author's notes: i decided i needed another chapter like this, and my beta Inwenalas (bless her soul) assured me that i could get away with it. apologies to Dalonega Noquisi for putting her through the physical torture of having to wait for Leighton and Reid to get back together again :) you know what they say, can't rush perfection (modesty isn't my strong suit). thank you to everyone reviewing, hope you all enjoy the new chapter!
characters: Leighton Tanner (OC), Reid, Doctor Monroe (OC), Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, Seaver, Morgan, JJ, Diana Reid
setting: AU from 6x24 - Supply & Demand onward
disclaimer: fic•tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination
SCARS REMIND US WHERE WE'VE BEEN;;
chapter thirteen
date: November 13th, 2011
(4:07am)
By the time Doctor Monroe comes down to the second floor, the entire team has moved to the waiting room. The room is completely silent and no one is moving, safe for Leighton picking at her nails. Hotch and Rossi are still seated next to each other on one side of the room; hours have passed but they've hardly spoken a word. What's there to say anyway? That they're worried about Reid? The truth is that they're all prepared for the worst, they've readied themselves for the worst possible news and maybe already accepted it. It's the only way to be here, the only way of coping.
The tension in the room is tangible.
Leighton's sitting between Garcia and Seaver; after talking to her sister on the phone, she'd sat alone with Garcia for what had seemed forever, but they'd eventually joined the others in the waiting room. JJ still hadn't returned from whatever she had planned. Morgan is the only one standing, remaining restless and unwilling to join the others in their silence.
When the doctor walks through the door, everyone sitting stands up and Morgan walks over. Doctor Monroe is surprised to see just how many of Dr Reid's colleagues have come to show their support. "The surgery went well," he says, and he can see a collective sigh of relief spread through the room. Doctor Monroe can tell these people have been here before, this struggle with uncertainty. "There were no complications."
"So he's going to be okay?" Garcia asks, her tone high-pitched and anxious.
Doctor Monroe takes a breath and checks himself. It's best not to be too positive after an invasive surgery like this, and judging by the expressions on the faces currently directed at him, he'd better not sound too optimistic. If 'optimism' is even in these people's vocabularies. "The major concern after an operation like this is a stroke," he says, eyes focusing on each face before continuing. "Dr Reid will be monitored closely throughout the week for what we call vasospasms, which is constriction of the blood flow in the brain. Once he wakes up we'll know more, but it looks promising. He'll be in recovery for a few hours, but once he's awake you'll be allowed to see him."
"Thank you," Hotch says, ending the conversation with one of his stern nods.
Doctor Monroe leaves, and another silence spreads through the room. They're all in their own minds for a while, deciding on whether to stick with their worst-case scenario thinking, or share in the doctor's cautious optimism. Leighton knows it's not in her nature to go for the latter, so her heart rate doesn't come down, nor does her nervous fiddling stop. Any moment now, she'll start pacing the room again.
Rossi is the first one to speak. It's not hard to figure out which end of the spectrum he's decided on. "I think we could all use some real food," he says, hands in his pockets. "My treat," he adds, and it earns him a few smiles. They're all tired and could use a good meal before facing what could be another day in the hospital.
Rossi turns, and walks out the door. The rest of the team follows behind him silently, but Leighton lingers inside the waiting room. Morgan walks over to her. "I think I'll stay here," Leighton says. It doesn't seem fair towards her friends, because it's as if she's telling them she refuses to spend time with them, but she can't pretend Reid is out of the woods yet, and she can't eat anyway. To her surprise though, no one utters a complaint. Instead, there's an air of acceptance coming over all of them. Maybe most of them even appreciate Leighton staying behind to watch over Reid. Seaver smiles at her softly, and follows Hotch and Rossi out of the room.
"You know he won't be down for a few hours, right?" Morgan asks, Garcia still in the room with him and Leighton. He understands – if this had happened a few weeks earlier, maybe he'd blame Leighton for caring, the exclusivity she felt towards Reid. But being where they are now – albeit their relationship is still shaky at best – he can't blame her.
"Yeah," Leighton answers.
