A.N. This story takes place five years after the series finale. Before anyone asks-Max will appear, but since this is not a story about her, she will be a peripheral figure. The TV version is still more of an appeasement than a fleshed out character to me. Even Maeve had more of a chance to evolve! Maybe, if we get 'CM, the Movie', things will change. But, for now, it's back to business as per (my) usual. If you continue to read, you have been forewarned.


Quantum Entanglement

"Quantum entanglement occurs when two particles become inextricably linked, and whatever happens to one immediately affects the other, regardless of how far apart they are."

Fiona MacDonald in Science Alert, July 2019

Chapter 1

"I don't understand what it is you think I can do for you."

Spencer Reid may have held degrees in chemistry, mathematics and engineering, but while he had an avid interest in astrophysics, and had read extensively on the subject, he hardly considered himself an expert in that field. Surely they weren't asking him to determine the significance of the new signals being picked up by the radio telescope array.

"We want you to profile, Dr. Reid. Of course."

The words had been spoken by Reid's least favorite person in the room, each of them laden with contempt. As the recently appointed Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, Robert Creedy was apparently not a fan of the concept of the joint task force, and rumor had it that he was especially not a fan of 'having the FBI in our business'.

He's the fourth Secretary of DHS since I've been consulting for them, and I think he just might be the least qualified and most controlling.

Reid much preferred working with the head of the Science and Technology directorate within the department. Timothy Leary had withstood each of the politically-appointed changes at the top, and seemed to be a focused, respectful and respected individual whose scientific integrity was beyond question. He and Reid had formed a productive working relationship back in the days of the pandemic, and, until this new task force had been invaded by the Secretary, they'd hoped to do the same again. The two men exchanged a quick glance before Reid responded to Creedy.

"I still don't understand. What is it that you want me to profile?"

Leary responded this time.

"We need to know if there's intelligence behind it. We want you to tell us if it has a behavior."

"But we're not even sure there's language there. We don't know if it's even an attempt at communication."

Leary conceded it. "I know. And we'll have linguists working on it, too. We'll pass on whatever they come up with. But …well, you've got some linguistic expertise too, don't you? We're hoping you might be able to recognize a pattern."

Reid shook his head. "Not better than a computer can."

"But a computer can only look for signs of language. It can't tell us about behavior."

Creedy reentered the conversation. "Yes, for instance, it can't tell us if there are human behaviors behind this. Maybe these signals aren't coming from outer space at all. Maybe they're man made. You should be able to profile that, shouldn't you, Dr. Reid?"

Reid looked from Creedy to Leary again, while the others around the table looked anywhere and everywhere else. They were all too familiar with their new secretary's interest in downplaying the need for the work of his own department, and angry at his blatant disrespect for their efforts and accomplishments. But none of them were positioned to do anything to stop it.

Leary explained what Reid was beginning to suspect.

"The administration believes this to be the work of a foreign power…..an earthly foreign power, made to look like an interstellar phenomenon."

Reid's eyes narrowed in disbelief. Not only would It be nearly impossible, but…

"To what end?"

Creedy answered him.

"To entice us to ruin our economy with some Quixotic quest to communicate with little green men. And, judging from the discussion I've heard around this table, they just might succeed. Unless, Dr. Reid, you find that these pulsations are not an attempt to communicate. Then we can all get back to business as usual."


Reid ruminated all the way home, partially about the task at hand, but also about the idea of being used as a tool by Creedy to dismiss what might well turn out to be one of the most significant discoveries ever made by humankind.

He'd had such mixed experiences working in consultation to DHS, some very productive and some, not. But nothing had ever held such potential for being maddening as this. It caused him to question the wisdom of having gotten involved with the Department at all, despite the headiness of the possibilities. Because it seemed Creedy had already determined those possibilities to be impossible.

Maybe I should never have left the BAU. At least I was able to actually accomplish something there. Or maybe I should just forget about government service altogether, and teach full time.

He'd certainly considered it before. In his reflective moments, he'd realized he'd been teaching for most of his life. As a boy, he'd tutored his classmates in the hope of making a friend, or short-circuiting an enemy. He'd taught a host of LEOs every time he'd delivered a profile. He'd often taught his teammates with one of his eponymed 'Reid's Rambles', whenever he'd found some aspect of a case particularly fascinating. As awkward as he might have felt back then, as a youthful 'professor', he knew he was good at it.

Maybe I should do it. There's nothing really holding me here. Maybe I should think about taking Alex up on her invitation for me to teach with her in Boston. I could do it part time, unless…

Unless. Unless his life circumstance should change in the most wistfully anticipated way. Unless that thing that he'd spent so much of his adulthood yearning for, should come to pass. But it hadn't, not for the past five years, and time was beginning to run out.

He'd been a few years older than Max when they'd met, but only a few. On his good days, he'd felt young, and free, and excited. On his bad days….the ones when all of the accumulated angst of his life had intruded upon them….he'd felt ancient, and he'd been sorry to bring that into her life. But she'd been understanding, and supportive and, apparently, she'd found a way to love him in spite of his faults. But she hadn't found a way to conceive, and they'd both been in mourning about the life that hadn't come into theirs.

Maybe it would be a good distraction. There are parts of her job she could do remotely. Maybe we could divide our time between DC and Boston. Or she could become a liaison between the Smithsonian and the museums in the northeast.

Which she had been, for a while. She'd been traveling between Washington and New York in the early days of their relationship, and he'd been traveling whenever and wherever evil had raised its murderous head. It had turned out that the periods of distance, interspersed with the periods of intimacy, had suited both of them well. Max was much less of a loner than Reid, but she'd been living independently for a long while before their serendipitous meeting in a park, and she liked the freedom of not having to accommodate to someone else's habits. Which was why, though they'd been together for five years, they each maintained their own living spaces, even though one of those spaces was often empty in the overnight.

Nor had they made the decision to marry. Or, maybe it was more accurate to say that Max had made it clear that the institution wasn't something she believed was necessary, and she'd done so often enough that Reid had taken it as a message not to ask. So he had not. And he would not. Unless….

Maybe, if we had a child. Maybe she'd feel differently about making a formal commitment.

Not that they weren't committed to one another. They were. They each enjoyed the other's company, found them interesting, and attractive, and considerate, and kind, and supportive. All the things one could hope to have in a relationship. Except family.

Which was the thing he would always come back to, whenever he thought about them as a couple. That there was something missing, and that what was missing was actually a 'who'. But, sometimes, he did wonder if the missing piece to them was also a 'what'.

.