─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
I'll be right here.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lizzie arrived at the BAU at the same time as Spencer, Morgan and Emily. They piled into the elevator together and anticipated what would be waiting for them inside the office. JJ's message had been urgent—and on their day off. It could only mean that whatever it was, it was important they started working the case immediately.

"Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go-bag." Spencer said, his satchel flung over his shoulder as the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor and they stepped out in a rush.

Lizzie's brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of the packed office—and the men and women in uniforms, "What's the Army doing here?" Morgan asked from beside Lizzie as they marched into the chaotic scene in front of them.

"What the hell is going on?" Emily drawled out as they came to a stop, taking in the sight before them. The office was packed with people going back and forth—and not just their usual coworkers but from the military presence too. There were many different uniforms walking around with stoic looks on their faces and a matter of urgency in their body language. Lizzie couldn't even spot her own desk it had been piled that high with boxes and paperwork people were going over, making the office cluttered beyond recognition.

The four made their way for the round table office, rushing inside to figure out what was going on, "Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC." JJ introduced them to the woman standing in a brown pantsuit with her hair scraped back into a low bun.

Lizzie rose her eyebrows, "CDC?" She questioned as Hotch and Rossi joined them in the room.

"I am sorry to meet under these circumstances." The woman said apologetically, giving them the smallest of smiles but it was obvious her mind was elsewhere.

"What circumstances?" Spencer questioned the elephant in the room.

"We need to get started." Hotch said and everyone took a moment to exchange concerned looks with one another. Usually when a case like this one came in, Hotch would give Lizzie the rundown beforehand—even if it was a little snippet of what was going on. But this time her father hadn't uttered a word and she truly had no idea why a woman from the CDC stood in front of her or why their office was packed with a military presence.

"Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis," JJ began telling them, "They were all at the same park after 2:00 p.m. yesterday. Within ten hours, the first victim died. It's now 7.00 a.m. the next day. We have twelve dead." JJ said, taking a look at the watch around her wrist as the others skimmed through the case files in front of them, picking them up from the table.

"Lung failure and black lesions. Anthrax?" Morgan read aloud before questioning. Lizzie looked up from the file she was reading—or rather, taking in the pictures of the victims. It appeared they had been choking on their own blood by the smears and splatters around their mouths.

"Anthrax doesn't kill this fast." Spencer informed him, his eyes solely focused on the file he was reading.

"This strain does." Dr. Kimura told him, making everyone stop what they were doing to look at her. Lizzie had never heard of a strain of Anthrax being able to kill people this quickly—and then she was suddenly realising why there was such a cause for panic.

"What are we doing about potential mass targets? Airports, malls, trains?" Emily questioned.

"There's a media blackout." Hotch told her, making Emily narrow her gaze.

"We're not telling the public?" She asked in disbelief.

"We'd have a mass exodus." Morgan pointed out as Lizzie gnawed on her bottom lip, continuing to flicker through the file in her hands, reading it as quickly as she could.

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

"Yeah and whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples." Spencer added, momentarily looking up from the two files he juggled between his hands.

"Or if they wanted attention and didn't get it, they might attack again," Emily argued, "Doesn't the public have the right to know that?" Lizzie glanced up at Emily, understanding where she was coming from. It was their job to protect the public but a case like what they were dealing with didn't give them the obligation to tell the public—not when it could cause a mass hysteria; which could then end in a bigger loss of lives.

"If there is another attack, there's no way we'll be able to keep it quiet. Our best chance at protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can." Hotch reasoned but Emily wouldn't look at him, her jaw tight.

"What do we know about this strain?" Lizzie asked, glancing across at Dr. Kimura.

"The spores are weaponised, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odourless and invisible." She told her and Lizzie noticed the bags under the woman's eyes as she talked.

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

"These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours." Morgan said as he looked at images of the lesions where they had been small at first but grew over the space of a few hours, rooting deep into the skin of the victims and growing larger.

