As she had each day for the past week, Fran kept vigil at her son's bedside. She gently wiped a tear that trickled down his cheek. She wondered if he was in pain. They had stopped the sodium thiopental days ago, expecting him to awaken. It was a good sign, they told her, that he could breathe without assistance and he was moving his limbs, but it was worrisome that he was still unconscious.
"Derek."
Her son did not stir.
Fran opened the newspaper, and began reading aloud to her boy. Sometimes, she told him about the phone calls she'd gotten from his friends. She read his cards to him, before taping them to the wall near his bed. She talked to him about growing up in Chicago, reminiscing about family events with his father and sisters. At times, she simply held his hand and called his name.
"Derek."
((Ah, Mom…please let me sleep…I'm not trying to play hooky, honest…I have the worst headache…please, Mom, just awhile longer))
Derek's doctor came in. "Good morning, Mrs. Morgan," he said, flatly. He looked very somber as he did his examination and scribbled notes on the chart.
Fran didn't care much for Dr. Schaffer. While he seemed competent enough, he certainly did not know her son. She refused to listen to any of his negative talk about brain damage or prolonged comas, and she told him so. When he suggested the need to transfer Derek to a long-term care facility, Fran's green eyes flashed with anger.
"Mrs. Morgan, his insurance coverage…" The doctor tried to explain.
"I don't give a damn about insurance, Dr. Schaffer. You're not giving up on my son," she told him, certainly. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking much taller than her five feet of height. "You don't know Derek. He was always hard to wake up. Why, I'm surprised I ever got him through school." She glanced at her son, who slept undisturbed. "He'll wake up in his own time."
The doctor just sighed. He couldn't argue with the feisty woman. He didn't have the heart. Maybe she was right. He hoped that she was, but with each day that passed, he was increasingly concerned about her Derek's prospects for recovery. "Mrs. Morgan, I'll be back to check on him later."
Fran sat down and opened the paper to the sports page. She began reading the baseball scores to her son.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. Since Spencer's release from the hospital, he continued to rise early, eager to experience the day. As he sat at the table sipping his overly sweet coffee, he surveyed his surroundings. It was so good to be back in his apartment. The place looked great. JJ and Penelope had cleaned and dusted until everything sparkled. They stocked the refrigerator for him. There were fresh flowers on the table. Since they'd cleaned, he was having trouble finding some of his books, but that was okay. He was home.
It was great being back at work, too. It didn't matter that he was on probation. His mind was sharp and clear again, and he would prove himself soon enough. If it weren't for the nagging worry about Morgan, it would have been the best week of his life.
He called Mrs. Morgan twice a day for updates on Derek, but there had been no change in his condition. He was still unconscious and they weren't quite sure why.
When he was a child, Spencer's mother used to read to him from the Bible. In fact, he had committed it to memory. As he grew older, he began to question the nature of God. He studied different religions. He considered God from a scientist's viewpoint. He wasn't sure what he believed. Perhaps, God was a metaphor for all that exists? The only thing he knew absolutely, was that a power beyond him at work in his life.
In recent months, he cheated death on several occasions. A serial killer held a gun to his head and played Russian roulette. When his heart stopped, Tobias Hankel, in a fleeting moment of sanity, gave him CPR. He survived a drug overdose. In his misery, he attempted suicide, and an old soldier saved from bleeding to death on a cold bathroom floor. Eight days ago, he came through a car accident with barely a scratch.
Whoever, or whatever, was looking out for him, Spence had had more than his share of miracles. He wondered if he could dare to hope for one more.
As he had done every morning and evening for more than two months, he wrote in his journal. This morning he scribed a prayer.
"Dear God,
Thank you for restoring my physical and mental health. Thank you for my job and my good friends at work. Thank you for bringing Jennifer into my life and the joy she has brought to me. God, I ask that you take care of my friend, Derek Morgan. Please, heal his injuries, and bring him back to us.
Amen"
As he sat writing, he heard JJ's footsteps behind him. She poured herself a cup of coffee, and set it on the table. She slipped her arms around Reid's neck, and kissed his ear.
"Good morning, Honey," he said, smiling. He pulled her to him and kissed her eagerly.
Except for his concern for Morgan, it had been the happiest week of his life.
