Who Cried Wolf
PenPatronus
Chapter 11
How many fist-sized containers of cherry Jell-O could Derek Morgan fit into a cooler? 164. Jell-O transporter was the cooler's original purpose. Its second was a seat. So many people crowded into the waiting area outside Reid's hospital room that all of the chairs were taken. Henry had to sit on his mom's lap and Jack on his dad's. "Only one of you to start off with," a nurse warned the group.
Morgan walked slowly into the room with a dozen Jell-O cups cradled in his arm like a bouquet of flowers. The curtains were closed, and every light was out but a dim lamp on Reid's bedside table. Between the angle of the shadows, Reid's ghost-white skin, and the way his cheekbones had sharpened after so many days taking in so few calories, the young doctor seemed to have aged by 20 years. Morgan went to brush wayward bangs off of his friend's eyelids but hesitated when a flash flood of tears briefly blinded him. He wiped his eyes, then reached out again. The sleeping man stirred when Morgan's sleeve accidentally bumped the cannula in his nose.
"…hide the blueberries in the toaster," Reid mumbled. He winced. He swallowed. White sheets and blankets wiggled as he stretched his limbs for the first time since his surgery. Morgan piled the cups on a tray and sat on the side of the bed at Reid's waist, wanting his friend to see his face when he woke up instead of a figure towering over him. Minutes passed. Reid stilled again, and eventually the frown relaxed and went flat. Certain that his friend had passed out again, and also certain that he needed to rest, Morgan started to leave. Before he stood up, cold fingers touched his wrist.
"Reid?" Morgan clasped his friend's hand. He resisted the urge to squeeze. Although the swelling had gone down, and the stitches were sewn tight, the majority of Reid's body was still bruised. "Reid, it's Morgan. Can you hear me?"
A pink tongue licked dry lips. "Weird dream," Reid croaked. Both corners of his lips twitched with a smile. "That sombrero was so… bossy." Morgan chuckled. Reid gathered his strength and pried his eyes open. "Did I get shot?"
"You're ok now, kid. Full recovery. Back to abnormal in no time."
Reid shivered. Morgan grabbed another blanket and draped it across him. "What do you need?" Morgan asked. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? I brought Jell-O. Garcia downloaded your favorite "Stargate" episodes."
"My mom," Reid whispered. "I should talk to her." Stork-thin arms pushed against the mattress.
Morgan flinched when his hands against Reid's chest caused the young agent pain. "Kid, relax. You have a skull fracture, internal bleeding, a sprained ankle, two ribs are cracked, and your left wrist is broken. Reid, you have to rest."
Reid's eyes widened as Morgan listed his injuries. "Is he dead? Stephen?" Morgan nodded. "He was so angry," Reid whispered. "So… hurt." A lazy smile sprouted. "You found me."
"Of course we found you." Morgan smiled back. "Sorry it wasn't sooner. Sorry it ever happened in the first place. I should've stayed with you…" Morgan graced his hands over Reid's and glared at the bruises on them. Reid's fingers tightened around his. "Seriously, kid. What do you need? You just woke up from a nightmare. What do you need right now more than anything?"
"More than you and Jell-O?" Faces darted through Spencer's mind. Stephen had the right idea about how important father figures were, Reid realized. And what son doesn't need a father after a nightmare? "Is Hotch here?" Reid whispered.
Reid didn't mean to fall asleep after Morgan left the room. He closed his eyes for just a second, and the next thing he knew Hotch was sitting at his bedside, snoring softly, with his hand around Reid's wrist, finger on the pulse point. Reid wiggled in Hotch's grasp, interlacing their fingers and squeezing as hard as he could, which was just barely tight enough to rouse Hotch from his nap.
"Hey." Hotch smiled with his lips, and then grinned wide with every tooth. "Happy to see you."
"You, too," Reid said. He started to speak but Hotch sprung forward and wrapped him in a tight hug—hands beneath his neck and spine, nose in his shoulder.
"So happy," Hotch whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed and took a good long look at his young friend. "Spencer, I'm so sorry—"
Reid shook his head and dismissed the words with a wave. "It's ok."
"It's not."
"It is."
"It's not because I haven't told you…" Hotch looked at everything else in the room except for Spencer's eyes. "I want you to know something."
Reid cocked an eyebrow. "What?"
"When we were in my office, and I told you that Gideon was proud of you, I should've said that I am, too." Hotch took a deep breath, and then cupped Reid's pale cheek with a calloused hand. "Proud like a father of his son," he whispered.
Reid smiled back. "Love you, too, Hotch."
The End