Front Lines| Spencer Reid + Anne Grey

thirty eight

Anne Grey, Spencer Reid and Elle Greenaway were stood around in their temporary conference room, all staring at Anne's phone, which was set on the table.

Penelope Garcia had been scouring records since this evening, and now it was five A.M.. Gideon had left at ten, then about every two hours after that, a team member would become far too exhausted and drop out.

Hotch was first, then Jareau. Morgan had been last, falling asleep on a desk chair at four.

The final three team members were going strong, though. Greenaway was slightly tired, but pushed through with caffeine and dedication. Spencer was absolutely wired from the amount of sugar and coffee that he had ingested, and Grey had been staying awake simply by opting out of her usual sleep medication. Overall, they were doing as well as they could be.

What wasn't doing so great, though, was the investigation. Getting any sort of new information was rare, and the suspect list was still in the double digits. There were a decent amount of Wichita residents that fit the profile and lived near the center of the twelve pointed geographic star, as it would turn out. They needed their big break, and so far, they were coming up empty.

"I need you to get into every local psychologist's records," Grey orders, sighing and anticipating Penelope's reply.

"Seriously?" she sputters. The clicking in the background of the call indicates that she's taking the suggestion, regardless of her complaints. "I'm going to need some double caff again." She certainly hadn't been a fan of the all nighter, but she was an essential part of the operation.

Anne's lips curve slightly as she soothes, "I'm sorry, love. I promise I'll be returning the favor." She exhales, mimicking laughter.

"You better, doll," Garcia agrees. "What are some key words you want from these?"

Reid begins to speak, offering, "Cross reference anything relating to delusions, erotomania, George Hodel, The Zodiac, and the Black Dahlia." He knew that the last three phrases were far fetched and probably wouldn't amount to anything, but didn't see the harm in trying.

"Psychosis, too," Elle chimes in. When her coworkers look to her, she explains, "It's a common false diagnosis."

Anne and Spencer nod respectfully, while Penelope tries to wrap up the call. She had her information, and was prepared to eliminate distractions. "Okay, I can work on that and call you guys back."

Grey picks up her phone."Thanks, please do." She then hangs up, shoving the device in her pocket and absently asking, "If I were to bang my head against this whiteboard, would you guys judge me?" Her tone was flat, and it wasn't clear whether or not she was joking.

"Not if I get my turn afterwards," Greenaway sarcastically answers, tilting her head back with a sigh. She had been pulling through just to make sure that she was helping, since going to sleep while other agents were still working felt inconsiderate. She would've given up a lot of things for ten minutes of rest at the moment, but this case wasn't one of them.

"Sleep is for the weak," Reid jokes, adjusting the files that sat on the table for upwards of the thirtieth time tonight.

His colleagues laugh. Anne motions toward Derek, who was still fast asleep in his chair. "Yeah, like the soft egg in the corner."

Elle gives her an odd look, while Spencer's expression falls deadpan. "Anne, that's not an english one," he says.

"What?"

He laughs under his breath, keeping himself composed as he restates, "'Soft egg' is German."

Grey stares off into the distance for a moment, trying to ensure that the man wasn't just messing with her. Eventually, she realizes, mumbling, "Oh... shit." She had been trying to keep her swearing at a minimum for Greenaway's sake, but that concept had gone out of the window by 2 A.M.