Part II - Secrets Kept and Dismissed
When Hotch receives the call on his way to dropping Jack to school, he almost looses control of the black sedan he's using. His stomach flips like it hasn't done since Haley's death, and that's what actually catches him off-guard; not the fact that it's a nurse calling from a hospital about an Agent Spencer Reid whose been admitted thirty minutes ago with an intense headache. It's the white-hot terror of getting more bad news, so soon after Prentiss's funeral, that leashes at him like a whip.
The gist of the call is that Agent Reid had been sedated, but at the moment, there's nothing to indicate that it's more than a bad headache. He's resting, and if the tests come back clear, he can be discharged in a few hours.
Hotch's bodily functions turn back to almost-normal as he thanks the nurse and hangs up the phone, but the slightest bit of tremor lingers a little longer in his fingers.
"Daddy wha's wrong?" Jack asks from his place at the back seat, and instinctively, Hotch's fingers once again tighten around the wheel.
"It's a nurse from the hospital," he replies truthfully. He never lies to Jack. He doesn't keep secrets from his son. And he won't start keeping them after all that's happened with Prentiss.
"You remember my friend Reid?"
"He's ve-ery tall," Jack acknowledges, nodding fervently.
"Yes, he is," Hotch agrees. "The nurse said that he's sick and he's in the hospital."
A pause, and then-
"Are you go'on to visit him, Daddy?"
"Yes, buddy; after I drop you off to school, I'll go to see him."
"Is he sick because he's sad?" Jack asks next. "Like I was sick when mommy died?"
For a second, Hotch feels like his stomach has vanished.
It's one of those questions Jack asks that perplex his father. Perplex him, confuse him, throw him off; and make him proud at the same time, because they're the difficult questions, the ones he has to contemplate before answering, not to figure out how to give him the answer, but to figure out the answer itself.
Is Reid sick because he's sad?
Hotch has no idea, but something in him tells him that it's the affirmative. "I really don't know, Jack," he answers truthfully.
He likes it when the truthful answer is also evasive in nature.
"Give him a hug for me," Jack demands. Hotch mock-glares at his son from the rear mirror, lips twitching at the request despite the worry that's gnawing at him.
"How about I tell him that you're sending him hugs?"
In the back seat, Jack flashes a mischievious grin at his dad, and Hotch laughs, and he marvels,again, at how incredibly smart his son is.
He winks at him, and they don't speak anymore until they reach the school.
/
When his cell phone starts buzzing and it's Hotch's name on the screen, Morgan isn't surprised. Normally, he should be; because Hotch is always at work at this hour and it doesn't make sense for him to call Morgan when his office is just a few doors down from that of his own.
Today, he just doesn't bother being surprised.
"Morgan," he answers unenthusiastically, and listens. And he sits up higher and higher with each word that Hotch speaks. He's saying he's gotten a phone call; he's saying Reid's in the hospital and he's unconscious; and he's saying something about being detained, some shooting somewhere, but as soon as Morgan's heard the name of the hospital, he's stopped listening.
Twenty minutes later he's standing still at the door of a private hospital room, scared out of his mind for the second time in the three weeks, and he feels like being sick. He has no recollection of leaving the BAU or driving to the hospital. All he can think of is funerals.
The low buzz that seems to emanate from the building itself is mocking bagpipes.
On the lone bed lies Reid, head slightly tilted to one side, an ugly blanket half-covering him, and frankly, he doesn't look hurt. He just looks asleep. Morgan's eyes travel to his midsection, and there's nothing there, but he sees Emily's fit body and the bloody piece of wood impailed into her flesh.
Bile rises in his throat, and he turns away from the room. Leaning against the wall, he takes deep, calculated breaths, pushing down the agitation.
The nurse he's just talked to has informed him that Reid's landlady had gotten suspicious when she saw him in pain in the elevator they took together, and called 911. When they brought him in, he seemed to be having a violent headache; they scanned an MR, and everything looks normal.
He should wake up soon.
In all fairness, Morgan thinks, it's not nearly as worrisome as having your impailed partner's blood on your hands. But in his heart, he's just as much worried about Reid as he'd been about Emily.
Taking a deep breath, he walks back into the room, and lowers himself on the horribly old-fashioned, low armchair across the bed.
And he waits.
Tries not to think of Prentiss. Tries not to feel her absence beside him.
He sits, and waits, and swears to himself that as soon as Reid comes around, he'll have the kid speak with him.
He wants to know everything.