When Spencer requested a week away from work, Derek thought it was good that he was finally taking some time to himself and putting the job second for a change. He saw a change in Spencer lately: he seemed to be much less focused on himself and his personal life, and more focused on throwing himself into the job. On the job, he seemed almost robotic, never letting his emotions show or having any long rants as he usually did. In fact, if Spencer hadn't taken the week off, he'd have talked to him about doing so for his health.
At work on Monday, he contemplated calling Spencer to check in on him, but figured he was probably home with his mother or in his own little world. He held his hand over the phone for a minute or two before finally deciding to leave him be. If he wanted to talk, he'd have called him, considering that's what he'd always done, whether it was for one of his cravings or just because he needed to vent for a while.
After the fifth day not hearing from him, he decided to check in with his co-workers, to see if he'd talked to any of them. He went to Hotch and Rossi's offices, but neither of them had an idea of what he was up to, nor had they heard from him. He left his office and walked down to the bullpen, standing between their desks. "Anybody know how Reid's doing?"
He looked over at Emily, who quickly shook her head. "Haven't heard from him since Friday afternoon when he took off. He seemed to be in a rush to get wherever he was going, so good for him for getting this place out of his head for a while."
"Did he say anything about his plans to either of you? Hotch and Rossi are clueless."
JJ thought to herself. "Nothing, I just know he sent his mom a long letter on Friday before he left, and he said he wasn't going to visit her for a while."
He raised an eyebrow curiously. "You're saying he has a week off and he's not visiting his mother?"
She shrugged it off. "He obviously has something big planned for this week if isn't going to Vegas."
Immediately thinking the worst, he took out his phone, calling Spencer. When his cell phone went unanswered, he attempted to call the house phone. When that just kept ringing, he raised an eyebrow. "Have either of you known him to not answer his phone?" Panic started to set in, though he didn't want to show it to his teammates.
He looked over at JJ, who seemed just as shocked as he was. "Not in the years I've known you think something's up?"
He scanned Spencer's desk, looking for something, anything to tell him where he'd gone or what he was up to on his week off.
Garcia walked by, resting a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on, brown sugar?"
He sighed. "Hey, Baby Girl. Have you heard from Reid?"
She thought and quickly shook her head. "Not since Friday. I have all of your names in my system to alert me if you're on any outgoing flights and trying to leave me, and as far as I know, he's still here."
Emily seemed offended. "Hold up. You track us?"
Garcia smirked. "I have to know that my babies are okay at all times. After somebody took off to Boston to take on an unsub single handedly, can you blame me?"
JJ smiled slightly, looking over at Emily who simply said "Point taken."
Derek froze. "So he's still here?"
"Did I stutter? Yes, Derek Morgan, he's still here. Why?"
"I just tried calling both of his numbers and there's no answer, and nobody's heard from him since Friday."
Garcia paled. "You don't think something's wrong with Boy Wonder, do you?"
He sighed. "I'm going to stop by his place, see if he's there, just to be sure he's doing okay."
JJ bit her lip. "Let us know if you find out anything?"
He nodded, taking his car keys out of his pocket, running for the elevator.
The entire drive over to Spencer's apartment, he was trying to clear his head. If something were wrong, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for not checking in on him.
If? Of course something's wrong, you idiot. You haven't heard from him in five days.
He shook his head, running a hand over his face. Hopefully he'd walk up to his apartment, knock on the door, and Spencer would answer, apologizing for the delay because he was distracted by a book he was reading.
If something is wrong, it's your fault for not checking on him.
He sighed, speeding up when he rounded the corner for his street.
Once he was parked, he took the steps two at a time, running all the way up to his apartment. He stopped in front of his door, knocking repeatedly. "Hey, Pretty Boy, are you in there?" He noticed that his car had been parked in front of the complex, so if he had left the apartment, he'd have to be on foot. Considering his bad knee, he wouldn't have gotten very far. He shook himself out of his thoughts and knocked again, harder this time. "Spencer? It's Morgan, are you home?"
He looked down at his feet and saw the newspapers from the past few days sitting on the doormat. He heard a door opening and turned to a neighbor who was exiting her apartment. "Excuse me, Miss?"
She turned to him. "Yes?"
"Have you seen anyone come in or out of this apartment in the past few days?" he asked, pointing to the door.
She thought back, going through the keys on her keyring. "I haven't seen him leave since he got home on Friday. He tends to be a shut-in, so nobody's too concerned."
"…Does he usually collect his paper in the morning?"
She nodded. "Every day with his cup of coffee." She found the right key, locking her front door. "Anything else?"
He shook his head. "No, thank you."
