Warning: If you have any triggering bad memories of hospital experiences, then reader discretion is advised.
~ oo ~ o0oo, 000, ooo0, o ~ 0, oooo, o ~ o0o, o0, oo, 0o ~
A blinding flash cut through the air, thunder rolling and shaking the earth. The world was dark. Not the kind of dark that occurs when the sun has set and night has taken its hold. No, it was the kind of dark that formed when the clouds were layered so thick that it might as well have been night. A fuzzy ceiling of grey and blue loomed over the world.
The thick clouds above were a firing squad, the earth below their target. The sky was a battle field and anything or anyone who dared to step foot outside was sure to be caught in the crossfire. The world around them was soaked, muddy ground squelching beneath their feet with every step they took. Cold liquid bullets rained down, exploding like tiny water balloons wherever they hit their skin. Water seeped into their clothing and clung to their hair. Everything was wet. Truly, the sky was drowning the earth.
But that wasn't going to stop them. They were on the job, and nothing was going to get in their way, not even the wrath of the heavens. Hearts pounded within their ribcages, caution turned up high and senses on full alert. A flash of a memory briefly shot through his mind as he pressed his back against the exterior wall of the barn. "This time, we don't split up." Just as quickly as it has surfaced it faded away again, his mind returning to the job. The confrontation was at hand. Whomever they were looking for, however this was going to end, all that separated them from the answers was a thin wooden wall.
A strong wind howled around the corners of the frail looking building, ripping through the trees as it made their branches dance and their leaves rustled violently. The metallic surface of the Smith & Wesson was cold to the touch, water from the rain running down his exposed arms and some of it dripping off the end of its three inch barrel. He ignored the cold, even as it was aggravated by the fierce current of air and his skin became covered in goosebumps. Slowly they edged their way along the barn wall, nearing the front opening. He stopped when Morgan lightly tapped him on the shoulder, grabbing his attention before signaling that he was going around the back. After receiving a silent nod of understanding the other profiler moved in the opposite direction and soon disappeared around the corner of the rectangular building. The rest of them continued on as before.
Reaching the front of the barn they could see the wide opening, relieved to find that the barn doors where not closed as that would have just made things a bit more complicated. He inched closer, going on until he was just barely covered at the edge of the gap in the wall. Not that the thin wood layer would do much if whomever was in there decided to open fire on them, but it was still better than nothing. He glanced over at Jay-Jay, who stood at the opposite end of the gap. She was just as drenched as he was, her long blond hair darkened ever so slightly by the water. For a moment their eyes met, silent communications of shared thoughts and fears being easily understood without so much as a word having to be said. She gave him a small nod, signaling that she was in place and ready. Having received the confirmation he squeezed his eyes shut and for a few seconds rested his head against the wet wooden barrier behind him, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation they were about to face. He took a few deep breaths of the cool, moist air, willing his heart to stop drumming so violently in his chest and his angst to die down. This was it. The end game. Their move. Check.
"F.B.I.!" Turning his head to face the barn opening he loudly announced their presence, not daring to peek inside just yet. The prospect of potentially having a gun pointed at his head, or at a hostage if they were really unlucky, wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to. They waited, silently, for a response. Seconds ticked by, but nothing came. There was no voice, none of the usual expected "Leave!" or "Get out of here or I'll kill them!". None of that, not even the sound of movement. Nothing.
Another deep breath. Inhale, exhale, repeat. There wasn't much of a choice left now. If they weren't going to get a response then they'll have to go in. He tightened his grip on the gun, his finger positioned close to the trigger. Not for the first time in his life he was thankful for the protective layer of kevlar which at least shielded his torso. Slowly he raised the gun to his chest. Ready… Set… In one swift movement he left the cover of the barn wall and stepped out in front of the barn entrance, pointing the revolver ahead of him. Ready to shoot if he needed to. Ready to face whatever terror may lurk inside. He was, however, not truly prepared for what he found.
The barn was mostly empty. The entirety of its interior was illuminated by the orange glow from a single strong light which hung from the ceiling. Everything inside seemed to be dry and warm. The walls were lined with rectangular hay bales, the dry golden foliage having also been strewn across the floor to create a soft, semi-natural carpet of storts. And right in the middle, placed directly beneath the light, there was a chess table and two chairs. One vacant, one occupied. Reid's heart froze, arms dropping slowly as he lowered his gun. The man in the barn wasn't a threat, or at least he didn't perceive him as one. And yet the sight of his familiar face rattled him with shock, disbelief, confusion, and the familiar faint tint of betrayal and anger. He didn't know what to think or what to do, so he just stood there out in the rain and stared.
"Gideon?" Finally he voiced his confusion, questioning whether or not he was actually seeing the elder man. His voice was quiet, so much so that he doubted that it was even audible over the noise of the storm. It didn't make sense. Why? How? This shouldn't be possible, and yet at the same time he was right there.
"Spencer, glad you could make it." His former mentor greeted, motioning with his hands for Reid to come in. Slowly and suspiciously the young doctor stepped into the enclosed space of the barn. He was surprised how warm the inside actually was, the cozy air folding around him like a soft blanket. It was as if the inside of the barn was a whole different world. A small bubble which was protected from the storm raging outside, creating an instant feeling of chrysalism.
