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Chapter Sixteen

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People were calling for him. Different voices.

Reid! Spencer! Spence! Doctor Reid!

Crying. He heard someone crying. More than one someone. Was that barking?

"Doctor Reid, can you hear me?"

There were faces bending over him. One white, one black, both only vaguely familiar.

"His leg looks - "

"…rek said he was shot in the knee a few - "

In his flickering consciousness, awareness washed in and out like waves at the shore.

"Diminished breath sounds - "

"May be a punctured - "

"Doctor Reid? Spencer? Can you hear me?"

The world seemed to get darker.

-x-

New voices now.

When he next looked, he saw a red beam of light from somewhere to his right, rolling against the night sky. Then a much closer white light was assaulting his eyes. Instinctively he blinked and tried to jerk away.

"Try not to move, sir."

"Pressure's dropping."

"Get that board under him."

"Sir, sir, can you tell me your name?"

That was funny for some reason.

The next thing was not so funny though. Hands were grabbing at him, shifting him. Suddenly everything hurt and anxiousness began to seep like a toxin through his haze as he realized it was hard to breathe. He moaned and then gasped sharply as he was moved a few inches onto a hard surface (a different hard surface; what was going on?) and lifted. He struggled; a primal sense of panic took over, even before his conscious mind had yet to register what was happening. He couldn't move! Something was around his arms and legs!

"Sir, try to remain still. We're taking you to the hospital. Do you understand?"

"Get him on the bus."

"No! No!" His voice was thick, wet. Something liquid and warm was spluttering out of his mouth.

"You'll have to intubate - get that blood drained before he - "

He attempted to reach out a hand. Not even aware of who was calling for, he desperately spat out a name through the blood pooling in his mouth, spraying his chin. A woman in a puffy, dark blue coat with the letters EMT on it tried to stick a tube between his teeth and he made a pitiful effort to bat her hand away, but she firmly took hold of him and came at him again.

"Dave!"

-x-

The next time the light came back, he was in motion and someone was holding his hand.

-x-

There had only been two times before in his life where David Rossi had ever felt the blood run out of his face so quickly: the first time he'd seen someone killed right in front of him, only days after his arrival in Vietnam, and twelve years later when Carolyn had broken off gushing about their new son at the sight of her doctor coming into the ward followed by a priest and a nurse, all three wearing the same solemn and dreadful look on their faces.

Later, he couldn't even remember if he'd been breathing as he stood there frozen on Morgan's front walk. All around him was chaos. Henry was crying hysterically while a panicked Will and J.J. checked him for injuries. Beth had a quivering Jack clutched to her side while Aaron held his phone over James and Savannah so they could relay Reid's condition to the 911 operator as they examined him. Alex was digging through the truck of her and James's car for his medical bag. Morgan was shouting at the two drivers - stupid kids - and Sam and a weeping Garcia were trying to get a hold of Clooney, who had miraculously escaped unharmed.

"Agent Rossi?"

"I asked God not to let him leave."

Fran Morgan placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I'm sure God knew you didn't mean it this way."

Dave wasn't sure. He'd been in Vietnam and then had spent a good part of his adult life dealing with the sickest people imaginable; he knew God could be a real bastard sometimes.

A gentle tug on his hand pulled him - slightly - out of his daze. "He needs you," Fran said gently. "Go to him."

"He doesn't want - "

"Now's not the time to be foolish. Be there for him. It doesn't matter if it's as a father or a friend." With that, she lead him down to where his son was just being loaded onto the ambulance, just in time to hear Spencer call out for him. As he took hold of his son's hand, he wondered if that same bastard God would make him bury a child - the same child - twice in one lifetime.

-x-

The hospital emergency receiving area was a whirl of noise and frantic movement. Jogging alongside the gurney as the paramedics pushed it towards the emergency room, Rossi finally found his voice. "Kid, kid, listen to me! J.J. was wrong! Spencer Reid is as tough as they come! Do you hear me? You're a survivor, kid. If I've learned nothing else in the last seven years, it's that!"

