Chapter 30

92 5 6
                                    

"here we are trapped in the amber of the moment. there is no why" --- kurt vonnegut 

_________

Las Vegas

February 23, 2008

10:35 pm

________

It was with great relief that Hotch heard that Spencer was finally out of the woods. His doctor had called him into a quiet corner of the waiting room and explained to him that while he was no longer at a critical point, he could still just as easily regress back to that stage or worse. 

He must be kept calm, and still, while his heart healed, hell while his whole body recovered. They were optimistic, and planned on transferring him to a general room within the next hour or so, depending on how his vitals looked. 

He'd come off full dialysis a few hours ago, in an attempt to get his heart slowly back to where it needed to be. They determined he could come off the partial one in a day or so, considering his heart stayed steady. 

All in all, things were tentatively looking up. Hotch could do tentative, he could do hesitantly, as long as things were looking upwards. 

It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he could breath deeper than he had since he had first landed in Nevada. He had called his wife, and heard his son babble over the phone, and he had allowed himself to finally break down in his hotel room. 

He missed his son so bad. 

He missed normality  so bad. 

Strauss had called him again, earlier that day, and he had stared at the phone as it rang, wondering if she hadn't quite gotten the memo from the last time they talked. She had asked when he expected them to be arriving back, and he again told her that their timeline hadn't changed, it was dependent on when Garcia got discharged. He still hadn't mentioned anything about Spencer, nor did he intend to. He knew how deeply personal this case had gotten them, and he had a distinct feeling that Strauss would not approve. 

Even now he was standing in front of Spencer's door, one hand on the handle. As he went in, Spencer's eyes shot opened and lazed over to him. Hotch glanced at him, before closing the door again. He had must just come out of nightmare, because the heart monitor shrilled for a few seconds and his chest was heaving. 

"Hey," Hotch drew up a chair. "How are you?"

Spencer drew in a deep breath, nodding quickly. "I'm fine." His fingers were rubbing quickly on his sleeve, a nervous tic Hotch noticed he had. "I'm fine." 

He nodded, not believing him at all. "Doctor said you're getting better?" 

Spencer nodded at the ceiling, his face blank. "That's good." The rubbing increased faster, and he shifted uneasily in his bed. Hotch couldn't help but pick up on his uneasiness. Spencer eyed him quickly before going back to counting tiles. "Do you know when?"

"Not yet." There was an odd tension in the room now. 

Spencer nodded again, his face a careful blank. "Ok." There was a long stretch of quiet between the two, and Hotch was just about to get up an leave when he lolled his head over to him and stared over his shoulder at the door. "So when do you leave?"

Oh. The realization hit Hotch like a brick. He let out a deep breath. "You're coming with us, remember?" 

Spencer blinked, and shifted his focus to settle on him. "What?" He breathed out softly. "I thought you were just saying that," A tear slid down his cheek. "I thought you were just going to use me for the names, and then just leave."

Desiderium: longing for something that has been lostWhere stories live. Discover now