"What are you doing here?" He questioned, unable to help the smallest sting of anger that slipped into his tone. Memories of abandonment drifted around in his head, darkening his mood. It wasn't so much that he was mad at his former mentor and father figure, but more a case of disappointment and a feeling of hurt. He still hadn't fully gotten over the fact that Gideon had left him, just like William had, and he wasn't sure if he ever would. Yet, simultaneously he was also, glad. Part of him truly was happy to see him again. But mainly, he was just very confused.
"That's not the right question. There's something else you should be asking." Gideon quickly corrected him, using the straightforward tutoring voice Reid had heard so often when he was still under his wing. Spencer frowned, wondering exactly what the ex-profiler meant. The right question? What would be more important to know? What should he be asking then? He couldn't see how such a simple question could be wrong.
"Come on, you're a smart kid. You should have figured it out by now." Gideon urged him on, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. It was as if he honestly expected Reid to just suddenly know the answer off the top of his head. Sure, Reid was good at figuring things out, that was one of the few strong points he was willing to admit he had, but it wasn't as if he was omniscient. There were still a lot of things left for him to learn, and many things he didn't quite understand. One of which being the current situation.
Still, something told him that Gideon had a point. There was something else going on, something bigger than just his old mentor randomly showing up out of nowhere, in the middle of their case. The case… Where were the others? He spun around, facing toward the barn entrance and gazing out at the stormy landscape beyond. They were nowhere to be seen. Jay-Jay, who was supposed to have his back when he came it, had seemingly disappeared into thin air, and there was no sign that Morgan was ever planning on actually coming in through the back.
Now that he had started thinking about it, more and more flaws became evident within the whole situation. Why were they even here? Where even was 'here'? What was the case they were supposed to be working on? The more he questioned it, the more everything just seemed to be out of order. He honestly didn't know why he had come to the barn in the first place, he just did. It wasn't logical. It wasn't possible…
It wasn't real.
"Exactly." He turned to face Gideon again, instantly noting the wide, proud smile on man's face. It was like his very expression was congratulating him, saying 'well done, you've figured it out.' As the realization sunk in everything began to clear up, his thinking suddenly feeling so much smoother, his reasoning all the more sensible. He could feel the new control he had over his own decisions within this surreal world. So this is what it felt like, to become conscious within a dream. He'd read about lucid dreaming, but he'd never experienced it first hand himself before, nor had he ever had much of an interest in learning how to do it. This was a whole new realm for him, uncharted grounds. Caught up in a momentary ambedo he looked down at his hands, slowly closing them and then opening them back up, taking note of every small detail. It was fascinating, how incredibly vivid everything was. He would have never thought that his mind could generate something which appeared so realistic. It amazed him. It scared him. Both a wonderful and terrifying prospect at the same time. He looked back up at the figure which resembled his former mentor and gazed at him in wonder. "If this is all just a dream, then you're not really here."
'Gideon' gave a single nod, confirming his suspicions. "Of course not. I'm just an illusion. A figment conjured up by your subconscious. Just like everything else." He acknowledged, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Reid found it especially interesting that the figure before him, this phantom Gideon, seemed to fit the character of the real Gideon so perfectly. It was scarily convincing, the sort of thing that made him doubt what was real and what was not. Was this what it felt like to hallucinate? What his mom felt like whenever she-
No. He shook his head, trying to discard the line of thought. No need to go into that right now. There were more pressing matters to deal with. For one, he still had a lot of unanswered questions. Phantom Gideon gestured for him to sit, and so he did, making himself comfortable in the previously vacant wooden chair in the middle of the barn. He looked down at the chess board that stood between them. The game appeared already part way in, with pieces spread across the board, but nothing having been taken just yet.
"What am I doing here?" He asked, staring at the black and white pieces on the board which all appeared to be actual living warriors, all anxiously awaiting the continuation of their battle. He could now understand why everything else in this world existed, it was a dream after all and in dreams anything and everything makes just about the same amount of sense. But that still didn't explain why he was here. Right now, he seemed to be the odd one out.
"See, now you're asking the right question." Phantom Gideon approved with a smile. Spencer looked up at him once more. For a moment he wondered why exactly he had subconsciously chosen Gideon to be the one to show up and begin explaining things to him. Not that he didn't appreciate his guidance, but as mentioned before, the man's sudden departure was still somewhat of a fresh scar to his emotional well being. Eventually he settled on the conclusion that it was probably due to Gideon being the first real father figure he ever had. Honestly, he was a bit grateful that his subconscious had chosen Gideon over his biological father. Now that was a confrontation he wasn't planning on having anytime soon.
Growing annoyed with the thoughts of deadbeat dads he quickly decided to instead turn his attention back to figuring out for himself what exactly was going on. Vague memories of pain and confusion surfaced, giving him hints to possible answers without actually telling him anything at all. Still, he could feel his heart sink in his chest. He may not have know what specifically was going on, but he had the sense that, whatever it was, it wasn't good.
