Diana hugged her herself, pulling her jacket tighter around her thin frame.
When was the last time she had even needed this jacket? She had completely forgotten she had it when Ethel had pulled it out of her closet...how many hours ago had that been? She stared out the window at the black expanse before her. There was nothing...no lights, no cars, no noise. Nothing but frigid cold and trees - lots of trees and signs. But there was only one sign that she was concerned with:Atlanta. Her Spencer was in Atlanta. Only, she paused as another lonely sign came into view, 15 more miles.
"He'll be okay," Ethel's warm hand reached for her cold one, squeezing it in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but Diana barely noticed.
Her Spencer was dying, that voice echoed in her head. She reached over to the radio dials and turned the volume up in attempt to drown out the voices.
Her Spencer was fine! That was exactly what Dr. Jessen had told her.
"We're here," Ethel's soft voice announced with a sigh of relief.
Diana fumbled with the seat belt, only to freeze when she saw - A motel sign? Where was-? She glanced frantically out the window, but there were no signs for Atlanta or hospitals. "No, no Spencer?"
Her panicked eyes met Ethel's exhausted ones. Ethel rubbed her face, in a vain effort to wake up. "Spencer's not here, Diana!"
"I want my baby."
Ethel leaned her head back against the seat, dialing the music down. She could not understand how Diana could listen to that...calling it music was a little too generous. "Diana, he's fine. Dr. Jessen spoke to him on the phone this afternoon. We'll probably find him reading a medical library in bed -tomorrow!"
"No! He can't read if he's dying!"
"You're hearing things again!" The frustrated resignation was impossible to disguise.
"No, I'm not crazy. Ethel, you have to believe me! My baby-"
A fellow mother she may be, but if Ethel heard the hysterical 'my baby' one more time, she was going to - what did Spencer call it? - snap? Boy did she ever HATE schizophrenia.
"DIANA! What do the voices always say?"
"They lie," she dutifully answered as always. She knew they lied, but these voices were different.
"Exactly, they lie. They are lying to you. Spencer is NOT dying!" How many times had Diana written to her, begging to be taken to Spencer, convinced that the CIA had kidnapped him? - and it was never the FBI, either. If it was the FBI at least she'd have a fallback. She didn't have any CIA contact numbers. If this was the first time, she'd be worried but Diana had this nightmare often enough that it was like crying wolf.
"Why would Spencer's doctor call you if he was fine?"
And there was the lynch pin of the argument: the only sensible thing she'd said all day. The one she kept harping on, over and over again. Doctors on the other side of the country simply did NOT join the pack cry.
"He just told me that Spencer was brought in after a case and that he needed family. He said and I quote 'I'll explain everything when you get here.'"
"But he didn't say that Spencer was fine."
"Dia-"
"He would have called by now if he was fine!"
"He's probably just sleeping off some medicine side-effect- you know, like you should be!" How Diana was even awake was a mystery to her.
Mother and son had few things in common, chief among them being a love of books and an inability to let something go! That had made dealing with Diana's delusions over the years a near impossibility. The only one who had ever been able to talk her down was Spencer
"Alright! Alright!" She threw her hands in the air in defeat...what had Spencer always said? 'You can't reason with crazy.' She couldn't argue with what was right in front of her, well actually she could. She did that all the time. "Let me go check in, get some coffee, and we'll go to the hospital." She hated giving into delusions, hated seeing that satisfied almost-smirk on Diana's face. "We'll check in, be told he's fine but sleeping and come right back! Okay?"
"But I wan to see-"
"Diana, it's 3 in the morning! Visiting hours are over! Okay, I'll just talk to his doctor, find out everything I can, and we'll come back later."
The Arizona native stepped out into the nearly freezing morning air, locking the hysterical Diana inside the rental car. She loved Diana, she really did. But after being stuck next to her on the plan for five hours, was five minutes to collect her thoughts so much to ask for? She had forgotten how much Diana hated airplanes. It was a wonder they'd managed to not attract the attention of airport security.
