Little author's note for you. Thanks so much for the reviews so far. I really appreciate it. Please be rested assured that things are going to start getting better for Spencer from here :)
02/08/2017. BAU Offices, Quantico, Virginia. 11:02 hours.
The tapping sound of Emily's heels against the tiled floor of the BAU offices was lost amongst the general chatter and babble of agents working at their desks as she hurried back to her office with a fresh, steaming mug of coffee cradled between her hands. She sighed happily as she jogged the few steps up to her to office, knowing that she had only one file left on her desk to be completed. Emily set her cup down on the desk between the opened case file and the haphazard stack of completed files to her left. A buzzing sound attracted her attention. Her cell phone screen was lit up and the phone vibrated against the wood of her desk. Knitting her brows in concern, Emily picked up her phone and answered.
"Garcia? Everything okay?" The voice on the other end of the phone trembled.
"Em? Uh... No, not really... It's Reid. He had a bad night and then he became sick, and-" rambled Penelope. Emily scrunched up her face and sat back in her chair.
"Pen? Wait, wait, slow down and take a breath," Penelope audibly took in a deep breath, "Start at the beginning."
"Well, last night he freaked out with the thunderstorm but I managed to calm him down. When I woke up this morning, he was going through his stuff from the hospital for his badge and gun, saying that he feels like he's lost his old self without them. He tried to move his leg and noticed his bandages were all gross so he took them off. Eww. Emily, his leg was all red and green. He thought he had bugs in his leg and started poking the gaping hole. He passed out so I called an ambulance. They think he's in septic shock, or something." Emily sat bolt upright, dark eyes fixed to the pale grey wall in front of her.
"Did you call anyone else?"
"No. You're Spence's medical contact so I think they need to talk to you."
"Which hospital?"
"He's back at St Andrew's. We're still in the ED right now. Em? He's really, really sick."
"I'll be right there." Emily hung up and glanced out of her door to see David sidling up the stairs with a take out cup of coffee, undoubtedly heading to his own office after having lunch at the nearby deli. She pushed against her desk to ease herself to her shaking legs and darted towards her door. Clinging to the door frame for support, Emily poked her head out.
"Dave?" David turned on his heel and raised an eyebrow. His greying hair glinted in the fluorescent light from above.
"Emily? Is everything okay?" Emily held on to the door frame with both hands as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. David frowned at the paling features of the raven-haired unit chief. Emily shook her head, her shoulder-length hair swaying.
"It's Spence. He's really sick and he's back at the hospital."
"Well, what're you waiting for? Get your things and let's go." David turned back towards the stairs and made his way towards the elevator. Emily gulped and returned to her office. She briefly mourned the fresh coffee she would not be able to savour after all. She grabbed her handbag and her coat and dashed after David, closing her office door behind her.
02/08/2017. St Andrew' Hospital, Virginia. 11:15 hours.
Penelope pocketed her cell phone and turned back to the man in the bed. Spencer was visibly trembling in the bed. His breaths were quick and uneven in time with his shivering. His skin had turned a sickly shade of grey and was dotted with sweat. His eyes moved back and forth rapidly between closed lids as if in a state of REM sleep. His brow was furrowed. An oxygen cannula was nestled under his nose. An EKG bleeped steadily and rapidly with his racing heart beat. Penelope seated herself beside the gurney and took his clammy, sweaty hand into her own. An offensive, sickening odour was emanating from the genius, causing Penelope's stomach to churn. A small, frail voice startled Penelope.
"Maeve? I'm so happy to see you. Is it my time? Though, it can't be. I'm not ready yet. Please, wait for me." A lump formed in Penelope's throat and tears stung her brown eyes. Spencer still had some fight left in him. She felt his fingers softly close around her hand. "Tobias? You... You're dead... I'm not... Am I? Please don't give me Dilaudid again. I can't go through that again... Gideon? Please... Help me... You left me... Why did you leave me? Why are you all here? I'm not dead yet... I'm not ready... I have my mom... I have the team... I have three beautiful godsons... I need to be alive..." Penelope gave his hand a gentle squeeze and brushed some stray strands of hair away from his face where they clung desperately to his skin.
"Shh, baby boy. I'm right here. You're not going anywhere." Spencer gave out a shaky breath as his eyes peeled open. Penelope leaned in closer to him, stroking his damp hair, "Spencer?" With eyes fixed sluggishly on the ceiling, Spencer gave out another ragged breath.
