not a very interesting chapter but i couldn't not cover the anthrax ep

[4.24]

"you're usually the best on the team at staying positive"

"Why are you scratching so much?" Morgan asked Florence. She was perched on top of his desk and had been scratching her legs through her sweatpants for several minutes.

"There were like a million mosquitos in the park the other day," she replied, frowning. "We all went yesterday so that I could try and teach Alex how to skateboard to impress this guy."

"Why didn't one of you go buy some bug spray once you noticed all of them?" Prentiss asked. "And stop scratching. It'll make them worse."

"I forgot bug spray was a thing," Florence whispered to herself. "Oh well, at least we'll know next time."

Morgan chuckled and then grabbed her wrist to keep her from scratching. Instead of stopping, she just started rubbing her leg against his desk. "Sunshine, don't come crying to me when they start bleeding."

Florence sighed and stopped her scratching. "I wish mosquitoes would just ask for a sip of my blood politely instead of stealing it and injecting me with their itchy juice."

"I don't think that's how mosquitoes work," Prentiss said, grinning and shaking her head.

"Actually," Reid piped up. "She's not far off. A mosquito uses the sharp tip of its straw-like mouth — which is called the proboscis — to pierce a person's skin. It locates the blood vessel and draws blood up through its mouth. As it does this, it injects saliva that contains an anticoagulant. This stops the person's blood from clotting. When a mosquito bite breaks the skin, a person's body recognizes the mosquito's saliva as a foreign substance. This causes an immune system response. The swelling around the bite is caused by histamine, which is produced by the immune system. Histamine increases blood flow and white blood cell count around the affected area, which causes inflammation or swelling. Mosquito bites itch because histamine also sends a signal to the nerves around the bite."

"See," Florence said, grinning at Prentiss. "That's basically exactly what I said."

"Yeah, but I missed the part where he used the scientific term "itchy juice" in his explanation," Morgan said, smirking.

"You're mean," Florence simply said, crossing her arms. Then she uncrossed the, to scratch her leg.

"Actually, scratching the mosquito bites can make the itching sensation worse," Reid told her. "I'd recommend applying cortisone cream to the area to reduce the inflammation and help with the itching. JJ has a first aid kit in her office and it may have some in it."

Florence happily hopped off Morgan's desk and kissed the top of Reid's head, whose cheeks went red. "Thank you, Doctor Boy Genius."

|||

The team was called in suddenly over the weekend. JJ didn't give them any details and only instructed that they hurried. Prentiss, Morgan, Reid, and Florence all arrived at the same time. Instead of hopping off her skateboard and carrying it, Florence grabbed onto the sleeve of Morgan's shirt and let him pull her into the elevator.

"Wonder what kind of case it is," Florence muttered. "They only call us in on the weekends for the bad ones — like kids and stuff."

"Case must be local," Reid said as they stepped off the elevator. "JJ said not to bring a go-bag."

They all paused for a second when they saw that the bullpen was crowded with people in army uniforms. Florence quickly got off her skateboard and held it, looking around surprised. Everyone was talking loudly and running around. Clearly, something bad was going on.

"What's the army doing here?" Morgan asked.

"What the hell is going on?" Prentiss asked.

Florence quickly followed the others as they made their way to the briefing room. JJ was already there with a woman, and Rossi and Hotch soon joined them.

"Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC," JJ introduced.

"CDC?" Florence muttered with wide eyes.

"Hello," Dr, Kimura greeted. "I'm sorry to meet under these circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Reid asked.

"We need to get started," Hotch said.

"Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after two p.m. yesterday. Within ten hours, the first victim died. It's now just past seven a.m — the next day, we have twelve dead."

"Lung failure and black lesions," Morgan stated, looking through the files. "Anthrax?"

"Anthrax doesn't kill this fast," Reid told them.

"This strain does," Dr. Kimura said.

"What are we doing about potential mass targets — airports, malls, trains?" Prentiss asked.

"There's a media blackout," Hotch said.

"We're not telling the public?" Florence asked, frowning.

"We'd have a mass exodus," Morgan said.

"The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack," Rossi explained.

"Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples," Reid added.

"Or if they wanted attention and didn't get it, they might attack again," Prentiss said, siding with Florence. "Doesn't the public have the right to know that?"

"If there is another attack, there's no way we'll be able to keep it quiet. Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can," Hotch said sternly.

"What do we know about this strain?" Reid asked.

"The spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odorless and invisible," Dr, Kimura explained.