He waited for her to walk down the stairs and counted five newspapers on the ground, meaning he hadn't even opened the door to his apartment since he got home on Friday. He knocked once more, pounding on the door. "Spencer, it's Morgan. Open up."
When he was once again greeted with silence, he sighed, needing reassurance that Spencer was okay. He took a few steps back and kicked the door down, making a mental note to tell the super on his way out later on. He scanned the apartment and saw something he wasn't expecting: clutter. Books were thrown all around without a case, messy dishes that seemed to be a week old sat in the sink, and his clothes were all around the apartment.
"Spencer?" he called, walking around the small apartment. He wasn't in the kitchen, and the coffeemaker looked like it had been unused for days. He wasn't in the living room or even the bedroom, where the bed looked like it hadn't been made in months: it seemed like he simple slept on top of the messy sheets. Finally, he turned to the bathroom door, knocking. "Spencer?"
With no response, he sighed, noting that he'd be paying the super back for two busted doors. He took a few steps back in the cramped apartment, kicking the door open with ease. It hadn't occurred to him to check if the door was unlocked first, and felt somewhat idiotic.
Way to go, genius. Could've just opened it instead of destroying it.
He walked into the bathroom and saw Spencer, sitting in the bathtub in a pool if his own blood, his wrist gashed open.
He ran over, lifting him out of the tub and leaning him against it, grabbing his wrist and applying pressure.
"Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?"
The only response he got was a whimper, the genius not having it in him to talk to him.
He thought to himself and grabbed a nearby towel, pressing it against the wound. With his other hand, he took out his phone, his first instinct to call Garcia.
Wow, moron. You could've called 911, but you're calling your co-worker? Someone needs to get you a Ph.D . in stupidity.
He felt relieved when she answered after only one ring. "The great and wonderful Penelope Garcia at your service, gorgeous?"
He sighed, pressing his hand down on the towel. "Penelope, I need you to send an ambulance to Spencer's apartment now."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is this a joke? Derek Morgan, you're not very funny."
He groaned. "Do I sound like I'm joking? He needs an ambulance. NOW." He hung up the phone, turning to Spencer. "Stay with me, do you hear me? Stay with me, Spencer Reid."
He saw Spencer glance up at him quickly before his eyes shut. He shook his head, pressing his hand down. After losing Emily right in front of his eyes, he was not going to let another team member leave him, especially Spencer.
When the EMTs arrived, he kept his grip on his wrist. "Spencer, the EMTs are here. We're going to get you to a hospital, you're going to be fine, I promise."
Spencer whimpered softly, his head dropping.
Derek shook his head, lifting his chin. "Spencer, you just need to stay awake. I need you to do that for me."
One of the EMTs tapped his shoulder. "Sir, I need you to back away."
He exhaled. "I'm not leaving him. I'm not going to let him die."
The EMT took his hand, pulling it away from his wrist, wrapping it.
He swallowed. "His name's Spencer Reid, he's 31, he's a federal agent, and he has a single injury, a cut across his wrist." He screwed his eyes shut. "Please don't let anything happen to him."
"We won't, sir, but I need you to back up. Go wait downstairs in the ambulance, we'll be right down with him."
He sighed, stepping back, walking downstairs and leaning against the ambulance. He could've sworn he saw Emily's car go by and leaned his head back, groaning.
Garcia turned around. "…Was that Derek? Why was he covered in blood?"
Emily sighed. "We'll find out soon enough."
The wait for the EMTs to get downstairs was excruciatingly long. He didn't check the time, because he'd only be aggravated with himself. If he'd called him earlier in the week or checked on him once in the past five days, he probably wouldn't be here right now, soaked in his blood and hoping he'd survive this. After they got him into the back of the ambulance, without a second thought, he climbed in. He kept a close watch on the heart monitor he was on, thankful that his heart was still beating. He knew there was nothing positive in this experience, but he was happy he got to his apartment when he did. One of the EMTs turned to him.
"If you'd shown up a few minutes later, he might not have been able to revived. He's lucky to have a friend like you."
He sighed, reaching out for Spencer's hand, squeezing it. "I'm here Spencer. Don't forget that. I'll always be here."
He knew that Spencer was out cold, but hoped that he could at least hear him. He didn't care that the front of his shirt was doused in blood, or that he looked as if he stumbled out of a horror film. All he cared about was the fact that he found him just in time and he'd be able to leave the hospital, though a lot of questions were still unanswered.
He swore his heart stopped when the heart monitor started beeping. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
The EMT sighed, springing into action. "He's lost a lot of blood."
He leaned back as they started working on him, frozen.
You could've just checked on him and he wouldn't be dying in the back of this ambulance right now.
Author's Note: I had a lot of people wondering about Derek's point of view in 'Neglect' and 'Road to Recovery', so I decided to write up this story.
