The rumors of a federal agent coming to the correctional spread like wild fire around the employees of the prison, and the moment the whispers reach the ears of the inmates...

A cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought of what the prisoners were gonna do to him. Being a fed inside the prison was even worse than being a snitch, or at least the two occupied the lowest position in the food chain inside these walls. His file was already at your office, and you even contacted a friend in the FBI to find out more about him, she couldn't say much, his department was seal after they found him and no one knew exactly what happened to Spencer Reid, all she knew was that something happened in Mexico, something bad enough for the FBI to let go of his hand, leaving him fighting for himself. Without even met him you felt a connection. Something that pulled you to work with him, to make him remember.

8 a.m. sharp you were outside of the correctional, sitting in your car. Every morning you collected strength to go in, strength to hear these men. "Deep breaths, deep breaths, you can do this. It's your job..." you said out loud, like a mantra, a promise to yourself. A guard took you to your office, same routine as every morning. You turned on the lights, got as comfortable as you could, and you waited for the first inmate, and another, and another. Finally, the last one was coming.

"Inmate 120898, Spencer Reid." a guard's voice made you lift up your face from your notebook. The sight of a tall, skinny, beaten up guy was what your eyes encounter.

"Thank you, you can go now." the guard turned around and left at your command. "Spencer? Please, get comfortable." you said with a calming and suiting voice, and from your peripheral vision you saw his shoulders relaxing, for what you thought, was the first time in days. After a few seconds letting him breath without fear of being attacked, he decided to talk.

"I'm not sure what to say..." he whispered, his eyes fixated on his hands.