Part 11- Not Permanent
Dr Spencer Reid glanced towards the large marble building to his right as he pulled the straps of his black FBI Kevlar vest taut around his waist. The breeze breathed against his bare forearms from where he had rolled the sleeves of his lilac button down shirt only moments before. His dark brown, chin length curls drifted into his face, a few strands clinging to his eyelashes. His vest tightly hugged his torso. He tucked an earpiece into his left ear. He turned slowly to face the target building and withdrew the revolver from the brown leather holster on his belt. Spencer crouched down behind the open SUV door, his revolver tightly gripped in both hands, and let out a long, anxious sigh. Two men had taken over the bank and had hostages inside which they threatened to kill unless the FBI provided them with a helicopter to escape. Spencer was located nearest to the doors.
The sound of the door opening attracted Spencer's attention. He eased himself up slightly and held his revolver straight out in front of him. He peered through the window of the SUV door. A well built man wearing a black ski mask had exited the building with a young girl in front of him, a gun poised on her temple. A voice crackled through Spencer's earpiece.
"Reid? Do you have a shot?"
"Yeah," answered Spencer in a low voice. He narrowed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. Blood splashed out of a wound in the man's shoulder, sending him crumpling to the ground. Jennifer Jareau quickly scooped up the girl and carried her away. The man slowly crawled back into the bank, a trail of blood following him. Spencer lowered his gun and sighed. At least they had one hostage safe. He twisted his head around to see Emily Prentiss giving him a nod of acknowledgement. The shrill sound of the negotiation phone ringing cut through the silent air like a knife. David Rossi calmly picked it up and held it to his ear. Spencer swallowed hard, a knot twisting in his gut.
"This is Agent Rossi. Thank you for letting a hostage go."
"Which one of you shot Si? Who did it?" came the irate voice over the phone.
"I'm sorry that happened to you. Do you want me to send in medical?"
"No! I want the agent that shot Si!" Spencer glanced at David.
"I'm afraid that's not possible. I can send in a medical technician to help him."
"No! You will send in the agent that shot my brother, or I'll shoot a hostage."
"Come on. You don't need to do that."
"Give me the fucker that shot my brother or this bitch dies!" The scream of a woman pierced the air.
"Let me go in. We can't risk him killing any of the hostages," instructed Spencer.
"And risk you being killed? No!" exclaimed JJ in horror.
"He's going to kill more hostages unless he gets what he wants. I'm the one that fired the shot. Let me take a medical kit in and try to talk him down." David sighed and gave Spencer a sad, yet proud look.
"I'm sending the agent in. Just, please don't harm anymore hostages."
"Fine! No guns! And bring a first aid kit or something!" The call ended with an abrupt click. Spencer glanced at his team mates, a grim expression across their faces. He pursed his lips and handed his revolver to David. He reached for the first aid kit. A hand clamped around his wrist. Spencer looked at the hand, then lifted his eyes to see JJ staring at him with tears sparkling in her blue eyes.
"Be careful, Spence." Spencer nodded and straightened up. With the kit entwined in his long, thin fingers, Spencer raised his hands to his chest and slowly walked forward. The atmosphere was stiflingly silent.
xxx
As Spencer approached the double doors to the bank, he noticed a weapon trained on him through the glass. He gently pushed on the door with an open palm and stepped into the bank. He scanned the room. A group of people had been gathered on the floor against a stone wall. Another largely built man wearing a ski mask stepped up to Spencer. Spencer stared coldly back at the man who snatched the first aid kit from his hand.
"Lose the vest, agent." Spencer fumbled with the straps of his vest, the sound of tearing Velcro filling the air. An apprehensive breath passed Spencer's lips as the vest came free. He warily eyed the pistol in his face. The man quickly glanced to his right to his wounded brother on the floor who writhed in agony, Spencer's eyes following the gaze.
"He needs medical attention," said Spencer.
"Then see to it," snapped the man, shoving the first aid kit into Spencer's chest. With the gun still pointing at his head, Spencer made his way over to the wounded man and knelt down, popping open the box.
"Hello, my name's Dr Spencer Reid. I'm going to take a look at your wound." Si cracked open his pained eyes as he glared at the agent.
"You're the son of a bitch who shot me!" Spencer ignored him as he pulled on the blue nitrile gloves and cut through Si's woollen sweater to reveal a neat gunshot wound to the shoulder, the bleeding slowing somewhat. He uncapped the bottle of peroxide and poised it over the wound, a wad of gauze in his other hand.