"But you're going to stay." Of course she's going to stay, Morgan thinks, it wouldn't even be hard to profile by an outsider. He had been wrong all along, Reid and Leighton do care for each other, maybe even love each other, their personalities just often make it difficult for them to communicate.
"Is that inappropriate?" Leighton asks, a little more defensive than she'd intended.
"No." Morgan shrugs. Leighton casts down her eyes, a small smile tugging at a corner of her mouth beyond her control. "You're his baby girl," Morgan adds.
Leighton looks up, eyes wide, and smiles again, still mostly to herself. "I suppose I am." She's never thought of it that way, but hearing it from Morgan himself takes her completely by surprise. Maybe she is Reid's baby girl. It's not an unpleasant thought. Leighton doesn't know if this kindness on Morgan's part will last, or if it's just something he grants her because they're both so worried about Reid. But she hopes it will.
"You guys go ahead," Morgan says to Garcia, who just looks at the both of them for a second, smiles, and then follows the others. "Mind if I join you?" Morgan asks, sitting down across from Leighton.
"Not at all," she answers.
They don't say a word to each other, they don't need to. Reid's their common ground; he's where they started from when Leighton first joined the team, someone Morgan held onto in the hopes of avoiding alienating Leighton completely, and someone Leighton turned to whenever Morgan said or did something out of thinly disguised anger. Most of all, Reid was a safety net between them, buffering Morgan's blows and Leighton's indignation.
(7:37am)
He wakes up without being able to open his eyes, they feel heavy and his head feels like they stuffed it with cotton balls. It takes him another twenty minutes before the medication has somewhat worn off and he's able to pry his eyes open. There's a nurse hovering over him before he's registered his surroundings. He can hear a heart monitor beeping to his right, his heart rate slow and calm.
"Dr Reid," the nurse asks. "Do you know where you are?"
"In the ICU," he answers, and it's only when he realizes that they're routine questions after surgery that he knows he made it through the operation in one piece, and still seems to have enough faculties about him to realize things like that at all.
"Very good. I would have settled for 'hospital'," the nurse jokes. Reid opens his eyes with great difficulty, but is able to discern curls of red hair. "Do you know what happened to you?"
"I had brain surgery."
"That's right." The redhead nurse fiddles with something – he assumes it's his IV – then stands up straight next to him, making notes on his medical chart. "We'll wheel you down once the doctor's been down to see you. In the mean time, you should rest."
Reid gives up on trying to keep his eyes open the moment the nurse's final words are spoken. The sedatives are still weighing down on him heavily and he feels no particular need to fight it. He drifts back off into sleep. Doctor Monroe comes to see him half an hour later, shining a light in his eyes again; the relief he feels when the light doesn't hurt (not like it did before), and when there's no headache following, is so great that it almost makes him cry.
The headaches had plagued him for almost a year now, and somewhere deep inside he'd already accepted the doctors would never find something physically wrong with him. But now, the prospect of healing and getting better and be free of them forever, it's almost too much to hope for.
He doesn't realize he's dozed off again until he opens his eyes to a new room, one filled with soft whispers and a pair of warm hands on his arm. Blinking a few times, Leighton comes into focus—he feels his own arm twists uncooperatively, but Leighton seems to get the idea. "Hey," she says, one hand moving down his arm to take him by the hand, their fingers intertwining.
He's fairly sure he manages a small smile. "Hey."
"We've got to stop meeting like this, you know," Leighton says, only now feeling the semblance of relief and optimism. Maybe it's because she's able to see Reid again, just like that time he got infected by Anthrax. It's the uncertainty Leighton doesn't know how to deal with. But seeing him now, still woozy from the medication, it somehow reassures her that Reid will pull through this, with her helping him.
"What?" Reid frowns.
Leighton chuckles. "Never mind," she says, and sees Morgan shake his head in amusement. "How are you feeling?" Leighton asks, giving Reid's hand a squeeze. The surgical scar starts in his hairline and runs further back over his skull; only the hair surrounding the scar had been removed.
"I'm not really feeling anything right now," Reid says. It's true, whatever pain medication they had him on was doing the trick fine, even though he's slightly aware his scalp has been stapled up, the wound exposed. But after the pain he's suffered the past year it's hardly a matter of great urgency. "Did you get hold of my mom?" he asks, but can't remember if he asked Leighton to call her.
