A/N: I don't own the characters, or I'd never have let Emily leave. And, thank you once again for reading and reviewing and fav/following; it really does mean a lot to me.
In terms of my hiatus, it's been a hectic and busy time to say the least. I'm not going to go into too many details (its a rather touchy subject for me, to be honest), but for the past several months, I've been in an awful place in life, and couldn't handle writing. It was rough, but now it's all okay again. I'm back to writing now (yey!) and I will be sure to update this fic and any others I'm working on as soon as I can, regardless of coursework. I'd also like to thank the lovely people who still followed/reviewed; I saw them and they really brightened up my day and I still go over them when I'm feeling rather shitty and they're absolutely lovely. So thank you so, so much, and I'm forever grateful for your support.
Reviews really do help keep a writer going; if you enjoyed a fic, any fic, drop a note to the writer. It's awesome!
~FANFICTION~
It seemed as if eternities had gone by to the genius, waves of sleep and hazy brightness, cartwheeling vision and heart monitors flashing across his eyes. The familiar sterile scent of the hospital room seemed to have found a home in his nasal cavity, the incessant beep of the machinery keeping him tethered to this world never ending.
And he was sick and tired of it.
All of it. The needle that didn't deliver the rush of confusion and happiness, the stubborn wills of the doctors trying to keep him alive stronger than his, keep him away from the woman he loved, keep him away from the place where he could know peace. Sick of the thoughts, the voices that screamed abuse in his ears, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Sleep didn't come easily to the genius, even with the sedatives (albeit mild) that he was on, instead preferring to fake unconsciousness to avoid communication. The team had visited, for short periods of time after Morgan for several days, but upon him showing no sign of hearing them (unbeknownst to him, the doctors had indeed informed Hotch that he had awakened), they returned to the BAU. Perhaps another factor in their leave was the fact that their little unorthodox 'holiday' had run out, but Reid didn't know that.
He couldn't leave, much as he wanted to, or at least a part of him did anyway. His condition was supposedly 'fragile' and he was 'a danger to himself', according to the doctors and nurses who spoke to him in the hushed, condescending tones, as if he were a mere child. Bullshit.
Hell, in the hospital, there seemed to be no sense of time at all. Days melted into nights, shifting into weeks even, if he knew. In a place where the corridors were always lit and the sounds of doctors working, there was no daytime and nighttime, only a constant state in between the two. It was as if the hospital had left the physical world and held itself suspended between another dimension, one where time was nonexistent. He didn't know how much time had gone by, for there was no time anymore, at least a physical time at least. He knew that days had gone by at least, by the sounds and patterns of the movement outside the thin, plaster walls (his mind stubbornly insisted on functioning) and nights too, but no numbers. Just floating, the beeping of the heart monitor echoing hollowly in his ears, the sight of Maeve's body falling backwards in slow motion, her long brown hair thrown in front of her face in a messy halo as the silent scream echoing, no matter how much he willed it away. Her face, frozen in the bemused shock, fear and terror seemed to be burned into his retinas, playing in slow motion every time his eyelids closed.
Maeve…
Darkness.
Emptiness.
No sense of time…
~FANFICTION~
The bullpen seemed empty and hollow without the genius, void of his usual caffeine fuelled jabbering about physics magic and chess the others pretended to hate.
JJ was aware of the eerie silence in the bullpen as she navigated through the sea that was the office, occasionally dropping a file on a desk, not unlike a ship docking at an island. One for Rossi, one for Emily, one for Morgan, one for- never mind, she thought sadly as she stopped by Reid's desk, her finger idly flicking through the file that she had laid upon his desk by pure instinct. A sad sigh slipped through her parted lips as she shook her head, picking up the rest of the files as she knocked on Hotch's door.
"File delivery," she said, knocking thrice upon the hardwood door, waiting a moment before she entered, the sound of her heels clicking muffled by the carpet. Hotch wasn't seated at his desk, but standing adjacent to her, his brow furrowed. His eyes were closed, left hand massaging his temple as his other hand held onto the shelf for support. His face was ashen, strained; more lines were etched in his face than ever before. Tired, he was, and worried. All of them were.
"Are you alright?" JJ inquired gently, stepping over to Hotch when he gave no response. "Hotch?"
"Oh...sorry JJ." Hotch's voice was strained as he spoke, finally shifting from his position as he accepted the file. No more was said for a moment as he read, though the media liaison knew that the case itself was the last thing upon his mind.
"Oh...yeah. I'm just a little worried about Reid, that's all, but we have to focus on the case at hand." His voice returned to his usual stoic deadpan, moving over to sit behind his desk. JJ took this as her cue to leave, silently dropping off the rest of the files before heading back to her own office, presumably to read over and familiarise herself with the details but to no avail. She sighed as she rested her head in her hands, peeking at the clock as she composed herself. Thirty minutes till the briefing, she mused to herself as she focused upon the gruesome images once more.
"JJ?" The sound of a quiet voice was heard at her door, once bubbly and bright but now a shadow of its former self. Pulled out of her reverie, the blonde woman rose from her seat, dodging the perilous mountain of files as she moved across the room to the figure at the door.
"Hey, Pen." JJ's tone was optimistic, but the smile didn't meet her eyes fully as it usually did, ending at the edges of her soft pink lips.
"Thanks for the file, J." Penelope spoke a few moments later, rubbing her lip with her hand as she did. She looked rather distraught, but was hiding it rather well behind a curtain of impassiveness. It would have worked, but the hacker was usually far too bubbly, and anything shy of her usual hyperactivity would point to something being awry.
