And Still We Smile
Chapter Three
"What a frightening thing is the human: a mass of gauges and dials and registers;
that we can read only a few, and those perhaps not accurately."
- ?
Reid woke up suddenly, eyes squinching back shut again almost immediately as they met with what seemed like blinding light. Carefully, he tried to pry them open again, slowly this time, needing to figure out where he was, what was going on, and if he could get something to quench the tormenting thirst he felt.
As his eyes finally stayed open and began to glance around the room, he was greeted by a warm, bubbly voice that could only belong to one person.
"Hey, Sugar," it greeted cheerfully as he turned to see Penelope Garcia's bright red smile and twinkling eyes behind her funky glasses. "Gonna wake up and smell the coffee like the rest of us, are ya?"
"Maybe," he mumbled, his voice scratchy and his head pounding. "But I'd settle for some water at the moment."
"You got it," she said kindly, reaching over to a pitcher and cup that sat on the nightstand by his bed and pouring him a drink.
He reached for it and struggled to raise his shoulders off the pillow to take a sip. But Garcia beat him to it, placing a maternal hand on his back and supporting him to a sitting position, and bringing the cool liquid directly to his lips.
"Thanks," Reid croaked, honestly feeling a bit embarrassed at his need for such basic help, yet grateful at the same time. He was still too sore to want to move more than he had to. Every part of him ached.
"Anytime, Sweetie," she grinned happily, pleased to be able to do something – anything – for him. She'd felt so helpless not long ago, sitting in front of Hankel's bank of computers and seeing Reid hurt, drugged, and going into a seizure and very nearly dying. She hadn't been able to do anything at all. Garcia wasn't used to not having a way to help; wasn't used to being stumped like that. She was supposed to be Tech Goddess Supreme, always ready with the answers. In a way, she felt like she'd failed Reid, like it was her fault it had taken so long to find him. But all she added was a bright, "Anything else I can get cha?"
"Yeah," he sighed, laying back into the pillows, exhausted again by just that small amount of exertion. Judging by how coherent he felt, and the fact that only Garcia seemed to be there and not the whole group, and that Garcia seemed to be her usual chipper self, Reid assumed he must be pretty much alright. Probably he was simply bruised, sore, coming off a lot of drugs, and recovering from shock. "Can you give me a report on what the doctors have said about me? Am I basically going to be alright?"
"Right as rain in no time, Peaches," Garcia giggled, obviously pleased at coming up with yet another nickname, seemingly on the spur of the moment.
"Seriously?" he questioned, beyond relieved at her report.
"Well, everyone else seemed to think so," Garcia clarified, smiling again and patting his hand. "The doctor's talking detailed diagnosis with Hotch and Gideon as we speak, but everyone seemed to think you just needed a little time to rest and recover."
Reid nodded, mulling this over. His head hurt enough that he wasn't sifting through all her words as quickly as he normally would. But he was comforted by the fact that it seemed he was going to be fine. A twinge of something crept into his stomach right then, at the thought of being fine. Was he? A small shiver along his spine tried to warn otherwise, but he shook this worry away, repeating it to himself, 'Yes, everything's fine now. You're safe. You're back with the team. You're alive and everything's going to be fine.'
Glancing down, he saw that he still wore his sweat-soaked, blood-stained, dirt-covered clothes. Surprised that he hadn't been put into a hospital gown, he absentmindedly felt his hand return once again to the pants pocket where he'd stashed the two bottles of Dilaudid. Their cool, glasses bodies curved into his palm comfortingly, whispering that they were there if he started to doubt his current mantra of everything being alright.
"Did they not admit me?" he asked Garcia curiously. "I'm not wearing one of those ridiculously flimsy robes."
"Apparently, you were passed out before they could get you changed, and JJ wouldn't let go of your hand for quite a while after you got here, and Gideon finally told them to leave it for now. I think you're staying overnight though, just for observation." Her eyes were playful now as she continued teasingly. "I'm sure they'll clean you up and make you put on one of those hospital gowns yet. And that'll be my cue to leave."
She winked, and he smiled weakly, but the idea of someone touching him made quick flashes was over him sickeningly, being shoved into that chair in that remote, forsaken cabin, Tobias backhanding him across the face, then shoving his sleeve up and poking that needle into his arm, the flashbacks of his mother, the stench, the picture of a gun pointed right between his eyes… Suddenly, he was shaking and sweating.
Garcia sensed that something had changed, and she leaned closer, trying to look into his eyes, which he shifted so she couldn't do. "Reid, are you okay?" she asked.
"Fine," Reid said quickly, tripping over his words and seeming nervous, agitated. "I'm just still pretty tired. Would you mind if I went back to sleep?"
"No, that's fine," she assured him, smiling reassuringly, "You get your sleep. It'll help you heal that much faster." She gave him one last smile and patted his arm, then stood. "I needed some fresh coffee and a cinnamon bun anyway." She leaned back over and gave him a peck on the forehead, which no doubt left a red print he'd have to wipe off once she left. "If you need something before I get back, Prentiss is sleeping right over here, okay?" She gestured towards the chairs back along the wall.
Reid felt slightly bad he hadn't even noticed Emily in the room, but shrugged it off. She was asleep after all. Garcia waved to him once more over her shoulder and then slipped out.
Glancing around to make sure that Prentiss was still soundly asleep, Reid painfully, carefully hoisted himself up to a sitting position, and wincing swung his legs over to hang off the side. Painstakingly, he stood and shuffled over to the bathroom in the far corner. With a last quick glance to make sure no one was going to burst in and catch him, he patted his pocket once more, checking, then stepped in and closed the door.