18/07/2017. The 309 Subway to Quantico, Virginia. 08:00 hours.
Spencer had woken up that morning feeling good. His thirty day sabbatical had come to an end and he was able to return to the field where he felt most at home. It was a warm morning, warm enough that he could forgo his usual cardigan/blazer combo. Spencer had read through three books with his bowl of Lucky Charms and normal morning coffee. He decided to stop by his favourite coffee shop on his way to the subway. The baristas in there knew his usual order by heart and had it prepared for him arriving at the same time he did every day. He was never a minute late or a minute earlier. He arrived at the exact time. Each day.
Spencer sipped his hazelnut latte made with soy milk, a smile on his face and the sun gently warming his skin. His long shaggy curls bounced against the collar of his blazer as he walked, his long legs taking wide strides. His tan leather satchel rested against his hip, partially hiding the revolver on his belt. The sun disappeared as Spencer descended the steps into the subway. He drained the last of his coffee and tossed his cup into the trash can before making his way to the platform. The train whizzed past until it came to a stop. Spencer pressed the glowing button on the doors to open them and stepped inside the carriage. Several people sat quietly. Many of them eyed their phone screens. Some had newspapers. Spencer took a seat next to the window and sighed, gently closing his eyes and resting his head against the cool glass.
The sound of groaning metal brought Spencer back to reality. His senses prickled with alarm. The train carriage swayed from side to side as it tried to regain balance. Shorting electricity flashed blue against the stone walls of the tunnel. Spencer sat up straight and glanced around. Other people were looking around in fear. Spencer gripped the rail on the back of the seat in front of him to steady himself as the carriage teetered dangerously to the left, then swung to the right. With a creak and scrape of metal against metal, the carriage crashed over onto its left side. Spencer's head smashed the window, splintering the glass and shards entering his temple and scalp. His ribs cracked as they thudded against the side of the carriage. As the carriage dragged sideways across the rails, the metal tore open, piercing Spencer's leg. Black spots and stars danced in front of his eyes before consuming him entirely.
18/07/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 10:12 hours.
Spencer's chest rose and fell with each mechanical breath of the ventilator as surgeons busied themselves around him. A blue cap held his hair away from his face and medical tape held his eyes closed. Wires and tubes snaked across his torso and connected to steadily bleeping machines. The medical staff passed instruments back and forth to each other over Spencer's legs as they worked on his leg, flushing the large, gaping wound with sterile water. More staff worked at his side, making an incision into his left side, bubbling blood gushing out of the hole. Another surgeon poked a gloved finger into the hole to widen it, then removed his fingers with a squelch. A thick tube was shoved roughly into the opening. Large volumes of blood drained away from Spencer's chest. The steady bleeping of the monitor quickened then let out a long steady bleep.
"We're losing him!"
"He's in a-systole! Grab the paddles!"
"Get some adrenaline, stat!" Orange conduction pads were slapped against his clammy skin and the paddles pressed firm against them.
"Charging to two-fifty! Everyone stand clear! Oxygen away!" Spencer's limp body lifted with the voltage that surged through him, then crashed back down on the operating table. The steady bleep continued, "Going again! Charging to two-fifty. Stand clear!" Spencer's body jerked again. Bleep. Bleep.
"He's back."
18/07/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 10:48 hours.
It had taken the team over an hour to reach the hospital due to the continued gridlock of traffic. Two black government SUVs entered the parking lot and parked up side by side. Matt, Penelope, Emily and David exited one SUV. JJ, Tara and Luke exited the other. The team moved as one giant gaggle through the sliding double doors of the hospital. The waiting area to the emergency department was buzzing with people searching for loved ones. With a grim mask plastered across her face, Emily approached the front desk where nurses were desperately trying to appease other people. Emily slapped her FBI badge down on the desk in front of a very flustered nurse.
"SSA Prentiss. I was called by Dr Harper regarding Dr Spencer Reid."
"Ah, yes. If you take a seat, I'll have Dr Harper come down." Emily nodded, stuffing her credentials back into her jacket pocket. The team swarmed to a corner near the children's play area and dropped into the plastic seats. A greying man with round spectacles wearing dark green, blood-spattered scrubs approached them. His surgical mask hung around his neck. He glanced around at the seven anxious faces staring back at him.
