Yaaaay! So, here's the new chapter, hope you like it and stuff, erm... Yeah. I updated as fast as I could.
I LOVED the response by the way, I think I got about 27 emails... And that was only at the end of the day :) and four reviews, just for the first chapter! I literally paused the episode I was watching, (2x15 Revelations; commentary version) and did a wild dance around the room, but the effect was kinda lost when I slipped on a pillow. *_*
Disclaimer: the usual Yadda Yadda Yadda.
The rest of the team were huddled together in the waiting room, huddled in the uncomfortable chairs, each lost in thought, each refusing to say a word. It was nearly two in the morning, but no one mentioned retiring for the night, they would remain in that waiting room as the hours dwindled past; and as the alarming stack of coffee cups grew higher.
Hotch was staring blankly at his hands, silently blaming himself over and over. What would've happened if he had waited with Morgan for Reid to collect his luggage, instead of hurrying with the others to the lift, his thoughts intent on calling home in hope of catching a conversation with his son, Jack? Sure, he had no real experience whatsoever in recognising the sound of an explosive device ready to blow, but maybe he could've been the one to tackle Reid out of the way, while Derek ran and cleared himself a few more metres? Would he be the one in the operating room, under a scathing light, while a team of surgeons did their best? Never though, somehow did he blame Reid on what had happened. It just wasn't his fault, and never would be, in his thoughts.
Emily was leaning heavily on the back of her chair, eyes closed, but that didn't stop the tears leaking and rolling down her face. She kept reliving the explosion over and over again; Morgan had warned them, just in time, and they had all dropped to the ground, with no hesitation whatsoever. Over the years all of the team had bonded together and followed each others directions and theories without qualm. And then, when the shaking had stopped she had glimpsed the pair of them, both covered in blood, Reid trying desperately to hold on tightly to Morgans life, all the while cursing the whole world and everything on it. All that blood had brought back bad memories of Doyle, too, and she feared if she could continue in this post much longer.
Hunched over, his hands clasped in prayer, Rossi muttered in Italian all the prayers he could remember, and then started all over again through the cycle. After all the team were routinely put through, which lost them brave agents, could they suffer such a break? Even if Morgan survived -which he hoped with every fibre of his being- he knew the choice which Reid would make. If their team fell apart again, what would he do? He knew he wouldn't put up with a transfer, and he was all alone, apart from memories from his ex-wives littered around his house. Would he maybe write another book? The future was too uncertain to be certain of anything.
Garcia and JJ were sticking close to each other, conversing quietly, tears running down their cheeks. At first their conversation had been on wishing Derek to pull through, but that just deepened the pain. Instead, they shared their fondest memories about him, all the jokes they could remember, his complete dominance in a fight, how much he cared for all of them, they even skipped over the shadowy topic of his past, and how awful it must of been. When that conversation dried out, they moved onto silly little things, to keep their mind off everything, like the time Henry had gotten into a tantrum and threw his food onto the ceiling.
Reid remained silent, his face gaunt with deep dark circles under his eyes, absentmindedly wiping blood off his hands that was no longer there. He felt a complete, everlasting anger, at the UNSUB, at himself, at the hospital, and the people who gave their attacker the means to construct the bomb, at the designers who were determined to make these chairs so damn uncomfortable, at the whole world, really. He felt like taking to the streets, at letting himself loose at a warehouse, shooting at the walls, ripping at the interior and smashing everything he could lay his hands on, because it just wasn't fair!
It wasn't fair how Morgan had self-lessley protected him from harm, or the sequence of events that had twisted the UNSUB's mind to make him slowly pick off the most intelligent of the world. He knew what he had to do, to protect the family that he never had.
The six of them were jolted from their thoughts as a harried-looking doctor hurried towards them. "Family of Derek Morgan?" He asked with apprehensively.
"The closest thing to it, his proper family are in the air from Chicago at this very moment" Hotch replied immediately. The doctor hesitated for a moment, then remembered that his patient was a FBI agent, so the assembled people that had been waiting for more than 6 hours, so they were probably SSA agents too.
"We have removed the shard and stemmed the flow of blood, and expect him to make a full recovery." He started, and was met with gasps of relief. "But, the area where he was injured is extremely sensitive, and he will have to be put on a extensive plan of anti-biotic's and phsio-therapy to recuperate to his full extent of fitness, and we expect between a year and a half to two years the only thing he will have left is a rather unattractive scar."
"He'll be distraught" Prentiss joked feebly, and was only supplied with a few nervous laughs.
"Can we go see him?" Rossi asked.
"Of course, but he is currently unconscious, if you would follow me," he said and lead the way down the hall and into a small room containing only one bed and a significantly paler Derek Morgan on top of it, connected to various machines which beeped and whirred, unaware of the sad scene.
A deafening silence stretched, as they all gazed down at their injured colleague, who was sleeping peacefully enough, a blank expression on his face. JJ and Garcia were clutching his hands, careful to avoid the I.V.'s and finger clamps, while the rest of them settled in chairs assembled around his bed.
After a while, Reid cleared his throat, and spoke, his voice hoarse from misuse. "You realise what this means, right?" He was met with only a couple quizzical looks, the others wore grave expressions.
"I'm going to go into hiding until you guys catch this son of a bitch."
:D couldn't help myself, had to do the last line like that, and here you are, the beginning of badass Reid! Also, I'm not that mean that I would kill of Morgan, it's on my list of things that I forbid myself to do. Hope you didn't find this chapter too boring, I just had too much trouble trying to incorporate zombies bursting into the waiting room :( anyway, please review!