope you don't get bored with me."

Reid reached out, tentatively taking Morgan's hand in his own. "I, um . . . I don't think that's possible."

"How do you figure?"

"Because . . . well . . . the thing is . . . I'm pretty sure I fell in love with you the first time I saw you." The young doctor had withdrawn his hand, wringing it with his other instead. He apparently found this quite interesting as he focused his eyes in his lap, watching his hands, missing his longer hair that might have concealed his beet-red face.

"Hey, hey, hey . . . don't be embarrassed or whatever. There's no reason to be, especially since I felt the same way. I felt the instant connection, the instant spark . . ." The younger agent looked up and Morgan swore he had never seen such expressive eyes.

"Would you . . . um . . . if you're not busy I mean . . ."

"Yes, I'd love to go to dinner with you."

"Oh I'm so glad you understood," he said with a sigh of relief.

"So I don't know how long you were in Quantico before you went undercover, but I can probably recommend the restaurant if you tell me what you're in the mood for," Morgan offered as they collected his things on their way out.

"Not Chinese," Reid informed him, "I like to eat with utensils not pencils." Morgan chuckled. "How about Italian?"

"Italian's good, I know just the place . . ."