A/N: I know the last two chapters haven't been as good as the first two, but I've kind of been working through a writer's block and I also needed some fillers in order to give Reid enough time to wake up. I also felt it was necessary to address how some of the other team members are feeling, so this chapter kind of focuses more on that. I promise things are going to get a lot better in chapter five!
The sun is radiating throughout the room, reflecting off every particle of dust that floats in the stale air when Morgan awakes again. He looks around drowsily, taking a moment to remember where he is at and why. At some point in the night, Morgan had let go of Reid's hand and turned his head in the other direction, burrowing his face into the unoccupied end of what turned out to be a very uncomfortable pillow. Morgan rubs his eyes and yawns, glancing down at his colleague mid-stretch.
Morgan rubs his forehead in frustration, forgetting about the bandage wrapped around his head until searing pain shoots across his skin and seems to delve all the way into his brain. He pulls away as if he's just touched a hot pan, and tries to alleviate the pain by focusing on Reid instead. The agent hasn't moved a muscle since last night, and Morgan wishes it were still dark in the room. Reid's wounds looked much better when it was dark. Now, the sunlight bounces off his forehead, intensifying every little detail of a laceration spanning nearly the entire length of his forehead. At least twelve stitches hold his swollen skin together. Morgan reaches out and brushes Reid's sandy brown hair away from his forehead, careful not to touch the cut.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Shit, Hotch!" Morgan jumps at the sound of his boss' chilling voice, cutting through the comfort of the silence like a winter breeze.
"I'm sorry." Hotch apologizes, stepping closer to the bed and observing two of his agents. Other than the grave look on his face, the first thing that Morgan notices about Hotch is that he has traded his jeans and tee-shirt for his usual suit and tie.
"Headed to the office?" Morgan asks, trying to sound casual despite being slightly angry that Hotch could possibly go to work as if nothing is happening here.
"Yes," Hotch nods, almost guiltily as his eyes divert to the floor. "We have to finish up our paperwork from yesterday's case, and then we have three more cases lined up behind that." He senses the disapproval in Morgan's eyes, and quickly adds, "Morgan, you and I both know we can't do anything here. People still need our help."
Morgan heaves a sigh. He knows that Hotch is right, but he still feels like his team is allowed to be selfish just this one time. The BAU spends almost every day of their lives' together, even their 'days off.' They've sculpted themselves into a family, and sometimes it's difficult for Morgan to remember that, with what they do, work comes before family. It isn't right, but it is just how things have to be.
"Don't worry. I've arranged for you to have two weeks' medical leave. Paid, of course."
"Hotch -" Morgan starts. The thought that Hotch would make him go back to work today had never crossed his mind, but two weeks seems like a bit much considering his injuries are fairly minor. Morgan is grateful of course, for he much prefers to stay beside Reid instead of hunting serial killers, but he also understands that he has an oath to uphold. When does it become acceptable to put personal matters before your duties as a federal agent? Morgan doesn't know the exact answer, but the fact that his best friend is lying in a hospital bed and may never stand up on his own again seems like a fairly reasonable exception - especially since it's his fault.
"Morgan," Hotch warns. There is a mutual, unspoken understanding that Hotch extended Morgan's medical leave for Reid's sake, rather than his own. Of course, Strauss could never know that. That woman doesn't seem to understand that this team is more than just a team, JJ's voice echoes inside of Morgan's head. It is something their liaison had said about their Section Chief when Reid had been kidnapped by Tobias Hankel. Strauss had been especially hard on them during that case, insisting that they act objectively. Love isn't objective, JJ had said to her, to the shock of everyone in the room. Strauss didn't say a word after that.
"I should get going," Hotch says, separating Morgan's reality from his memories. "Call if anything changes. And Morgan?"
"Yeah, Hotch?"
"Stay strong. For him." Hotch takes one last look at Reid, and Morgan can almost swear he sees sadness in Hotch's eyes before he turns and walks out, leaving the two alone again.
Morgan stands up, holding onto the side of Reid's bed as the room tips on its side for just a second. He hopes the effects of his concussion will wear off soon. Once the world comes back into focus, he crosses the room and picks up a black duffel bag that hadn't been there the night before. It has a yellow sticky-note attached to the handle.
