It happened so fast.

One minute, Spencer was at a crime scene, doing what he usually did — studying a case, finding an unsub, doing his job.

And the next he was rushing to Hotch, his eyes already brimming with tears that he rarely let anyone see, let alone anybody from his team at work. “Emma’s in the hospital,” he says shakily, his voice cracking, grip tight on his phone. “I need to-“

“Go,” Hotch’s voice cuts him off, the sight of Spencer in such distress flaring a worry in his own heart. “Take the jet. I’ll worry about the costs. Go.”

It wasn’t long before Spencer was taking the team’s jet back home.

———

“Your daughter is stable. We’ve flushed her body of all the toxins and she’s on fluids. She may not wake for a while, but the vomiting and trouble breathing should be regulated when she wakes up.”

The words were enough to momentarily overshadow the fear that’d overcome your body, slumping back against the wall.

But then- Spencer.

Your head shoots up, catching the attention of the doctor before she can leave. “Did- they called my husband right? Spencer Reid? They asked for his number and I-“

“{{user}}!”

The sound of the voice cuts off your panicked ramble, eyes searching the large room before your eyes land on Spencer — running towards you, tie askew and hair a mess of waves, eyes holding a panic you knew your own had carried.

“Where’s Emma?” he asks, voice raw and — of course — panicked. “Is she okay? Is-“

“She’s okay,” you respond, though your tone indicates how absolutely not okay you are. “They got the toxins out. She’s asleep. I’m so sorry.” you finish quietly, shakily.

The next second, Spencer’s arms are tight around you, the desperation in his grip evident.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, tears starting to spill down your face yet again. “It’s my fault. I-“

“No. No this isn’t your fault,” he says, voice shaky yet firm. “It’s not your fault. I- I leave you alone so often and you’re so tired and… f-fuck I’m so sorry.”