RUBATOSIS. spencer reid

| fifty-two

SPENCER REID.

         I LOOKED ACROSS THE ROOM
at Sylvia, my eyebrows furrowing deeply. When Garcia has first presented the case, she had totally spaced out; I saw her eyes darken a little as well, but only I seemed to notice.

And it's been about an hour of us interviewing some people, and not once has Sylvia said a thing, only soullessly staring at the crime scene photos. There was fear in her eyes—I couldn't deny it. I couldn't necessarily do anything about it either; I doubted Sylvia would want the team's attention on her if I asked what was wrong.

But something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

"Garcia, have you found any crimes similar to these? This definitely isn't the unsub's first kills." Morgan said. Out of the corner of my eye, Sylvia turned her head.

"Nope. The first." Garcia said.

I gulped, noticing how Sylvia let out a relieved sigh. My eyebrows furrowed, and I got an idea; I just wasn't sure if it would upset Sylvia.

People are getting murdered. It shouldn't matter.

"Have you tried checking overseas?" I asked her, and Sylvia—as I thought—whipped her head around.

"Yup. Hold on." Garcia started typing away. "Oh! A few murders that date back three years ago."

Three years ago. Before Sylvia was transferred. Was this the person that was targeting her? This unsub?

"What do we know?" I asked her.

"Oh my god...seventy one males, seventy two females." Garcia said, continuing to type away. "Says here...that the killer was arrested."

"Who was it?" Hotch asked.

"Davrin Jones." She responded.

Davrin Jones. Davrin Jones. Where did I hear that?

My eyes widened a little, an image of that note I found in Sylvia's photo album flashing inside my mind. I turned to Sylvia abruptly, but she was already heading out the door. I stood up, clearing my throat awkwardly. "Uh, bathroom." I grunted, jogging out.

I shoved past the glass doors, following Sylvia to who the hell knows where she was going. The woman ended up in the restroom hall, disappearing in the women's bathroom. I paused outside the door for a moment, hearing her heavy breathing.

What do I do? If I go in, that's against the rules and inappropriate. But if I don't, my girlfriend might potentially pass out from an anxiety attack and get a concussion.

I knocked first, and then bit my lip, shoving the door open. Sylvia's head darted to me immediately, almost in a crazed manner that made me retract a bit. Her eyes were wide with deep fear, her face flushed.

"Sorry." I grunted, closing the door behind me and locking it. "Sylvia, what's wrong?" I asked gently, walking up to her.

Sylvia stared at me for a couple of seconds, as if trying to figure out what to say. "I'm fine, I just needed some air."

"Something bothering you. You haven't said a single thing since briefing, and you seemed to get really nervous when Garcia found out about Davrin Jones." I said, crossing my arms.