A doctor butted in between Dave and the gurney and started examining Spencer while still on the move, instructing the nurses the whole time. "Trauma Room 3," he directed the orderlies, paying no attention to the distraught father. One nurse stopped to push Rossi gently back. "You need to stay here, sir. You'll only get in the way of our helping him."

He halted numbly, feeling lost. "You can survive anything, Spencer!" Dave, his voice hoarse, called helplessly after them as the cluster of people carrying his son away retreated down the corridor.

"Make this right, David."

He turned, looking to see who had spoken to him, and stumbled into a short and stocky Indian woman, causing her to nearly spill her coffee. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Shooting him a look, she scurried away without answering. Rossi realized the words hadn't come from her.

They'd almost sounded like Carolyn.

How? he asked himself. How can I make this right?

This time the voice was in his head.

"Think of him."

-x-

Beth had taken Jack home and was staying with him at Hotch's request, J.J and Will were down with Henry in X-ray and Sam had reluctantly gone home at Garcia's insistence. He'd wanted to stay and comfort her, but she knew he had an important meeting in the morning, and so he'd gone after asking her to come over, no matter what the time, if she needed him. Everyone else was there.

"What?" Rossi snapped, tired of feeling the eyes on him.

"What do you mean 'What'?" Morgan asked.

"You were staring."

"Sorry, man. I guess I was. It's just that I don't think I've ever seen this side of you before."

"What side is that?"

"Panicked over the kid. Hell, panicked over anyone. I mean, I know you've worried about him or one of us different times, but you were never like this."

Rossi didn't know what to say. It was true. His mind immediately flashed to time Spencer had contracted anthrax, how he'd convinced Emily to stick to protocol and not tell Dr. Nichols' employers want was going on, even though they were both desperate to find a solution as quickly as possible.

He could have died then. He could have died because I put the rules first. A chill went through him and his stomach flipped over in the same way it did the time he realized he had just avoided stepping on a landmine in Nam. Spencer could have died before I even knew

Suddenly his son's pain at losing his mother before he'd even had a chance to be her son - at only missing her by a few years - was infinitely more understandable.

At the same time though, it raised a disturbing question: Why? Why is it different now? Why didn't I care as much then? It was easy to say, "Well, now he's my son," but was it right that that should make so much of a difference? If Spencer had died then, before they both knew, would his life really have been worth less then it was now? Was it right that his own grief for the younger man would have been less painful? Hadn't Spencer been just as good a man five years ago as he was now?

He went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. And what about when he was shot? Dave asked himself. Fine, he was conscious and talking when we found him on Dr. Barton's lawn, but anything could have happened. The bullet could have hit the femoral artery. He could have bled out. He could have gone into shock. And what about later? Yes, I was concerned about Aaron, but would it have killed me to visit the kid? To make a grocery run or two for him, or maybe just give him a lift to the office so he wouldn't have to ride the Metro with his crutches?

Did I think to watch him to make sure his pain was manageable and he wasn't craving? Did I even think to ask anyone else about it to see if they'd noticed?

Once back in the waiting area, he sat down a little apart from the others. Lost in his thoughts, Dave almost didn't notice Fran Morgan come over and sit down next to him. She passed him a cup of coffee from the machine and he took it with a nod of thanks, but more for something to hold onto than anything else.

"He doesn't understand, you know," she said.

"He's not wrong, though."

"I didn't mean Derek."

Dave turned his head to look at her.

"Agent Rossi…David …Derek talks to me about all of you and last night he told me everything. About how you and your wife lost Spencer. About how he was taking the whole situation badly. About how he was leaving."

"Your son wasn't too impressed by that. He told the kid off for turning away something he - Derek - would give his eyeteeth for."

"I know."

"Jesus, you didn't hear the whole thing, did you?"

Fran grimaced. "It's summer. People tend to leave their windows open. Including Derek."

"You didn't hear what Spencer said about - "

Fran leaned over. "You mean about how Derek didn't want me visiting because I was just here to 'scope out Savannah' and nag him about grandbabies?" she whispered, so her son couldn't hear.