"This is going to hurt." Si gritted his teeth behind the mask as he prepared himself for the onslaught of agony. Fire ripped through his chest and shoulder as the peroxide was poured into the wound. Spencer felt the muzzle of the gun press harder into the back of his head. He pressed the gauze firmly down on the wound.
"This should prevent infection, but he's going to need a hospital," said Spencer as he taped the gauze over the wound and peeled the bloodied gloves from his hands.
"Not until we're out of here," snapped the man with the gun to his head.
"I guess if you're willing to risk your brother's life for a bunch of money, then that's on you." The gun slammed hard into Spencer's temple, knocking him to the ground with a soft moan. A boot crashed into his lower spine. Si sat himself up and watched as his brother grabbed the young doctor by the shirt collar and dragged him over to a wall where a metal handrail was bolted into the stone. Spencer groaned as he was leaned against the wall, a dull throb spreading through his skull.
xxx
In his dazed state, Spencer felt the man fumbling around his waist, locating the handcuffs positioned next to his empty holster. A cuff clicked tightly around his right wrist. The chain was fed around the small spoke holding the handrail to the wall with a metallic scrape and the other cuff fastened around his left wrist, holding them together on the handrail.
"Taking a federal agent hostage won't help your cause," sighed Spencer as he forced himself to open his bleary eyes and look up at the man whom he could only assume was the leader of the pair, "Even if you shoot me, they won't hesitate to open fire. I mean, look around you. You've added an FBI agent to your hostages, and yet you still haven't gotten any of your demands. The US government does not negotiate with people like you. You got whatever you came here for, so why the need for the dramatics?"
"Shut up!" A punch smashed into Spencer's jaw, splitting the side of his bottom lip. Spencer turned his head and glared at the leader, blood trickling down his chin.
"Is this what the federal government considers negotiation techniques these days? They really are scraping the bottom of the barrel now," laughed Si, his knuckles throbbing from the punch. Spencer turned his cold stare to the brother.
"You hit like a nine year old girl," smirked Spencer. Another punch landed on his cheekbone. Spencer watched as Si walked away, his hands balled up into fists by his sides, "So who are you? Garfunkel?" The leader let out a stiff laugh.
"Quite the comedian, aren't we? I'm Paul. You'll refer to me as 'boss'".
"Oh, yeah? I'd rather not refer to you as anything if I'm perfectly honest."
"You've got quite a mouth on you, agent. That'll get you in trouble some day."
"And today's an exception to that? You have me handcuffed to a handrail. I'd call that trouble." Paul groaned in frustration and jammed the barrel of the gun into Spencer's forehead, "Your brother gone to lick his wounds? Gone to sulk?" Rage burned in Paul's green eyes as he glared at Spencer.
"You're starting to really piss me off." Spencer raised his bruised eyebrow, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Paul clamped a sweaty palm over Spencer's mouth as the genius went to speak, his fingertips digging tightly into his cheeks, "Si? Find me something to shut this bastard up!" Si could be heard rummaging around behind the bank clerk desks. Spencer worked his lips to try and bite the palm covering his mouth. Paul grasped a handful of Spencer's hair and forced the muzzle of his gun into the agent's mouth, metal scraping against his teeth, "Do not test me, agent." Si sauntered back to the pair with a stoop to his posture that reminded Spencer of Lenny from Of Mice and Men. Paul moved behind Spencer and pressed the wet gun underneath his chin. Si knelt down at Spencer's feet with a roll of shiny grey duct tape. He noted the agent drawing a leg back as he prepared to kick him.
"Tie his legs up," demanded Paul. The gun pushed further into Spencer's flesh as a stark warning against fighting back. Si peeled some of the tape away from the roll and wrapped it tightly around Spencer's ankles and broke it off after several layers. No words were shared from any of the men as Si tore a long strip of tape from the roll and forced it firmly over Spencer's mouth, stretching from ear to ear.
"Finally! Some fucking peace!" snarled Paul in Spencer's ear. Spencer turned his face away in disgust from the spittle spraying his cheek.
xxx
The bank's phone rang, the sound echoing around the walls. Spencer glanced over his shoulder at the phone. Paul paced back and forth. Si was quietly nursing his injured shoulder. Spencer twisted his wrists in the cuffs to try and free himself but they held fast. The cold steel cut into his skin. Becoming irritated by the ringing, Paul roughly grabbed the phone and tapped the button to put it on loud speaker.
