Chapter 12

Hey, long time no see. I've had a couple of messages asking if I could update this story. I'm really struggling with this story at the moment as it's been so long since I started it, things just got too busy and I couldn't continue. Anyway, I've written this chapter just to see if I would be able to finish up the story but I don't know if i'm going to be able to do any more, honestly I'm just not invested in this story anymore and I just wouldn't be able to do it any justice. I can try, but I just don't know at this point. Anyway I thought I'd upload this 'test chapter' anyway since it's already written.

If anyone wants to take on this story then please, please message me. It would be a huge weight off my shoulders and if someone wants it then at least it could be finished to a better standard than I would be able to.

Most of you have probably abandoned this story long ago, but to anyone who is still reading thank you, that means a lot. I'm sorry for abandoning the story, my motivation levels are truly sub-par.

*The team*

A few hours had passed since the team had been given news on Reids condition. Each member of the team was now sprawled out on chairs in the waiting area, some sleeping, some reading newspapers that had been strewn across the tables in the waiting area in an attempt to distract themselves from their mounting restlessness.

Morgan was the only member of the team who was standing, pacing even, with his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was calm and soothing as he spoke to his baby girl on the other end of the line. He was feeling anything but calm, and it took all he had to keep his voice relaxed and calming, but the last thing he wanted to do was cause Garcia any distress. After all, she was stuck in D.C, away from her boy genius and he knew that must be difficult for her.

'We don't know much baby girl, all we know is that he is out of surgery and resting.' He whispered, in an attempt to was her mind. As soon as he had informed her of the situation, she had burst into tears. He felt an agonising wave of guilt upon hearing her reaction to the news, realising that they had failed to keep her up to date on the events of the last day and this must be a huge shock.

Fortunately, his words seemed to have calmed her down, as he heard her release a huge breath. 'Derek Morgan, you call me as soon as you have any news. I will not be left out of this, he is as much mine as he is yours!'. For the first time in what seemed like months, Morgan felt an urge to smile. His baby girl never failed to make him smile, her reaction was so typical and so welcome right now.

'I swear on my life princess, you will be the first to know'. He heard her huff on the other end of the line, and if he listened carefully he could swear he heard her whisper under her breath 'you better'. With the ghost of a smile on his lips, he ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Turning around, he caught Hotches eye and nodded at his questioning look. He knew his boss cared about his agents, and it was clear he wanted to know how Garcia was holding up. At Morgans nod, Hotch inclined his head slightly and relaxed back into the chair he was occupying. Morgan went to sit in a chair opposite him, settling himself in for a long wait.

It wasn't long before a doctor entered the waiting area, looking around before catching Morgans eye. 'Spencer Reid?'. Morgans heart skipped, wondering briefly whether the news they were about to be given would be the news they were all dreading to hear. Was reid still stable? Had he died? He shot up from his chair, hurrying over to the doctor and fixing him with a stare so intense the doctor shuffled slightly, clearly uncomfortable. The team had joined Morgan at this point, those who were previously sleeping having been roused from their slumber at the calling of their co-workers name. The group of agents crowded around the doctor, making him shuffle once more, clearly not used to the intimidating eyes resting upon him.

'Spencer is now awake, he is still groggy and is on a lot of strong pain medication but he is recovering remarkably well considering the injuries he sustained. Unfortunately, he does not wish to have any visitors and has requested that you all leave him to recover in peace'. The doctors voice shook as he spoke, sensing the growing tension building around him as he spoke those last few words.

'What?!' Morgan spoke first, or rather, shouted. 'This is bull, he needs us!'. As Morgans voice grew louder and louder, her felt a hand land on his shoulder, obviously encouraging him to calm down before things got out of hand. Swinging his body around to face the owner of said hand, he came face to face with Rossi. 'No! He is not doing this, I am sick and tired of him pushing us away, he's just been shock for crying out loud!'. His pulse was racing, hands becoming sweaty and an urge to trash the waiting room was becoming unbearable. How could he turn them away when they had come all this way to help him.

