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luveline · 9 months ago

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hi!!! i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's injured during a case and reader show up at the hospital because she's his emergency contact but the team is really confused wondering who's this stranger fussing over spencer. hope you like it, love you!

thank you for requesting honey!! love you<3 fem!reader

“Close your eyes,” you command, voice all blown up and grand, already smiling. “Close your eyes, Spencer.”

“No.” He squints groggily. “What are you doing?”

“Close your eyes.”

“No, Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks.

You shake your spray bottle at him. He sighs a long-suffering sigh and finally admits defeat, his tired eyes shuttering closed all too easily. You rest your knee on the side of his bed and hear the metal squeaking at your added weight, your hand gentle as you cover his forehead. “You have greasy hair,” you say sympathetically. “This is gonna feel much nicer.”

You blast him with dry shampoo, his brown hair turning white with powder. You drop the can in his lap and set about rubbing the powder into his hair until the grease is soaked up, and his hair feels less miserably lank.

“When are they gonna let you shower again?” you ask quietly.

You’re still touching his hair. More for him than you, you hope he feels comforted, but mostly you just wanna affirm to yourself that he’s all in one bruised piece. Your heart still aches as much as it did when you got the phone call in the first place —Spencer Reid’s next of kin?

You suppose that’s you.

“I don’t know.”

You take his hair back into his current parting. “Well, let’s hope it’s soon. How are you liking the sponge baths? Are they awful?”

“Humiliating.”

Just outside of Spencer’s hospital room, Hotch and JJ stand together with a bag of essentials. They’d drawn to a sudden stop when they realised Spencer had company. “Who is that?” she asks.

Hotch, used to knowing everything, frowns very deeply. He doesn’t know who you are, but from the way you’re touching Spencer’s hair and face, he should.

JJ sounds a little put out. “She doesn’t work here.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hotch says. His frown lightens as you laugh and scratch Spencer’s hair back behind his ears.

“Is it unkind of me to think he didn’t have any friends?” JJ asks.

Hotch knows Spencer has friends. He’s summoned Spencer from chess games and fan clubs, picking him up occasionally on the way to the office on cafe sidewalks as he waved goodbye to a glasses-wearing bibliophile, often in coats too big for them or with hair in need of a trim. Spencer attracts the unconventional because he, as anybody in this line of work tends to be, is inordinary. So JJ probably is being unkind, but Hotch knows what she means.

You look completely regular. You settle on one thigh on his bed while the other keeps you up and put your hand on his chest, chatting breezy words they can’t hear through the glass.

Spencer curls into you slowly.

“You’ll be home soon,” you say, rubbing his shoulder, “don’t worry.”

Hotch’s eyebrows rise of their own accord. He and JJ excuse themselves for coffee before they’re spotted, and when they return, you’re gone. “Spence, who was that girl?” JJ asks. Hotch notes the slightest line of jealousy tugging under her curiosity.

He sounds as though he could use some more pain medication, and a good night's sleep, but he’s proud as he says, “That’s my roommate. I told you about her.”

“Ah, your roommate,” Hotch says.

“What’s that mean?” Spencer asks.

“Nothing, Spencer,” Hotch says, using the young man’s first name in a rare show of affection. “That’s just an irregular word for it. I haven’t heard it in a while.”

JJ laughs. Spencer hides his face with both hands, a smudge of lip balm on his hand shining under the stark hospital fluorescents. “I’m too tired,” he complains.

Hotch hadn’t seen you kiss him, but he can imagine how it might have happened, how you’d leaned in for a kiss on the cheek goodbye and Spencer overwhelmed himself thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just an innocuous smudge. Maybe it’s nothing at all.

“We live together,” Spencer mumbles. “I couldn’t afford to live by myself at first, it’s D.C.”

“And now?” Hotch asks. He knows Spencer is on good enough money to afford an apartment by himself these days, a big one. He has no dependents.

“Didn’t seem fair… She’s nice. She’s, like, my best friend.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” JJ laughs.

Hotch isn’t sure she gets it, but he does. “Well, you can ask her to come back. We have work to do.”

Spencer pretends he’s hesitant to pick up the phone. Your reply is an immediate beep. Hotch knows a good friend when he sees one.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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pathologicalreid · 9 months ago

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next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

part two

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort

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treehyd · 2 months ago

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nobody quite understands season 1 spencer reid like i do. bitch thats me! on screen! forget kin. bruh we twins! same bitches

#season 1 spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #same with neil #triplets!

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 11 months ago

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Amplification: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: A deadly spread of Anthrax is going around infecting and killing people. One of your own is affected that completely tears your world into two. How will you over come this?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

The bookstore has been closed ever since Albert died, and Gayle's purchase happened right before it closed down. It would explain why only three people were hit, and when General Whitworth sent his men in for testing, they came back positive for Anthrax.