Oh that boy is in SO MUCH trouble when I get my hands on him! She would never be so happy to see her nephew - she'd suffocate him in a hug and then berate him for an hour. How dare he scare his mother like this? Was one phone call so much to ask for?
If there was only one thing that could calm her down, it was him. Even if it was only the sound of his voice. And that was the other lynch pin holding the argument together: the fact that Spencer had not been on the phone since speaking to Dr. Jessen was alarming to say the least. He knew how much his mother worried, even without cause...giving her cause was like...she searched her brain in vain for the proper description...like giving a hot stick of dynamite to a child. It just didn't happen.
He wouldn't do that! Ethel knew that. She knew that as certain that the sun would rise. Please be okay, Spencer! she prayed. He had to be okay. She didn't know what she would do with Diana if he wasn't okay.
"It's three thirty in the morning," Ethel stressed to the nurse at the reception desk, wondering if she was the only sane person present. "What do you mean 'I'll take you to him'? I thought visiting hours were over."
The nurse hesitated for a moment before adding with a grimace, "The I.C.U doesn't close."
Ethel's heart stopped, or at least skipped a few beats. "What?" she deadpanned. Oh please, no, no. "He's in -?"
"The I.C.U., yes."
"I'll take it from here, thank you." Ethel felt a hand on her shoulder as she was guided down a white corridor. She hated white corridors, and the smell of antiseptics, and everything else that made a hospital, well, a hospital. "Have a seat."
She sat down cautiously - those instructions were rarely followed by anything positive - and raised her head to see a man in a white lab coat sitting behind the desk with a look of pity on what would have been a handsome face. "My name is Lawrence Wilson, I'm Spencer's doctor." He reached out a hand that she took out of habit. "You must be Mrs. Armenta."
She nodded numbly, reaching over to take Diana's hand, wondering why she had suddenly gone silent. They must have given her a sedative - but the seat was empty. "Dia-"
"She's fine, or as fine as she can be," Dr. Wilson at least tried to assure her.
"No, she -"
"-has schizophrenia, I know," he told her gently. "The team told me. She's got your son here, as well as Agents Hotchner and Morgan. She's in good hands. Can I get you anything? You've had a long flight, I'm sure you're tired."
"No, just, Spencer -" She stopped short at the guarded look on the doctor's face. "Please tell me you've got some good news for me."
"I do. He's alive."
Finally! Someone who was listening...someone was taking her to her baby! She'd show...where was? "Ethel?"
"She's talking to Dr. Wilson," the kind nurse explained. "This way, Mrs. Reid."
"My Spencer is here?"
"Yes, I'll take you to him -"
"Auntie Dia!"
She knew that name! Only one person called her that, but the voice was all wrong. It sounded..."Davey?" He was crying. Her nephew never cried. "What's wrong, Davey? Why are you crying?"
"Crying? Am not!" He wiped away the evidence from his clear blue eyes, forcing a smile for his aunt. "Auntie Dia, don't. Just stay here, okay. We need to talk!" They really needed to talk.
"Of course we'll talk, you can tell me all about what Jessie did this time - and you can tell Spencer, too. The nurse is taking me -"
"Auntie Dia, I broke up with Jessie 5 years ago...and Spencer is why we need to talk. Where's Mom, she didn't answer my calls?"
"No cell service out here, at least now they can't find us here! They can't hurt my Spencer here! He's safe here." She had a satisfied smile on her face for a job well done, as if she had saved him. No one would hurt her baby, not while she could help it.
"Yes, yes, he's safe here!" Safe from further physical harm at least, David thought bitterly. "Auntie Dia, look at me!" She met his calculating gaze as he took both of her hands in his. "Spencer is hurt and sick. His machines and blankets keep -"
"Hurt? They hurt my -?" She didn't need to hear any more. She ripped her hands free from her nephew and took off down the hallway, through the double doors, past protesting nurses and machines, lots and lots of machines. Heavy foot falls trailed her, falling into place beside her. A large, warm hand grasped hers, steering her down another hallway.
"Okay, okay, we'll go see Spencer! This way, Auntie Dia!"
Diana would by lying if David's behavior hadn't scared her. David didn't cry - hadn't cried since his father...
