Chapter Text
Spencer Reid honestly hadn’t thought he was that injured. Just a few cuts and quite a few bruises… but other than that, he’d thought he was fine. Now, however, as he sat away from the rest of the team on the jet, he was beginning to regret refusing a more in-depth look-over by the paramedics.
Spencer glanced around the jet and was happy to see that everyone else seemed to be asleep. He blew out a breath and discretely tried to rub a hand over his sore sides and abdomen. He really didn’t want his actions to be caught by anyone else, especially Hotch, for fear that they would overreact or, in Hotch’s case, feel guilty.
Hotch had done what needed to be done in order to end the hostage situation with minimal casualties. Spencer accepted that, but when Hotch had walked up to him as he was sitting on the back foot-step of the ambulance, having agreed to a cursory examination where a paramedic had cleaned and bandaged some of his cuts, Spencer was sure that Hotch’s guilt over his actions was getting to him.
Even though Spencer was in a lot of pain, he didn’t want Hotch to feel guilty. Hotch wouldn’t have insulted him or kicked him like that if the senior agent hadn’t thought it necessary for a ‘successful’ ending to the situation. That was somewhat of another reason Spencer had refused anything more from the paramedics. If something was wrong, which he didn’t think it was, Spencer would much rather have it looked at in private so that maybe Hotch wouldn’t find out, thus adding to the man’s guilt.
That’s why Spencer had, in an amused voice, told Hotch that he “kicked like a 9-year-old girl.” It was so Hotch wouldn’t feel so bad about kicking Spencer in the stomach. His tactic had seemed to work too because Hotch had laughed and walked away looking a little more light on his feet.
For the hour or so after the encounter on the ambulance and before the team boarded the jet to head home, Spencer tried his best to act like nothing was wrong. He walked and moved the same way he always did, even though each unguarded move felt like a knife stabbing into either one of his sides or his stomach, and he tried not to wince visibly from the pain too many times, afraid that someone on the team would start to not believe his excuse that he was just a little sore. However, despite his efforts, Spencer acutely felt someone’s eyes on him the whole time and just knew, without even looking at him, that Gideon suspected something was wrong.
Much to Spencer’s relief, though, Gideon didn’t say anything about the way Spencer was acting, even when he came over at the beginning of the jet ride to gauge the young man’s emotions after the whole ordeal. After all, even though it wasn’t the first time Spencer had shot an unsub, it was the first time that said unsub had died.
Spencer wasn’t sure how he felt about shooting and killing an unsub. On one hand, Spencer had saved lives by his actions, knowing that, if SWAT had broken in on the scene or if Spencer had taken anything but the killing shot, Phillip Dowd, the unsub on this case, would have killed or injured some of the hostages before he was taken down. On the other hand, though, Spencer had still ended Dowd’s life. He told Gideon that he didn’t really feel anything about the shooting, which was mostly true, but Spencer had a feeling that he felt that way because he was using all of his concentration and force of will into hiding how much pain he was actually in from the senior agent in front of him. Luckily, though, Gideon seemed to understand and quickly left Spencer to his thoughts.
Now, however, just 30 minutes after Gideon had left Spencer and joined the others in sleep, Spencer wished that someone, anyone was awake for him to talk to. He was starting to get scared over just how much pain was coursing between both his sides and his abdomen. Panic started to creep up on him when the need to cough suddenly overwhelmed him. Spencer tried to breathe deeply in order to stop the action before it started, afraid that if he started coughing, he wouldn’t be able to stop, but the action just caused even more pain which in turn caused the urge to cough to intensify.
Spencer switched tactics and tried to breathe in quick, shallow breaths, which took away some of the pain in his sides but didn’t do anything for the tickle at the back of his throat and in his chest. He quickly found himself becoming lightheaded so, not wanting to pass out, he switched gears again and attempted to breathe as normally as possible. However, that put him back in the same position as he was to begin with and, sooner than he would have liked, he lost the fight and let out a small cough.
White-hot pain seared across his abdomen at the movement and Spencer struggled not to whimper from the sensation. Another cough quickly followed the first and after that, it was just a long stream of dry hacks wracking his body. Spencer closed his eyes as he tried to breathe through the pain and stop coughing as best as he could, so he didn’t notice when Derek woke up and looked over at him curiously.
