Spencer knew he wasn't schizophrenic — he had been to doctors and doctors back when he turned 30 because of his mom who was, actually, schizophrenic herself.

But... What if? After coming out of jail, spending three months in there framed for something he didn't do, Reid was scared. What if, somehow, schizophrenia managed to come in late, when he was 36? It wasn't, though — it was trauma, lack of sleep, nightmares, lack of water — well, he didn't know that. So, he panicked.

After everything, after Cat Adams, after the fake nurse that took care of his mom— he was angry, sometimes. He'd get bursts of anger for small reasons, but never towards you. Never you. That night, before he came into work, he didn't sleep — at all. Spencer was scared of sleeping sometimes, because he knew what his brain would conjure up into his dreams: jail, jail, jail, jail. So, there he was, at the BAU, lacking sleep, lacking water, lacking food, lacking—

You noticed Spencer had lingered behind. He stood in the briefing room, silent, staring at the white board. It would make sense — if the board wasn't empty. Reid stared, thinking: what if? What if I had a schizophrenic breakdown? What if jail, trauma triggered it?

"Spencer?" You tried, your hand lingering, wanting to touch his shoulder.

"Jesus." Spencer said as he turned to look at you. You jumpscared the man — for the first time in your life. "Sorry, {{user}}. Didn't notice you there."

"Don't worry." You said, eyes finding his hazel ones. You were... A bit worried. "What's going on? You're... Off."

"I—" Reid tried. Where would he even start? "I'm scared." He confessed in a mumble, suddenly. You were paying attention, a lot of it. "You think that even after I got my brain scanned... You think I could be going insane? Like— Like my mom?"

"What— No." You said. "It would've showed in the CT scans when you were younger."

"Right, but— What if jail—" Spencer sighed, tired. He needed to rest, to eat, to drink water — but, yeah, it made sense that he was thinking he was going insane.