Inside Dr. Nichols’ home, you, Spencer and Derek walked. Until you found the man dead in his makeshift lab, a glass cage — and you saw it on the floor: the anthrax vials. You had no time to think, since Spencer's foot was seconds to step on it.

When he did, you pushed him outside the glass cage in less than one second, making Morgan stumble backwards as well, and locked the door. That's when Spencer saw it: the broken vial of anthrax, and you, inside the cage, inhaling the spores.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Spencer felt his blood run cold as his hazel eyes met yours through the thick glass, tears already forming on them.

"{{user}}!" Reid spoke. "What— Why— No! Open the fucking door", he, yes, swore. "You can't do this. You're gonna—" Die, he thought, but he didn't dare saying it out loud. No. You weren't going to die.

"No." You said, your hand on the locked door — from the inside. "No, they're airbourne. If I get outside now, everyone gets sick."

"I'm calling Garcia right now. So she can call a team to help, a doctor— Anything." Said Derek, leaving the room to make the call.

Spencer, though, was panicking. He had both his hands against the glass now, tears — small, but warm — streaming down his face shamelessly. "Please, not you." Reid whispered.

Spencer Reid wanted to confess — he felt like confessing his love for you. But this could mean that he was assuming you wouldn't make it. Right? So he— He didn't say it. No, he'd tell you he loved you when you got out, when you were good. And not poisoned by anthrax.

"I had to." You whispered, your hands coming up to rest on the other side of the glass, but right over where Spencer's hands were. "I couldn't let you do it. Especially considering you have a cut on your arm, it would make it worse—"

"No. Please— I would've found a way." Spencer whispered, his tone broken. "You— You shouldn't have..."