31/10/2017. St Sebastian's Hospital, Washington DC. 11:00 hours.
Spencer's eyes rolled sluggishly at his surroundings as the gurney he occupied crashed through a set of double doors. Wad upon wad of gauze had been pressed to his bare shoulder to stem the bleeding but it was not showing any signs of relenting. Blood soaked through the gauze with each pulse. Spencer's slow and ragged breaths misted the mask over his nose and mouth. An angry red stripe had formed around his mouth where the duct tape had been. He was unable to focus on anything around him.
"Patient is Spencer Reid. GSW to upper thoracic cavity. Entry wound behind right clavicle. No exit wound. Hypoxic. Probable pneumothorax. Pulse is weak and thready. Massive blood loss."
"Get the OR prepped and get the trauma surgeon on standby. We're also going to need some blood." The gurney came to an abrupt stop. A middle aged Asian male peeled Spencer's eyelids back and shone the light from his pen torch into his eyes, "Mr Reid? My name's Dr Lee. We need to get you stabilised before we take you up to the operating room." Spencer reached up and pulled the mask away from his face.
"J...J..." gasped Spencer, "W-where's... J... J?" JJ barged past the doctor and grasped Spencer's hand with both of hers. His fingers were icy cold. "I'm... s-sorryy... J-Jen-n... ifer..." JJ gently placed the mask back over his face.
"Please. Don't talk. Just focus on your breathing." Spencer's brow crinkled, his hazel orbs clouded with fear.
"I-I'm... S-scared..." mumbled Spencer behind the mask. JJ softly stroked his hair, her eyes watering with unshed tears.
"Don't be. You're going to be fine." The doctor looked at JJ as he rapidly scribbled Spencer's observations onto his clipboard.
"What blood type is Mr Reid?"
"Doctor."
"Sorry?"
"His name's Dr Spencer Reid. He's AB positive." Dr Lee nodded and added to his notes, "Is he going to be okay?"
"It's too early to tell. Judging by the blood loss, I suspect that the bullet has nicked the subclavian artery and entered the upper lobe of his lung. I won't know for sure until I stop the bleeding and get him for a scan." Dr Lee turned to a nurse, "Could you get me two units of O neg sat?" Spencer tugged the mask away again. He audibly wheezed. His skin had taken on a grey, almost blue tinge, his jaw splattered with blood from the shot.
"J... ayje... I'm... S-s-sorry... I-I w-was... an ass... P-please... My... M-mom... " Spencer's eyes widened, his lungs and throat tightening, "H-help... I c-can't... B-breathe... " Dr Lee dropped the clipboard at the foot of the gurney, pulled a lever to lie the backrest down so that Spencer was in a supine position, and placed the mask firmly on his face. Tears fell from JJ's eyes as she pressed a hand to her mouth.
"What's happening?" she choked out.
"Dr Reid's breathing is deteriorating. If he's got any chance of survival, I need to intubate so I can pump as much oxygen into him as possible." A nurse inserted a cannula into the back of Spencer's right hand and taped it down. Another nurse handed over a syringe containing a clear fluid, "Dr Reid? I need to put you under so I can take control of your breathing. Signal to me that you understand." Spencer weakly raised a thumb in understanding.
"C-can I speak to him quickly before you do?" asked JJ, her arms curled around herself.
"Be quick, Agent. He doesn't have much time." JJ cautiously approached the gurney and leaned down. She rested her forehead against Spencer's, her fingers entwined in his curls and her other palm on his chest.
"Spence. I don't hate you for how you've been lately. I understand. More than you know. I'm scared that you aren't going to come back to me. I love you, Spencer. You're like my brother. Siblings fight but they always love each other no matter what. What you did was reckless, but lots of people are safe for it. I'll take care of your mom." Spencer choked back a sob, hot tears rolling down his cheeks into his hair. Dr Lee pried JJ away from Spencer.
"I'm sorry. I need to act now." The nurse clicked the syringe into the cannula and slowly depressed the plunger. Dr Lee replaced the oxygen mask with a smaller, tight-fitting mask with a silicone bag attached. He squeezed several times. Spencer's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth dropped open. Dr Lee moved to the end of the gurney and grasped Spencer's jaw firmly, tilting his head back. The laryngoscope flashed in the bright white light from the surgical lamp above as it was handed over to the doctor. The cold, steel object rattled against Spencer's teeth as it came to rest on the back of his tongue.
"I need a size eight endo tube, please," asked Dr Lee, stretching out a gloved hand towards the nurse, his dark eyes fixed on the back of Spencer's throat. The nurse peeled open a sterile packet and handed the tube to the doctor. He slowly slid the tube down past the scope. "I'm in. Let's check placement before I secure it." The nurse withdrew her stethoscope from around her neck and pressed the cold disc against Spencer's chest. She nodded to the doctor. Dr Lee attached the bag and continued to pump oxygen into Spencer as the nurse grabbed some peach-coloured medical tape. She wound the tape around the tube and secured it over Spencer's chiselled jaw. The clear tube rested against the side of his mouth. Dr Lee connected the double tubing for the ventilator to the tube protruding out of Spencer's mouth. The nurse flicked a switch on the machine. The concertina sprung to life, forcing oxygen into Spencer's lungs. JJ's bottom lip trembled at the vision before her. Only an hour before, she and Spencer had been discussing Halloween, yet here they were. Spencer was silent, save for the hissing of the ventilator. His left hand hung limply over the side of the gurney, his wrist a shade of red from his bonds. His silver watch slid down his hand, coming to rest on his thumb joint.
