02/08/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 20:42 hours.
Spencer felt trapped in a dark haze. He was unable to determine whether what he was experiencing was life, death or limbo. He had died a few times before and he recalled seeing a white light before returning to the land of the living. This was not one of those times. This had to be limbo, treading the path between heaven and hell. A voice, quiet at first, kept breaking through the haze. It was calling his name. Spencer did not like where he was. He wanted to go to the voice. The voice grew louder as it called out to him. A second voice joined. The voices echoed as though they were in a tunnel. Spencer wanted to reach out to the voices. Spencer's little finger twitched. The movement was slight, but it was something. Emily sank into the chair beside the head of the bed and grasped Spencer's hand in both of hers. Emily cradled his long, thin fingers. The clear IV tube taped to the back of Spencer's hand brushed against her knuckles.
"Spence? Can you hear me? It's time to wake up," gasped Emily, tears threatening her lower lashes. David had pulled up a plastic chair to the opposite side of the bed and was lightly tapping Spencer's cheek with his rough, calloused fingertips.
"Come on, chico. Time to open those eyes for us." Spencer tried desperately to peel his eyes open but could only manage narrow slits. His eyelids felt so heavy. He tried again and managed to open his eyes a little further, "That's it, Reid. Keep going." A bright white light engulfed Spencer's vision before clearing. He blinked several times as everything came back into focus. He slowly turned his head to the right to see Emily beaming at him, tears tracking over her cheeks. Spencer closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his throat feeling like he had swallowed razor blades and devoid of all moisture, then turned to his left and opened his eyes again to see David who's eyes twinkled.
"Welcome back, Spence." Spencer creaked his head over to face Emily again. He became acutely aware of the oxygen cannula seated under his nose and the steady throbbing in his leg. Spencer smacked his dry lips.
"What happened?" croaked Spencer, his throat raw from the intubation.
"They managed to clean out your leg and remove the floating piece of bone. They've packed the wound." Spencer nodded sluggishly, "They said you'd be in and out of consciousness for a while." Spencer closed his eyes and traced the tip of his tongue over his chapped bottom lip.
"You want an ice chip, kiddo?"
"Please." David carefully extracted an ice chip from the jug beside the bed, the cold sending shockwaves through his fingers. He gently pressed the ice chip to Spencer's lips. Spencer opened his mouth a little to allow David to place the ice on his tongue. He relished the coolness as it melted on his tongue and slid down his throat.
"I'm sorry," rasped Spencer as he licked his lips again. Emily furrowed her brow.
"What for?" asked Emily who rubbed circles into his hand.
"For everything. Everything I've put you all through over the past few years."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," responded David. Spencer swallowed thickly.
"I do. I've caused you all so much trouble and you come and get me out of it each time. I struggle with human emotions, and certainly my own. I just..." Spencer considered his words for a moment, "I'm grateful to you. All of you. And I love you all very much." Emily gave out a small sob.
"We love you, Spencer Reid. That's why we do this time and again. You're our little brother," answered Emily. Spencer's eyelids fluttered as a small smile danced on his lips.
"I'm feeling really tired," whispered Spencer. David used his palm to brush some of Spencer's locks away from his face and then rested it on his forehead.
"Sleep, kiddo. You need it." Spencer's breathing evened out as he fell into a restful sleep. Emily glanced up and her eyes met David's. Spencer, their Spencer, was back to them.
03/08/2017. The Morgan/Hayes Residence, Virginia. 08:43 hours.
Sweat dripped from Derek's brow as he finished putting together a colourful chest of drawers in the nursery. The sun glared through the glass, burning Derek's arms as he worked. Sounds of giggling emanated from the floor below. Derek smiled and used the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat dripping into his eye. A sound of buzzing attracted Derek's attention. He turned away from the drawers, screwdriver in hand, and glanced at his phone on the floor a foot away from where he was kneeling. He reached over for his cell phone and answered it, pressing the button for the speakerphone.
"Hey, baby girl," crooned Derek.
"Oh, my chocolate thunder! I'm so happy to hear your voice!"
"It's good to talk to you too, kitten, though we did just talk yesterday. What's going on?"