"I'm in a really bad shape, aren't I?" He spoke softly, dreading the possibility and yet somehow knowing that it was the case. Perhaps it was something he had noticed earlier and just couldn't quite place now, or something he had picked up on subconsciously which created a gut feeling of sorts, despite the fact that he had no way of actually feeling his real gut at the time being. But whatever it was, it caused him to already know the answer even before phantom Gideon replied.
"Unfortunately, yes." The phantom confirmed, as predicted. Then again, what else could he possibly have expected. Their minds were literally one and the same, Reid quietly scolded himself for forgetting about this little fact. Regardless, there was still something wrong.
"Come on Spencer, you need to be a bit more specific." Phantom Gideon pushed, seemingly displeased with Reid's thought process.
"But I-I don't know what's wrong." Reid stammered, honestly not knowing where to even begin. Of course he needed to be more specific. A simple 'something's wrong' wasn't going to cut it if he actually wanted to get to the bottom of why he was in this state. He'll have to figure out the details. That, however, proved to be easier said than done.
"Of course you do. You noticed the signs before, didn't you?" Phantom Gideon continued to urge him on. Of course, 'Gideon' probably had access to his subconscious information, something which Reid himself couldn't quite get to. This made it seem somewhat unfair, the idea of phantom Gideon knowing things which he didn't despite the fact that they literally shared a mind. "Think, what's the last thing you remember? How did you lose consciousness?"
Reid's brow furrowed with concentration as he scanned his recent memories as best he could. That's when he noticed another worrying factor. There seemed to be gaps in his memories, spaces where he knew something was supposed to be, but which were now blank and empty. This, for someone who was used to remembering practically everything, was unsettling indeed. And the memories which were present appeared slowly and much more dim to what he was used to. Still, he pushed forward, determined to solve this problem regardless of how sluggish his mind may have been.
The things which he could remember were quite literally a jumbled up mess. It was as if someone had dropped the contents of a thousand piece puzzle right into his lap, with at least ten percent of the pieces being missing and the rest being completely disorganized. From the snippets of memory he managed to salvage he could vaguely recall the taste of blood, blinding lights and a few others. There were two specific things which stood out though, those being a peculiar high pitched ring and the sudden feeling of impending danger. He could remember the little red flag going up in his mind. He had recognized these warning signs before, having simply been unable to identify them in his previous, fuzzy state of mind.
"An aura." He spoke quietly and with realization, the dots finally connecting themselves. "I had a seizure."
"That's right." Phantom Gideon confirmed with a nod, patiently waiting for him to continue. "What does that tell you?"
"I'm not sure." He admitted honestly. A seizure could mean many things, it wasn't exactly linked to any one health problem in particular. Head injury, drug overdose, poisoning, lack of oxygen in the brain, certain illnesses, tumors… any of which could theoretically be a cause. Though admittedly some were much less likely than others. Standing alone it wasn't exactly useful to tell what was going on, though it did at least help explain why his recent memory was so messed up.
"What were your other symptoms?" Phantom Gideon voiced this thoughts for him, one step ahead yet again. It was a good motivator though, and a relatively decent way of keeping his mind on track, despite it being strange having someone else constantly say out loud what you're thinking.
Again Spencer raked his mind in search for the answer, only to end up with yet another pile of incomprehensible nonsense. It was hopeless. Everything from the last few days was so mixed up that someone may as well have thrown it all into a blender. It was utterly useless, which annoyed him to no end. Is this what it felt like to have a normal memory? If it was he would genuinely feel sorry for anyone who had to deal with this on a daily basis. Not only was it the most frustrating thing in the world to be unable to recall the simplest of details, but it also indicated that whatever was affecting him was making an impact on his cognitive ability. A negative one by the looks of it, and that was a very terrifying possibility.
"I don't know, I can't- I can't remember." He admitted quietly, sinking back into his chair and wishing he could just wake up. Though try as he might, the dream world simply wouldn't dissolve around him. He was stuck, for now, with no way of getting back to the others until his body recovered enough from whatever was causing it damage. Trapped in a dream. For some reason the thought was so discouraging. "I had a headache." He noted, his voice soft with disappointment in his inability to remember much else.
"Fever, chills, nausea, fatigue." Phantom Gideon listed, apparently finally deciding to tap into his subconscious resources to give Reid something to work with. Reid wondered if it was possible for phantom Gideon to grow impatient with him, considering he was only a figment of his imagination. Ridiculous as it may sound, he felt as though he was disappointing his former mentor, regardless of how unreal he may have been. He was supposed to be a genius for crying out loud, and yet here he was! Half conscious, stuck inside his own head and unable to think of even four basic symptoms, the presence or absence of which could quite literally be the indicators of the difference between life and death. Damn it he hated this. He hated the uncertainty. He hated the confusion and the fear, the fact that his mind was practically useless.
Sinking even further back into his chair he breathed in a great lungful of air and released a heavy sigh. What did it even matter? Even if he figured out what was wrong, of what use would it be? It wasn't like he would be able tell anyone. Something told him that he wasn't going to be in a decently conscious state anytime soon, and telepathy wasn't exactly a skill he possessed either, so he had absolutely no way of communicating with the team. The team. Reid wondered how they were doing.
