01/08/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 15:30 hours.
A splash of water bounced off the tip of Spencer's nose as the wheelchair was thrust forward through the sliding doors of the hospital. Spencer squinted and tilted his head up to see the gathering of darkening clouds above him. More drops fell thick and fast, pounding against Spencer's face. Spencer gasped and closed his eyes, allowing the rain to pelt his skin. Each drop of rain felt like an icicle piercing his flesh. The genius shivered involuntarily as the rain soaked through his shirt. He curled his right arm around his waist in an effort to warm himself. Spencer felt a heavy weight drape around his quivering shoulders. His hair clung to his face. Spencer pulled the black coat tightly around himself, nestling his face into the collar. Derek glanced down at Spencer as he pushed the wheelchair forward. Penelope had darted ahead to the car, using her cardigan to shield her.
"You look like a drowned rat, Reid," chuckled Derek. Spencer snorted derisively.
"Well hurry up then, old man."
"You are cruising for a bruising, pretty boy." Spencer frowned as he silently mouthed Derek's words back to himself, trying to make sense of them. Derek patted Spencer on the shoulder, as though he could hear the cogs whirring in the genius' brain. "Did I stump you, kid?"
"What does that even mean?"
"You remember when we worked that case of the graphic novelist in a psychotic break?"
"Johnny McHale?"
"That's the one. You remember when we had that argument about interstates?" Spencer snorted again.
"Of course I do. I have an eidetic memory."
"And what did I threaten to do to you?"
"You said," Spencer cleared his throat and attempted a gruff voice, "don't make me smack you in front of all these people." Derek guffawed.
"Was that meant to be an impression of me?" A smile crept across Spencer's lips. Derek slapped Spencer across the back of the head, his hair swaying and spraying droplets of rain in an arc.
"Oww!"
"You asked for that one, pretty boy." The wheelchair came to a stop next to a black SUV where Penelope already had the back door open. She poked her head between the driver and passenger seats at them.
"What took you both so long?"
"Morgan's picking on me," responded Spencer childishly.
"Me?" exclaimed Derek incredulously, "Would I ever do such a thing, baby girl?"
"Of course not, brown sugar!" Spencer gasped.
"I don't stand a chance with you two!" Derek and Penelope laughed out loud at Spencer's feigned crestfallen expression. Derek scooped Spencer up into a bridal carry, much to the genius' chagrin, and dumped him in a heap on the back seat, "Are you trying to re-hospitalise me?" asked Spencer as the door closed in his face.
01/08/2017. Garcia's Apartment, Virginia. 22:48 hours.
Spencer stared at the floor in silence. Penelope had long since fallen asleep on the other sofa and the Dr Who DVD had ended, playing the theme tune on a relentless loop. His pulse pounded deafeningly in his ears. His leg throbbed incessantly. A crack of lightning flashed through Penelope's pink voile curtains, casting an eerie blue/white glow around the room. Shadows stretched across the walls like monstrous tendrils. Spencer's entire being tensed. His hands clenched into tight fists either side of his legs on the sofa. Shorting electricity flashed blue against the stone walls of the tunnel. 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.
Spencer's breath caught in his throat. His fingernails dug crescents into his sweaty palms. His eyes were wide, unblinking, fixed to a spot on the floor. The sound of metal against metal screeched in his ears, like nails on a chalkboard. His chest rose and fell rapidly as desperate tears spilled from his eyes.
"No! No! Everyone off the train! Move!" he yelled, his brain wanting to leap into action but his body refused to cooperate. Penelope jumped in fright and ended up in a heap on the floor with her blanket. She glanced around with bleary eyes, spectacles twisted on her face. Spencer was statue still, his chest heaving for oxygen and blood trickling over the purple throw on the sofa. Penelope slowly crawled over to him and used his knees to pull herself up. He did not register the pressure on his legs.
"Spence? Spence? It's okay."
"It's not... The train... People are going to die! We need to get the medics here!" Penelope grasped both of his hands. She could feel his body trembling beneath her fingers. Penelope pressed both hands against the side of his face, his tears soaking into her skin. "I need a c-collar and back board over here!" replayed like a broken record in his head, "I didn't hurt my back... I swear! No- no narcotics!" Penelope gently ran her thumbs back and forth across Spencer's cheeks.
"Spencer. You're not on the train now. You're with me. It's Garcia. We're in my apartment. It was just a flash of lightning." Spencer's bottom lip quivered as he managed to lift his eyes up to Penelope's face. Realisation dawned on his pale features.
"Garcia? Did I-?" Penelope gave him a small smile.
"No, of course not. You had a flashback. You started yelling and I fell off the sofa in fright. It's okay," soothed Penelope.
"I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"For this. I shouldn't be like this. I- I think I need to sleep for a while." Penelope gently eased the genius down so that he was lay on his right side on the sofa and tugged the throw from the back cushions, draping it over him like a blanket. She sat down next to the sofa and caressed his hair in a non-verbal lullaby. She noted the blood pooling in the creases of his palms from the newly made crescent shaped cuts in his flesh.