Morgan,
Dropped this off last night. I didn't want to disturb you.
P.s. Your cologne smells just as bad in the bottle as it does on your clothes.
Xoxo,
Jennifer
A smile plays at Morgan's lips, and he suddenly becomes aware at how thirsty he is. He digs through his bag and pulls out a shirt, jeans, and boxers. He's just about to untie his hospital gown when a soft knock interrupts him.
"No need to stop because of us, Chocolate Thunder. I was just starting to enjoy the show." In walks Penelope Garcia, stark opposite from the previous night. She wears a dress made of various colored triangles sewn together, her hair and makeup are perfect, and there is bright-colored jewelry adorning any inch of her body where jewelry is permitted. JJ stands behind her in a plain pantsuit, fiddling with her FBI badge to avoid further embarrassment over almost seeing Morgan in his birthday suit. Garcia on the other hand, is shameless.
"Baby Girl," Morgan scorns jokingly, "Not in front of the children."
"Oh, I'm a child now?" JJ accuses. "Need I remind everyone about the action figures in your -"
"Okay!" Morgan claps his hands together as a distraction, but it is too late. She has already hooked Garcia, who stares between the two of them in curious amusement.
"You have action figures?" She asks Morgan, obviously trying to keep herself from laughing aloud.
"Ladies, ladies. Do you mind? I was just about to get out of this thing and find some coffee."
"I can help you with that." Garcia bats her eyelashes and runs a manicured hand up the length of Morgan's right arm. JJ rolls her eyes.
"Not necessary." The second blonde agent pulls a brown paper bag from behind her back, shoving it into Morgan's chest and walking past the two flirts, trying her best to ignore their disgustingness as she focuses her attention on Reid instead.
"Breakfast?" Morgan comments happily. "You are a God-send, Jennifer Jareau."
"Hey, it was my idea!" Garcia proclaims, mock jealousy dripping from her chirpy voice. Morgan kisses her on the cheek and dives into his breakfast. He hadn't noticed how hungry he was until he saw the juicy bacon inside. He almost forgets to chew before swallowing.
"He looks so peaceful," JJ coos, mostly to herself as she runs her fingers through Reid's soft, curly hair.
"He hasn't moved all night," Morgan comments as he digests the last bit of his food, washing it down with a big gulp of black coffee.
"I know," JJ responds, a teasing smirk crossing her face as she meets Morgan's eyes. They turn from content to mortified in a matter of seconds. "I saw you two lovebirds."
Morgan turns his head away, not sure how to react to JJ's banter. He isn't ashamed to have held Reid's hand, but he hadn't banked on anyone seeing it either. Any other time, he'd shoot right back at her, but he can't seem to grasp onto his true personality for any longer than a few minutes at a time. It almost feels like a sin to joke across their friend's unconscious body.
Sensing Morgan's discomfort, JJ turns back to Reid, her eyes trailing from his head down past his waist. She tries not to think about the damage done to his legs, but it is all that's been on her mind all night. She'd tossed and turned in her bed until four in the morning before she finally decided to get up and take a hot shower to calm her nerves. It hadn't helped any.
"He's gonna be okay, you know? He's Reid." Garcia approaches JJ, who smiles sadly when the analyst puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We should let him rest."
"Actually," Morgan says suddenly, his eyes flickering between the girls and the plastic bag full of his personal belongings that he'd dropped in the corner last night, "Would you mind sitting with him for a bit?" He directs his question at JJ, and then turns to Garcia. "I could use your help with something."
JJ looks between the two of them confusedly. Morgan had been so adamant on staying with Reid before, so she hadn't expected him to be willing to leave his side for a single moment. As much as she would enjoy some alone time with Reid, she also has to consider how serious Hotch had been when he'd told the team that they have a lot of work to do despite everything that's happened.
"Please," Morgan asks again. He doesn't know when he suddenly gained so much mannerism, but shudders at the thought of what happened the last time he said "please" to someone. If he hadn't, they wouldn't be standing in this hospital room right now. "We won't be long."