"Hell!"

Fran chuckled. "Don't worry. I know my son doesn't really feel that way. Of course, I don't plan on being so understanding when I bring the subject up with him…"

Dave found himself unexpectedly laughing at that. "All right. But just don't mention it to Spencer; he'd be mortified and he'd never feel comfortable with you again."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of it."

"Thank you."

"I feel we're getting off topic, though. What I was trying to say is that Spencer needs time. He feels the pressure to accept you for your sake - and he'll likely feel it more now that the others know - but for him, you're still just a friend. But it's more than that. I don't think he really understands...well, parents... at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Spencer…" She paused, trying to think of how to explain it. "I don't think he understands how immediately parents love their children. Or how strongly. Well, none of them do really, I suppose. Not until they become parents themselves. When they're little, they have their own brand of unquestioning and bottomless love - a love tied up in faith and affection and dependency - but that's a different thing. For parents…" She sighed. "You can't say why your child is special or why, from the very second they're born, you know you'd jump in front of a train for them. It's unexplainable to even yourself, so how can they hope to know what you're talking about? But it's even harder for Spencer. Not only is he not a parent, he's really had no one to even show him how it's supposed to be. How children should be able to expect comfort and solace from a parent. His father left, making him mistrust any affection the man might have shown him, and his mother, while I'm sure she loves him, has been more of a responsibility than a support for most of his life. Truthfully, I'm not even sure Spencer, deep in his heart at least, has any real idea of how to be loved by a parent. To be the one cared for, instead of doing the caring. He can show abundant love himself, but to recognize it and receive it back? My guess is that that's much harder for him.

"In any case," Fran continued. "He's probably not going to react well to pressure of everyone's expectations, especially now when the team has let him down so badly. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try and be there for him."

Dave took a sip of coffee. "That sounds like the same tightrope I've been walking for the last three months."

Fran stared him in the eye. It was a look that said, 'Maybe you should think about what you just said one more time' and Dave realized just how little bullshit the three Morgan children would have gotten away with growing up, single mother or not. "Perhaps not quite the same," she said with a smile, before rising and going back to sit with Derek and Savannah.

-x-

"Excuse me, are you Doctor Reid's father?" a voice said, jerking Rossi out of a light doze.

"Yes. Uh, yes, I am. Are you the doctor?" he asked the older woman in navy scrubs and a white coat standing over him. He got to his feet while Hotch shook the others awake. They all quickly gathered around behind him.

"I'm Doctor Amyot. I'm one of the surgeons who worked on your son. Is it all right to speak in front of everyone?"

"Yes. Definitely," Garcia said.

"Garcia, let Rossi answer," Hotch told her.

"Sorry, my Liege!"

Rossi nodded to the doctor that it was fine.

"Your son is stable condition, Mr. Reid - "

"It's actually Rossi," Dave corrected. "It's a long story."

"My apologies. Your son is stable, Mr. Rossi. He has some deep contusions and abrasions, a broken left radius, as well as a relatively serious concussion, but the two injuries we're the most concerned with are his lung and his right leg. He suffered three broken ribs on his left side - from coming down hard against the curb from what Doctor Hayes told me - one of which unfortunately punctured his lung and lead to a pneumothorax. However, we've inserted a chest tube, and that looks to be helping. We've also got him on a ventilator for the moment, due to low oxygen levels in his blood, but we should be able to take him off that in a day or so."

"And his leg?" Dave asked.

"It says in his file that your son had knee surgery several years ago?"

"About five."

"Yes, well, that's complicated things. But it's not as bad as it could have been. The original surgery went well and Doctor Reid seems to have been very diligent in doing what he could to strengthen the area around the knee. Plus, the car seems to have hit him above the knee, higher up and more on his hip and torso. If I have the sequence of events right, that's probably because he was throwing the little boy out of the way and so was falling forward instead of standing straight up. Luckily, the car was already braking, otherwise Doctor Reid might have suffered more serious injuries considering where he was struck, but other than his left lung, his internal organs appear to have suffered minimal harm. Still, your son's knee was damaged again. Our orthopedic surgeon had to put a few pins in, and Doctor Reid will require crutches and physical therapy for some months, but he should recover in time."

