#behavioural analysis unit

"YOU ARE SO WHIPPED," Derek says as the two of you stand in the tiny kichenette next to the bullpen.

You turn towards him and raise a brow, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh? So you weren't making heart eyes at pretty boy just now?" he counters, "Or when he was going on about Doctor Who this morning, or yesterday when he told you that dumb fact about the Mayans and their sun calander?"

"Again, I have no idea what you're talking about," you deny, reverting your eyes back to the drink in your hand.

Derek looks between you and Spencer before smirking. "Yeah? Let me give you a little explanation then."

He drags you over to Spencer's desk.

"Hey, pretty boy, Y/N and I were just talking about how horrible the coffee from the new coffee machine is," he said as the boy genius turned to them, "So she's going to that coffee shop down the street, you want anything?"

Spencer thought about it for a second, "Uh, no, I'm good actually."

"You sure, it's Y/N's treat?" Derek added in a sing-song.

"Uhm, I guess a glazed donut would be nice?"

You turn to Derek with a confused look on your face, which Spencer the Amazing Profiler somehow managed to miss.

Derek turns to you with a knowing smirk, "Give it a second—"

And just as those words leave his mouth Emily pipes up from next to JJ. "Oh, if you're going, get me a coffee?"

"I'd love a chocolate cookie," Penelope, who had come out of her batcave to hand over some reports to Hotch, adds excitedly, "You're going to that new coffee shop right? I could smell the deliciousness from a mile away."

Slowly but surely everyone in the bullpen piles onto it—all of them clearly not a fan of the new coffee machine either—and your teammate looks at you with a smirk.

"You want a notepad or?"

"Shut up."

The man lets out a bark of a laugh. "You'd have to dissapoint boy genius over there," he offered, before looking pointedly at Spencer who was now excitedly talking about the new café with Penelope, "But you could just not go."

You let out an annoyed huff as you looked at him too.

A full twenty minutes later you stood in front of Spencer's desk with a crumbled bag containing his favourite flavour of glazed donut (because of course I know what it is, Derek, I'm a good colleague), completely and utterly out of breath.

You'd just spent 15 minutes of your break running to and from the new café—in your brand new heels too— and then giving everybody their coffee and/or cookie.

"Thank you," the boy genius replied with a bright smile on his face, looking in the bag, "Oh, and you got my favourite flavour too, you're amazing!"

You just offer him a small, tired smile. "Of course, Spence, no problem."

On your way back to your desk, you walk into Derek, who's already leaning against his.

"Just couldn't stand dissapointing your pretty boy, huh?"

"I swear to all that is holy, Morgan, I will throw this scalding hot coffee on you."

"Yeah, yeah, you're so whipped."

"I hate you."

📚 Author's Note: This is going to be a long series. I really wanted to rewrite the entire Prison!Reid arc with more at stake but all the while sticking somewhat closely to the original storyline. The story won't focus solely on Reid x BAU!Reader but also on the entire team and the effort to get him exonerated. There'll be small side stories and minor events, all in an effort to get Spencer out. There are a lot of twists and turns coming into play later in the series so I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I'm trying to gauge how long to make these stories. I'm not sure whether or not to keep it short (4k) or a little longer (10k). Anyways, this one kind of sets everything up for the rest of the series.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.

Prentiss responded. “Reid’s in jail.”

“Jail?” JJ repeated.

Prentiss continued. “In Mexico.”

Spencer was in jail. The weight of it all pressed down on your shoulders like a vice. Around you, everyone exchanged confused, unsettled glances. JJ’s eyes locked onto yours—pleading for answers, but also stricken, as if the news had hit her like a bullet.

This wasn’t just a team. This was family.

In the briefing room, the team sat in tense silence. You still didn’t know what to say—or even how to feel. None of it made sense. There had to be an explanation. This couldn’t be real. You knew Spencer. You’d known him long before the Bureau.

“It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase,” Garcia read.

You and JJ sat together, puzzled.

“What? He hardly ever drives,” Emily said. “None of this sounds like him.”

You thought back to when Spence was learning to drive—he was terrible at it. Honestly, you were the better driver by a mile, which is why he rarely ever took the wheel during cases. It became an unspoken rule, a running joke. One of many small memories that now felt like a lifeline.

“Where are you with the searches?” somebody asked but you couldn’t focus on who was speaking.

Was Scratch behind this? Peter Lewis. The same guy who drove Hotch out of the bureau, not by choice but by force, in an effort to keep his son safe.

“Maybe he has a contact down there,” Stephen said.

That’s when it hit you. A memory surfaced—Spence had mentioned something about a doctor in Houston.