"It's not the lesions I'm worried about, it's the lungs," Dr. Kimura began, "We don't know how to combat the toxins once they're inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all." She confessed and Lizzie looked down at the file in her hands as she wondered just how many people would die before they figured out how to stop what was happening. This felt like something that was out of their reach—something that could be impossible to stop before more lives were lost.

"The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital. Our offices will become a small command centre." JJ informed them and Lizzie picked up on the distressed look in her eyes.

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

"General Whitworth is coming here?" Rossi asked with a furrowed brow.

"He's in charge of site containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who's responsible." Hotch said, his jaw tight as he spoke, feeling the pressure of their situation.

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

"Reid, Lizzie, 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," Hotch ordered, earning form nods from everyone, "There's Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go." He said, nodding to the Cipro laid out on the table for the team in little cups.

"We don't know if it's effective against this strain but it's something." Dr. Kimura said as everyone reached for the small medicine cups, taking one each and staring into the cups skeptically.

"This is really happening?" Emily asked, a look of disbelief on her face.

"We knew this could happen," Hotch said, "We've done our homework and we've prepared for this. This is it." Hotch said before swallowing down the Cipro first.

"Cent'anni," Rossi toasted in Italian as he held up the tiny cup, "May you live a hundred years." Together, the rest of the team swallowed down the Cipro with cups of water that had been provided. Once swallowing, Lizzie looked across at her father, catching his eyes. This was the first job she'd ever worked relating to toxins and it was scary—it was something bigger than serial killers and arsonists. It could be something they might not be able to beat. And she was afraid.

Lizzie and Spencer went to the hospital alongside Dr. Kimura. They had visited the only patient who was awake and able to talk—a young woman around Lizzie's age who had been at the park that day, riding her bike with her friend. They interviewed her for a short period before she began mixing up her words, something Dr. Kimura said happened to all of the patients when they were close to passing away. Lizzie hoped that didn't seal the woman's deal—she was young and had fought long to survive already; she hoped there was the chance she could recover.

They attempted to interview other patients, but it was obvious they're were far too sick and the majority of them couldn't string a coherent sentence together. So instead of interviewing, Lizzie had talked to them a little, trying to bring them comfort in case it was their final moments. Lizzie had been holding an elderly woman's hand as she slipped away, giving Lizzie one last weak smile before she went. Lizzie had shed a tear then, unable to hold it back and Spencer had given her shoulder a firm squeeze. Lizzie felt like this case was way above their heads and it was stressful. Serial killers were one thing, but a madman with a new strain of Anthrax and no cure was something that felt larger than them.

Lizzie stood at the reception, drinking a glass of water whilst Spencer finished speaking with the last victim who was awake. But he came up short when the victim couldn't speak. Spencer left the hospital room and walked up to Lizzie, sliding his phone into his pocket, "Morgan just called. We have a lead—a Nichols," He began saying as she settled her water onto the reception desk and took in a deep breath, "He was obsessed with Anthrax—even got fired from his job because of it. Morgan's meeting us here to head over to his home." He finished, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.

                 Lizzie gave a firm nod, "Let's go then." She said, turning and knowing that Spencer would follow.

                Morgan met them outside of the hospital and the three drove together to Dr. Nichols residence. They had a HAZMAT team meet them there, who went in first, doing a sweep of the home to rule it out as safe or unsafe, "Clear so far." Morgan said down the phone to Hotch as they stood in the garden, waiting for the all clear in the home.

                 "Alright, keep me posted," He said before Morgan hung up on him and turned his attention to Lizzie and Spencer, "This guy just had people over for a charity event last month." He said.

                  "We should probably take a look around anyway." Spencer suggested, earning a nod from both Lizzie and Morgan who followed him around the back of the home when Morgan's phone began ringing again.