"We had to admit Spencer back to the hospital. He developed sepsis from his leg wound. Emily and Dave went to see him last night ready for him waking up from surgery." Derek stilled and his fingers tightened around the screwdriver.
"And how is he now?"
"Emily says he's still really sleepy but he's doing much better. He'll need to stay in for a couple of days so they can pump him full of high dose antibiotics."
"Okay, thanks, sweetness. How's his mood?"
"He's okay so far. Emily says he's more or less back to his old self." Derek gave a small smile. Part of him was thrilled to hear Spencer was back to himself, though another part gnawed away at him- no one gets over PTSD and depression that fast.
"Thanks, baby girl. I think I'll take Hank over to see his Uncle Spencer." Penelope gave out a loud squeal of delight, resulting in a raised eyebrow from Derek.
"Okay, PG out!" The call disconnected. Derek sighed and stared at the unit he had built.
03/08/2017. St Andrew's Hospital, Virginia. 08:58 hours.
Spencer's stomach turned at the bowl of porridge on the tray table in front of him. He had never been much of a porridge-eater, and it very much resembled the prison slops from his time in Millburn. The pulse oximeter on the end of his index finger rattled against the spoon as he scooped up a small amount of porridge and brought it shakily to his lips. His stomach twisted and cramped at the first spoonful as though he was about to vomit, but then it gave a desperate growl of gratitude. He had not eaten for several days and his body finally realised just how hungry he was. Spencer leaned forward and shovelled more into his mouth, wolfing down the creamy slops like a dying man. His stomach gave a happy grumble as he dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. He gently pushed the bowl away and reached for his pot of orange juice. A pang of disappointment sunk into his chest. He missed his coffee.
The door to the room clicked open, causing Spencer to raise his head and glance at the door. Tara and Luke entered the room, beaming at the man in the bed. Tara stood at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips and lips pouting. She obscured the view of Luke who appeared to be hiding something behind her.
"Hey, guys," smiled Spencer as he brought the plastic pot to his lips and sipped the bitterly sweet contents, then set it back down again.
"Hey to you. How're you feeling?" asked Tara. Spencer spluttered as the juice irritated the back of his throat, causing him to cough and spray juice droplets into his palm.
"I'm good," choked Spencer as he tried to regain his breathing.
"Yeah, you're really good," piped up Luke in a mocking tone. Tara reached behind her and punched Luke in the thigh, her eyes still fixed to Spencer, "Hey!" Spencer took in a deep breath and waved at the pair to sit down.
"I'm good. Really. The juice just caught me in the throat is all." Tara seated herself in the armchair to the right of the bed and craned her neck to look over the tray table.
"Well, someone enjoyed their breakfast." Spencer reached up and scratched his scalp.
"Yeah. It was alright, I suppose. It would be better if-" He was quickly cut off by a Starbucks take out cup being placed on the table in front of him. His eyes widened, "Oh, my gosh. You didn't! How did you get that in here?" Luke grinned mischievously at him and tapped the end of his nose. Spencer grabbed the cup and brought it up to his lips. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and hazelnut tickled his nostrils, bringing a wide smile to his lips. He took a sip, the sweet goodness warming every fibre of his being, then set the cup back down.
"So what have the doctors said, Reid?" asked Luke. Spencer shifted slightly, eliciting a small gasp of pain from the genius.
"So, they have removed some dead tissue and a floating piece of bone from my leg and flushed as much of the infection out as possible. They've packed the hole and I have to have my dressings changed every three days until it starts to heal more. They need to pump me full of IV antibiotics for a couple of days for the sepsis, then they'll switch me to oral antibiotics for a little while. Did you guys know that there is an estimated 48.9 million incidents of sepsis worldwide and 11.0 million sepsis-related deaths? That's 19.7% of all deaths globally." Spencer's eyes dropped to the pulse oximeter on his finger and the red glow on his skin on it. "I was nearly another one of those statistics." Tara cautiously reached out a dark hand. Spencer caught sight of it and curled his fingers around Tara's hand.
"And yet, you're still here," replied Tara, moving her other hand in to cradle his hand between hers.
"Yes. Yes, I am. And it's because of all of you." Tears prickled Spencer's eyes as he lifted them to meet Tara's gaze. He let out a small laugh as he smiled at her. Luke ruffled Spencer's unruly curls.