"So his leg will be all right eventually?" Dave asked anxiously.

"Don't worry, he'll walk again. Worse case scenario, it will be with a brace, but I'm thinking a cane at the most. With luck, not even that. Running or other strenuous activities affecting the leg might be out of the question, but he should walk again, if a bit stiffly."

Half a dozen feelings ran through Dave's head; relief, gratitude, guilt, and worry all fought against one another. He was dimly aware of Aaron thanking the doctor for him. He shook his head and pulled himself together. "Yes, thank you, Doctor," he said, realizing that he'd forgotten her name.

"It was our pleasure, Mr. Reid - oh, excuse me - Mr. Rossi."

"Can we see him?" Dave asked.

The doctor hesitated, eying the size of the group. "I'll give you fifteen minutes, Mr. Rossi, but I'm afraid everyone else will have to wait until tomorrow. If a patient senses another person there, they will often try to fight to regain consciousness, and what your son needs more than anything right now is rest. Besides, it's three in morning, and I don't want to disturb any of the other patients."

"We understand," Hotch said, silencing a disappointed Garcia with a rather pointed glance. "I'll wait here and then give you a ride home. Everyone else can go."

"Come on, Baby Girl, we'll give you a ride," Morgan said as he lead Savannah, his mother and Garcia out. "You're just before Savannah's place, so it's no trouble."

"We'll leave too," Alex said. "If Spencer wakes up, tell him to get better soon." She and James followed the others out, James wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.

"Do you know who Ethan is?" Aaron asked him out of the blue.

"What?"

"Sorry, it's nothing. Blake just said something strange when James and Savannah… look, never mind that. Go and see Reid. I'll be here when you're ready to leave. "

Dave nodded and followed Doctor Amyot to the ICU.

-x-

"Your mother would kill me, you know," Dave said softly, not wanting to awaken Spencer. "Hell, both of them would. The mess I've made…" He trailed off, his voice breaking.

"I'm sorry I made you go down that goddamned ditch," Dave said a few minutes later. "I'm sorry I've only really bothered getting to know you in this last year or so. I'm sorry we didn't save Maeve. I'm sorry that I haven't always been nice to you. I'm sorry I put regulations above you during the anthrax case - maybe it was right, maybe it was wrong, but it doesn't feel like what a father would have done.

"I'm sorry I acted so badly when you told me you wanted to leave. I'm sorry I didn't want to listen to your reasons. I'm sorry if I've been too demanding. I'm sorry if this accident is going to affect your new job. Christ, I'm sorry I'm doing this now when you're not even awake to hear it."

David Rossi took in a deep breath that shuddered in his chest as he suppressed a sob. "And I am so very, very sorry if I made you think I didn't have faith in you."

Brushing Spencer's hair gently away from his face, Dave held one hand against his son's cheek and kissed him on the forehead, and then quietly left the room.

He tried to tell himself that it was all right if that was the last fatherly interaction he ever got to have with his child.

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Sorry, yes, another angsty ending. I didn't mean to! It was supposed to end on a nice fluffy part, maybe even with a resolution, only the outline alone for this chapter was close to five thousand words, so I had to break the chapter up. And please forgive any medical mistakes I may have made. My research comes from a hodge podge of blurbs on websites, with absolutely no underlying comprehension as to what they all really meant. The errors could be breathtaking for all I know, but at least it sounds kind of medical, right?

Anyway, thank you all again for your wonderful reviews, and for taking the time to answer my question about Savannah. All but one of you said Doctor (strangely, I was thinking nurse too), so I went with Doctor Hayes. My luck it will turn out to be wrong, but hey, this is technically an AU anyway.

Oh, and Henry only has a sprained wrist! He was only in X-ray as a precaution. Sorry I didn't get to that, but I just didn't want to deal with J.J. yet.