"Okay," JJ finally agrees. She hates being torn between work and her friends, but she's sure Hotch will let it slide today. And if he doesn't, well, that's what Rossi is for. The man is calm, classic, and somehow really good at swaying their superior when no one else can. Perhaps it is because Rossi was one of the founders of the BAU, and that makes Hotch feel as if he owes the older agent something.
"Thank you." Morgan turns to leave, stopping at the door when he feels two sets of eyes burning a hole in the back of his shaved head. "What?"
"You're going like that?" JJ's eyes sweep over Morgan, who is still in a paper-thin gown, thick blue socks, and has a sling hanging loosely around his neck from where he'd taken his arm out of it the night before.
"Right," he mutters, trying to hide the redness on his face as he picks up his change of clothes and heads into the bathroom. He emerges a few minutes later, fully dressed. It makes him look a lot better, despite the bandages around his head and arm.
"I don't think so, gorgeous." To Morgan's confusion, Garcia strides up to him and jerks the sling out of his hands. He'd taken it off while changing his clothes, and should've known he wouldn't get by with it as long as Garcia and JJ are around.
Morgan sighs, but doesn't pull away when Garcia stands on her tippy-toes and reattaches the fabric around his neck. "Garcia, I'm fine. I don't need it," he tries to reason as she nudges him to insert his bandaged arm back into the sling.
"I don't care," she replies matter-of-factly, staring at him until he complies.
"Fine," he huffs, clearly not happy over losing an argument against her. "Can we just go? I want to get back before he wakes up."
An hour later, two FBI agents take a seat in a coffee shop inside of a mall. One of them is weighed down with bags from four different shops and a coffee with more sugar than actual coffee, while the other has just one bag and a cup of black caffeine.
"Garcia," Morgan laughs, "We came here for one thing. How did you end up spending $400?" He waves his bag in front of her face, indicating the one thing that they'd walked all the way to the mall to find. She swats him away, a look of sheer misunderstanding on her face.
"Derek," she proclaims as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, "All of this," Garcia waves her hands in front of her face, her bangles clinking together loudly, "Is not free."
"Yeah, well…" Morgan cups her chin in his hand. She looks into his eyes dreamily, and Morgan can't help but smirk. He knows he has that kind of power over women, but he never boasts about it and he certainly doesn't use it to his advantage, despite what Reid would say about the matter. Morgan can hear it now - Reid's mildly-pitched voice going at what sounds like a hundred words per minute as he rattles off some ridiculous statistics about how, to Morgan's disagreement, his looks have gotten him far in life. As annoying as it is, Morgan can't deny that he misses it.
His thoughts are interrupted when Garcia's hand wraps around his wrist, pulling his own hand away from her face and placing it gently on the table. He looks down as her bright pink finger grazes over the back of his hand, knowing what's coming next.
"You know, hot stuff, you're always accusing Reid of building these walls around him and not letting any of us in, but you're worse." Morgan opens his mouth to protest and then closes it again, hating the fact that Garcia is right. Morgan is the kind of person who worries about everyone around him while neglecting his own needs. It's always worked for him, and he'd like to think that it's helped shaped the strong person that he is today. Now, he isn't so sure.
An image of Reid, unconscious and bloodied in the passenger seat of Morgan's car, flashes before his eyes. A familiar tightness squeezes at his chest, the same sensation he'd experienced when he felt for Reid's pulse and got nothing more than cold skin instead. As hard as it is for him to admit, he'd thought Reid was dead in that moment. Morgan is ashamed of himself for have given up on him so quickly.
"I want to see it," he suddenly says, to his own surprise just as much as Garcia's. She looks at him in shock. When she'd initiated this conversation, Garcia had hoped to get Morgan to open up to her about what happened that night, not to make such a painful request.
"Honey, I don't know if -"
"Garcia," Morgan interrupts. His mind has been made, and Garcia nods her head silently, knowing it cannot be changed.
"Okay. My car is at the hospital. We'll walk back and I can drive you."
"Thanks, Mama. You're the best."
"I don't need you to tell me that," Garcia says, forcing herself to shine even though she has a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.