"Family of Spencer Reid?" In unison, the team came to their feet and flocked around the doctor, "Let's go somewhere quieter to talk." The group blindly followed the doctor to a large room filled with plush armchairs. All sat down, desperation in their hearts for their beloved doctor to be okay. Dr Harper took the chair nearest the door, his clipboard tightly gripped between both hands.
"I'm Dr Harper and I'm the trauma physician looking after Dr Reid. You all understand that Dr Reid was on the carriage that crashed this morning?" Every head facing him nodded, "Dr Reid has sustained some significant injuries as a result. Firstly, he has a subdural haematoma due to a skull fracture. It isn't life threatening and will be managed conservatively. He has some lacerations to his scalp and face from broken glass. These have been stitched and will heal. He dislocated his left shoulder which has been manipulated back into place. He will need to wear a sling for six weeks to allow it to heal. He has some broken ribs on his left side which caused his lung to collapse. Blood filled the open space which is called a haemothorax. We have inserted a tube into his chest to drain away the blood and let the lung re-inflate. He will need to remain on a ventilator for around a week until his lung heals. Lastly, Dr Reid sustained a very large laceration to his leg where metal has torn through his calf muscle and chipped his fibula. We have flushed as much debris out of the wound as possible but it has become infected so we have him on high dose antibiotics. Now, I understand that his record states no narcotics, however we have had to put him on low level Morphine to help protect his heart. The pain he would be in without would send him into a heart attack." Dr Harper let out a long sigh as he observed each horror-stricken face, "Agents. You must know that we briefly lost Dr Reid on the table. We managed to bring him back. He's going to need lots of support to get him through his recovery." Silence fell upon the stunned group.
"C-can we see him?" stammered Penelope.
"You can. I will allow all of you to see him for a few minutes, then I'll allow one of you to stay with him. You need to prepare yourselves for what you will see." JJ swallowed and was the first to her feet. She wrung her hands.
"I need to see him," choked out JJ. The doctor pushed against the armchair to ease himself back onto his aching feet. He held open the door for them as they filed out in sombre silence, JJ leading the way.
Dr Harper guided the BAU team to the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. The group were squeezed into the small space. Penelope's fruity fragrance was overpowering. The doors slid open to the third floor where they were met with silence. It was not an uncomfortable silence though. Dr Harper led the way into the intensive care unit where patients resided in single rooms. They stopped directly outside of the fourth room in where the blinds to the small window near the left side of the door were partially closed to block out the light. A board to the right of the door read: Dr S. Reid. JJ was the first to open the door and she was far from prepared for the sight before her. Her fingers slipped from the steel door handle and pressed tight over her mouth to stifle a sob. Penelope was less composed and openly howled with sorrow. Tara pursed her lips, tears teetering on her lashes. Matt and Luke had their arms around each other's shoulders. Emily chewed on her lip. David had his eyes closed and was whispering a prayer.
They were not prepared for the sight of their brother lying in the bed. Spencer lay motionless, his right arm down by his side. His left arm was encased in a navy blue sling, the strap around his neck. His hazel eyes were closed peacefully. Dark purple bruising extended from his hairline down the side of his face. His left eye was swollen and blackened. Steri-strips held together the cut across his temple. A thin yellow tube was taped into his left nostril and was attached to a bag that hung on the drip stand containing a foul, beige coloured liquid. He was bare chested which was a new sight to them all. Circular pads dotted across his chest, the multi-coloured wires snaking up to a monitor that bleeped steadily. A thick tube drained blood away from between his bruised ribs into a plastic box on the floor beside the bed. A drip in his right hand led to another drip stand that held two bags- one large bag filled with clear liquid, and another smaller one containing a yellow liquid. A large cannula was taped to the right side of his neck which led to a series of pumps. A plastic tube protruded between Spencer's chapped, slightly parted lips, held in place by a blue neoprene strap that trapped his dusty curls. His leg was bandaged from his toes to his knee and was propped up on a pillow.
JJ felt her knees buckle underneath her. She reached out for anything to keep her steady. The figure in the bed looked like a battered shell of a man, not her best friend. She eased herself into the armchair near the head of the bed and grasped Spencer's hand, taking care not to disturb the cannula. Penelope was at her side, squeezing JJ's shoulder with one hand, the other hand using a silk handkerchief to mop away her own mascara tainted tears. None of them had expected their day to pan out the way it had.