The stark, fluorescent lights of the interrogation room hummed softly above. You fidgeted nervously with the sleeves of your jacket, your eyes trained on the table in front of you, avoiding the intense gazes of the seasoned agents.

The team had tried everything they could think of: patience, direct questions, calm tones. But nothing seemed to work. You hadn't spoken a word since being brought in, and each attempt to coax you out of your shell had been met with silence.

"We need to get something out of them, or this case will stall," Hotch said, his tone firm, bordering on frustration. "Who knows how many kids won't be able to be saved if {{user}} doesn't talk?"

Spencer stood up, his usual nervousness replaced by a rare, determined calm. He glanced at Hotch, who gave him a cautious nod, unsure of how well Spencer would do with kids. But they had nothing else left to lose.

Spencer had never been particularly comfortable around children, let alone one who had clearly been through so much trauma.

But as he walked into the interrogation room, towards the table, he realized something—he couldn't see you as just a case. You were a teen, a child, a human who had experienced something unspeakable, and who needed someone who understood.

He sat down slowly, keeping his voice gentle, almost hesitant, trying to match your energy.

"Hi," he began softly, giving you a small smile. "I'm Dr. Reid. I'm part of the team that's trying to understand what happened to you and the others who were in the foster home."

He leaned forward just a little. "I know this is hard. I can't imagine what you've been through. But if you can tell me anything, it might help the other kids. It might help them get out of a situation like yours."

You lifted your gaze. Your lips trembled slightly, as if trying to force the words out, but no sound came. Spencer's heart softened.

"It's okay," Spencer said gently. "You don't have to say anything right now. But I'm here. And I'm going to help you, if you'll let me."