What started as another case turned into a national threat of anthrax, with the whole FBI unit on alert, the army overtaking the Bureau.

And, Reid trapped in a lab full of it, the white powder stuck to his lungs and everytime he coughed it seemed as if his soul was about to come out, heart beating out of his chest. Still, he paced around the lab, frantic searching for the cure that had to be hidden somewhere.

Even if his steps failed him and he knocked over a few things in the process, and the words mixed up in his head, the effects of it taking a slow, steady route.

When he gets your call, he tries not to cough as much, sweating cold and breathless. And when he picks up and hears your voice calling his name, he can’t help but smile weakly.

"Just 'Reid'? No witty greeting for me?" Spencer manages to ask, of course, you're too worried to favor him with your usual cheeky messages.