“Hey, man, you ok?” Spencer heard a whisper from across the aisle, causing him to jump in surprise and let out a high moan of pain. Spencer quickly bit his lip to contain any more noises that wanted to slip out, but it was already too late.
Derek immediately got up out of his seat and rushed over to where Spencer was curled up next to the window. “Hey, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?” he quietly, but urgently, asked Spencer as he knelt down by Spencer’s seat and hesitantly put a hand on the young man’s arm. Derek knew that the kid didn’t like physical contact, but Derek, being a very tactile person, felt that it was almost impossible for him to give comfort any other way.
Spencer shook his head and intended to tell Derek that everything was ok and that he was fine, but as soon as he opened his mouth, another round of coughs escaped unbidden, coming harder and harsher than before. Spencer closed his eyes tightly against the onslaught, but suddenly, a particularly hard cough caused him more pain than he thought was possible. He felt a stabbing in his left side and he let out a high-pitched yelp, the sound of which woke up the rest of the people on the jet.
“Reid, hey, kid, look at me,” Derek said urgently as he squeezed Spencer’s arm, ignoring as everyone else quickly gathered around once they realized something was wrong with their youngest. As soon as Spencer rolled his head to the side to look at him, Derek slowly said, “Can you tell me where it hurts, kid?”
Spencer was gasping for breath, his eyes wide with worry as he suddenly realized how difficult it was for him to breathe. He was worried that if he tried to answer Derek, he would start coughing again, but he also knew that he really should try to let someone know what he thought was going on. So, in a soft, wheezing voice, Spencer ground out around the pain, “Trouble… breathing… p-possibly… ribs…”
Then Spencer started coughing again, but this time, instead of dry hacks, the coughs were deep and wet sounding. He tasted copper and felt something dribble down out of the corner of his mouth. A few gasps came from the people around him so, with a shaky hand, Spencer slowly reached up to touch the wet spot, his eyes growing impossibly wider when he took it away and saw that his fingers were red with fresh blood. His breathing picked up as he started to hyperventilate, the pain in his left side growing with each breath.
“Reid, Spencer, hey,” Derek said urgently, shaking Spencer’s arm gently to get his attention. “You need to calm down, ok? Just breathe. You’re going to be ok.”
Spencer nodded slightly and tried to slow his breathing, but by this point he was wheezing and gasping so hard that he didn’t know if he could. The coughing then came back with a vengeance, causing him to bend forward with their intensity. Through half-closed eyes, Spencer saw the blood dripping out of his mouth and pooling on the floor in front of him. There was a rushing in his ears and black spots were cropping up in his vision.
The coughs subsided once more and Spencer tried to breathe, but he couldn’t seem to suck in enough breath to sustain him. He felt someone push him back so he was no longer bending forward, but everything seemed blurry and mixed together, shapes and colors flying around in confusing dances between the steadily growing black orbs. There were voices and sounds all around him, but he couldn’t really understand anything except for certain words here and there.
“Reid?... Wrong with him?... bad… blood… land soon… hospital… Look at me!... Conscious?... don’t know… Reid!”
It all just got to be too much. Spencer couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t understand the jumbled sounds he heard or make sense of the swirling images flashing in front of his face. The last thing he clearly remembered was Gideon’s concerned face close to his, the senior agent’s lips moving as he spoke but no sound reached Spencer’s waiting ears. Then everything went black as he finally gave up in his struggle to breathe and comprehend.
Aaron Hotchner was beyond frustrated as he angrily paced up and down the emergency waiting room in the hospital that was located about half way between Illinois and Quantico. He’d ordered the piolet to land at the closest airstrip as soon as Spencer had started bleeding, but he hadn’t paid attention to where exactly they were. His head was too full of questions and concerns about his young agent. Why hadn’t Spencer said something about the pain before getting on the jet? Why hadn’t the paramedics picked up on his obviously cracked or fractured ribs?
He let out a deep sigh that could have been misconstrued as a growl as he rubbed his hands over his face and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. At this point, he was no longer concerned with the image he presented to the rest of his team. He was too consumed with anger, shock, and guilt, which was really the crux of his emotional turmoil. The guilt of putting Spencer in this situation was eating him up inside, threatening to fully consume him.