Rossi fixed him with a stern but calming look, silently urging him to think about what he was doing. The entire team knew how quickly Morgan could work himself up, and they all new that it wouldn't help matters. They were all disappointed, and to some degree, angry, but not entirely at Reid. They were angry at themselves. They had let this happen, they had all in their individual ways pushed Reid to acting this way. They had alienated him and they all realised what part they had played in the events of the last few days.

Over the course of this interaction, the doctor had excused himself, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say to improve the situation. His patient had refused to see these people, and that was that.

By this point, Hotch has shaken off the disappointment and forced himself back into his role as leader of the group of distraught and defeated agents. 'Morgan, there is nothing we can do. If Reid doesn't want to see us, we will just have to wait until he is ready. He is out of immediate danger, so I suggest we all give him the time and space he needs for today and try again tomorrow'. He said this as calm as he could. He didn't want to leave, after all they had come all the way to New York just to find and help Reid, but forcing the situation would only make things worse. They needed to figure out other ways to win Reid over.

Morgan was still furious, hands clenching into fists in an attempt to release some of the anger that was rising inside of him, but he knew Hotch was right. If he fought his way through the hospital and just burst into Reids room demanding answers like he wanted to do, it would jut push Reid further away. He felt his anger turn to despair, eyes itching and burning with tears he did not want to shed. He needed to leave before he broke down infront of his team. Yes, they were his family, but they could not see him cry. It was all too much right now, he needed to go somewhere. Somewhere where he could breath.

With that, Morgan pushed past Hotch who had moved to stand in front of him, maybe a bit more aggressively than was necessary, and stormed towards the doors leading out of the hospital. Once he was outside, he felt the cold New York air on his skin and allowed himself to breathe, taking shaky breaths until his chest no longer felt like it was going to burst with unreleased tension. Walking a few steps away from the doors and finding a bench surrounded by bushes and trees, a place obviously provided for patients and families to cool off and find some alone time to think, he sat down heavily, placing his elbows on his knees and buying his face in his hands. How could Reid do this to him? To the team? They were a family, they were always there for each other and now that he needed his team most, they were being pushed away. All they wanted to do was to help him, to be there for him. He just didn't understand.

Suddenly remembering the conversation he had had with Garcia just half an hour before, Morgan reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He needed to inform her of what had happened, just as he had promised to do, but more than that he just needed to hear her voice again. To talk to the one person he knew who could always pull him back from the verge of a complete rage. He found her number on his phone and pressed call, anticipating the barage of emotions that were about to hit him upon speaking to his baby girl. After just one ring, her voice sounded on the line.

'Whats happened? Don't you dare give me bad news Derek Morgan or I will fly to New York and destroy you so help me-'

'Baby girl calm down, I can't tell you whats happened if you keep talking' Morgan interrupted, a smile briefly gracing his lips before he remembered the subject of the phone call. 'He doesn't want to see us baby girl. I don't know what to do. I just want to be there for him and he won't let me. What do I do?'. The line was silent. If it wasn't for the gentle breathing on the other end, Morgan would have though she had hung up. He waited for her to respond, feeling more and more anxious as the silence continued.

'Chocolate bear, there isn't anything we can do. You know Reid, he's stubborn, but he's smart. He will come around eventually. We just have to let him make that decision on his own'. Even as the words left her lips, she felt undeniable sadness. She knew she was right, but the words still felt like knives to her heart. She wanted to be there for her boy genius too, but she knew him well enough to know that pushing him would result in an even more pissed off boy genius.

Morgan put his head back into his hand, the other hand pressing his phone to his ear. That was the second time a member of his team had told him to leave Reid be in the last hour, and he didn't like it. But if he really pushed his emotions aside, he knew that both Garcia and Hotch were right. He didn't have to like it to know it was true. Defeated and upset, he sighed before addressing Garcia, who had been waiting for his response patiently while he collected his thoughts.

'Maybe you're right princess, but I don't like it. He's like a brother to me, I just want to make things okay.' He whispered, not trusting himself to speak at his typical volume in case he broke down.