"A sophisticated strain," Rossi noted. "Only a scientist would know how to do that."

"These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours," Morgan said.

"It's not the lesions I'm worried about," Dr. Kimura said. "It's the lungs. We don't know how to combat the toxins once they're inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all."

"The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital," JJ said. "Our offices will become a small command center."

"We'll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick," Hotch said.

"General Whitworth is coming here?" Rossi asked him.

"He's in charge of site containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who's responsible."

"My team is in charge of treating all victims," Dr. Kimura added.

"Reid, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital. Interview the victims. Morgan and Prentiss, there's a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. Florence, Garcia is already in at work and you'll follow her lead. There's Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go."

"We don't know if it's effective against this strain, but it's something," Dr. Kimura said, handing out little cups with the medicine in it.

"This is really happening?" Prentiss asked, still not wrapping her head around it all.

"We knew this could happen," Hotch said. "We've done our homework. We've prepared for this. This is it."

I haven't prepared for this," Florence thought frantically.

"Jin dan," Rossi said. "May you live a hundred years."

She swallowed the Cipro and washed it down with a Capri Sun. It was definitely going to be a long weekend.

|||

After running the background checks on each of the victims from the park, Florence and Garcia delivered them to Hotch and to also receive further instructions.

"This is the list of victims you asked for," Garcia said, handing it to him.

"No high-profile jobs," he noted.

"No, just ordinary people frolicking in the park," she said. They followed Hotch to the briefing room with Rossi.

"Any word from the CIA?" Rossi asked.

"They said there are a few overseas terrorist groups with funding and capability. They're working International. We've got domestic," Hotch explained.

"We need to look at anyone who could profit from this," Rossi said, turning to Garcia and Florence. "People who have patents on anthrax vaccines."

"And add to your list anyone with access to weaponized spores," Hotch added. "Universities, scholars working in bioweapons research."

"Employees of labs who keep germ collections," Rossi said.

"We'll be back in a few," Garcia said.

They then headed back to their office to get to work. Before they even had time to finish compiling a list, Hotch and JJ came by to have them look into three other potential victims. Reid thought there might have been a previous attack that just hadn't been caught.

"Gale Mercer, thirty-one, Martha Finestein, forty-eight, Albert Franks, fifty-two," Garcia said, pulling up their records. "What next?"

"See if they visited the same place on May eighth," JJ said.

"Gale Mercer made a credit card purchase at the book front, owned by Albert Franks."

"We need to find General Whitworth. He needs to send a team out there."

Once Hotch and JJ left, Garcia sighed heavily. "This is bringing up way too many memories of 2001."

"What happened in 2001?" Florence asked, opening a new Capri Sun.

Garcia looked at her surprised. "The 2001 anthrax attacks. Do you seriously not know about that? It was on every news channel for months."

"PG, I don't watch the news now, so why would I watch it as a small child?" Florence said, shrugging. "What happened?"

"Well, a week after the September eleventh attack, someone mailed letters with anthrax in them to some news outlets and to two Senators. Five people died and several people were infected. They never caught who did it."

"You mean you could just open your mail and die?" she asked. "Wild."

Garcia couldn't help but chuckle. Of course, her natural reaction to learning about a terrorist attack was "wild." After the little history lesson, the two went back to work. Florence was tasked with looking into the book store owner, as well as all customers and employees in the days leading up to the attack.

But they were distracted when JJ rushed in, bearing horrible news.

"What the hell do you mean Reid has been infected?"

She explained that while he and Morgan had been inspecting a house, Reid knocked over a vial containing the new strain of anthrax. Morgan had been outside and wasn't contaminated. There was no telling if the Cipro that they had taken would do anything to combat the new strain.

"This thing killed the first three victims within hours, JJ," Garcia said, biting her lip.

"Garcia, stop. Please. I - I can't think about it that way," JJ said, taking a deep breath. "He took Cipro. He's got help. He's gonna be fine."

"I'm not good at this part," Garcia said, getting emotional. "Every time you guys go away, I... I know you're in all kinds of ginormous danger, and all I can do is sit here in my bubble, and I hope and I pray and I will my babies to come back to me. I try to stay positive, but... I don't know how to do this."

Florence quietly sniffed, which drew their attention. She hadn't said much at all since they learned about Reid's condition. Garcia and JJ hadn't paid her much attention because of this, so they were surprised to see silent tears rolling down her face.