Hotch jumped when he felt someone suddenly sit down next to him and place a hand on his shoulder. He glanced over and was unsurprised to see Gideon there with a look on his face that was a mixture of kindness, calm, and worry.
“You can’t beat yourself up about this,” Gideon said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Hotch’s face.
Hotch sighed and leaned back in his chair. “How can I not?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with grief.
“You did what you thought you had to do to make sure there were minimal casualties,” Gideon answered as he squeezed Hotch’s shoulder.
Hotch shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t have had to kick him so hard.”
“You needed it to look realistic so that Dowd didn’t grow suspicious,” Gideon argued, causing Hotch’s face to scrunch up in fury.
“I broke his ribs, Jason!” he exclaimed, no longer worrying about how loud his voice had grown. “And afterword, I could tell he was in pain but I didn’t push the issue because I thought he would tell me the truth. Instead, he hid what was wrong and his reasoning was probably so I wouldn’t feel guilty.”
“Yet, here you are, feeling guilty,” Gideon answered, his voice remaining soft and calm. “If Spencer thought there was any other way to diffuse the situation, he wouldn’t have played along. He would have subtly pushed you in a different direction. You can’t feel guilty about a plan that both of you accepted and where the only death was of the unsub. As for why Spencer hid his injuries, well you can ask him about that whenever we can go in and see him. And then we can both yell at him and tell him to never do something like this again.”
Hotch laughed and saw that Gideon also had an amused smirk on his face. He then sighed and laid back in his chair once more, not saying anything else. He knew that Gideon was right, but a little of the guilt insisted on remaining with him and, when it was clear that it wasn’t going away, Hotch just closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his breathing steady, steadfastly ignoring the random glances from the rest of the room. No one commented on his outburst or said anything more, the rest of their wait continuing in silence.
Spencer slowly came back into consciousness, his body feeling heavy and his senses bogged down. He heard faint whispering around him, sounding almost like waves washing over him. He tried to catch what they were saying, but his thoughts seemed to be scrambled.
He turned his head to the side and groaned slightly, noticing that it was kind of muffled, but he wasn’t sure if it was actually muffled or if his hearing was just off. However, the sound must have been loud enough to alert whoever was with him, but the whispering suddenly stopped and a deep, familiar voice clearly called out, “Hey, kid, are you with us?”
‘That’s Derek,’ he thought, recognizing the voice and word usage. ‘I really wish he’d stop calling me kid.’
“Come on, Spencer, wake up,” a different, softer voice coaxed and Spencer immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Gideon.
Spencer tried to answer but his lips felt numb so he just ended up moaning again and turning his head to the other side. It felt like something was over his mouth, but he just couldn’t seem to figure out what it was. He finally concluded that he would have to open his eyes if he wanted to figure anything out, so he began to work on that, struggling slightly, another moan escaping his lips in the process, to lift his heavy lids.
Finally, Spencer managed to blink open an eye, but he immediately shut it with a loud whimper, the light shining into his pupil feeling like needles pressing into his brain. He was undeterred, however, and managed to blink his eyes rapidly until he got used to the light and could hold them open.
He was somewhat surprised to find himself laying at a 45 degree angle in a hospital bed with a large oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth and more monitors and wires hooked up to him than he could count. He was equally surprised to see his whole team crowded in chairs around his bed, all with relieved smiles on their faces. Spencer crinkled his eyebrows in confusion and he didn’t know what to do or say, so he just weakly lifted his hand and gave them a small wave.
Soft chuckles went around the room and Derek, who was sitting closest on Spencer’s left, said, “There he is!”
“You had us worried,” a voice said from his other side, and Spencer rolled his head weakly over to look at Gideon, who was sitting closest on Spencer’s right.
“Sorry,” Spencer croaked out from behind the mask, but then he closed his eyes and let out a few breathy coughs, his breath coming in harsh wheezes and gasps after he was finished.
“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Derek soothed and reached over to gently rub up and down Spencer’s forearm. “You don’t have to talk, its ok.”
Spencer nodded his head slightly and tried to concentrate on regulating his breathing, wondering what the Hell had happened to him. He couldn’t seem to gather his thoughts enough to figure out his current situation, but he wasn’t sure why. A moment later, though, his silent question was answered.