"It's hard to think when you're mind's under attack, isn't it." Reid stared at the chess pieces as he let the words from his subconscious sink in. He flinched in surprize as another loud explosion of thunder shook the entirety of the dream world, the rain which pounded on the barn roof having only grown more fierce since earlier. As the wind continued to howl mournfully outside he wondered whether this small, fragile barn would be capable of lasting through the storm. How long will it be before the walls were blown over? How much time? He couldn't keep all the worst case scenarios from making their way through his thoughts. What if this was it? What if this was how he died? Alone, caught in a fictional cobweb conjured up by his own mind. What if he never got to say goodbye to the team? How long would they miss him? What if he never got to see his mother again? What if… always 'what if?'
"Am I going to make it out?" His voice was broken, disheartened. There was nothing he could really do about this. He was completely powerless to change anything. Once again he's become nothing more than a liability. He couldn't help the team, heck he couldn't even help himself. Useless.
"Well, that depends." Gideon spoke quietly, gently, no doubt recognizing his other self's discouragement.
"On what?" Reid questioned halfheartedly, slightly curious about the answer and yet not really expecting it to be overly uplifting at all.
"On whether you're going to give up or not."
~ 0o, 000 ~ 000, 0o, o ~ 0o0o, o0, 0o ~ ooo, o, o ~ 0o00, 000, oo0, o0o ~ 0, o, o0, o0o, ooo ~
The hospital waiting room area was excruciatingly quiet. Aside from the occasional bustle of nurses or other medical personnel, there was little to no human sound to be heard. Though the silence attempted to shatter itself with the usual hospital ambience, it didn't quite have the same life to it. There was no one else in the waiting room aside from himself, and Hotch could have sworn that if he had to listen to the slow ticking of the wall clock for much longer he was going to lose it.
It's been hours now. The day had come and gone and he still had no idea as to what exactly was going on. He hasn't yet heard so much as a word from anybody here since he was separated from the team's youngest back when they had first arrived. It worried him. A lot. They wouldn't have been busy this long if it was anything simple. It wouldn't have taken this much time to finish tests, would it? It certainly didn't help much that he had absolutely no idea what to expect.
Being stuck here with nothing but his own thoughts to accompany him wasn't doing him much good. It only allowed more opportunity for dreaded scenarios and guilt to filter their way into his head. More than once he found himself dwelling on the idea that he could have prevented this. There was no reason why things had to progress to this level. There were so many things he could have done differently, so many things he should have picked up on earlier, that the idea of him allowing this to happen was an utter disgrace. The smallest bit of logic inside of him tried to remind him that he shouldn't be blaming himself, that in all honesty this was out of his control. It's fascinating how easily logic can be drowned out by emotion.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Running a tired hand down his face he looked up at the ever ticking clock and wondered for the umpteenth time that day whether or not he should risk leaving, even for a short while, to go back to the hotel and freshen up. He couldn't believe he was still dressed in his sleep wear. Well, half of his sleepwear if you considered that the clean shirt he had to change into after the whole nosebleed incident wasn't technically part of his usual bedtime outfit. Regardless, it still felt awkward to be dressed so informally in public. Despite this, he didn't ever really dare to wander off too far, worried that if he did he might miss Reid's doctors when they finally decided to come fill him in on what the hell was going on. And so he stayed, allowing his cycle of thoughts to continue.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Hotch." Turning his head in the direction of his name he was greeted with the oh so welcome sight of the rest of the team hastily making their way into the waiting room and towards him. In the back of his mind he noted that they had come off work early, but that wasn't really a concern at the time as he quickly stood up, indescribably grateful to finally have familiar people around to talk to.
"How is he?" Jay-Jay anxiously asked as they approached. Gathering around the five profilers formed a circular group, all burning with similar questions and concerns. The day had been a long one, far longer than they would have liked, and now that they finally had a chance to all be together and talk things through they wanted answers as soon as possible.
"I don't know. I haven't heard anything from them yet." Hotch admitted disappointedly. It still worried him that the doctors haven't gotten back to them yet. The only thing he did know was that, last time he saw him, Reid was being taken to the ER to be assessed. That, of course, had been several hours ago. He remembered them briefly mentioning something about the ICU, but other than that information was scarce. Watching as their expressions fell he sighed internally. He really didn't want to worry them anymore than they already were. "Anything happen with the case?"
"Not really, things have been quiet for the most part. We did get the tox report back. She was killed with an overdose of Fentanyl, just like the others." Emily answered, glad that the killer seemed to have taken a break for the time being. No new bodies have turned up over the past two days, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good because of course nobody wanted anyone else to die, but bad because not only did the lack of new evidence make their jobs all the more tricky, but they were also pretty sure that the unsub was going to strike again eventually. His profile thus far suggested that he wasn't the type to stop, so for now it was only a question of time.
"Hotch, man, you look terrible." Morgan mentioned with a light, half hearted chuckle as he analyzed the team leader from head to toe. The man has certainly seen better days. Morgan didn't think any of them had ever seen Hotch with such an untidy appearance. Despite the situation, the unusualness of it all was just funny enough to lighten the mood ever so slightly.