"What?!"
"This is Agent Rossi. How's your brother doing?"
"Fine! Where's our damned helicopter?"
"We're working on it. Listen. I want to check on my agent. I need to know he's okay."
"He is. For now. How the fuck do you put up with him? Not even a hour and I want to blow his brains out!"
"Let me have proof of life. Let me talk to him."
"I'm not taking the gag off. I can't listen to another word from his god damned mouth."
"I understand that. Trust me, you have no idea how many times we've wanted to gag him too." Spencer fired a hurt glare at the phone, "Just give me proof that he's still alive."
"I'll give you proof alright..." Spencer watched as Paul levelled his gun with his leg and squeezed the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the silent room. Spencer let out a muffled scream and tugged hard against the cuffs as the bullet tore through his thigh. His ears rang with the noise, "There's your proof, agent. Now. Get me that helicopter." He slammed the phone down and gave the doctor a menacing stare.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" sneered Si, revelling in watching their hostage squirm. Spencer breathed heavily through his nose, the fire in his leg spreading from his hip to his toes.
xxx
JJ stared in horror at the phone. The sound of Spencer's scream still rang in her ears. David had his head bowed as though he had failed. Emily gazed through the doors of the bank, hoping to see something, suddenly wishing she had x-ray vision so that she could see how badly hurt her subordinate was. Matt Simmons and Luke Alvez were huddled over some blueprints for the bank. Dr Tara Lewis glanced at David.
"You didn't mean that about Reid... Did you?" asked Tara cautiously. David furrowed his dark brows at her.
"Of course not! I mean, he can be a bit much sometimes..."
"You know he's going to take that personally, don't you?" asked JJ in a low voice.
"The kid knows I don't mean it."
"Let's cross that bridge when we get to it," ordered Emily as she turned to Matt and Luke, "How are we getting on?"
"There's an exit to the rear of the bank. Now, it's code controlled, but we could get Garcia to hack it from her end. We could enter through the rear and take them down. One of the unsubs is injured so shouldn't be too difficult to take down," answered Matt, his dark brown eyes fixed to the blueprints. Luke slid his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled.
"You have reached the office of the all-knowing! Dazzle me!" came the quirky voice of Penelope Garcia.
"Hey, Garcia. The rear entrance has a coded keypad. Can you hack into it?" Luke could almost hear Penelope roll her eyes over the phone.
"Ugh, newbie! I can do anything! The door relocks after five minutes, so let me know when you're about to go in."
"Got it. Thanks, Garcia."
"PG out!" Luke chuckled to himself and pushed his phone back into his pocket.
"Let's end this," responded Emily, her eyes darkening.
xxx
Spencer watched silently as Paul and Si filled their duffel bags with as much cash as they could hold. His wrists had begun to bruise from his efforts to escape them. The pain in his leg had begun to dull slightly and the bleeding had started to slow. A crimson pool had formed underneath his thigh. Cramp started in his shoulders from his seated position. An undiscernible noise sounded from somewhere behind the clerk desks, attracting Spencer's attention. He twisted as inconspicuously as he could to glance in the direction of the sound. It appeared that Paul had also heard it. Paul swiftly unlocked the cuff around Spencer's right wrist and dragged him to his feet. Spencer gave a moan into the tape over his mouth at the renewed wave of pain in his leg. Paul pulled Spencer's wrists behind his back and refastened the cuff, tightening them both so that they sliced into his skin. Spencer stumbled, his bound feet struggling to maintain his balance. The movement forced blood to start leaking out of the wound again. Paul pulled Spencer in close, a muscled arm pinning him in place over his chest. The barrel of the gun was thrust into Spencer's jaw, eliciting a muffled gasp of pain from the genius. His brow furrowed in fear as the silhouettes of his team mates emerged from the back near the vaults.
"Put the gun down!" yelled Emily.
"No! Where's my helicopter?!" screamed Paul.
"That's not how this is going to work, Paul. Put the gun down and let Dr Reid go," said David calmly. Spencer narrowed his eyes at David whose words still stung. He counted the team members mentally- Emily was in the front, her jet black hair tied back into a ponytail. JJ was immediately to her left, her golden hair swept back out of her face. Tara was to Emily's right, her black wavy hair hanging to her shoulders. David and Luke were behind them. Someone was missing. All guns were trained on them.