A loud click and then a whirring noise came from Spencer’s right and he rolled his head over to see a small yellow machine with a tube running out from the front that connected into his IV catheter. ‘Morphine,’ he thought absently as he watched the clear liquid run through the tube.
“Why don’t you get some rest, Spence,” he heard JJ say from somewhere down near his feet. Spencer just shook his head and turned questioning eyes on Gideon, looking back and forth between him and the medication dispenser, asking him wordlessly what had happened.
Gideon smiled somewhat sadly but seemed to understand what Spencer wanted. “When the doctor examined you, he found that you had one cracked rib on your right side and two cracked and one fractured rib on your left side. He said that your coughing fit on the jet most likely caused the one rib to fracture completely. It then moved and punctured a hole in your left lung, causing it to collapse and create a pneumothorax.” Gideon then sighed, taking in Spencer’s shocked face with a slow shake of his head. “They had to go in surgically to reattach your rib as well as patch the hole in your lung and you have a chest tube in to help keep your lung inflated.”
As Gideon spoke, pieces of the previous few hours started to come back to Spencer. He remembered Hotch kicking him and Spencer grabbing Hotch’s gun to shoot… Who had he shot? He obviously hadn’t shot Hotch because he was sitting right there next to Gideon… The unsub! He’d shot the bad guy! Ok that explained his injuries, but why couldn’t he seem to think straight? Oh yeah, the morphine.
Spencer tried to shift a little and felt a tugging at his left side. He looked down and saw the tube coming out of him and suddenly felt lightheaded. He didn’t notice his breathing had picked up until he heard Derek talking to him again.
“Breathe, kid!” he said in a worried voice. Why was he worried? Probably because you’re in the hospital, you idiot… “You’re ok, just breathe.”
Spencer nodded again and consciously thought about breathing slower so that he wouldn’t pass out, but he kept feeling his eyes cross. How strange.
“I think the medicine is starting to get to him,” he heard Elle say in an amused voice from somewhere off to his left, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate on any one thing.
“Reid,” a deep voice off to his right said, causing him to jump at its closeness. ‘Was that Hotch?’ he wondered faintly as he turned his head and tried to focus. ‘He sounds weird…’ Spencer squinted his eyes, however, and soon Hotch came into focus, an intense look on his face. “Reid, are you listening?”
Spencer nodded his head but then his eyes went crossed and he had to work to bring his focus back to Hotch’s face. “Ok, well the rest of us have to return to Quantico, but Morgan is going to stay with you,” he heard Hotch say slowly and carefully. Spencer was grateful for his tone of voice because he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep up with anything faster.
“I’ll have the jet sent out to pick you both up when you’re discharged, alright?” Hotch continued and waited for Spencer to nod before he said anything else. “And when you get back to Quantico, you and I are going to have a long talk about the importance of telling your Unit Chief the truth. Understand?”
Spencer swallowed audibly at that and felt himself blush. Even though he felt his thoughts being more and more scrambled as the pain medication worked its way further into his system, he was still able tell that he was in trouble. “I’m sorry… I… I…” he struggled to get out, wanting Hotch to understand but not seeming to be able to explain.
Then he felt a hand on his arm and he looked back up to see a soft smile on Hotch’s face, which in and of itself stunned Spencer into silence. “I know, Reid,” Hotch said in a gentle voice as he briefly squeezed Spencer’s arm. “It’s ok, we’ll talk about it when you feel better, alright? Now just relax and get some rest.” He then released Spencer’s arm and stepped away from the bed.
The rest of the team seemed to get the hint and everyone stood up from their seats except for Derek. One by one, they gave Spencer their well wishes and goodbyes, telling him that they’d see him soon and warning him that he’d better behave and heal quickly. Then suddenly they were gone and the room was plunged into silence.
Spencer struggled to keep his eyes open and focused as he turned his head to his left to look at Derek, who was sitting back in his seat with his hands behind his head. Derek met his eyes and smirked, immediately putting Spencer on guard and causing him to wrinkle his eyebrows once more in confusion.
“So,” Derek said slowly before his smirk widened into a full, devilish grin. “Do you want the whistle back?”
Spencer groaned and rolled his eyes. With the last of his strength, he croaked out, “Shut up,” and then he relaxed back into the pillows and closed his eyes. He fell asleep to the sound of Derek’s chuckles, reassuring him that, no matter what happened, everything was going to be ok.