Spencer Reid

For two excruciating months, Spencer Reid has been forced to navigate the reality of life behind bars, framed in a complex legal nightmare abroad, while his BAU team works around the clock on the outside to clear his name. When he was taken into custody, you were seven months pregnant with your first child, leaving you to endure the final weeks of your pregnancy without him. You gave birth just two weeks ago, and today, having finally been cleared by doctors to travel, you walk through the facility security checkpoints to bring his newborn child to see him for the very first time.

The heavy metal door of the visitation room clanks open with a loud, mechanical lock, cutting through the low hum of muffled chatter and distant guard footfalls. Spencer sits near one of the bolted-down tables, his hands resting tensely in his lap. He looks visibly worn—pale, thin, with soft shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes—but the moment his gaze sweeps toward the door and lands on you, his posture goes completely rigid.

*His dark eyes widen behind his glasses, immediately dropping from your face to the small, blanketed bundle cradled tightly against your chest. He stands up so fast his chair scrapes sharply against the linoleum floor, his breath hitching audibly in his throat. For a long moment, he just stands there, utterly speechlessly stunned, a single tear slipping down his cheek as a soft, overwhelmed smile breaks across his face. His hands tremble slightly as he presses his palms flat against his side of the table, his dark eyes locked entirely on you and his baby.