Paul held Spencer nauseatingly close as his own personal shield. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as the gun pushed further into his neck. A sound whistled through the air. Si crumpled to the ground, a neat hole through his head. Paul whirled around in horror, twisting Spencer at the same time. Spencer's groan of pain was lost into the tape wrapped around his mouth.
"Si!" A voice crackled through the team's earpieces. Spencer's keen sense of hearing picked up the sound.
"I can't get a clean shot of the unsub without hitting Reid."
"Just do what you have to," ordered Emily in response. Spencer frowned. Was Emily really allowing him to be hit in the crossfire? His stomach lurched with betrayal. He had already risked his own life entering the bank unarmed, but he never foresaw being fired on by his own team, his family. He desperately wanted to turn his head away but the gun held it in place. He watched Emily give an authoritative nod and knew his life had been signed away. He watched them, his hazel eyes filled with despair, mumbling softly into the gag.
xxx
As soon as Paul stepped slightly to the side, another bullet pierced the uncomfortable silence, slicing straight through Paul's shoulder and into Spencer's chest. Spencer's eyes flew open and fell upon the wet, crimson patch that was growing on his shirt. His knees buckled, sending him crashing to the floor. Luke effortlessly restrained Paul who was moaning and writhing in agony. Emily and JJ holstered their weapons and ran to where Spencer lay, his chest heaving for breath. JJ gently peeled the tape away from Spencer's mouth, only to be greeted by blood spilling over his bottom lip as he let out a wet cough. She eased him up into a sitting position and pulled him in close. Tara tore apart the tape holding his ankles together. Spencer glared up at Emily and David.
"Don't... Come... Near... Me..." growled Spencer, his voice thick with the blood in his throat. He seemed to find some adrenaline from somewhere in the pits of his battered body to wrench himself out of JJ's grip and up onto his feet. He limped towards the doors, his left leg dragging behind and his hands still cuffed behind his back.
"Spence!" Spencer stilled. He appeared to sway on the spot before falling face first onto the ground, blood spreading around him in a grotesque aura. Luke keyed open the cuffs that held his friend's wrists together. Spencer's arms fell limply into the ruby red liquid surrounding him.
xxx
He's lost too much blood... I need an intubation pack... He's in respiratory distress!
Spencer's eyes blinked. White. So much white. Everything was a blur.
Tube's in! He needs redlined to the OR, stat!
Spencer groaned around the tube down his throat. His limbs felt like lead weights.
Beep... Beep... Beeeeeeeppppp... We're losing him!
xxx
Spencer managed to wrestle his eyes open by a small fraction. The voices around him swam and merged into a confusing cacophony of sound. The tube down his throat was stifling. The strap of the tube holder pressed harshly into his cheeks. Spencer blinked to clear the haze from his vision. A thumb gently caressed the back of his hand. He rolled his eyes to the side to see JJ next to him, a wide, genuine smile across her face. Spencer coughed weakly around the tube. His lungs felt like they were full of lava. He cast a glance over each face at the foot of the bed. He noticed Emily and David stood side by side. Matt looked down at his shoes, knowing that his shot was the reason why Spencer was intubated in hospital. Spencer's brows knotted together in anger.
Trust me, you have no idea how many times we've wanted to gag him too...
Just do what you have to...
Spencer jerked forward but was alarmed to find himself unable to move. He peered questioningly down at his wrists to find them bound to the rails with padded cuffs. He tugged helplessly against them.
"Spencer? You need to hear us out. We asked the staff to leave you restrained and intubated so that you can't fight or argue back," said Emily softly. Spencer's voice was trapped behind the tube and the bite block seated between his teeth, "We know you heard everything. We understand that you're pissed at us. Just know, we never intended to insult or hurt you, Reid. We had to get the unsubs on side, even if that meant saying what we did."
"Listen to me, kid. There are times when I want to shove my boot up your ass when you get OTT with the facts and statistics, and I will admit it, there have been times when I've wanted to gag you myself. But that's what makes you who you are, Reid." Spencer clenched his hands into fists and pulled at his restraints again.