"I'm sure I do." Hotch agreed with a slight smile, the best he could manage. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at his shirt in a futile attempt to straighten up a bit. He wouldn't have been surprised if this lead to a month's worth of falling victim to Morgan's jokes. He made a mental note to remind the younger agent who's in charge should that be the case.
"Spencer Reid." Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of a dark haired man in a white coat. Hearing the name of their ill friend they all quickly gathered around the newcomer. The young man raised a quizzical eyebrow as he studied the odd collection of approaching people. He had been informed of the patient's job and was well aware that his visitors would mostly consist of coworkers and not direct family, but for him it was still strange to see such a variant mix of people. Honestly he hadn't expected so many people to turn up at all. Still, it wasn't his place to question. Right now all he had to focus on doing his job and doing it well.
"I'm Cameron." He introduced himself with a kind smile, holding out a hand to shake with the profilers. Though the wireframe glasses which sat perched securely on the bridge of his nose and the clipboard he held with his left arm made him appear somewhat booksmart and professional, the rest of his appearance painted quite a different picture. His layered T-shirts and spiked, messy hair reflected his youth and inexperience. Not a doctor, they noted, as if he was he would have mentioned the title. Probably a nurse, Rossi figured as he took his turn to shake the young man's hand. "Sorry it took so long to get back to you. We've been very busy since your friend arrived. I'm guessing you're all very eager to know how he's doing."
As the team agreed Cameron closely analyzed their expressions. They all appeared so anxious to hear what he had to say. Of course they would be, they had been left in the dark practically all day. Actually seeing their faces now made him doubt whether or not he was up for the task he had been assigned. This would be his first time explaining the situation to the family, or in this case the team, of a patient and he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He had the feeling that his supervisor had given him the task as a way to either test him or to prove a point, of which he wasn't sure. Either way, he was going to have to get used to it if he ever wanted to advance in the field. So, with five pairs of expecting eyes on him he took a deep breath.
"Right now he's in intensive care." He began to explain things as simply as he could, regularly checking the papers on his clipboard to make sure the information he gave them was accurate. "His condition is fragile, at this point it's touch and go, so we'll be keeping a very close eye on him. He's still unresponsive and we fear that he's fallen into a light coma, though we probably would've had to medically sedate him anyway if that wasn't the case. Especially considering it's noted here that you mentioned the refusal of any narcotics, is that correct?"
Tick. Tick. tick.
Hotch nodded. He mentioned that back when they were first questioned at the hotel. He could remember Rossi giving him a slight questioning look when he did. Having joined after the whole ordeal, Hotch didn't think he was aware of Reid's past experience with addiction. No one ever really wanted to talk it, for obvious reasons. When he thought about it, it truly made the situation sound all the more terrible. How much pain would someone have to be in for them to require sedation if they couldn't take pain medication?
"Wha- Well do you know what's wrong with him?" Emily was finally the one to ask the question which has been concerning everyone for the entirety of the day. They all wanted, no needed, an explanation for what was going on. They looked to Cameron with questioning eyes, burning with the desire to finally know what was happening to the team's youngest.
Cameron shifted uncomfortably under their collective gaze, slightly nervous and unsure of exactly how he was supposed to handle this. It would have helped if Doctor Keller had at least joined him as back up, so to speak. But instead she had tossed him into the deep end. This one was probably going involve a lot of questions and even more explaining. "We can't be certain until the test results come back, but judging by his symptoms we suspect the most probable cause to be bacterial meningitis."
"Meningitis?" Hotch was stunned. Truly they all were. Out of all the possible conclusions that have crossed their minds throughout the day this had not been one of them. It just wasn't really something people considered, especially when taking into account that it's not exactly commonly heard of. Hotch vaguely remembered learning about it with Haley at parenting classes back when she was still pregnant with Jack. 'An inflammation of the meninges', that's how it had been described to them. He never expected it to turn up in their lives, especially not like this.
"I thought that only affected children." Morgan pointed out with a disbelieving frown. Despite the playful nicknames and though a kid Reid may have been when compared to the rest of the team, he was still far from literally being a child anymore. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Morgan might have found it funny that the team's resident genius had somehow managed to catch a children's bug. Right now, however, it only created more questions.
"Oh, yes that's a common misunderstanding." Cameron quickly corrected, glad that so far all the questions he had been faced with were ones he knew the answers to. "Though children and the elderly are more likely to develop meningitis, people of any age could potentially be affected by it. Infections caused by S. pneumoniae or N. meningitidis are the most common non viral forms of meningitis in young adults. Another common misconception is how contagious it is. Unlike viral meningitis, bacterial meningitis isn't extremely contagious, so there's no need for him to be isolated. However, just to be safe, we'd still ask anyone who's had prolonged contact with him to take preventive antibiotics. Just make sure to get those before you leave."
