A/N: Goodness! Been a long enough wait, hasn't it? Many, many thanks for all the lovely reviews and well-wishes, last chapter! You've no idea how much it meant to me to read all those kind words. Still struggling to get issues under control, still rather tired, but things may be looking up. In the meantime, I'm going to keep on doing my best to get these chapters out there for you guys, but the waits may continue to be long.
I really appreciate the patience and thank you once again to all those who are sticking with me. Hope this one doesn't disappoint!
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
"I'm sorry."
Morgan felt his eyes go wide as he took in the situation before him: Reid, locked behind the lab door. Air blasting. Broken vial on the floor.
…white powder.
White powder spilled from the broken vial on the floor in the room Reid locked himself in with the air blasting through the vent-
Son of a bitch.
Reid had been exposed. There was no doubt he'd breathed it in. No doubt he'd just infected himself with an advanced strain of anthrax. No doubt he was about to get very, very sick- and there was nothing Morgan could do about it.
I'm gonna' kill him. I swear to God- if he lives through this, I'll kill him myself.
There were things he should be doing, people he should be calling, protocols to follow, but for the life of him he couldn't seem to make himself do it. For the first time that he could remember, rush-into-action, take-charge, act-first-ask-questions-later Derek Morgan was simply… frozen. His mind was a blank. All those things he should be doing were merely thoughts, ideas just out of reach floating along the peripherals of his consciousness. For the life of him, he couldn't focus on anything but Reid and the look in his eyes.
It wasn't the fear or anxiety he saw in his best friend that kept him rooted in place, but rather the guilt. The self-condemnation. He'd been entirely sincere when he'd said he was sorry, and even through the haze of shock Morgan knew damn well just what he was really apologizing for.
You stupid, reckless, self-sacrificing idiot. What the hell were you thinking? No, I know what you were thinking. You saw Nichols was hurt, and instead of following protocol- instead of doing what you've been trained to do in these situations to keep yourself safe and alive- you rushed in to check on the guy that possibly made a deadly bioweapon and infected a park full of innocent people. God dammit, kid- do you have a death wish, or something? What have you done to piss Karma off so much?
Don't you get it, yet? Don't you see what it does to us when you're here? When you get yourself kidnapped and blown up and beaten and knocking on death's door- again? I know you're not sorry for putting us in this position again, having to watch you suffer once more because of the job. Not like that. You're sorry because you screwed up and now you're not going to be able to help the team. You're sorry because we're going to worry about you and you don't want us to lose focus on the case.
God damn it all, kid- you're sorry for making our job harder. I don't know whether I want to cry or bust through this door so I can shake some sense into you.
Okay, maybe I won't cry. Did that once before. Back in Georgia.
Ever notice you have that effect on people? 'Cause JJ and I sure as hell weren't the only ones doing our damnedest not to blubber all over you in that freezing cold cemetery, and I guarantee you this time will be no different.
Can't exactly break down the door either, I guess, can I? That would kinda' defeat the purpose, wouldn't it- purposely toss aside safety regs and expose myself so I can yell at you for doing the same thing? At least then you wouldn't be alone, though…
Morgan heaved a deep sigh, closing his eyes in an effort to tear his gaze from Reid's. It was that look he was giving him- utterly captivating in the depths of its fear and sadness- that kept the well-trained FBI agent rooted to the spot. He couldn't possibly think straight, couldn't move, couldn't do his job when looking into those wide brown eyes. Loath though he was to turn away and leave the kid even more alone that he already was, he knew he couldn't be of any help if he didn't leave now.
Morgan's brain was finally beginning to reboot and process the situation properly. As his concentration returned, training kicked in and he reached for his cell phone, taking one last look at his friend while his finger hovered over the keypad.
"We're gonna' take care of this, kid," he vowed, schooling his face to reflect nothing but calm and reassurance. "Don't worry about a thing, you understand me? We're gonna' take care of you." Reid nodded, swallowing visibly, and took a step back from the glass door in an effort to give Morgan 'space' to go do what needed to be done. The small gesture touched him deeply, and Derek had to turn away quickly, dialing Hotch's number on autopilot as the insane urge to cry washed over him once more.
You're gonna' be fine, kid. We'll get you through this- I promise. We're gonna' get you out of there and back home safe and sound-
And then, I'm gonna' kill you.