"Oh, Baby Girl, don't cry," Garcia said, rolling her chair over to her and grabbing her hand. "If you cry, I'm gonna start crying."

"Spence is gonna be alright," JJ said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was trying to convince herself of it too. "They're all going to be alright and come home safe."

"We've got to stay positive," Garcia added. "You're usually the best on the team at staying positive, Ren."

Florence pulled her sleeve over her hand and rubbed her eyes, and then scoffed weakly. "I'm fine. I'm positive. Reid's fine. I'm not crying. You're crying."

Once Florence collected herself, JJ spoke up. "If you could do anything to keep your family safe, even if it meant breaking procedure, would you?"

"Yes," Garcia answered immediately. "What procedure?"

"Never mind," JJ said after a moment.

Florence studied her for a moment. Something told her that JJ was on the brink of breaking the quiet order.

|||

With nothing much to do, Florence stayed in the office curled up in her blanket from Hotch while Garcia waited to further instruction. Later on in the day, they had gotten a call from Reid.

"Hey, Reid," Garcia greeted, sounding just as sad as they looked.

"Gee, wow, no, uh... No witty Garcia greeting for me?"

She sighed. "I can't be my sparkly self when you are where you are. Florence, wanna try?"

"Howdy," Florence greeted in a soft tone.

Reid smiled weakly on the other end, appreciating the effort. "Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?"

"Anything."

"I, uh... I know I can't call my mom without, uh - without alerting everyone at her hospital."

Garcia and Florence shared a sad look. "What do you need?"

"I, uh... I need you to record a message for her in case anything happens to me."

"Nothing's gonna happen to you," Florence said sharply. Her eyes started to water again, but she kept the tears back. "You and your perfect brain will find out who did this and the doctor lady will find a way to treat that strain. You'll be fine."

Reid let out a breath. "I hope you're right, but if you're not, I just - I really want to make sure that she hears my voice."

"Ok. just, uh, give me a second," Garcia said, setting up the recording process.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

"Hi, mom. This is spencer. I just, um... I just really want you to know That I love you and—" His voice caught in his throat. Florence clenched her eyes shut to try and not cry. "I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son."

He was quiet for several moments, and Garcia checked to make sure he was alright. "Reid?"

Someone said something in the background, drawing his attention. "I gotta go."

After that, Garcia called Morgan to check on the case. He instructed her to patch him through with Reid to ask him more questions before being transferred to the hospital.

"How's it going in there, kid?" Morgan asked when he picked up.

"I've seen better days," Reid said.

"Well, you got me, Ren and Garcia."

"Hey bud," Florence greeted.

Reid started coughing, which worried them. "Reid, stick with me," Morgan told him. "Listen, Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner was a coworker. Can you tell us anything else about him?"

"I've already been through everything."

"Come on, now, kid, I know you're not thinking straight, but the Reid I know wouldn't stop looking."

"All right, all right," he said, coughing a little more. "I see a, uh, a framed photograph of Dr. Nichols teaching. I see a - I see a binder with syllabi. Course assignments going all the way back to the 1970s."

"All right. So he kept a scrapbook of himself as a professor. That tells us that he values himself as an educator," Morgan concluded.

"A teacher," Reid muttered. "I saw something earlier. I didn't - I didn't make a connection to it or to the partner, but he has a study on anthrax. He has an annotated bibliography, table of contents. It's formatted like a thesis and has writing in the margins in red ink, like the way a teacher grades a paper. Now, Nichols wouldn't have let just anyone in here, but he may have opened his lab for educational purposes, as a teacher."

"So the partner must have appealed to him as a student," Morgan realized. "Nichols is helping him with his thesis."

"I can look up local Ph.D. students," Garcia offered. Florence rolled her chair over to see if Garcia got any results.

"Yeah, check the sciences — Biochemistry, microbiology."

"Cross-checking with names of former employees or customers with grievances at the bookstore." The search came up empty. "Nothing, my doves."

Reid began to cough before speaking. "Listen to this. This country is woefully unprepared. Every household should have a two-month supply of Cipro. Hospitals are in need of biosafety level four decon wings."

"That's verbatim to what we heard from Nichols," Morgan said. "The partner's adopted Nichols' views as his own."

"The chapters are on setting up triage and mobile emergency rooms. I don't think this paper was written by a science student. It's about city preparedness and response," Reid told them.

"So, Garcia, check with students in the social studies," Morgan said. "Public policy, urban planning."