'It'll be okay my sexy chocolate god, we will get through this together. He will be back with us before you know it.'. Morgan smiled at her use the nickname. He knew she was just trying to lighten the mood, and he appreciated it. It brought a sense of normality to an otherwise abnormal and stressful situation.

'Okay baby girl, I think we're just going to head to the hotel now. I will call you later.'. After saying a quick goodbye to the quirky tech goddess, he hung up the phone and breathed a deep sigh before standing up. The team had left the hospital and were standing just a few feet away by the entrance of the hospital, watching him. Making his way towards them, he gave them a brief and halfhearted smile to assure them that he was in a better headspace after his short time alone.

With that, the team began making their way to their hotel to come up with a plan. They would get their genius back, there was no question about it.

*Reids POV*

There was beeping. Some kind of machine, the noises surrounding him echoing in his head, resulting in a more than unwelcome headache. Where was he? As he lay there, in some kind of bed, he attempted to recall the last memory he had. A hotel room? He was in a hotel room, he was sure of it. Reluctant to open his eyes, attempting to fend off the reality of his situation, he slowly began to remember small details of his last conscious moments. He was in a hotel room, he was sure of it, and he was with someone. Someone he knew, someone from his past. A man, maybe.

It wasn't a common occurrence for Dr. Spencer Reid to forget, and quite frankly, it was unnerving.

Minutes passed before his memory kicked into full gear, lashing him with sights, smells, sounds of the last few moments before the event that landed him in this position. He was in a New York hotel talking, heatedly, with Ethan. Then the resonating sounds of glass as it shattered right behind him. It was sudden and deafening, taking him by surprise. Then, almost as soon as he heard the glass shatter, he felt a burning pain in his chest, a warm liquid beginning to gush down his t-shirt almost too fast for comfort. There was so much of it, but what was it? As he continued to analyse those last few moments, the realisation that it was, in fact, blood that had been gushing from his chest hit him. Had he been shot?

As if on fast forward, images began playing in his head. Falling to the floor. Landing in a scattered carpet of shattered glass. Gasping for air as the pain in his chest increased to monumental levels. Then, Ethan appeared in his hazy line of vision. He was kneeling next to him. He could remember now, the pleading voice in his head, trying in vain to call out to Ethan for help. And then, in a crushing realisation, he remembered the moment Ethan had walked away and out of the hotel room. In that moment, he felt hopeless. His ex-partner, a man who had moments before been so happy to see him, his friend, had walked away from him when he needed him most.

That memory was enough to make Reid open his eyes, a wave of something, anger most likely taking over him. Is was fizzing beneath the surface of his skin, causing the hairs on his arms to rise and his breathing to quicken. As if in the distance, the beeping that had been on going throughout his internal battle to recall recent events increased in pace and frequency, becoming faster and more and more out of control. As if on cue, a woman dressed as a nurse rushed into the room, glancing quickly at a monitor by his bedside before looking to him. While this was happening, he was able to put the pieces together, despite his pain and haziness. He was in a hospital, which brought up the question of why? And how? Ethan had left hadn't he, so how had he been found? Maybe another guest at the hotel had heard the gunshot and called the emergency services. Maybe it was the shooter? So many possibilities and questions were running through his head that he almost missed the question posed to him by the nurse.

'Mr. Reid, how are you feeling?'. Her voice was calm and welcoming, she seemed friendly, but he was not in a good mood. The realisation that his friend had abandoned him in a hotel room, bullet wound in his chest and bleeding at alarming levels, pissed him off.

'Dr. Reid' He replied bluntly, throwing her a quick glare before turning away to analyse the room he was in. It was a decent sized room. White seemed to be the predominant colour, white walls, white bed sheets, even a vase filled with white flowers sitting in his bedside table. The door was directly across from his bed, left ajar by the nurse that has just burst into the room allowing him to see the bust corridor flooded with doctors and nurses shuffling past, carrying out their duties. A window covered the wall next to the door with slatted blinds concealing his room from. View of any potentially nosey individuals who happened to come across it. During his observations of the room, the nurse had begun to shift uncomfortably, but did not make any move to leave.