Tick. Tick. tick…
"As per standard procedure we've taken some blood cultures. We've also started IV therapy to help get his blood pressure up and anticonvulsants to prevent further seizures. We did a C.T. scan earlier to check for swelling and performed a spinal tap once Dr. Keller deemed it safe. Unfortunately we can't give him specific treatment right now as we won't know the exact cause until the test results come back, which could take a few days. In the meantime we're starting him on a range of antibiotics - vancomycin, cefotaxime and moxifloxacin - along with dexamethasone, which won't be as effective, but should still allow his condition to improve. You should know that his organs had suffered some damage from sepsis. Basically, his immune system had an adverse reaction to the infection, causing it to damage his own body. Luckily it doesn't look like much harm was done, and so far it seems that only his lungs have been affected, resulting in mild ARDS. We've put him on a mechanical ventilator for now to assist his breathing."
Tick. tick… tick…
With every sentence Cameron spoke the situation sounded increasingly bleak and intimidating. Talk about seizures and organ damage progressively made it appear all the more daunting. Rossi didn't want to think of the young genius in such a fragile and damaged state. The kid didn't deserve it, any of it. This made him wonder. He honestly didn't want to ask, fearful that the answer may be far from a positive one, but they were going to have to find out eventually. "What are his chances?"
Cameron swallowed nervously. He really wasn't looking forward to this next part. In fact he has subconsciously been trying to stall getting to this point for as long as possible. Unfortunately, there was no way point in trying to avoid the inevitable. "I'm sorry, but…honestly, it doesn't look good. Mortality rate can reach up to twenty percent in the early stages, and his condition was already sever by the time he was brought in. The odds are against him. Hopefully his condition will start improving soon. If the treatment works, and we're lucky, physically he might be back to normal in a few weeks."
Tick...tick…
By the time the young nurse had finally stopped talking it felt as though the entirety of earth had been tipped upside down and was now spinning in reverse. The shadow of a situation was steadily grown, bigger and bigger until it had turned into a deep, dark monster of a nightmare which now dwelled their waking lives. Hotch found himself repeating some of the words in his head. '...twenty percent in the early stages...already severe...' The guilt from before came rushing back. It was his fault. There was no way he could convince himself to believe anything different now. He, regardless of whether he was aware of it or not, had played an important hand in it all. If he had just insisted on taking Reid here when he first became ill then they would have been six hours ahead of the worst. Six hours which, as it turns out, could have made all the difference.
"Physically?" Jay-Jay questioned, having easily noted the specific use of the word. She swallowed, hearing the tiniest tone of her voice breaking and feeling an all too familiar lump form in her throat. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear anything else, whether she wanted to be told the specifics. But the need to know was greater than the pain of the knowledge.
"That's the other thing about meningitis." Cameron hesitated, awkwardly adjusting his glasses before taking another deep breath and releasing it in a sigh, forcing himself to see this through. "You see, it puts a lot of pressure on a patient's brain. This could potentially cause long term, even permanent damage. Because of the severity of his condition, he has a higher chance of an adverse outcome. Some of the... 'complications' may include partial or complete loss of hearing or sight, temporary or long term paralysis, difficulty learning, lowered cognitive ability, memory problems, personality changes, recurring migraines, seizures…"
tick…
"Oh my-" Jay-Jay clasped a hand over her mouth, cutting herself off mid sentence. Her eyes have began to sting and she could feel her breaths growing ever more shaky. She couldn't take this. This was quickly becoming too much for her to handle. She wanted to cry, and yet at the same time she desperately wanted to keep up her composure. It made her feel sick. She deeply appreciated when Emily wrapped an arm around her shoulders, her support being one of the few things keeping her from breaking down. She couldn't believe this. None of them could. None of them wanted to accept any of the words Cameron had spoken since the moment he had introduced himself.
"Right now, we can't know anything for sure. The best we can do is keep a close eye on him, and pray the antibiotics do their job. We won't be able to determine the outcome until he becomes responsive again. Realistically speaking, you should prepare for the worst. There's.. There's a chance he might not make it through the night. I'm sorry, really I am. I would suggest you consider calling loved ones… letting them know of the situation."
…
Silence. In that moment everything stopped. Five hearts collectively froze as the information slowly carved its way into their minds, turning their thoughts into landscapes of icy tundra. Empty, forlorn, cold. Shock kept the majority of their emotions at bay for the first few seconds, followed instantly by the intense wave of feelings that crashed over each and every one of them as the full implication of what they have been told was finally registered. '...might not make it through the night…' The words echoed around in their heads, chipping away further and further each time they repeated. It couldn't be. How? Why? It wasn't fair.
How the hell could this be fair!?
Jay-Jay broke. She couldn't take it anymore. All the pressure of fear and concern which had built up throughout the day suddenly came crashing back down on her in full force and she couldn't stop tears from escaping her eyes. She only just managed to swallow down her sobs as Emily knowingly pulled her into what she hoped to be a comforting embrace.
Emily decided to distract herself with being Jay-Jay's support. She had never really been the kind of person to openly express emotion. Rather she preferred to keep most of it locked down, at least until she could deal with it on her own terms. So that's exactly what she did. She forced it down and kept her mind occupied with something else as much as she possibly could. In this case, she focused her attention on her emotionally drained friend.