“It’s not in Mexico,” you said, your voice steadying with the thought. “But Spence did mention a doctor down in Houston.”

JJ’s hand found yours, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Did he say who the doctor was?”

You shook your head. “No.”

She rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and grounding. She could see how hard this was for you—how deep it cut. And in that moment, words weren’t necessary.

Out of everyone on the team, she was the one who truly understood how personal this situation was for you. From the start, she’d treated you like a younger sister—always including you, always looking out for you. You’d known JJ even before Spencer met her. Funny how small the world felt, despite the millions of people in it.

She had confided in you about everything. It had been a surprise to you both when you ended up at the Bureau at the same time—new hires in the same department, though in very different roles. She’d been brought on for her exceptional skills. You, on the other hand, had been recruited quietly, bound by an NDA, your deep knowledge of sensitive government sectors—especially those involving biological weapons—deemed too valuable to ignore.

But more than any of that, she knew about you and Spencer. Or at least, as much as you were willing to share. She was the only one who knew about the quiet, careful relationship that had formed between you and him. So when the news broke—Spencer in jail—she was the only one who noticed the way your breath caught and your eyes faltered.

Her gaze flicked to yours first. Then to Emily.

“Okay, so I dug around his desk,” JJ said. “Found a bunch of medical journal articles—no big surprise. All about alternative medicinal treatments for fighting Alzheimer’s.”

Emily had already left with Rossi and Luke; they’d flown to Mexico to see Spencer.

You took a deep breath. “Well, he told me he was supplementing her meds with omega-3s and making sure she ate plenty of leafy greens. Since it takes years for the FDA to approve treatments, a lot of holistic medicine happens outside the States.”

Garcia and Tara quietly slipped out, heading to the FBI library, leaving you and JJ alone for the first time all day.

“You’re starting to sound a lot like him,” she said, trying to lift your spirits.

You let yourself soften a bit. “I guess that’s what I get for knowing him the longest.”

JJ handed you a small, leather-bound booklet—wallet-sized and worn at the edges. “I found this in his drawer. Thought you should have it now. Something to hold onto.”

“Thank you.” She gave you a brief, comforting hug.

Opening the booklet, you found just a few photos—mostly of the three of you with Spencer. The first was from the Redskins game, the one Spencer had tried to make a solo outing with JJ before she invited you and Garcia along. In the picture, he held a cap, barely interested in the game. You sat beside JJ, who squeezed both you and Garcia so tight it looked like she was trying to squeeze the love right out of you.

You laughed softly. “Remember the Redskins game?”

She smiled. “Yeah. How could I forget? You begged me not to make you go, but once I roped Garcia in, she wouldn’t let you sit it out.”

The next photo was just you and Spencer—one he’d taken himself. It was from his first trip to New York City, the city blanketed in snow.

“Where was this taken?” JJ asked gently, trying to distract you, though you weren’t ready to be distracted.

“My hometown,” you said. “At my childhood home in Manhattan. It was his first time in the city—and meeting my grandparents. Years before we joined the Bureau.”

The final photo was just of you—standing, looking toward the camera, holding your PhD diploma tightly to your chest.

JJ had already slipped out again, searching for more clues in Spencer’s desk, leaving you to yourself.

You flipped to the very last photo.

It was the two of you at your courthouse wedding in New York City—the one you kept buried deep in your personal records, sealed away from the world, from everyone. Only you, Spencer, and Gideon knew. You were both so young then—26, compared to the 34 and almost 35 you were now. Gideon had snapped the picture as the judge allowed you both to kiss, sealing your vows in the courtroom forever.

Nobody else knew. JJ only knew you were together—nothing about the marriage. Everyone else on the team thought you were just best friends, close for over a decade.

That’s why it stung. Your husband was in jail for a crime you knew that he did not commit.

It begged the question: Did you really know him at all? (Of course you did.) This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. You just didn’t know how you’d prove it.

“Hey, JJ” Luke said through the phone.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

You were sitting next to her, foot tapping against his chair, the one you were sitting in, searching through his desk again for answers.

She pressed something on her phone. “You’re on speaker by the way.”

“I’m not sure he recognizes us,” he continued.

Your heart sank.

Stephen chimed in. “It’s the drugs.”

The phone call ended. The silence that followed felt heavier than any words could.

“He worked so hard to get sober,” you said quietly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t understand. He knows we’re here for him. He tells me everything. So why didn’t he tell me about this?”

You were unraveling by the minute. Holding it together on the outside, but inside, everything was coming apart. The sharp pang in your chest kept returning, like clockwork—reminding you just how wrong this all felt.