"Hot to trot," Garcia said, perking up when they got a match. "There's a Chad Brown. School of Public Policy at U of M. Matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front."

"That's gotta be him," Morgan said.

"Totally. He's been in the doctoral program on and off for five years. Nix on a steady job. Was slapped with a restraining order from his former girlfriend and has been arrested and released twice at protest rallies in DC. I'll tell hotch."

Garcia left the call, and they dug up all they could about Brown. Then she and Florence rushed to the briefing room to tell everyone else.

"Chad Brown applied for a civilian position at Fort Detrick four different times," Garcia explained.

"His employment application," JJ said while sliding it to Hotch and General Whitworth.

"He never got past the psych evals. Is it appropriate to sacrifice the lives of the few to save the many?" Whitworth read off the application.

"He answered yes," Hotch stated.

"Every time. Why he never got hired."

"Well, if he couldn't get into Fort Detrick, then being close to Nichols was the next best thing," Hotch said.

"We talked to his thesis adviser," Garcia told him. "In his proposal, he was gonna write about the ease of making homemade anthrax, and interviewed Dr. Nichols just to prove his point."

"Get the address to Prentiss and Rossi," Hotch ordered before leaving with General Whitworth.

They did end up stopping and apprehending Brown. They managed to talk him down at the subway by making him think they would hire him at Fort Detrick. They managed to get the huge bag of anthrax he had been planning to unleash there. All of the people from the army cleared out of the bullpen.

They also found the cure to the strain of anthrax in an inhaler. It was given to Reid and the remaining people from the park attack that were alive. The cure worked, and Reid was well on his way to a full recovery. Once they were finished up with all the necessary paperwork, Morgan and Florence went to visit him in the hospital.

"What flavor is that?" Florence asked. Morgan had taken the Jell-O off of Reid's tray and started eating it.

"Strawberry. Want some?" he offered.

"Nah, I'm not a fan of strawberries."

"You don't like strawberries?" he asked in disbelief.

She shook her head. "Don't like the way the seeds feel."

Morgan scoffed and then chuckled. "Okay, but this is Jell-O. It doesn't have seeds."

"Still don't trust it."

"Don't trust it—" Morgan cut himself off and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. More for me."

After a few minutes, Reid stirred and opened his eyes. "You're eating Jell-O?" he asked Morgan.

"Hey, kid," Morgan greeted softly. Then he looked for Dr. Kimura, who was out in the hall. "Hey, doc. Look who's back."

"Is there any more Jell-O?" Reid asked, trying to sit up.

"Hey. Not so fast," Dr. Kimura told him.

"What happened?"

"You're gonna be alright, kid," Morgan told him. "And we got Brown. It's over."

"How's Abby?" Reid asked, referring to one of the park victims.

"She's on the mend. So are the three others. You were right about where to look for his cure," Dr. Kimura told him.

"Why was Dr. Nichols making anthrax in the first place?"

"He was a brain scientist downgraded to working on the flu. Brown comes along asking for help on his thesis—"

"Would have been more than happy to share his knowledge," Reid realized.

"There was no indication that Nichols had any idea what Brown was planning."

"His strain and its cure are getting locked up in containment at Fort Detrick, with all the other bio-agents people don't know about," Dr, Kimura told them.

"Hmm. Really. What else do they have locked up in there?" Morgan asked.

"Oh, don't even get me started on conspiracy theories," Florence said, leaning back in her chair. Then she shot forward. "Too late. They're covering it all up — New World Order, the Denver Airport, the moon. That was no weather balloon in New Mexico. They're hiding all the big boys too — Sasquatches, Mothman, Fresno Nightcrawlers. All of them."

"Of course you believe in BigFoot," Morgan said, scoffing.

"I don't believe in a singular bigfoot. Based on maps of all the reported sightings in the US, there are two separate species of sasquatch — one from the East side of the country and the other on the West. Though, there is some cross-breeding in the middle."

Morgan glanced at Reid. "Pretty Boy, you want to jump in with some statistics to prove her wrong?"

Reid looked very amused as he looked at a grinning Florence. "Actually, I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on conspiracy theories and cryptids. I don't think I've ever heard anything about a Fresno Nightcrawler."

Reid did it on purpose, knowing that it would get on Morgan's nerves while also making Florence happy. Morgan chuckled and had no choice but to sit back as Florence went on a tangent about the creatures while he ate his Jell-O.

"Okay, so Fresno Nightcrawlers, or as I like to call them, haunted pants..."