Albert's bookstore was the unsub's test run. He's gotta have a history with the place, so Penelope needs to come up with a list of present and past employees of the place, customers with grievances against the owner, and if any of them had a science background.

An attack of Anthrax isn't meant to kill three people inside a bookstore, it wants to be out in the open where it can feed and multiply in the way that it wants to. Just a small amount can wipe everyone out, and they'd never see it coming.

Another hour goes by and the six survivors of the attack are now down to four. This attack is killing people left and right and there is nothing you can do about it. The more they die off, the more family members demand answers for what's happening.

"It feels like the plague of Egypt," Linda says.

"Ten scourges created by God. Plague six was unhealable boils believed by biblical scholars to be caused by Anthrax."

"You never missed Sunday school, did you?"

"Actually, I've never been before. How is she doing?" Spencer asks about Abby.

"She's a fighter. She's held on this long because she's young and strong, but she's started to bleed into her lungs. We're running into another problem, though. When the next of kin have questions, what do we tell them about the cause of death?"

That is a question only Hotch and General Whitworth can answer. You can't tell anyone anything without punishment if it didn't come from Hotch. Instead of thinking things like that, you can try and think of the unsub and profile you have on him. It might help your team catch whoever is doing this.

Because the locations aren't symbolically significant, the attacks are personal. Understanding the significance of the locations will be the key to identifying the unsub.

This personal element strongly indicates a home-grown terrorist like the Amerithrax case. This is someone from the science or defense community. That's why the CIA is here. Hotch thinks they may know him. These home-grown terrorists are myopic zealots that believe that their work is of the greatest importance.

He may have preached about the threat of an attack on America. His coworkers would describe him as histrionic, paranoid, and secretive. He may have logged excess hours at work in the past weeks preparing for the attack. He even might have taken the full dosage of Anthrax vaccines over the recommended eighteen-month schedule and had yearly boosters.

This guy has his own workspace where he makes his product in privacy. He also has access to large, expensive, industrial-grade equipment at work. He's written about the threats of Anthrax attacks and published papers about it, yet he feels no one is listening, and that angers him. Now, he may have recently experienced some sort of professional humiliation like being demoted or fired. Now, that would have been his trigger, the moment he decided to go rogue.

He may have betrayed his loved ones to his cause and may be recently separated or divorced. This is somebody who knows every detail of the 2001 Anthrax attack and has talked about what that suspect did right or wrong. He's watching the news very closely to see how the country reacts, and it's not a good one.

The CIA dug deep into their records and found a video of a classified hearing with the Subcommittee on Defense and Homeland Security in January of 2002. Dr. Lawrence Nichols used to work at the institution and left in 2002. The video is sent to your team at the hospital, Derek's team in Maryland, and the main office with everyone else. You and Spencer go into an empty hospital room to watch the video. Dr. Nichols went to the Senator to ask for money for a project he wanted to do with dangerous chemicals. He went to talk to the Senator about the attack in 2001 and why he should have funding for his project.

"Five people died. If you ask me, we're lucky it was just five. We're lucky that whoever sent these letters used cheap porous envelopes and not a crop duster. America's enemies are capable of wiping out entire cities, and we are woefully unprepared."

"I'm looking at your proposal--"

"Yes, sir," Dr. Nichols cuts the Senator off. "Every household needs gas masks and a two-month supply of Cipro for each resident. Every major city needs hospitals with bio-safety decontamination capabilities."

"Regarding the budget you propose for this operation--"

"Anything short of fifty billion would be grossly negligent."

"Dr. Nichols, you've got to realize how unrealistic that is. We can't justify spending that kind of money on an attack that may not happen."

"You people are in denial!" Dr. Nichols exclaims.

"Doing this would incite fear and panic among the public."

"This country should be panicked! We should live in utter fear of being attacked! We live in a time of war and WMD proliferation. If you continue to be blind to our lack of preparedness, then Americans will die, and I will have no problem in pointing the blame at you!"

The committee didn't fund his project and rejected him because he was becoming unstable and fanatical, which is why they removed him from Fort Detrick and blacklisted him from other prominent positions. Even though he believes in preparedness, he felt like people weren't listening. He might have done this to prove a point.

He fits the profile of the unsub to a T. He had access to research on Anthrax, had the resources available to do something like this, lost a highly respected job, and got divorced in the process. The job he has now is through a company called Bio-Design Technology that doesn't deal with Anthrax but with the Flu. If he got demoted from working with such deadly diseases to working with the flu, he might be angry enough to use Anthrax as a weapon.

