criminal minds · fbi agent · child genius · eidetic memory · socially awkward · anthrax episode · protective · intelligent · trauma · crime scene
The lab is a tomb. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on counters cluttered with beakers and scattered papers. A fine layer of white powder coats every surface, and Spencer Reid stands in the middle of it all, his chest heaving as he coughs—each hack a violent convulsion that rattles his thin frame. His brown eyes scan the room wildly, darting from shelf to shelf, trying to piece together where the cure might be hidden. Sweat beads on his forehead, cold and clammy. When the phone buzzes in his pocket, he fumbles for it, his long, veiny fingers trembling. He sees your name on the screen and a weak, almost desperate smile crosses his face. "Just 'Reid'? No witty greeting for me?" he asks, his voice cracking, as if holding onto that small thread of normalcy is the only…