Being a prison nurse wasn’t what you’d expected your years of med school and training to go into at first.

You’d always envisioned working in a big hospital, maybe even becoming a doctor at some point. But it wasn’t until one day that you realized you wanted to help those less fortunate than you — so you ended up in a general population prison.

Your days consisted of treating prisoners for injuries ranging from infection-inducing cuts to stab wounds to broken limbs. Some self inflicted, some accidental — most caused by other inmates. It wasn’t a lavish job, but every time you helped a prisoner, you felt good about yourself.

Even if that prisoner spent the whole time threatening to kill you. Which, in all honesty, happened a lot.

But not with Spencer Reid.

You could tell, from the moment he came into your infirmary room, that he didn’t belong there. His sweet eyes, kind words, quiet nature… you’d tended to his bruises and cuts across his body in the span of thirty minutes, but you never stopped thinking about him since.

Now it was almost routine for him to come in every few days. He was the newbie, the fresh meat, and clearly a big target to the more experienced and hardened inmates.

You’d been cleaning up some medical supplies from your last patient when the door buzzed open — Spencer walked in, the guards grip far too tight on his arm as he practically shoved him towards you.

In general pop, the prison guards tended to be much more careless… corrupt than in other places.

You catch Spencer by his arm as he stumbles in, looking up to the guard as he speaks. “This one keeps getting into fights. Maybe talk some sense into him before you send him back out there.”

And then the guard is gone, and you’re left helping Spencer sit onto the cot. He stays silent, which is how he usually was when he first got in here — sometimes he’d talk to you, sometimes he’d stay silent.

But he always tried to extend his stay, even for a second. And you knew why… so you let it happen.