"Matt needed to get that shot but Paul had you in too tight. It was a calculated risk that we had to take." Spencer's narrowed eyes darted between Emily and David. Spencer's response was muffled by the tube and holder, "I know you feel betrayed right now, Spence. Really. We get it. We just did what we had to." The EKG alarmed as his heart rate crept up to one hundred and twenty. Spencer could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. Choking noises were emitted from his throat, the familiar metallic taste creeping up his airways and clogging the tube. His oxygen levels plummeted. Blood crept through the clear endotracheal tube and trickled down Spencer's chin. Spencer threw Emily a cold stare that chilled her to the bone, a stare that said "you did this". Matt swiftly exited the room, unable to watch his friend and colleague drown to death on his own blood from a gunshot wound that he made. A nurse barged her way through the group and detached the ventilator tubing. She shoved the tip of a suction catheter into the endotracheal tube, thick crimson liquid draining away. Spencer's eyes fluttered.
"Dr Reid? Stay with me!" The bleeding showed no sign of letting up. A doctor joined the nurse who desperately tried to clear the breathing tube.
"We need to perform a tracheostomy ASAP and then get him to the OR to find the source of the bleeding. Let's get a nasal cannula on him so he's getting some oxygen." The nurse nodded and unfurled a cannula from the wall, inserted the prongs into his nostrils and hooked it loosely over his head. The doctor prepared a syringe and clicked it into Spencer's IV. Spencer's eyes closed, his entire being relaxed into the bed.
"I'm going to need you all to leave," said the doctor without casting a glance at any of the team members. JJ planted her feet firmly in place.
"I'm not going anywhere." Tara gave JJ's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they silently filed out of the room. The nurse lowered the head of the bed so that Spencer was laid flat and drew the small amount of fluid out of the cuff holding the endotracheal tube in place. She released the straps on the tube holder and slowly drew the blood-clogged tube out of Spencer's mouth. Using the crisp white sheet that Spencer lay on, the nurse pulled him up the bed so that his head hung back over the edge of the mattress. The doctor probed the front of Spencer's neck with the tips of his gloved fingers to locate the area he needed. With the scalpel tightly gripped in his other hand, he made a deep incision in the bottom of Spencer's neck. Blood gushed out of the wound, running down the sides of Spencer's neck and soaking into the sheet. The nurse suctioned more blood out of the new hole in Spencer's neck. The doctor slid a curved tube into the hole, the cuff sitting flush against Spencer's skin.
"Bleeding seems to be slowing. Let's get this secured and get him to the OR." The nurse attached a white Velcro strap around her side of the tracheostomy tube cuff and fed it underneath Spencer's neck. The doctor attached the strap on his side. The nurse reconnected the ventilator tubing to the tracheostomy. JJ felt nauseous as the ventilator and EKG were placed on the bed beside Spencer's legs and he was wheeled away. They were at fault for this.
xxx
Two days later...
Spencer managed to open his eyes into small slits. Something felt different and he couldn't place how. The tube was gone from his mouth, yet he could still feel something hard lodged in his throat. He furrowed his brow in confusion. He rolled his eyes to the side to see JJ seated in the chair next to his bed reading a book. He made an effort to speak but no sound passed his lips. His mouth was forming the words but he had no voice. Panic set in and he tugged against his restraints. JJ's head snapped up at the sound of the cuffs against the bedrails. His hazel orbs were terrified as he mouthed the words "what happened?" to JJ.
"Hey, Spence. It's okay. They had to perform an emergency tracheostomy as you were choking and drowning on your own blood. They had to rush you into surgery to find the source of the bleeding. They drained a litre of blood out of your left lung." Despair was etched into Spencer's features, as though the rug of his life had been swept out from under his feet, "It's not permanent, Spence." Spencer's eyes stung with tears. The tool he needed most for his job was gone, turned into nothing more than a whisper. The tears slid out of the corners of his eyes and tracked down his chiselled face. JJ pressed her palms to his cheeks and gently wiped the tears away with the pads of her thumbs.
xxx
One month later...
Spencer brushed the curls back out of his face as he gazed at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair had grown somewhat over his four weeks of recovery and brushed against his shoulders. A dark stubble shadowed his jaw. His eyes fell upon the neat circular hole at the bottom of his throat. Spencer traced his fingertips over the hole. It reminded him of how close he had came to dying. He had managed to find it in himself to forgive Emily and David, though his eidetic memory meant he would not be able to forget. His voice remained quiet and low. He tore open a sterile tracheostomy dressing and pressed it over the hole. He had never been one to care about his appearance, but the dressing was unsightly. Spencer fastened the top button of his powder blue button down shirt so that it hid the dressing. He gave a small smile to himself. I'm alive... It's not permanent...