Either way, you need to bring him in.

Derek pulled you and Spencer from the hospital to go to his house while Emily and Rossi went to his work to see if he was there. Along with you, Spencer, and Derek, a hazmat team joined you so they can clear the inside of his house. You have to wait outside until they're done with their investigation.

"It's clear so far," one of the members says when he hears from one of his men inside.

"Alright, keep me posted." Derek turns to you and Spencer. "This guy just had people over for a charity event last month."

"We should probably take a look around anyway."

You three walk to the backside of the property when Spencer hisses in pain. You look over to see rose bushes with thorns sticking out of the stems. He must have cut himself on the thorns but isn't too concerned about it. For someone who messes with Anthrax, his backyard isn't too sketchy. There is a pool with a beautiful gazebo area and lots of blooming flowers. Derek's phone rings and he answers whoever it is.

"Yeah, Princess, what's up? ... Uh-huh. Yeah, we're here now. ... Sorry. what? The lab is clean? ... You're sure? ... All right." You watch Derek as he talks to Emily. You're not paying attention to Spencer who goes off on his own. He turns to you and Spencer to tell you what she said. "They got nothin'--Where's Reid?"

You look behind you to see Spencer run into the large shed in the backyard. You and Derek quickly follow after him, but he slams the glass door to keep you and Derek out of some kind of lab.

"Spencer!" you gasp.

"Morgan! Y/N! Get back!"

"What the hell are you doing? What's wrong?"

"Believe me, get back."

"Reid, open this door!"

"Spencer, open the damn door!" you yell and slam your hands on the glass.

"I'm sorry. You can't come in here."

"No, open the door," you whimper. The only reason he would be trapped inside there and refuses to let anyone inside is that this is the place where Dr. Nichols created his Anthrax poison. "Spencer, no, open the door."

"I'm sorry," he sighs.

"Come on," Derek says and puts his hands on your shoulders.

"No!" you gasp. "I can't leave him. I'm not leaving him. Call Hotch and get people out here now! I'm not going anywhere!"

Derek has no choice but to listen to you. He needs people out here now if Spencer has any hope of making it out of this alive. Derek leaves and gets Hotch on the phone, and you look at your boyfriend with tears in your eyes.

"Open this door, Spencer, or I'm gonna break it."

"Don't, Y/N. There is white powder in here, and the air is blasting."

You let out a heartbreaking sob and put your hands to your mouth to quiet them. Spencer's heart breaks at the sight of you crying for him. Hotch and the biohazard team arrive quicker than you thought they would, and Derek tells Hotch where you are.

"Y/N, get out of there."

"I can't leave him," you cry. "I'm not leaving him alone!"

"Please don't cry."

"Spencer, I've seen what this does to people. There has not been one survivor and you're infected now. If the cure is not in there, then you're gonna..." You can't even say it. "I can't lose you. I love you so much."

You place your hand flat on the glass and Spencer puts his hand over yours.

"You need to get out of here."

"I can't leave you!"

"I will be fine."

He doesn't believe what he's telling you because he doesn't know if he's going to make it out of here alive or not. He's lying to protect your feelings but he forgets that you can tell when someone is lying. Your chest feels heavy and your whole body is shaking from fear. Your legs can't hold you up any longer so you fall to the ground in a heap of tears. Someone from the biohazard team comes in and places their hand on your shoulder.

"Ma'am, you need to leave."

"Y/N, listen to them."

"Spencer," you gasp.

The man practically forces you out of the shed to where Hotch and Derek are. Derek catches you when your legs wobble.

"I need to be in there, please. I can't leave him alone. He's scared, Hotch," you cry.

"Y/N, you need to calm down."

"I can't," you hiccup. "I can't lose him."

Hotch needs you to calm down so he calls Spencer and places him on speakerphone so you can hear his voice.

"Hotch, I really messed up this time," Spencer sighs.

"Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital."

"No, I'm staying right here."

The tears won't stop rolling down your cheeks.

"No, Spencer, please leave. You need medical attention," you cry. "Please!"

"Y/N, I'm already exposed. It's not gonna do me any good to stop working on the case."

"He's already infected," General Whitworth says. "If Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure."

"Look, Dr. Nichols is in here but he's dead. Someone must have bashed something in his head. My best chance is to stay here, see if there's a cure, and try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols."

"Hotch, say something to him!"

"He's right. His best chance is inside. We're gonna get a suit and mask into you right away."

"Don't bother. it's not gonna do me any good. I'm already infected."

This thing killed the first three victims within hours.

The thought of losing Spencer is something you can't even fathom. The thought hurts too much, and your chest starts closing up.

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