Desiderium: longing for something that has been lost

Chapter 26

"how nice--to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive"---kurt vonnegut 

_________

Las Vegas 

February 22, 2008

12:08 am

_________

"Family of Spencer Reid?" The doctor surveyed the room, glancing down at his clipboard. 

Hotch stood up wearily and nodded at him. "Spencer doesn't have any family that can be notified of his medical condition, he was a critical witness to a case my team and I were closing up." He took out his badge and showed it to the man. "He was put into under emergency federal protection due to a sensitive situation. If there is anything that needs to be signed, I can sign off of it."

The doctor nodded. "Why don't we sit down for this, it's been a long night, and you look exhausted." 

Once they had sat back down, and Hotch woke Rossi up, the doctor leaned forward and looked at the three of them. "First of all, the surgery went well, the team of doctors that performed on him, was able to hold him stable throughout the entire procedure."

Rossi let out a heavy sigh, and dropped his head into his hands. 

"However, he's in a critical state right now. It's up to him now, whether or not he wants to pull through this. These next few days are extremely important for him and his chances of survival. We've placed him in a medically induced coma, for his heart to recover the strain of both two resuscitations  as well as the strain of the blood loss and pain."

"What are his chances, now?" Hotch's voice was steady, and he gazed at the floor. 

"Like I said agent, they all depend on him, but right now the chances of him coming out of this coma are slim."

"But not impossible?" Emily's voice cracked on the last word. 

"No, certainly not. I've seen many patients on death's door pull an amazing recovery." He paused and flipped a page. "Spencer came to us with three deep stab wounds, two in his shoulders and one in his abdominal region. The last one, gave us the most trouble as the stab itself was exacerbated and nicked several tissue linings. This was the major cause of the hypovolemic shock, but the other two stab wounds and the various lacerations on his body certainly helped with that as well." 

He glanced at the three before continuing, "for the abdominal wound, our resident trauma surgeon saw it necessary to remove his gallbladder, that having been almost destroyed and part of his liver as well. We believe that this removal will not have a large effect on his quality of life should he make a full return to recovery. As for his two shoulder wounds, the trauma surgeon was able to remove any shards of bone that fragmented, and the orthopedic surgeon went through and did a observational scope to see if any residual damage was done to the area. She didn't find permanent damage, but she did find tendon and muscle tearing to the area." 

Rossi lifted his head from his hands. "If he makes it, and if it all looks good, what's the recovery time look like here?"

The doctor shrugged. "In-person? A few weeks depending on how comfortable his primary doctor feels about his progress? As an out-patient? It could take anywhere from months to years before he's reached the same level of life he was at before this." He stood up. "It's all about the amount of support and help that he gets. If I understand correctly, this was an incredibly traumatizing time, he'll need a strong support system if he pulls through this. I'm more than happy to offer you some brochures for some rehabilitation homes for him, if you would like."

Hotch blinked. "Ah, no, thanks, but we'll be fine, without the brochures, thanks." 

"Are you sure? You mentioned he didn't have any family and usually patients in this kind of situation with no one to take care of them, are just put in a rehab home." 

Hotch cut him off. "We'll figure something out, thanks. Can we see him?" 

The doctor eyed him. "He's in the ICU right now, and he's only allowed one visitor."

"Terrific, I'll go." He turned to the others. "Go grab JJ, and go get a hotel. Get some sleep. Seriously, I don't want to see you back here until it's at least ten." He motioned towards the doctor. "Lead on."

_________

Morgan had been told at least a solid ten times by both his doctors not to move from his bed, but when he had heard that his baby girl was finally out of surgery? He had to go, concussion be damned. 

He swung his legs out of bed, and shut his eyes against the vertigo that hit him like a sucker punch. Grasping the IV stand, he began to shuffle out of his room, praying that the night nurses would just ignore him. He sucked in deep breaths, and tried to keep his balance as the hallway swayed and shifted around him. Stopping he dropped his head to his chest, and blinked away the dizziness. 

Garcia.

He had to see she was ok, that she wasn't...

All he could see in that moment was a gun pressed against the long-since limp curls of his baby girl. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, and he swore the inside of his ribs had bruises. Then the safety was off, and his heart stopped, and Derek Morgan prayed.

"Sir?" There was hesitant touch at his arm, and Morgan snapped back to the present. He was breathing quickly, and his hands were shaking. "Sir? Can you hear me?"

He nodded roughly, and the nurse seated gently. "Please," he said, too tired to even care about the tears building up along his lash line. "I have to make sure she's ok, that she's alive."

The nurse knelt in front of him, grabbing both his arms. "Who, who has to be ok?"

He looked into her dark eyes, and sighed. "Garcia."

The nurse glanced back down at the hall, and then back at him. "This really shouldn't be happening, but," She helped him up. "I think putting your mind at ease is the best thing that will help your recovery here than lying in a bed and stewing over it." She helped him walk down the hall until they reached a door. "I'm giving you a few minutes here, and then you have to get back, ok?" 

He nodded, eyes focused on the door. 

She helped him get situated, checked his saline bag, and then left the two of them alone. He grabbed her hand, and kissed the back of it. "Oh my god," he murmured around her hand. "I thought I lost you." He laid her hand down gently, and smoothed her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, so so sorry."

"Mmm I must be in heaven 'cus look at you." Garcia's eyes were cracked open, and she had a small smile on her face. "My chocolate thunder." 

Morgan managed a laugh through his tears. "What are you on?" 

She shifted and looked at the IV hanging by her bed. "Some good stuff, baby." She smiled a loopy smile back at him, and pointed at his IV bag. "Oh look! We match! We're twins now!"

He nodded and held on to her hand tightly. "Yeah we do." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand lightly, and she giggled at him. 

"Listen, Penelope," he waited until she looked up at him. "I'm so sorry."

She lifted her hand to his cheek. "You're so silly, what are you sorry for?" 

He leaned into her touch. "I couldn't keep you safe." 

She patted his cheek again and looked back at the ceiling. "But I'm here, and," She pointed at the bags again. "We're twins!"

"I know," he gasped out. "I know."