Reid's head had somehow become a balloon on a string, drifting further and further from the hand that tethered him to this world. Was that why his head felt so fuzzy? It had been so constant since yesterday morning. A balloon caught in a whirlwind had very bad odds, though. He didn't want to have bad odds. He wanted to have good odds.

Too much of a practiced card-shark, Reid wouldn't play a game with odds this bad. There were sounds around him, sights, smells, but everything just had that haze of a drugged stupor, and he hated that. It brought back more thoughts that were also very hazy, so hazy in fact that they were too bleary to see fully. Yet somehow, he knew to appreciate that detail.

He heard a constant beeping, one that slowed and accelerated at different moments, making him very uncomfortable. Couldn't it just be a metronome counting for someone playing Beethoven? Then, that's what it became.

The metronome's tics disappeared into a grand concerto, he sits in a darkened row of seats, a hand brushed his thigh just above his knee, he smiles and turns away from the concert to see the hand, and follow it up with his vision to see whom it belongs to.

Hotch smiled at him giving his leg one more squeeze. "Everything is going to be fine. I promise, okay?"

He was standing up now, fumbling for something in his pocket before walking out of the concert-hall. Reid tries to stand up and follow, but instead he is pulled back into a lying position, strapped to the table with restraints that are more parts tentacle than he'd suspect. Then again, he didn't know what to expect. They felt sticky, moist too. They pulled him further and further into a less comfortable pad than what he'd been on before. When he was ever on a pad, he wasn't sure. Then again, that was the point, right now he was unsure of a lot of things. Namely his mortality, why though?

Beethoven filled the air again, the sickly smooth violins and violas were lulling him into a feeling of unease and unrest. Piano Sonata 12, he recognized it, it was a very powerful piece…

…It was Beethoven's Death March. Reid struggled to sit up again, their metronome must be broken, it was sounding, beeping erratically and out of time with the music. There was a pinch, a large spider crawling up to his elbow and biting him, injecting him, he fell back into the chair and watched the concert continue, everything else around it blurred out of the point of recognition.

Staring up at the stage at the players, he started to zone out, Hotch and Jack were up there. He wondered why… he also wondered how the concert hall became a picnic in the park up top, and a pit with a full orchestra below. They were playing, Hotch hoisted Jack up under his arm, running him like a football. Morgan was chasing after them, Jack was holding a football. Prentiss arbitrarily held up her arms once Hotch rushed past her holding Jack, Morgan still a good few paces behind the Hotchner men.

"Touchdown! And the crowd goes wild…!"

Rossi holds up a silver flask, "I'll drink to that." About to take a swig, the flask is snatched out of his grasp, Reid's eyes dart around to watch Jack doing the touchdown dance, and Hotch somehow keeping up, which Reid feels embarrassed for the man, since he obviously can't feel it for himself and still keep up the performance. He looks back to Rossi, JJ is holding the flask now, pouring the contents into the grass.

"For my homies." She says almost deadpan, tosses him the now-emptied flask and picks up Henry from Will, hugging her son and kissing Will's cheek before pulling back with her trophy. Garcia is smiling and crying at the same time.

Reid swallows thickly, if it's a BAU picnic… why is he not there? He looks down at himself, the concert hall is somehow in faze and yet he's clearly sitting in the grass watching them. He smiles, finally feeling more at ease. He sits upright a bit more straight. His fingers are in between the grass blades and that feels better than he'd have suspected.

Hotch sets Jack down and then walks over to Reid, plopping down next to him, holding up a hand at Morgan who is now in possession of the football. "Give me a minute."

Morgan rolls his eyes, signals Jack to come back to the field and somehow, Garcia is convinced to give football the good-ol'-college-try with Morgan, a collegiate football player until he blew his knee.

Reid turned to face Hotch, for the second time the man was sitting next to him in the span of, well however long this concert has been. He recognized Chopin playing now. It was strange to go from Beethoven to Chopin, alright maybe not… since they're both classical composers, but the song sets, in the same concert? Usually a concert catered to one composer. It reminded him of a burned CD Garcia had made for him a long time ago, after he mentioned his love for classical composers instead of typical bands. She had made him two CDs, one to get hyped up for karaoke and one to come down from it. These songs were in the same order as the come-down-from-karaoke CD.

He was glad they weren't playing the hype-up for karaoke CD song-track. He'd hate to hear Cher singing at this exact instance for some reason. It would probably ruin the moment.

Hotch leaned in toward his left ear, whispering. "It's going to be okay, Reid, you'll be fine. I know you will be… I'm counting on that. I love you."