Right now, none of that mattered. Not the pain, not the questions. The only thing that mattered was getting Spencer out of jail—or at the very least, back on U.S. soil, where he could be within reach. Within protection. Within reason.

Everyone had gathered in the briefing room again, the air thick with tension and unanswered questions. Garcia sat at her station, typing furiously, her screen casting a faint blue glow across her face.

“I didn’t even know he crossed the border once,” she murmured, disbelief curling in her voice. “Let alone three times. What was he doing down there?”

The words hit you harder than you expected.

You’d never thought to check where Spencer was going. Why would you? You trusted him—with everything. When he said he was visiting a clinic in Houston, you believed him. You’d offered to go with him, to stay behind and take care of his mother when he couldn’t. You never once thought he’d hide anything from you.

But now?

Now it all looked different.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly unsure. He was brilliant, yes—but so were you. Maybe you didn’t have his memory, but you had instinct, and your gut told you something had been off for a while. It puzzled you—not just what he was doing, but why he didn’t think you’d eventually discover it. Maybe that was the worst part. That he didn’t try to keep you in the loop.

That he didn’t think he needed to.

“He told me he was going to Houston,” you said softly, voice barely carrying across the room. “Said there was a clinic running an experimental Alzheimer’s treatment. I didn’t know he was crossing into Mexico.”

Emily spoke over the phone. “He’s being extradited back to the States. Our jurisdiction applies—Dr. Nadie Ramos is a dual citizen.”

Everyone exhaled—quiet, collective relief washing over the room like a low tide. It wasn’t over. Not even close. But he was coming home. Back where you could see him. Talk to him. Ask him the questions that had begun circling in your chest like storm clouds.

You clutched the little leather booklet JJ had given you earlier, the edges soft from wear. Your thumb brushed over the picture of you and Spencer in the snow outside your childhood home, his arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go.

He was your husband. No one else knew. Not JJ. Not Garcia. Not even Emily. It had been your secret—sacred and quiet, sealed in a courthouse years ago with Gideon as your witness. You loved him. You still did.

But now, sitting in that room, surrounded by people trying to unravel his actions, a small crack had formed inside you. And no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, one aching question kept rising to the surface:

What else didn’t I know?

You wanted to believe in him. You needed to believe this was all a misunderstanding. But for the first time, you weren’t sure if the man you’d married had trusted you enough to tell you everything.

And that, somehow, hurt more than the rest.

On the Jet

On the jet, the hum of the engines filled the quiet space between them. The calm after everything wasn’t peaceful—it was too still, too fragile.

“I’m glad you sound like your old self again,” Emily said gently, her voice carrying more meaning than the words alone.

Spencer offered a faint smile. “Me too.”

She watched him for a beat longer than necessary, then turned her eyes back to the folder in her hands. “We can stop by the BAU when we land,” she continued, tone shifting into something more procedural. “But after that, we’ll be taking you to the district. You’ll be processed at the federal jail.”

A heavy pause settled over the cabin.

Spencer sat motionless for a moment, then parted his lips—as if something needed to be said. But nothing came. The words caught in his throat, dissolving before they reached the air.

Does she know?

His gaze lingered on Emily. She hadn’t said anything… not about her. Not about them. But something in her tone, in the way she kept looking at him—like she was waiting for something—made his stomach turn.

The silence stretched, filled with unspoken truths. And for the first time since this nightmare began, Spencer wasn’t just worried about getting out.

He was terrified of what he might lose when he did.

At the BAU

You were still in the briefing room, eyes scanning over Spencer’s old personal records—files you'd read a hundred times before but suddenly felt like you’d never really seen. Everyone else had gathered near the elevators, waiting for his arrival. You couldn't bring yourself to leave the room yet. Not until you were ready to face him. Not until you understood something—anything.

Down the hall, JJ was the first to hug him. Garcia followed, then Tara. The moment was brief but heavy, each embrace carrying more than words could.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked quietly, glancing toward JJ, his voice unsure.

JJ gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “She’s in the briefing room. I’ll go get her.”

A gentle knock pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see JJ leaning in the doorway, her expression soft, careful—like a mother coaxing her child from behind a locked door.

“Spence is here,” she said. “He’s asking for you.”

Your legs moved before your heart caught up. You followed her silently through the hallway, your mind racing, your chest tightening with every step.

He stood by the elevator, flanked by agents, his hands still cuffed but draped in an FBI jacket—as if that could hide the reality. But it didn’t. Not even a little. That’s when it hit you—not like a blow to the chest, but a fracture through your whole life. Past, present, future—all cracked at the foundation.