"Penelope? I'm- I'm scared."
"You're going to be fine, sweet cheeks. The doctors are going to work their magic on you."
"I... I don't want to die, Penny."
"You aren't going to." A tense silence befell the pair which was broken by Spencer's hitching breaths, closely followed by the sound of the blue curtain around the cubicle being dragged along a metal pole. A tall, stern doctor entered. He reminded Penelope of Aaron Hotchner, their former unit chief. He had short, cropped grey hair and a moustache, which somewhat resembled that of an intense army sergeant. He wore dark green scrubs under a pristine white coat. He stood at the foot of the bed, clipboard in his large hands, as he did a visual inspection of his patient.
"Dr Reid? My name's Dr Mullens. I'm an orthopaedic surgeon. I've been asked to come and review your leg. Your bloods are showing high levels of leukocytes, monocytes, lactate, procalcitonin and CRP." Penelope twisted her face in confusion.
"What does any of that even mean?" asked Penelope, gently scratching her chin in thought. Dr Mullens gave her a frustrated stare.
"It means, miss, that Dr Reid has a severe infection and his body is reacting to it. We call this sepsis. It can be life threatening. We're going to take our friend here to the OR so that we can clean out the wound and remove any necrotic tissue. I'm also going to take a look at the bone as x-rays are showing a fragment of bone floating around." Penelope felt nauseated at the disgusting images racing around her brain. Spencer slowly turned his head to look at her.
"Wait for me," he whispered. Dr Mullens hooked the clipboard onto the footrest of the bed and unhooked the EKG monitor, resting it on the bed beside Spencer's injured leg. The oxygen cannula was detached from the wall pump and reattached to an oxygen canister resting under the gurney. Spencer's fingers slid helplessly out of Penelope's trembling hand as the bed was wheeled away.
02/08/2017. St Andrews Hospital, Virginia. 11:30 hours.
The operating theatre was icy cold which felt refreshing against Spencer's fiery skin. Spencer's breaths shuddered. He looked around at the sterile, clinical room. Staff in burgundy scrubs were grabbing the bed sheet that he lay on. Spencer yelped in surprise as they slid him over to the operating table. No one spoke a word as they busied themselves, connecting him up to various monitors. His sling was removed and his left arm stretched out to the side, eliciting a gasp of pain from the genius. A blood pressure cuff was fastened around his arm. A nurse fastened a tourniquet around his right wrist and tapped his skin harshly. A cannula was pushed into the bulging vein in the back of Spencer's hand and taped down. Spencer crinkled his brow in fear as he turned his head to the right to see a young man in a dark green surgical gown preparing a large syringe with a cloudy white substance. Spencer was unable to make out the features that were hidden behind a blue surgical cap and mask. The anaesthetist clicked the syringe into the cannula, then slowly pressed the plunger.
"This will make you feel a little drunk, Dr Reid." Spencer swallowed hard. A pair of nitrile gloved hands tugged the oxygen cannula over Spencer's head and set it to the side. A large plastic mask with a heavy rubber seal was pressed over his nose and mouth.
"Dr Reid? I'd like you to start counting backwards from ten." Spencer swallowed again, his mouth devoid of any moisture.
"Ten... Nine... Eight..." Spencer made it as far as six when his eyes fluttered shut. The anaesthetist gently tilted the unconscious man's head back and thrust his jaw upwards. He slid a cold metal laryngoscope into his mouth and inserted a long plastic tube down into his throat before inflating the balloon with a syringe of sterile water. He wrapped a length of white cord around the tube and tied it around Spencer's limp head to secure it where it rested between his teeth. He attached a bag which he squeezed a few times before hooking up the ventilator which hissed with each breath. Satisfied that his patient was unconscious, the anaesthetist strapped the young doctor's arms down to the arm rests out to the sides of the operating table. He tore off two small pieces of medical tape and pressed them over Spencer's eyelids to prevent them from opening. Dark green drapes were placed over Spencer's still form and metal trolleys were dragged towards the table. Dr Mullens, kitted out in a surgical gown, gloves stretched almost to his elbows, approached with his hands raised, palms facing towards him. He drew back the drape covering Spencer's left leg.
"Okay. Let's get this show on the road."