Chapter 13: What Now

Derek's body lay still on the operating table, the steady beep of monitors and the low hum of activity around him the only sounds in the sterile, fluorescent-lit room. The surgeons worked in coordinated silence, their hands steady as they repaired the damage caused by the gunshot wound. Three hours had passed since he was wheeled into surgery, and though the operation had been grueling, the doctors had been cautiously optimistic.

Outside the operating room, Reid paced back and forth in the waiting area, his mind a whirl of anxiety. Derek was strong—he had to be—but after the trauma of the shooting, anything could go wrong. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, his thoughts torn between Derek's life hanging in the balance and Penelope, who was in an entirely different kind of danger.

Penelope.

The woman he had grown to love more than anything, her body battered and broken after carrying a child while fighting cancer. It was taking every ounce of energy she had just to hold on, but now, with the birth of the baby and the complications, Reid wasn't sure how much more she could endure.

Hotch, JJ, and Emily sat in silence around him, the air thick with the unspoken fear that hung in the room like a cloud. Time passed like a slow, dragging river, each second stretching into eternity.

Then, as if to break the tension, the doors to the operating room finally opened. A surgeon, still covered in scrubs and a mask, stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Agent Morgan is stable," the surgeon said, his voice calm. "We had to remove part of his spleen, and there was significant damage to his lungs, but he's out of surgery and he's stable for now. He'll need intensive care and close monitoring over the next few hours."

Relief washed over Reid, but it was brief. Stable. That was all they had. No guarantees.

"Can we see him?" Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The surgeon nodded, his eyes softening. "You can, but he's still unconscious. It's important to keep the room quiet while he regains consciousness."

Reid looked at the others, then turned toward the hallway leading to Penelope's room. "You go ahead," he said, his voice tight. "I need to check in on Penelope. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Hotch gave him a reassuring nod. "We'll be here."

Reid walked quickly, his mind swirling as he approached Penelope's room. It felt like there was no time to think, no time to process, but everything in him screamed that he needed to be with her.

When he entered the room, the scene that greeted him was nothing short of chaos. Nurses were moving quickly around Penelope, who lay pale and unconscious in the bed. She looked fragile, her once vibrant skin now the color of porcelain. Her body, worn and battered from the pregnancy and the cancer treatments, was struggling to keep up.

But it wasn't just Penelope who had Reid's attention. A small figure—fragile, impossibly small—lay on the nearby incubator. The baby.

Reid's heart stopped as he saw the NICU team working feverishly on the newborn. The baby's chest rose and fell with alarming slowness, a few quick, shallow breaths followed by a silence that stretched too long.

"Please, God..." Reid whispered, his throat tight.

Penelope's oncologist, Dr. Carter, had told him just hours ago that the stress from Penelope's pregnancy, combined with the toll of her cancer treatments, was a cocktail of complications that had put them both in a dangerously fragile state. But he hadn't been prepared for this.

The baby wasn't breathing.

Reid's hand flew to his phone as he called Dr. Carter. He couldn't afford to waste any more time—he needed help.

The phone rang a few times before Dr. Carter answered, his voice calm but with a hint of urgency that mirrored Reid's own thoughts.

"Reid," Dr. Carter said. "What's happening?"

Reid fought to steady his voice. "Dr. Carter, Penelope's condition is worsening. She's not responding well, and the baby isn't breathing. The NICU is trying to stabilize her, but I don't know how much longer they can keep this up. She needs something… something more, and I don't know what to do."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Reid felt his heart pounding in his ears.

"Stay with her," Dr. Carter said. "We're sending a team to monitor her. But there's not much we can do unless we stabilize her first. She's weak—physically exhausted. I'll get a specialist on the line and have them work with the NICU team. Just keep her comfortable. Keep her stable."

Reid's breath caught in his throat. "What about the baby?"

"I'll have a neonatologist called in immediately," Dr. Carter said, his voice now firm and authoritative. "You need to keep calm and let them work. Everything is in motion right now."

Reid nodded, though Dr. Carter couldn't see it. "Thank you," he said quickly, before hanging up. He shot a quick text to Hotch, letting him know that Penelope's oncologist was on his way, and that the NICU team was doing everything they could.

His hand shook as he reached for the phone again, dialing Penelope's OBGYN, Dr. Williamson. The line clicked open after the second ring.

"Dr. Williamson, it's Reid," he said, his voice strained. "Penelope just gave birth, but things aren't looking good. The baby isn't breathing, and Penelope… her body's been through too much. We need you here, now. She's in danger."

Dr. Williamson's voice was calm but urgent. "I'm on my way, Reid. The baby's respiratory distress is likely due to the premature birth, but Penelope's condition… we need to monitor for any further complications. Her blood pressure is a concern, but I'll be there as soon as possible to assess her and offer support."

Reid hung up quickly, trying to push away the feeling that time was slipping through his fingers. His mind was spinning as he turned to look at Penelope's fragile form. It seemed impossible, unreal, that so much was happening at once.

He approached the incubator, watching the NICU team work tirelessly to get the baby's heart rate up, to get her breathing. The tiny infant looked so fragile, so small against the sterile backdrop of the room. Reid couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness, like there was nothing he could do to fix this.

Penelope stirred faintly, her eyes fluttering open. She was barely conscious, but there was something in her gaze—a flicker of awareness.

Reid quickly sat by her side, taking her hand in his. "Penelope, sweetheart, the baby's fighting. She's fighting, okay? Just hang on. You need to stay strong for her."

Penelope's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes filled with fear. "Is she... is she going to be okay?"

Reid squeezed her hand tighter, fighting the lump in his throat. "They're doing everything they can, Penelope. I swear to you, they're not giving up."

Her breath caught in a soft sob. "I can't lose her... I can't lose you..."

"You're not going to lose either of us," Reid promised, his voice rough. "I'm here. We're all here."

But as the NICU team worked and the monitors beeped in the background, Reid couldn't shake the weight in his chest. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep these promises, but for Penelope—he had to.

As the hours ticked by, time stretched on, a constant battle of hope and despair. All they could do now was wait.