A/N: When a story writes itself so easily and flows so well, one gets the sense that it was always meant to be; I'm so incredibly happy that I was able to finish this story, but I could not have done it alone, and so, my thanks:
To my beta editor, Sarah, who was innocently on MSN one night when I, in need of an editor, pounced on her, told her the plotline of Revelations in about five minutes and then made her read the story I had; now, she's pretty much been converted. She always puts up with me hounding her to listen to a new idea or to brainstorm, and she's the ultimate in awesome;
To Shawngf and JMcK, whose stories (The Big Empty and Face, respectively) are so incredibly well written and hauntingly beautiful that they made me get back into fan fiction, just to see if I could even come close to what they had. When you two reviewed the prologue and said you loved it, it blew me away, and I thank you for inspiring me and hope that I've caught up to you.
To each and every single one of my reviewers and readers, who keep me going with their kind words. Knowing that someone is reading your work is just about the best reward ever.
Enjoy. And thank you so much
Philip K. Dick said: "Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane."
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Chapter Nine: A Horror Story and a Love Story
1. Dead or Dreaming?
Close your eyes, and imagine that you're somewhere else.
It's not okay now, but where you're going it might be.
This is how this story ends.
--
2. Dream or Thought?
How it ends is that JJ jerks awake, glances at the clock, and realizes with soft shock that she's slept for an hour.
The hospital room, all white and pastel and the soft fluttering hum of murmurs outside the door. Reid's thin form underneath the baby-chicken yellow of the blanket.
Breathing.
Sleeping.
Living.
Opposites and opposing forces. Awakening and slumbering.
Take a deep breath, and then let it out. You have nothing to say.
That's okay. Nobody will mind if you're silent for a little while.
The soft beeping of a monitor will be enough of a soundtrack.
JJ straightens in her chair, stiff, and realizes that, in her sleep, she let go of Reid's hand. She takes it again, relieved to find it warm, and sandwiches his fingers between hers. Comfort and reassurance even though she's still scared herself.
The EMT team said that she likely saved him.
The emergency room doctors put even more needles in him, and JJ watched and the spot on her knee where Reid's syringe poked her felt like it was still in there.
He regained his voice shortly before the sedative took effect, and Reid's eyes found JJ and all he had said was, "Did I kiss you?"
She had blushed, a faint wisp of pink across her cheeks. "Yes."
"Sorry."
JJ had smiled at him, holding his hand tightly as the nurses wheeled him into a private room. "It's okay," she replied. "I won't tell anyone."
And she won't. There's too much else to know and understand.
That kiss was solely theirs.
JJ watched as the doctors drew blood and put it back, as they injected and infused and dosed him, and all the while she had to keep reminding herself:
Good drugs. Things to help him.
Keep saying it.
He's safe.
He'll live.
They detoxed him, cleaned his blood and made sure he'd survive the night, but JJ knows that things are about to get so much more difficult.
Reid has to get help.
And he has to figure out what to say to the team.
He's alive, yes, but what will happen next?
JJ bites her bottom lips and stares at Reid's eyelids, moving now as he dreams. How does she tell him that the Sanatorium called about two hours ago to say that Diana is in a coma?
How does she tell the others what happened?
How will Reid be able to keep his job?
What will happen next?
She doesn't know. For right now, all that matters is that Reid is safe.
There's a TV in the room, showing an old silent film that JJ knows is called Love. Greta Garbo and John Gilbert in one another's arms, the greatest lovers in history, locked in passion that didn't need sound to make its point.
JJ picks up the remote and changes the channel. Bela Lugosi looms on the tiny screen, cape and teeth and all, shadowed and flickering. Helen Chandler as the doomed Mina.
JJ wonders where she learned all of this, and then remembers that Reid told her, long ago, when she professed her love of old movies.
She flips back to Love.
Back to Dracula.
Back to Love.
She does it fast until they begin to look like the same film, Garbo and Lugosi, Gilbert and Chandler. A horror story and a love story.
JJ realizes it.
A horror story and a love story.
(Is she the love or the horror?)
Her breath catches in her throat.
JJ's finger stops pushing the button on the remote, and the channel continues with Dracula.
Her eyes travel to Reid, asleep beside her, peaceful for the first time in months. He's got such a long way to go before he heals.
So does she.
She considers, thinking on the night that she's had. The office, where she came so close to feeling at peace, there with Reid.
The call, which made her feel as if her own life were in danger.
Finding Reid alone on the bedroom floor, gathering him into her arms and comforting him as if he were her own son, her own lover, or herself.
Staring at Reid's boyish features, JJ realizes that she may not know what happens next, but that they will both get through it.
It's not okay, but someday it might be.
Looking back to the television screen, JJ hits the channel button one more time, switching it to Love, and then sets the remote down beside her and squeezes Reid's hand.
The horror part of the story is over. All that can possibly be left is love.
She can deal with that.