"Let's get him secured and get him straight to CT. The OR should be ready for us any minute now."
"S-secured? W-what do you mean?" Realisation dawned on JJ, "You're not tying him down, are you?" asked JJ incredulously.
"It's protocol, Agent. It prevents him from involuntarily removing the tube."
Dr Lee tugged the watch over Spencer's hand and handed it to JJ who was paralysed to the spot at what she had heard and witnessed. She grasped the cold metal tightly, watching the staff lift Spencer's hand up onto the gurney and wrapped bandages several times around his wrists, then tying them to the rails. The EKG and ventilator were placed on the gurney. Spencer looked far from peaceful as the gurney passed JJ. His eyebrows were knotted. Blood had sprayed across his face. The circles around his eyes had darkened. Drying tears tracked over the sides of his face.
JJ felt her entire world crumble around her as she made her way to the waiting room. It was like she was trapped in a stop motion movie. She clung to Spencer's watch as though her life depended on it. Spencer's life depended on it. Her entire being felt numb. Fear gripped her heart. Fear that that was last time she would ever speak to Spencer. JJ's stinging eyes fell upon the team seated in the waiting room. Emily was the first to her feet, her dark eyes fixed on JJ's tear-stricken face. Emily still wore her Kevlar vest.
"JJ? What's happened?" asked Emily, grasping JJ's face, her eyes desperately searching for an answer. JJ struggled to find her words.
"Spence deteriorated in resus. They had to intubate him and take over his breathing. They think the bullet has nicked an artery and lodged in the upper lobe of his lung." JJ's voice cracked as fresh tears begun to fall, "He's going to CT then straight to the OR. Em? He was so scared. They tied him down, and... and..." Words had failed JJ as she crumpled to her knees. Emily grasped JJ's under arms to stabilise her, her stoic mask slipping away as she fought back her own tears. Luke paced in a circle, his vest in one hand and his other hand on his head. Matt pressed his knuckles to his mouth, his other arm crossed tightly across his chest. Tara was unable to hold back her own emotions as she clung to David, openly sobbing into his shoulder. David, normally composed, held Tara close, his throat clogged with anguish.
31/10/2017. St Sebastian's Hospital, Washington DC. 12:32 hours.
Spencer lay unmoving on the operating table as a team of surgeons busied themselves around him. His brown hair and the blood spatter lay in a stark contrast to his deathly translucent skin. The surgeon moved the gauze away from the wound, only to be met by a spurt of blood that sprayed across his green surgical gown. The surgeon held out a bloodied, gloved hand.
"Clamp." A metal tool was handed to him. He pushed it deep into the wound, "Dammit. I can't see the source. Suction, please." A catheter was pressed to the wound. Large volumes of crimson liquid drained away, "Hold it. Hold it. There!" The surgeon gave a sigh of relief as the blood flow slowed to a halt, "Looks like the bullet has shattered the clavicle on the way in. We'll have to plate this."
"There's blood pooling here. Oh, hang on. I think I can see the bullet." A large pair of tweezers entered the wound with a squelch and retrieved the copper item, dropping into a kidney dish with a clink.
"Definite pneumothorax. We should be able to repair the nick in the subclavian artery." The bleeping of the EKG slowed then let out a steady whine, "Shit! We're losing him! Get the paddles!" The defibrillator paddles were pressed to Spencer's chest, "Charging three sixty! Oxygen clear? Shocking!" Spencer's body jerked with jolt of electricity throughout him, "Come on! Going again!" Another surge of electricity rippled throughout Spencer's body. The bleeping returned, "Good God. Get some more O neg and fluids going wide open. Let's get this artery closed off and plate the clavicle."
31/10/2017. St Sebastian's Hospital, Washington DC. 17:54 hours.
The surgeon slowly made his way to the waiting room. His green scrubs had become a dirty brown colour from blood. Spencer's blood. His mask hung around his neck. His blue eyes noted the forlorn group seated in the waiting room. He tugged off his surgical cap and held it between his hands. His mousy hair was tousled with sweat. He approached the group.
"Spencer Reid?" JJ was immediately on her feet, desperate for Spencer to be alive. She noted the blood on the doctor's tunic and her heart sank. Emily came to her feet and held JJ in close.
"I'm Emily Prentiss. I'm Spencer's medical contact. How is he?" The surgeon sighed.
"My name's Dr Branson. I was leading the surgical team taking of Dr Reid. The bullet entered in behind his collarbone and shattered it. It nicked the subclavian artery and lodged itself in the lung, causing the lung to collapse. We have managed to close the tear in the artery and we have plated his collarbone. We have inserted a drain into his lung to help it inflate again. Dr Reid's heart stopped on the table but we were lucky enough to get him back. It was touch and go. He has lost massive amounts of blood so we're having to give him blood transfusions. Arterial bleeds are often fatal. The next twenty four hours are crucial. We just have to hope Dr Reid wakes up."