His eyes found yours instantly. And in them, you saw the same thing reflected back: this isn’t just bad—it’s personal.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. The room faded around you. Emily was already speaking with the team about legal protocols, the logistics of his protection. But none of it reached you.

Luke stood close—close enough to maintain control, far enough to give a sliver of privacy. Spencer leaned in just enough to whisper, voice low and urgent against your ear.

“You can’t get involved,” he said. “You have to go. Witsec.”

You pulled back slightly, trying not to make a scene. “Spencer, no. I’m not leaving. I need to be here—with the team. With you. I’m going to find out what’s going on. We’re going to fix this.”

He shook his head, locking eyes with you—his gaze desperate. “Y/N. Baby. I want you here when I get out. If Scratch is behind this... he’ll come after you next. He pushed Hotch out of the only place he ever felt in control. He’ll do the same to you. We can’t let that happen.”

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t let the tears fall. You held the line, even if it felt like it was breaking inside you.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly. But there was something in his tone—firm, commanding. The same tone he used with unsubs when he couldn’t afford to lose control.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, just once. Soft, grounding.

“You’re strong, baby,” he whispered. “Stay long enough to let things cool off… then go.”

You shook your head, the denial barely visible but full of meaning. “I can’t. I won’t.”

He looked at you—really looked at you. There was a plea in his eyes, something raw and afraid and protective all at once.

“Please.”

But still, you didn’t move. You just shook your head again, the smallest gesture that meant everything.

You weren’t going anywhere. Not yet. Not without a reason.

JJ stepped in, trying to ease the weight in the air, her voice light but laced with care.

“I took my boys to see your mom. Garcia made sure she’s been eating every night. Y/N handled the nurse situation—you know how she is. And she’s been keeping an eye on those early trial studies you were so interested in.”

Spencer offered a small, grateful smile. He meant it. He appreciated it all. The care, the loyalty. The way the team—his family—had stepped in. And especially you.

But his eyes never left yours.

Not for a second.

It was like the two of you were having an entirely different conversation—one without words, just looks exchanged with the weight of everything left unsaid. He was asking you to listen. To leave. To protect yourself. You were asking him to stop. Let you stay. Let you help. For better or for worse.

JJ’s House

JJ stepped quietly out of her sons’ rooms, the soft hum of a white noise machine trailing behind her. They were finally asleep. Will was still on duty for a few more hours, so she’d called in reinforcements—their boys’ favorite person outside of family: Aunt Y/N.

You’d come without hesitation. And being godmother to Henry? That had been one of the happiest surprises of your life.

Spencer had been a little more hesitant when JJ asked him to be godfather, unsure if he could live up to the role—but he said yes. Of course he did.

You smiled, remembering the moment at the hospital when Henry was born.

“You’re gonna go to Harvard,” you had whispered, brushing a finger over his tiny hand. “I’m sure of it.”

JJ laughed from the hospital bed, cradling him against her chest. “You hear that, little guy? Ivy League already.”

“Harvard?” Spencer had scoffed, seated beside you with his usual edge of sarcasm. “I could get him into CalTech with one phone call.”

“Don’t worry, JJ,” you’d replied, shooting Spencer a mock glare. “I’ll make sure he goes to the better school.”

Spencer gave you a look—whatever written all over it—but you caught the twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He knew exactly what you were doing. The Harvard-CalTech banter was an old dance between you two.

Will had just laughed then, standing beside JJ with awe in his eyes. “Kid’s already got more love than he’ll know what to do with.”

And he was right.

Back in the present, JJ moved into the living room where you were curled up on the couch with a mug of tea. She smiled, soft and tired.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Always,” you said. “They’re angels.”

She nodded, sitting beside you. For a moment, the house was still. The kind of stillness that only came when kids were asleep and the grown-ups could breathe again. But beneath the quiet was something else—a subtle knowing in her eyes.

“You holdin’ up alright?” JJ asked, her voice low, careful.

Your fingers tightened around the mug. You didn’t look at her, not right away.

“Not really,” you admitted. “But I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

You tried to brush it off, but your voice cracked at the edges. The weight of everything—Spencer, the silence, the fear—hit you all at once. You dragged a hand over your face, as if wiping it away would help.

But it didn’t.

The first tear slipped down without permission. Then another. And another. Until you weren’t just holding back—you were falling apart, quietly and fully, for the first time that day.

JJ moved closer without hesitation, handing you a tissue and rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. She didn’t speak at first. She didn’t need to. She knew the language of grief and pressure far too well.

You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “He wants kids, you know?”

She stilled, letting you continue.