"JJ went to pick her up," Leighton answers. After the doctor's news earlier this morning, Garcia had called JJ with the update. As it turned out, JJ had left for Las Vegas as soon as Reid went into surgery.
"By plane?" Reid asks, his eyelids still heavy. "She hates flying."
"There wasn't anyone at the hospital that could stop her," another voice, Garcia's, fills up the room. Reid narrows his eyes to bring her face into focus. He wonders where he left his glasses; he could really use them now. "Hey, Reid," Garcia says, her voice small and frail, and she moves to stand next to Morgan.
"Hey, Garcia."
"You gave us all quite a scare," Garcia says, and takes hold of Reid's other hand.
"Sorry." Reid closes his eyes again.
"Get some sleep, kid," Morgan says. "We'll be around." Morgan looks at Leighton, and when their eyes meet there's an understanding there—he can see it now, the bond Leighton and Reid have, formed excruciatingly slow over the past three years, but now that it was there it seemed unbreakable.
Morgan backs out of the room with Garcia, leaving Leighton behind by Reid's bedside. She stays there for a few minutes longer, until she's sure Reid's fallen asleep. Then she disentangles her hand from Reid's, and sits down in the large armchair next to the bed. Something crackles against the fabric of the chair; the letter Reid wrote his mom. Leighton grabs it from her back pocket, stares at it for a moment, then tosses it in the trash can.
There's no need for it anymore.
(12:14pm)
The others come and see Reid through the rest of the morning. More than one of them urges Leighton to go home and get some sleep, or at the least something to eat and a hot shower, but she can't. She's not sure what it is, but she's afraid to let Reid out of her sight. If she does, then maybe they'll end up like they did before, apart, and she's not sure she can go back to that. Reid's headaches had given her an excuse to take care of him, to touch him, and even though she's overjoyed and more than a little grateful their cause had been established, and fixed, she's afraid of their bond unraveling again.
For the first time ever she truly realizes how much she doesn't want that to happen.
Morgan and Garcia stop by Reid's apartment on his own request to get some things for him. They manage to unearth his glasses from between a few stacks of books, take some books with them, and a fresh outfit or two.
JJ arrives with Reid's mom around noon.
Peering inside her son's room, Diana Reid can see Leighton in an armchair next to Spencer's bed, asleep in a very awkward position, loosely covered by her jacket. "Has she been here the whole time?" Diana asks, hugging her shoulder bag close to her body. It's the first time she lays eyes on Leighton, but she's exactly the way Spencer had described her. Tall, but not as tall as Spencer, not quite as skinny either, and wavy brown hair that she's growing out.
"We've been trying to get her to go home," Garcia says, joining the conversation.
Diana shakes her head. "She won't leave." That she knows for sure. If Leighton's been here since yesterday, and is still by her son's side, there's a good chance she feels the same way about Spencer as he feels about her. Spencer's never told her about his feelings in so many words, but a mother knows these things.
"I'll tell her you're here," JJ says, taking a step forward.
"No." Diana puts a hand on JJ's shoulder. "Let her sleep."
JJ nods her understanding, and lets Diana pass her. JJ wants to go in and see Reid herself, but thinks that for now it's best to leave him alone with his mom. It surprises her to see Leighton's still here, even though she suspects Leighton's relationship with Reid has changed since the last time they discussed Leighton's reluctance to go sit by Reid's bedside. JJ smiles to herself, she can't help it.
"Hey, mom," Reid says when his mom enters the room. She's careful at first, but when she sees his scar she rushes to be by his side.
"Spencer—" she says, on the brink of tears.
Reid doesn't move. He hates to see his mother in such distress, and the thought that it was caused by him makes him feel even worse. "Mom, I'm okay."
"Why didn't you tell me about the headaches?" Diana puts a hand on Reid's cheek.
"I didn't want to worry you."
"I always worry, Spencer," Diana shakes her head disapprovingly. "I'm your mother. I always worry."
"I know, I'm sorry."
When Leighton wakes up two hours later she can feel she hasn't gotten nearly enough sleep, but she becomes acutely aware that there's someone else in the room with her, sitting on the other side of Reid's bed. "Mrs Reid," Leighton exclaims, but keeps her voice down; Reid's fallen asleep again.