Rossi felt like an outsider, looking in on the scene unfolding around him. He didn't think that he could consider himself close enough to the team to truly appreciate the implications of this newly received knowledge. It's not that he didn't care, or that he didn't feel anything. He still hurt. He still felt worried, more so than he had in a considerable amount of time. It's just that he didn't think that he had yet developed the team bond required to validate any form of exterior reaction. So he kept himself composed, as best as he could anyway.
Morgan found himself feeling suddenly stuck. Empty. Not worried, not sad, not angry. Nothing. Like his entire being had been wiped away leaving only pause. He knew this could likely be contributed to lingering shock, his mind unable to determine what would be the best emotion to produce. In a while he'll no doubt be fighting off the urge to punch a crater in something, or someone, but for now he just felt emptiness.
Hotch didn't know what to do. For once in his life he had absolutely no idea how to go on from this point forward. Should he try to be optimistic, handle things as if everything was going to be just fine? Should he try to just let things go on as they normally would have? Or should he allow the more realistic conclusion to take its course? Accept that they may very well have lost a team member come morning? Not only that, but what about Reid's family? As far as he understood, the only close relationship Reid had outside of the current team was with his mother. Considering that Diana was in a psychiatric hospital he wasn't sure that telling her about the potential loss of her only son was a good idea. He'll still have to at least inform her doctors none the less. This all made him feel like he was somehow already accepting the worst case scenario, something which he didn't really even want to begin thinking about.
"Can we see him?" Rossi was the first to break the century's worth of silence, looking to find even the smallest glimmer of light in this bleak situation. He wasn't planning on losing hope. The kid's a fighter. That's what he told himself over and over, and is probably what he'll have to remind the others of later, when the situation is more fitting. Besides, he still had a promise to keep to the the young doctor, so he wasn't going just to leave him here alone.
"Having a lot of visitors around probably isn't the best idea right now." Cameron hesitantly pointed out. He had been quietly observing the faces of this small group of people, watching their expressions change with every bit of bad news he had presented them with. It was painful. It was haunting. He really didn't want to add anything more to their already burdened emotional state. So he sighed, deciding that he wasn't going to be the one to send them all away. Not tonight. "Though, I'm sure Dr. Keller wouldn't mind if one of you stayed."
"I'll stay." Morgan instantly spoke up, barely allowing the nurse to even finish his sentence. Everybody turned their heads to look at him, the determination in his voice practically demanding to be listened to. He acknowledged that it may have appeared selfish to claim the only available visiting opportunity, but at the moment he didn't care. He had had enough. Come hell or high water, he was going to see his friend tonight.
"You sure." Hotch checked even though he already knew the answer. Morgan's expression was more than enough of a confirmation. Noting that there was no way he was backing down, and understandably so, Hotch gave a single nod in understanding. "Alright. Everybody else, we should go back to the hotel. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
It broke his heart to say that. To even consider sending them away after what they had just learned. But he had no choice. They still had a case, they were still expected to be back at the station first thing in the morning, and that wasn't something he could just ignore. It was times like this that he hated the job, hated the responsibility that came with it. Deep down he knew that it wouldn't make much of a difference. Chances were none of them would be getting a wink's worth of sleep that night anyway. But he was still their supervisor, and as a supervisor it was his duty to tell them to get rest, no matter how hard that may be.
With that being said the team all very reluctantly began to excuse themselves. None of them really wanted to leave, none of them were looking forward to what would no doubt be one of the longest nights of their life, yet they all understood why it had to be that way. As they all steadily turned to leave, Jay-Jay took a moment to throw her arms around Morgan and give him as tight a hug as she possibly could, which he appreciatively returned. It was as if the gesture itself spoke the words which were otherwise left unsaid. The nonverbal "take care of him" was more than clear enough to understand. After a few seconds they parted and Jay-Jay hesitantly followed the others out of the waiting room, leaving only Morgan and Cameron.
"The, um, the ICU is this way." Cameron half pointed with his right hand as he started leading the way out of the waiting room and through the maze of hallways beyond, with Morgan following closely behind. They walked in silence, Morgan too caught up in his thoughts to start a conversation, and the young nurse feeling like too much of an intruding stranger to do so himself. He really hated having to be the bearer of bad news for this makeshift family, something told him that he'll have to talk this out with his supervisor later on. It didn't take them long to get to the room Reid was placed in. Once there Cameron allowed Morgan to step inside and only waited a few seconds to check that everything was in place before quickly excusing himself, not wanting to intrude on the personal time between patients and visitors.
Morgan, however, didn't even notice the nurse leaving. He was far too preoccupied with trying to mentally process the entirety of the scene before him. At least half of the room was a web of wires and tubes of all different shapes and sizes. Large and complicated machines on either side, making wirrr sounds at various different frequencies as they ran, each with their own unique function. And in the middle of it all was Reid, quiet and practically motionless where he lay in the hospital bed. The only times Morgan could visibly see him move was when his chest steadily rose and fell as the mechanical ventilator did its job. Morgan was dumbfounded, moving in a haze as he neared the side of the bed. Looking down at his friend's frail figure he could barely believe what he was seeing. It felt so unreal, like some twisted nightmare that just refused to be woken up from. Absentmindedly he pulled up a nearby chair and sat down at the side of the bed.