                 "Yeah, Prentiss. What's up?" Morgan asked as he raised his phone to his ear and Lizzie watched him as Spencer headed on inside the garage attachment of the home, "Uh-huh. Yeah. We're here now. Sorry, what? The lab is clean? You're sure? Alright." Morgan hung up and Lizzie stared at him in disbelief.

                 "It's clean?" She asked for confirmation, her brows furrowed together in confusion.

                 "Apparently so," He said with a sigh before looking around with a quizzical brow, "Hey, where's Reid?" He asked her, looking down at her smaller frame in the sunlight.

                 Lizzie jabbed a thumb in the direction of the home, "He headed inside—you know Spence, he's impatient." She said as they began walking through the garden, passing rose-bushes as they went.

                 They walked up the stairs together towards the open back door as Morgan called out Spencer's name. As they attempted to walk inside, Spencer suddenly appeared and slammed the glass door in their face, "Lizzie, Morgan, get back!" He exclaimed, fumbling for the lock on the door as Lizzie stared at him with wide eyes, shocked by his sudden outburst of panic.

                 "Spence, what's going on?!" She exclaimed in worry, her hand reaching for the handle and giving it a jiggle, but he had already locked them out.

                   "What are you doing? What's wrong?!" Morgan's voice was loud from the panic of the unknown and Spencer's sudden change in behaviour, "Reid, open the door!" Morgan demanded, banging on the glass but Spencer did no such thing, keeping them locked out and away from him.

                  "Spencer, open the door right now or I'm gonna smash it!" Lizzie yelled, her voice breaking as she panicked. She didn't understand what was going on, but alarm bells were going off in her mind.

                 "Don't! You can't! If you do, you put everyone else in danger!" Spencer exclaimed, making her entire body freeze up as she stared at him, "I'm sorry..." Spencer whispered in a small voice as he gulped before stepping back, allowing Lizzie and Morgan to see inside of the room. Lizzie's lips parted in horror when she noticed the smashed beaker on the ground containing a white powder spilling from it—Anthrax. And then she saw the air duct above Spencer, blowing air around the room and her heart dropped.

                 Lizzie took a step towards the door, her eyes beginning to water, "Spence..." Her voice was hoarse as Spencer looked at her, his eyes wide and jaw tight. He had just walked into a contaminated room and locked himself inside—potentially saving Lizzie and Morgan from being affected; but exposing himself.

                 "Morgan, call Hotch," Lizzie said as she continued to hold Spencer's gaze. But Morgan just stood there in shock. Lizzie snapped her head towards him, "Call Hotch!" She exclaimed, snapping Morgan back to reality and he stepped off the porch and pulled his phone out, dialling Hotch's number.

                 Lizzie turned back to the glass, "Spence, hey, Spence. We're gonna get you out of there, okay? Everything's gonna be—"

                 "No," Spencer spoke over her, "Lizzie, you have to go. You could be exposed to it, you have to—"

                 "I'm not leaving you," Lizzie refused, shaking her head, her eyes burning with tears, "Hotch is gonna be here soon and we're all gonna figure this out together, okay? We are not going anywhere, do you hear me?" Her voice was frantic as she stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She had witnessed what had happened to the victims exposed to Anthrax first-hand—she couldn't imagine it happening to Spencer. He had to be okay.

                Spencer held her gaze and she could tell that he was afraid. Everyday they faced dangers but the one he was locked inside the room with was different—it wasn't a madman with a gun, it was something they couldn't fight. After a long moment of looking into her hopeful green eyes, Spencer nodded, "I'm gonna do a quick sweep, see what I can find."
He told her, nodding his head along with his own words. He had to distract himself from what was possibly about to happen to him.

                  Lizzie offered him a supportive smile, "I'll be right here."

( authors note )

             i apologise bc this chapter is just GOD awful. i dunno what it is about it, but i just hate it. though, i promise the next few chapters are going to be VERY good with a lot of spencer & lizzie content!

              — taylor xx