Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no copyright infringement is intended.

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"Okay," the porter, a middle aged man in blue scrubs, entered the glass walled room pushing an empty wheelchair. "I have to take you down for an X-ray Miss Collins." He helped the young blonde woman into the wheelchair, changed her oxygen tubing to the tank that was on the back of the wheelchair and set the regulator at two liters. He pushed the wheelchair to the nurses' station and handed the X-ray requisition to the nurse who handed him the patient's chart. "Thanks Nancy," he said as he put the chart on the patient's lap and began wheeling her down the hallway, whistling merrily.

"Stop, stop," the woman said suddenly. The porter stopped immediately.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. "Are you having difficulty breathing? Are you in some kind of pain? Should I get the nurse?"

"No, no," she said softly. "Push me in there," she pointed to the room they were passing.

"Uh, I really don't think we should do that. I have to get you down to X-ray," he was arguing but to no avail. The young woman began to propel her wheelchair on her own up to the opening in the glass. Finally, realizing he was not talking her out of this, the porter grabbed the handles and pushed the young woman into the room and up to the bedside of the sleeping patient who, like her, was receiving oxygen through a nasal cannula.

She looked around the room. It was identical to hers although there were two large helium filled balloons that said "Get Well Soon," in bright letters and flew near the ceiling with the aid of the hospital's ventilation system. They were tied to the end of the bed with bright red ribbons. The bedside table held a carafe of water, a large fruit basket and a variety of flavors of Jell-O. What was up with that, she wondered. The nightstand was full of get well cards and above the pillow a bright green and purple stuffed dinosaur stood guard.

Abby Collins was silent for a few moments, then she reached out and put her hand over that of the patient. Eyelids fluttered briefly and then soft brown eyes looked into soft brown eyes. "Abby?"

"Hi, it's Agent Reid, right?" Abby asked.

"Yeah," Reid said, pushing himself straighter in the bed. "W…what are you doing here? Is it okay for you to be up?"

"That guy," she said indicating the porter who'd retreated from the room after wheeling up her up to Reid's bedside, "was taking me for an X-ray when I saw you. I had no idea you were sick too. It…it wasn't me was it? Please tell me you didn't catch it from me."

"Oh, no, I didn't catch it from you. Don't think that for a moment," Reid assured the young woman. "You're looking better. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling better. Dr. Kimura says I'm going to be okay. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones." Her eyes filled with tears. "My friend Melinda died?"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"My family are so relieved that I'm going to be okay and I am too, don't get me wrong, but a…a part of me almost feels bad because most of the people at the park that day died and I didn't. I mean, there were mothers and fathers and little children, they all died and yet I lived. It doesn't make sense." She shook her head. "Sorry, that must sound really crazy." She pulled away the hand that had still been holding his, its black lesion barely visible now, and put it on her lap, her eyes leaving his to look at her hands.

"No, not at all, it's called survivor guilt. It's quite common after a catastrophic or traumatic event," Reid explained. "It was first documented after the holocaust."

"D…do you feel guilty?" she asked, looking once again at Reid.

"No, and you shouldn't either but I know what you're feeling because I've felt it before myself." Abby's eyes widened in question. "We had six agents die in a bomb blast a few years ago in Boston. I wasn't with them or it might have been me so I understand. For a long time I wondered why it was men with wives and children and not me. Families were destroyed where I might not have been missed."

Abby looked around the room at the cards, the fruit basket, the Jell-O and the balloons. She reached her finger out and caressed the soft paw of the stuffed dinosaur. Why a dinosaur and not a teddy bear she wondered? The little personal touches told her the story. This man was loved. "Oh, I don't know about that. I think you'd be missed."

"Dr. Kimura said the reason you survived was that you were young and strong but mostly because you're a fighter."

"She said that?" She looked astounded and Reid nodded. "Then I guess that must make you a fighter too." Abby turned and looked at the porter who was shifting his weight back and forth, unable to hide his impatience. "I suppose I should go for that X-ray. Thank you for what you said. My family has been so wonderful and Dr. Kimura and the nurses have been great but it's not the same because none of them really understand what I went through; what we went through. It's good to talk to somebody who understands. Do you think I could come and see you again Agent Reid?"

"Sure," Reid squeaked, "It's uh… Spencer, and I'd like that."

"That's good Spencer," she said, smiling for the first time since she'd been to the park that fateful day. She began to back up her chair, "Because I'm a sucker for lime Jell-O."