"Hope? You mean he may not wake up?" choked out JJ. Dr Branson shook his head.
"It isn't a guarantee. We revived him in surgery, so we can only hope he will wake up."
"We need to see him. Please," answered Emily, her voice uncharacteristically quavering. Dr Branson considered the group.
"We don't normally allow people in recovery, but in this instance, I'm willing to make an exception. Dr Reid won't wake as he's still under the anaesthesia. Follow me." Dr Branson led the group through a set of double doors and down a long, dark corridor. It almost felt as though they were being led to the morgue.
The recovery room was small and silent, except for the sounds of the machines indicating that Spencer was still alive. It was like déjà vu. Spencer was laid on his left side, pillows tucked in behind his back to keep him in position. His right arm was held in a sling that had been strapped to his bare chest to keep his shoulder immobile. A large, blood-stained dressing covered the gash in his shoulder. His skin was deathly pale and blended in with the crisp white sheets he lay on. A tube drained a yellow coloured fluid away from between his ribs into a small cylinder attached to the bed frame. His left hand rested on the mattress at a right angle to his body. Oxygen whistled through the tube that protruded between Spencer's chapped and parted lips. A thin tube carried blood into a cannula inserted in the crease of his elbow. His eyes were sunken and appeared skeletal in the low light of the room. JJ found it almost impossible to compose herself. Spencer was back again, dancing the line between life and death. A voice piped up, startling them all.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to stay with the kid." JJ turned in disbelief to the source of the voice. David straightened up, drawing back his shoulders and puffing out his chest. His dark eyes were ringed red.
"What?" asked JJ incredulously.
"Jennifer, you have Will and the boys. You need to be with them."
"But Spence..." David raised a hand to silence her.
"Please. Go home and be with your families. Hug them a little tighter tonight. Sleep. If anything changes, I'll call. Go." David watched his colleagues file out of the room. Not a word was spoken amongst them as they left. He quietly dragged a stool up to the bed and grasped Spencer's hand.
"I can't decide if you're really lucky or really unlucky, Spencer. God is definitely looking out for you, kiddo. I have no idea what you were thinking going in there alone and offering yourself up as a trade. I know he was Cat Adams' brother and accomplice so you guys had unfinished business. It was stupid but it worked. The passengers are safe and unharmed. I just wish I could say the same for you. You know, for a genius, you sure can be a real dumb assclown." Spencer did not respond. He remained motionless in the bed. The last time Spencer had been called an 'assclown', he spent around twenty minutes trying to work out where such an insult originated.
01/11/2017. St Sebastian's Hospital, Washington DC. 07:43 hours.
Spencer felt peace. Pure, beautiful peace. He could feel the haze and paralysis melting away from his limbs. David woken himself with a snore, having dozed off with his head on his arms resting on the bed rail. With bleary eyes, he noticed a small twitch from Spencer's fingers. He straightened up in the chair, suddenly alert to his surroundings. He had fallen asleep soon after Spencer had been transferred to intensive care. Spencer's fingers slowly curled in on themselves, his fingertips brushing against his palms. He coughed slightly around the tube, his eyes drifting open. He looked around lethargically. David appeared his line of sight. Spencer blinked to clear his vision. He frowned as he tried to make out the blurred features of David Rossi.
"Hey, Spencer. How are you feeling?" Spencer closed his eyes and coughed again. He turned down his thumb, "Do you have pain?" Spencer gently nodded. He softly patted his chest, "Your chest?" Spencer nodded again, "You have a drain in to help your lung to inflate again." Spencer opened his eyes and frowned. He mouthed a silent response to David, "The bullet shattered your clavicle and caused a small tear in the subclavian artery before puncturing the upper lobe of your lung. You almost bled out and your lung collapsed. You're not able to breathe on your own just yet." A flicker of recollection crossed Spencer's face, "You're lucky to be alive. We briefly lost you in surgery." Spencer concentrated hard on David's words. Sensing what the genius was thinking, David gripped Spencer's free hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows, "Those passengers are safe thanks to you, kiddo. No one got hurt. Except you that is." Relief washed over Spencer's features, "What you did was reckless though. But your recklessness saved a lot of people and we caught the unsub." Spencer rolled his eyes upwards and gulped around the stifling tube in his throat. Tears prickled his eyes. David was able to make out a single word from the frail young man in the bed.
"Sorry." David leaned over and smoothed some of Spencer's unruly curls from his face. Spencer's eyes followed David as he leaned in close.
"Don't be. Just stay with us, yeah? You're like a son to me, Spencer. Just don't do something so stupid again." Spencer closed his eyes, tears leaking from the corners. He let out a shaky, pained sob. David pressed his forehead to Spencer's, "I love you, chico." Spencer's breathing slowed. David straightened up slightly to find that Spencer had simply fallen asleep, "Sleep well, Spencer."
