Ramblings: First fanfic in ages, but I'm back in the game. I won't bore you with the details of my failed collaboration attempt and a years worth of wasted writing. -of course, writing is never wasted it just...sometimes amounts to nothing haha.
This is the first in my attempt to do the 100 themes challenge
Maybe thanks to Lost in Translation for the awesome job betaing.
Theme: 43. Dying
Samuel Johnson said, "It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives."
Bang
Bang
Bang
Morgan's eyes flew open and he jerked his gaze around the bullpen of desks. No gun, no shooter; no damage he could see in the Quantico office. There did not even seem to be anyone around at all. It was strange. The office was silent and empty. Only the lights directly over Morgan were turned on, every other corner was left to cast shadows.
"Reid did you hear something?" Morgan was not sure why he said it. There was no one around.
"Hear what, Morgan?" Reid asked. Morgan did a double take. When did Reid get there? There were no doors near where he stood. By the way he leaned against the wall it seemed like he had been there the whole time. That bothered Morgan for some reason, though he could not figure out why.
Reid slipped his hands casually into his pockets and the ever present profiler in Morgan surveyed the kid. He was not as pale as he usually seemed, the gaunt shades under his eyes were gone. Funny, he did not remember that change yesterday.
The thing that struck Morgan most though was the lack of tension in Reid's muscles and the calm reflected in the depths of his eyes. He was more relaxed than Morgan had seen him since Tobias Hankle, but it was more than that. He looked completely at ease, not overflowing with energy and information. So unlike the young agent Morgan had always known.
Morgan furrowed his brow. What were they talking about? His head felt murky, like he had been drinking too much, but without the fun part. "It sounded like gunshots," he finally answered. Reid did not reply. He just continued staring straight into Morgan's eyes. "I must be hearing things," Morgan said, leaning back in his chair, "Kid, where is everybody?"
Reid walked with slow, deliberate steps across the room and leaned on the edge of his desk. "Does it matter?"
Morgan's laugh echoed in the empty room, "No, I guess it doesn't."
Reid shuffled the papers lying on his desk absently. "I have to go, Morgan."
The older agent shrugged off the ice that suddenly seemed to fill his every vein. "What are you talking about, you still have paperwork. Think Hotch is going to let you off 'cause you said please?" He looked at Reid's desk but it was empty. Hadn't there just been a pile there?
"Morgan, I have to go."
"Alright, looks like everyone else in the whole building called it a night," Morgan gave his iconic smirk. "Let's grab some food."
The young doctor turned his eyes slowly to him, something so sad in their crystal depths. Morgan felt his heart speed up. He seized Reid's arm. "No!" He loosened his grip and forced calm back into his voice, "No, let's…let's just grab a beer." Reid pulled loose without any effort.
"I can't grab a beer Morgan."
Morgan swallowed thickly. "Maybe just a few more minutes here then, Reid? Just a few more minutes?"
Reid's eyes were soft with pain and all too familiar guilt, "I'm sorry."
He's coding! Clear!
Morgan seized Reid by the shoulders. "No," he said in his best commanding tone, "Forget it, kid."
Clear!
"Morgan…"
"Forget it!" Morgan tightened his grip on the boney shoulders, "I know you're tired, but you can just forget about giving up. Got it?"
We're losing him.
Reid sighed, "I am tired Morgan."
The older agent shook him. "I said forget it!"
"It's not your fault Morgan. You couldn't have known he had a gun."
"Stop. If you go and die I promise right now I will blame myself. And if you think I'm going to be bad, well I got nothing on Hotch. So you can just stop being selfish and forget about it, Reid. You hearing me, kid?"
The lights flickered over head and the arm Morgan held to faded in his grasp. Reid slowly became nothing but a faint haze. Everything around them started to fade and the last clear thing Morgan saw was a clock, painfully vivid in his mind. 2:22.
The light that cut through the darkness was surprisingly bright, or had the lights in the bullpen been muted? The bustle of activity he heard just a short ways off was a stark contrast to how quiet things were just a moment before.
"You awake, hot stuff?" He turned to see Garcia sitting beside him with a relieved smile and an extra large drive-thru soda. "You got a real bump on your gorgeous head, good looking, but the doctors said you'll be fine."
Morgan saw something behind her eyes, a darkness not quite masked by her smile. He jerked straight up, ignoring her crescendo of gasps. "Where's Reid?" Garcia's lips parted but her tongue was still, and that was all the answer Morgan needed.
He shot out of bed, and stumbled to the door as the room spun around him. He heard Garcia's voice go shrill, but her words were lost to the ringing in his ears.
"Where's Reid?"
She took his arm, and led him toward the door. It swung open to a busy hospital hallway, all the movement adding to his nausea. He knew he would have hell to pay for this escape later, but he had to know. He was not sure if Penelope felt his anxiety or just knew that he was a thick-headed jerk that couldn't be stopped, but she helped him stumble down the hallway. She stopped at a door and he torn it open. Darkness veiled his vision, and his grip on the doorknob tightened.
"Morgan," Hotch's deep baritone struck him. "Garcia, why is he up."
"I'm sorry, sir," Penelope replied.
Morgan's vision cleared and he took the last few steps into the room and sunk into the nearest chair. Reid lay on the bed. Still. Pale. Hallow. Morgan felt his heart sink, his throbbing head fell into his open hands.
As the blood in Morgan's system slowly settled back into places other than his buzzing head, he could hear a rhythmatic beep. Beep. He raised his eyes. "He's alive?"
Hotch was behind him, a note of infinite relief in his voice. "He's alive. It was…we almost lost him."
"The doctors are calling it a miracle," said Emily as she joined them, two cups of coffee steaming in her hands. "He was gone…then just suddenly he turned around."
"When?" Morgan blurted. She furrowed her brow.
"I don't know…around two thirty."
"When exactly? Try and remember."
"Two twenty maybe," Emily offered, "I don't know Morgan. I was distracted."
"Two twenty-two?" he asked softly. He turned away before she could respond and let out a breath. A small smile snuck across his lips.
He sat by Reid's side the rest of the day, ignoring the doctor's admonishing. The rest of the team never strayed far, someone always hovering over Morgan's shoulder while another fretted by Reid.
As night drew its curtain across the little hospital, Reid's eyes slowly opened to the world once more. He turned his gaze on Morgan, and with significance ringing in his tone said a raspy word. "Thanks."