"Okay, here we are," said nephew interrupted that depressing train of thought. "Now what I did tell you not to do?"
"No touching machines."
"Or the blankets! Those are special-"
"I don't care about the blankets! I want me son!" she screamed. Her patience was gone, long gone. She shoved David aside, or at least tried to, but he didn't budge.
David grasped his aunt's wrists, his large hands twice circling her frail ones. "Auntie Dia, I'll let you see him but you need to -"
"You can't keep my son away from me! Who do you think you are!?"
David Armenta kept his eyes on his struggling aunt. There was a look in her eyes that he remembered all too well. It was the look of fear and desperation all rolled into one. It was a silent challenge. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Damn, he'd thought Auntie Dia would come here drugged, not raving. What had his mother been thinking?
"Auntie Dia, look at me!" He waved off the nurses who were starting to gather around them. "I've got her." He tightened his grip. If she got away from him, they'd have to sedate her, again. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, but he hated doing that to her. "Look at me, look at me!" He kept is voice low and even, his eyes on his aunt's wandering ones. "Follow my lead, take a deep breath. Look at me!" He took a deep breath, in and out, relieved when she followed suit. "There you go, look at me!" It was all about the eyes. Once he knew she wasn't looking at a delusion, they'd be okay."Spencer is here. Nobody is going to take him away." He kept up the mantra. "He's here. He's not going anywhere."
"He's okay. My baby's okay?!"
"He's right here." He couldn't bring himself to repeat his aunt's words. He wasn't okay, not by a long shot. He hated lying to her, delusion or not. "You need to calm down for me. Spencer needs his sleep, so we have to be quiet - and no touching the blankets!" If she dared to move the blankets, David had no doubt that Dr. Wilson would have her removed from the ward. If that was the case, his money would still be on Auntie Dia. "What did I say, Auntie?"
"No touching the blankets," she agreed. What was so important about the blankets anyway?
"Look at me." She did. He could still see the fear. Her hands were still trembling, but the fight had gone out of her eyes, at least for now. Here goes nothing. David stepped behind the drawn privacy curtain, motioning for her to follow. He stepped to the head of the bed, keeping his eyes on Diana and not Spencer. He couldn't look at Spencer. He swallowed another lump in his throat, plastering a smile on his face. It was a smile so lame he doubted it would fool even Auntie Dia, but he had to try. "Hey, Spencer, look who made it all the way from Sin City."
Diana hurried around the curtain, outright ignoring her nephew."Spencer, don't you ever scare me li -" Her voice broke as she approached the bed...its occupant covered in machines, completely. He was so still it was unreal. He didn't respond to her outburst, no moaning in sleep, no thrashing, no blinking eyes. "Spencer?"
David watched his aunt approach the bed of her only child. There was no worse feeling in the world than knowing something terrible was about to happen, and yet be unable to stop it. She reached down to the hand which rested on the cooling blanket, only to withdraw so quickly she may well have been shocked.
Diana's didn't move, frozen in time as she studied the face of this man who was so like her son...and yet. It couldn't be him. It wasn't him. "Cold, no, he's, he's too cold. No, no, Danny..." She shook her head emphatically. "No, no that's not...No! No! Where's my son?!"
She turned wildly on the spot, searching for the perpetrator or what was the word her son always used? Unsub? There he was! "You!" she screamed, making a lunge for the man sleeping at her son's beside, only to be stopped by - "Davey, let me go! He's got my son! He's the unsub! He's got Spencer!"
"Auntie Dia, no!" Strong hands wrapped around her waist before she could get to the bastard who had hurt her son!
So much for calm, David had hoped the man would wake up before his aunt arrived. Oh well, he must really be tired if he was sleeping through Hurricane Diana. He wrapped his arms around her so that hers were pinned to her side. He whispered what he hoped were soothing words in her ear as he laid his head on her shaking shoulder. Finally, her weight sagged under him. She'd given up the fight, the absence of the adrenaline rush left her kneeling on the floor, sobbing alternately for both Danny and Spencer, but neither one would answer.