Sighing, he looked back to her with an expression that clearly indicated for her to say what she needed to say and get out. A slight twinge of guilt crept its way forward, reminding him that he should be grateful towards these people. They had more than likely saved his life after all. With that thought, he softened his stare slightly, allowing his lips to curl into a barely visible smile and hoping that through his fowl mood, this action would put the nurse at ease, even slightly.

It seemed to do the trick, as almost immediately she let out a small breath and stopped shuffling. He was glad, I was beginning to get irritating. Looking at him briefly before re-directing her attention towards checking his fluids and monitors, she began to say what she had clearly been wanting to say since the moment she discovered he was awake.

'Dr. Reid, you have visitors. They are quite insistent on seeing you, they say they are your 'team'. You should rest for now, but would you like me to tell them they can see you tomorrow?'. She seemed hesitant to ask him, obviously still shaken by his icy tone.

'No.' It was short, simple, and filled with anger. He had once again succeeded in making the nurse shift uncomfortably, busying herself with anything she could so as not to have to look into his hard, cold stare. 'I don't want to see them, they are not my team. You should tell them to leave.' There was no argument from the nurse, she just nodded quickly, and after checking all was in order she left the room as fast as she could.

He no longer felt guilty about being so cold towards her. He was too pissed to care. How dare those people come here and try to be there for him now. It really took him getting shot for them to start acting like they cared about how he felt? Where were they when he was crying every night over the death of his, no, their friend. They didn't care then, so they do not get to act like they care now. He clenched his fists angrily, clutching the thin bed sheets that covered his body in a vice like grip.

He could admit that this wasn't him. The anger. The blatant disrespect towards people who had worked to save his life. He had changed drastically over the last few months, he was no longer the Spencer Reid who would allow those in his life to walk all over him. Act like he was insignificant. Like he didn't matter. He had changed, yes, but he had to.

He had been hurt, and he wasn't going to let it happen again.

With that though, he felt himself slip back into darkness. Although he had only been conscious for just over an hour, his body felt weak and fatigued and he couldn't help but wish he had never made this trip to New York. He had come here for a reason, to save one of his best friends, but even in the small amount of time he had been here, there had been so much he wished he could take back. He knew he should get up, leave this hospital and continue searching for Jess. She was in a significant amount of danger right now, and it seemed he was now in it alone. He had thought Ethan would be with him on this, willing to return to the days where they worked side by side on their undercover mission, willing to fight with him to bring back their friend, but clearly he was not.

It was strange. He seemed so terrified when he had told him of their friends situation, as if he would go to the ends of the earth to help him return her to them safe and sound, but then as if a switch had been flipped he had left without looking back. He couldn't fight the feeling that something wasn't right with Ethan. Something had changed, he wasn't like the man he had once known. As much as he wanted to figure this all out, to get to the bottom of his friends strange behaviour and his other friends kidnapping, his body was not complying. His arms felt heavy as he relaxed into the uncomfortable hospital bed. His mind was not working at the capacity that it normally would.

For a fleeting moment he considered calling the nurse back to bring in his 'team'. Their help would be more beneficial now than it had been before, considering the fact he was bed bound with a gunshot wound in his chest, but he couldn't. He wouldn't give in that easily. He didn't need them, he just needed time.

Unfortunately, time was something he just didn't have. Every moment he spent lying in this hospital bed was time in which Jess could be suffering at the hands of her kidnapper. He truly didn't know what to do in this moment, so he simply closed his eyes. It was an unconscious decision, a decision that he would come to regret later, but his wounded body needed rest and there was no way around it right now. He had given up.

As his mind slipped into darkness once more, a slight click could be heard from across the room. Unbeknownst to Reid, the door leading into his hospital room had begun to slowly swing open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway, silently watching the wounded agent laid out on the hospital bed.

The figure stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind them so as to not wake the sleeping agent and took slow, careful steps towards Reids bedside, hand tightly gripping cool solid metal, finger resting lightly on a trigger.