It took a while for him to return to his usual senses, the rhythmic 'beep...beep...beep' of a heart monitor eventually pulling him out of his dazed state. He looked up at its black screen, watching the thin green line jump up and down with each consecutive 'beep' as well as taking note that the rhythm of the pulse was slightly faster than usual. He stared at it, dreading the idea that every time it pulsed could potentially be the last time that it did so. Hating the fact that, should it ever stop, that would be the end. Every time it quieted down, even if just for the pauses in between the 'beep's he silently willed it to keep going. Begged it to never, ever stop.
Looking back down at Reid he found that his soul had been drenched in a near overwhelming sadness. Not only because of the possibility of losing his friend, his brother, but also because of the very fact that this was happening to him. It hurt to see him like this. It hurt more than he thought anything ever could. He wished he he could do something about this, anything. But neither he nor the others had any control over this, and that was probably what hurt worst of all. Being utterly, completely unable to help your family when they needed you most.
"Hey there pretty boy." He greeted softly. Despite being fully aware that Spencer was unconscious and had no way of seeing his expression, Morgan still tried to feign a smile to the best of his ability. He didn't know if it was possible for Reid to hear his voice in his current condition, but he liked to believe that he could. Even if that wasn't the case, just talking couldn't really hurt. He needed to talk, needed to believe that it would somehow make a difference. Gently he reached out and brushed a few stray brown locks of hair out of Reid's face. It startled him how warm his skin was to the touch.
"You're giving us all a real scare, you know that right?" He questioned with a small, joyless chuckle, more to go along with the facade of a smile than anything else. Careful as to not displace any of the medical tubes, Morgan took one of Spencer's hands in his own. He was surprised to find that, despite the previously established fever, his hand as actually rather cold. He couldn't help but think that if Reid was awake he would have probably been able to explain exactly why that was, in unnecessarily great detail. He missed that. Though he never would have thought it possible, he already missed hearing the young doctor ramble excitedly on and on. It was something he liked to tease him about, something he had taken for granted. Now it was something he feared he may never get to hear again. It was almost funny, how something so seemingly insignificant could suddenly mean so much more. How you never really appreciate what you have until life threatens to take it away from you.
"You listen to me." His voice changed slightly as he allowed some of the forced positivity to give way to a more serious tone. It wasn't overly strict, nor did it have the naivety of pure optimism. A rather odd mixture of determination and near desperation. Simultaneous hope and dread. A shade of sorrow which did not have a word of its own. He took a deep breath, ignoring the slight tremors he felt as he did so. Releasing it slowly he focused on keeping his emotions reined in. "You hold on in there, alright. We need you back here. We all do. I'm not planning on losing a friend. Not today, and not any day soon. So don't you dare give up on us, you hear me?"
"Don't you dare." There was no response. Of course not, he hadn't expected there to be one. His little brother remained still and silent, not a single muscle twitching to indicate he has heard even a single word Morgan has said. But his chest kept rising and falling along with the function of the large mechanical lung and the monitor kept beeping, rhythmic and constant. And right now, for Morgan, that was enough.
~ 0o, 000 ~ 000, 0o, o ~ 0o0o, o0, 0o ~ ooo, o, o ~ 0o00, 000, oo0 ~ 0o0o, o0o, 0o00 ~
The following is another overly long author's note:
Wow, this chapter turned out to be way longer than I expected it to be. I may have gotten a little carried away there. Maybe it's because I was a bit more inspired or because I had the required excess emotions to write this one.
To anyone who's been affected by meningitis, either directly or indirectly, I really hope things are looking up for you and your loved one/s. May all the best wishes go out to you.
I guess a bit of an explanation should be added. It is a rather odd illness to choose I suppose. For those who don't know, meningitis occurs when the normally sterile cerebral fluid around the brain gets infected. If you want to know more I would really suggest looking it up. I chose bacterial meningitis for a few simple reasons.
1 It fit's the symptoms and progression. Though I specifically chose some of the later symptoms to fit with this, a lot of the earlier ones were chosen at random for dramatic effect (considering this was originally a oneshot).
2 It is very unpredictable. Symptoms, progression and outcome may vary drastically from one person to the next. I took to reading some real stories from meningitis survivors to get an idea of how it works. As it turns out some people may progress very slowly and have few symptoms, yet have severe long lasting after effects, whilst others have reported coming to the brink of death only to make a wonderful recovery. Every case is different, which allows for much more creative freedom.
3 It'll be useful to explain some future developments (you'll probably see in later chapters *wink*)
So yeah. Again I admit that I am not an expert with these things and scientific errors are likely if not inevitable. I can only try my best. Sorry for leaving you all on a bit of a cliff hanger. Guess this is where the suSPENCE comes in (sorry I had to point out that pun). Hope the chapter wasn't too bad.
As always, thank you all for the wonderful support. Every review or follower/favorite notification sparks a bit of happiness in my little blue soul. You are the people who really made this story grow in the first place, and I thank you all for that.
Have a good day/night. Munchkin out. *poof*