"Diana, please," Diana says, waving off the official title. But she can see Leighton almost blush. "He's told me so much about you I forget you don't know me." There was a time Leighton was the main subject of her son's letters, and still features on occasion, especially since Leighton joined his team. It was proof enough of how important a person Leighton is in Spencer's life.
Leighton's eyes go wide. "He's told you about me?" she asks.
"In his letters." Diana nods, but sees Leighton cast down her eyes shyly. Another thing Spencer had told her about. By the looks of her, Leighton isn't all that different from her son in that respect. "Thank you for taking care of him," Diana says, making Leighton look up at her again.
"It's not just me." Leighton shakes her head. It might seem that way because she's been here the entire time, but she has her own reasons for that. "The rest of the team—"
"The rest of the team!" Mrs Reid exclaims. She gets up from her chair and walks around the bed until she reaches Leighton. Diana is taller than Leighton, just like Reid. "My son has a brilliant mind," Diana says, with an awe in her voice only a mother can achieve. "Most brilliant mind I've ever encountered. I couldn't be more proud of him. But there's one thing he's been known to neglect." Diana points an index finger at Leighton's chest, right where her heart is. "Rest of the team doesn't take care of that."
(8:07pm)
"'That isn't important,' said Hollis," Leighton reads aloud, settled back comfortably in the armchair next to Reid's bed."And it was not. It was gone. When life is over it is like a flicker of bright film, an instant on the screen, all of its prejudices and passions condensed and illumined for an instant on space, and before you could cry out, 'There was a happy day, there a bad one, there an evil face, there a good one,' the film burned to a cinder, the screen went dark."
Leighton's not a big reader, not in the way that Reid is, but she thinks she's already grown to like this book. She wonders if that has to do with the actual words on the page, or with Reid.
"What—" Reid's voice stops her reading. He must have just woken up again. "What are you doing?" he asks, trying to sit up straighter in the bed, but his pillow doesn't cooperate.
"I'm reading to you," Leighton answers, and gets up to help Reid. She rearranges the pillow under his head, careful not to move too much, smoothing down the edges. "Your mom got tired. I told her I'd take over from her."
Reid glances to his right. "She's still here," he says, looking at his mother. He knows he should have told her about the headaches sooner. What if the doctors hadn't been able to fix it, and all he'd left her with was that lousy letter he'd given to Leighton to keep safe? But how could he have told her about the fear that he'd turn out just like her? That's accusing her of things that weren't her fault to begin with.
"I don't think she'll leave before you get out of the hospital."
He smiles to himself. "This isn't how I pictured the two of you meeting," he says. It's funny, he'd always dreaded his mother meeting Leighton, afraid she might not approve, or do something to embarrass him. He knows he shouldn't think about his mother that way, because he loves her more than anything, but he can't help it. In many ways, he's ashamed of her. "What is this?" he asks when he feels a book touching his hand. He picks it up and studies the cover; it's one of his. "The Illustrated Man. One of my favorites."
"I know," Leighton says, wondering exactly how often Reid has imagined a scenario where she and his mother would meet.
He can see Leighton's tired, and he knows that he should probably tell her to get some sleep, but now that he's finally awake he'd like to hear her voice. "Could you—?" he starts carefully.
Leighton smiles. "I'll keep going."
Before Leighton gets the chance to sit back down, Reid calls out her name. "Leigh?" he says, because he has to. Things have to change; he has to change, and Leighton has to change for them to be able to meet in the middle. And he desperately wants that to happen, he wants them to give their relationship another shot. But he knows that will only happen if he starts communicating his feelings better.
"Yeah."
"Thanks for being here," he says.
"No problem." Leighton smiles softly. She sits back down, and searches for the page she was reading a minute ago. She's never done anything like this before, been there for someone for as long as her body would physically let her. Reid's the first person she's ever wanted to make the effort for.
"From this outer edge of his life, looking back, there was only one remorse," Leighton reads, very aware that Reid is listening to her every word, "and that was only that he wished to go on living. Did all dying people feel this way, as if they had never lived? Did life seem that short, indeed, over and done before you took a breath?"
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