“We talked about it one night… years ago. We were at a Target, of all places. Just wandering around. He was standing in front of the baby clothes, touching this little onesie with dinosaurs on it.” You laughed faintly, choked by tears. “He leaned down and whispered something about our future kids. We’d only been together officially for a couple of months. But he meant it. I felt it.”

JJ smiled softly, her own eyes glistening with emotion—not just for you, but for Spencer too.

“You’re all he thinks about, you know?”

You looked at her then, something searching in your eyes. Needing more.

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to tell you—but because the story in her mind was his. And yet… it was yours too.

“Emily and I once took him to an outlet mall in Virginia,” she said slowly, settling back into the couch. “You were in California on that expert witness thing with Hotch. We thought it’d be good to get him out of the office for a few hours. Big mistake—he was miserable in the sun, whining about exposure and bacteria on food court tables.”

You cracked a weak smile, letting her keep going.

“We stopped into a store—Emily wanted to look for baby clothes for Henry. Nothing serious. We were goofing off. But then we turned around, and there he was. Just... standing there. In front of a row of cribs. Reading every label like it was a bomb manual. Safety ratings, materials, recall notices—everything.”

You stared at her, stunned. You hadn’t heard this before.

“I asked him—jokingly—‘Thinking about having kids?’” JJ paused, her smile faltering a little. “He didn’t laugh. He just nodded. Said, ‘We both are. Just waiting for the right time.’”

Silence filled the space between you. Heavy, tender, real.

It was the kind of story that cracked your heart wide open—not just because he wanted a future, but because he was already planning for one.

With you.

And now, everything felt so uncertain.

JJ leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees as the soft hum of the living room settled around you both.

“You know,” she said, voice low and careful, “I’ve known for a long time.”

Your eyes flicked toward her. “Known what?”

There was no accusation in her tone—just understanding.

“You and Spencer.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes softening. Of course she knew. Part of you had always known that she’d figured it out—years ago, even before you'd had the courage to call it what it was. But JJ had never said a word. Never pushed, never teased. She just… let it be.

Because she respected you. Respected him. Respected whatever it was the two of you were building behind quiet glances and unspoken promises.

JJ offered a small, knowing smile. “I don’t think you ever really meant to hide it from me. Not intentionally. But you never told me either.”

You sat in silence, heart picking up pace.

“I figured it out in Boston,” she continued, her gaze drifting like she was watching the memory play out in front of her. “That case with the museum director’s daughter. We were all running on fumes—late nights, freezing cold. The kind of case that lingers even after it's solved.”

You remembered. That bitter wind off the harbor. The endless hours in the field. And the final, quiet relief when it ended.

“Everyone was getting ready to pack up and head out. I was across the street grabbing coffee when I saw you two walking back to the precinct. Just the two of you. Laughing. He was carrying your bag for you, which wasn’t weird—Spencer’s always been thoughtful—but something about it was... different.”

JJ’s voice softened as her eyes returned to yours.

“He leaned in a little too close when he said something to you. You laughed, and then—he looked at you like you were the only person on the planet.”

You swallowed.

“And when you thought no one was watching,” she added, “he kissed you. Quick. Barely a second. You were behind a row of parked cars, and it was dark enough that I think you thought you were alone.”

Your chest tightened. You remembered that kiss. It had been spontaneous, a quiet moment in the dark—Spencer’s gloved fingers brushing your cheek, your lips meeting his just once before you both slipped back into your roles.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” JJ said. “Not because I didn’t care. But because I did. I knew what that moment meant. That kind of quiet love—it’s the kind you guard with your whole life.”

You blinked rapidly, throat tight.

“I saw it again, after that. Not always a kiss. Usually just… the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking. Or how your voice softened when you said his name. It was subtle. You two were good at keeping it quiet. But it was there.”

JJ leaned back slightly, exhaling.

“I didn’t need a label. I didn’t need the details. I just knew.”

You wiped your cheek with the side of your hand, voice barely audible. “I didn’t thought we hid it well.”

JJ gave a quiet laugh. “To most people? You did. But I’ve always paid attention. Especially to the people I love.”

There was a pause before you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought he told me everything.”

JJ’s expression shifted, more serious now. “He probably thought he was protecting you. That whatever he’s holding onto… maybe it felt safer for you not to carry it too.”

“But we’ve never—” your voice broke, and you tried again. “We never kept secrets from each other. At least not like this.”

JJ leaned in, brushing your hand gently. “I know. And I don’t think it’s about not trusting you. I think he’s scared. Of what it might cost. Of dragging you into something that could hurt you.”

You let out a long breath, eyes glassy. “He doesn’t get to choose what hurts me.”

“No,” JJ agreed softly. “But love makes people do irrational things. You and I both know that.”

She gave your hand a final squeeze.