"No problem." JJ's smile faded off her face as she spoke. "How're you doing?" she inquired, an unsaid invitation to vent if need be, the nonverbal cue easily interpreted by the profilers and those who worked alongside them. She stepped aside to allow Penelope in if she cared to enter, giving the two a bit of privacy.
"I'm...I'm okay." Pause. "I think."
JJ frowned at the woman, knowing she was fighting off one of her usual rants. "Pen, spit it out. You'll feel better."
Penelope muttered under her breath as she stepped into the office, sitting down on the spare seat as JJ shut the door.
"Oh hell, J. I'm just worried about the genius, that's all. I mean...how didn't we see it? And...and the way he was acting at the hospital it was so...scary, J. I know the medical prognosis is okay, but...but...I'm just so scared. I can't focus. Last time we were there, he completely freaked out and really hurt himself and I...I...I just…" Her voice hitched in her throat as she shook her head.
"I don't know anymore. It's so different without him…so serious and I just...I miss him, JJ. I really do. It's been ages since we heard from him, or the hospital and..I'm scared." Tears glistened behind her glasses as she spoke, rambling a little.
"I...I'm sorry for bothering you, JJ. I know we all have a lot of work to do but...I just didn't want to be alone." Her voice was raw at the very end, a tremulous whisper. The smaller blonde pressed her hand to her forehead for a moment before she walked over to Penelope, placing her arms around her in a gentle but quick hug. She was rather surprised as Penelope's grip tightened around hers, clutching her tightly, as if she were her lifeline.
"Garcia. Never apologise for your feelings, okay?" she said, once the analyst had let go. "We're all worried, we're all scared. Its different without him, yes, but we have to stick together. We'll get through this, Pen." Penelope offered a watery smile as JJ glanced up at the clock.
"Come on. We have a briefing to get to."
~FANFICTION~
Days had passed since Reid was first admitted to the hospital, or maybe it was weeks. The same beeping of the heart monitor and the lights that never turned off had eliminated all sense of time, in tandem with the death of his cell phone many a day ago. He hadn't bothered to charge it, for shame filled him every time his broken gaze flickered over to the muted technology. It felt like ages to him, but in reality it was merely little more than a week or so, eight days and seven hours to be exact.
"Mr-Doctor Reid?" A voice broke the quiet of his room, as it did every now and then. Every few hours, a nurse would come and check his vitals, or deliver meals, the latter usually left uneaten or minimally so. Other than that and the occasional queries from the doctor, Amelia Donnelly, about his wellbeing, he was uninterrupted. On this occasion, it was the good doctor herself, walking into the room with the usual click of her heels upon the linoleum floor. He simply looked at her apathetically as she bustled about, showing no visible signs of recognition.
"Hello, Dr. Reid." Amelia said with a chipper smile, already knowing the response. Silence.
"How are we doing today, mm?" she inquired, reaching over with a small 'oof' as she picked up the chart hanging from the foot of his bed, scribbling in it with her miniscule writing. "Good good. Everything's stabilising, and you should be all right for discharge in a day or two. I just want to keep you here for further monitoring."
At that, Reid blinked. Discharge?
"Discharge...in a day...or two?" he asked, his tone slightly shaky as he lifted a hand to his brow, furrowing it as he spoke. "So...I'm ready to go?"
Amelia nodded. "Yes, you are. The worst of the dilaudid's effects and detoxification has passed, and physically, your health is better." She held up her hand sternly, however. "Better doesn't mean good necessarily, Dr. Reid."
"It...doesn't?"
"No. Your health is still poor, and extremely so." Pause. "You're underweight for your height, and the effects of sleep deprivation, caffeine dependence and opioid addiction have wreaked havoc upon your health."
Reid would merely glower at that statement, looking rather eldritch with his hollowed cheeks, ashen skin and dark circles ringing his eyes.
"However. Your discharge has certain conditions, otherwise I'll speak to your supervisor and get you pulled off your job and put on leave." A dangerous glint formed in the woman's deep eyes as she cast her piercing stare at Reid.
"Conditions? Like what?" His tone was rather sharp.
"Well, for starters, you'll have to go to therapy twice a week…"
Therapy?!
Reid flinched at that, his body recoiling visibly, an expression of shock, distaste and disdain upon his hallowed visage. "Excuse me?"
Amelia wasn't fazed by his reaction and sudden ferocity, sharp tone falling upon deaf ears. Or rather, she was already immune to this sort of behaviour and merely rolled her eyes to herself.
"Yes. Therapy, twice a week or more, if I deem it necessary." Her tone was chipper as she spoke, a smile on her face as she picked up the clipboard once more and wrote a few notes. "Those sessions will be confidential, of course. However, the therapist will send notes to me every now and then to inform me of how you're doing."
Spencer frowned, crossing his arms. He was not happy about this at all, no. "What if I don't want to do therapy?" he questioned, struggling to keep his tone even. He had already shown far too much emotion as of late and that was just...unacceptable.
"Well." Amelia seemed prepared for his trepidation, for her voice was laced with a hint of amusement as she next spoke. "Agent Hotchner, under my advice, has removed you from the line of active duty on the basis of a psychiatric withholdment. In order for you to return, you have to get the okay from your therapist and myself, your doctor. I won't give you the okay until I'm sure you will be. Which incidentally, encompasses therapy for a few weeks, maybe months. It all depends on how willing you are to work on your issues, Dr. Reid. If that's all?"
Great.
Just fucking great.
Spencer could only sigh in resignation as Amelia grinned at him, folding his thin arms around his chest even tighter than he had before. He watched, glaring unobtrusively, as she signed the form on the clipboard with a flourish, clicking it shut before heading out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts.