Reid smiled, that warm feeling in his chest somehow wasn't embarrassment, it was just solid contentment. He closed his eyes, the warmth of the light on his face, the sun felt superb. Now if only the air didn't smell so medicinal he could enjoy the park more.

A stray football broke through that thought, plummeting into his gut, he lurched forward, groaning. "…Ugh…!"

"Reid! Watch out, sorry!" Morgan smiled, looking at his friend back to Jack and Garcia, the two turned to snub him and act like they hadn't JUST been playing football with him.

Wincing, Reid reached his hand to the sore spot, his hand pulled back with tarry black, green and blood red all over it. His eyes went wide, the scenery was shattered, gone.

The light was far more intense and far less pleasant. He flinched his eyes shut, pain radiated from his center and stretched to the roots of all his limbs, his left shoulder felt a pressure on it.

"Reid, I'm right here…"

Of course Hotch is right there, Reid thinks, after all, he'd been sitting with him through the entire concert and the park, why would he suddenly move?

"Do you need anything? Water…?"

Since when does getting hit in the gut with a football a water-offering event? He blinked through his winced eyes, squinting as he started to open them. So this time he was in a hospital room, huh? He didn't hear Chopin or Beethoven anymore. He heard a second-based ticking and noticed the clock on the wall blurrily. Hotch put his glasses over the bridge of Reid's nose, the arms of the glasses slipping behind his ears without scratching his face. Rare, normally when someone else puts glasses on a person they ALWAYS nail them right near the eye, it's one of Murphy's Laws after all.

Well, actually, it's a theory, Murphy's Law is a theory.

The clock looks strange, he saw it vaguely a few minutes ago and it had said 7:49.32. Now it was on the position of 2:13.13…14…15… Reid shook his head, "What time is it?"

Hotch glanced at his watch, apparently not aware of the wall-mount. "About 2:15. How do you feel?"

"Like Morgan tackled me. Again." The after-thought made Hotch smile despite himself. At least Reid seemed to be thinking more clearly now.

Slowly, there was a swell of music coming from the windowsill, a CD player sat there. Reid glanced in that direction to spot Morgan there, moving his hand back, holding a CD case.

Bach's Cello Suite 1 Prelude swept through the room, it was more relaxing than the other songs, track 11 on the CD.

"The surgeon suggested playing your favorite CD during the surgery to keep you calm, Garcia told us about the one she burned for you a while back and said that would probably be the best one to bring." Morgan explained.

Reid nodded, that made sense. So, then, that explained the concert hall, he had a dream about that while he was in surgery—wait, WHAT? He pulled the covers from his chest to inspect for gaping wounds, his eyes darting back and forth to measure over the bandages, he only slightly regretted the sudden movements, making him glare at his IV.

"Am I on painkillers right now?" He says in a testy voice.

Hotch nods once curtly, "You were put under general anesthesia, you're still coming out of it. I'll make arrangements with the nurses, if you'd prefer…"

"I definitely prefer not to be on pain killers." He swallows heavily, "Very much so." Reid rakes fingers through his own hair, because it's better if he feels the shaking tremble in his fingers than the others see it, much better.

"Are you up to more visitors now, Reid? The others are wondering how you're doing now that you're awake."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Reid smiles at his boss, hopeful to have him overlook his pissy outburst. Hotch nods and opens the door, Garcia, JJ and Prentiss come in quickly in procession, Rossi saunters in a few moments later, gives Hotch a look, and Hotch nods before excusing himself to talk with a nurse to make arrangements for Reid.

"Oh Reid!" Garcia mentions, no longer latching onto JJ's elbow, instead flinging herself dramatically onto Reid's bedside, clutching his right arm. "I can't believe it… why didn't you tell us it was so serious!"

He blinked, baffled still that JJ was even there, was this real this time? It was starting to get very confusing.

Morgan chided, "Woman, calm down, our boy here JUST got out of surgery and you're already climbing into bed with him? Seriously, give him a week to recover first."

"A woman has needs, damn it." She shot back, smiling flirtily, "but if you want to take me to bed in his place for that week, you have the number, key and my schedule." She winked.

"Only a week, huh?"

Prentiss chose to ignore their blatant innuendos to explain to Reid why JJ was there, "Garcia called her when she called the rest of us. She can't stay long, since she's on her lunch break to come in."

JJ nodded, and smiled back at Reid. "Are you alright…?"

Reid looks down, "I'm not sure yet."

TBC.