The Unfortunate Ride

Chapter 2

18/07/2017. The 309 Subway to Quantico, Virginia. 09:03 hours.

The noises surrounding Spencer sounded like he was under water. His head pounded with each heart beat. He groaned. The fire across his ribs seared once again, causing Spencer to cough. Each cough hurt more than the last and blood splattered the surface beneath him. He was laid face down, flat against the back of the seats in front of where he had been seated. Spencer sucked in a deep breath. His shoulder continued to throb. His body felt as though it were on fire and submerged in ice simultaneously. With as much strength as he could muster, Spencer shrugged off his black blazer from his right arm, then guided it as carefully as he possibly could over his injured arm. His brown hair clung to the blood on the collar of his shirt. Spencer creaked open his eyes. Figures swam before his vision. He desperately tried to push himself up onto his elbows but had no strength to do so. A shadow loomed over him. Spencer coughed again and gave a low moan at the pain rippling in waves throughout his body.

"Please, sir. Don't move." A female voice. Spencer felt hands on him. The nitrile gloved hands pressed against either side of his chiselled face, "I need a c-collar and back board over here!" came the female voice again. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to swat away the hands, "Sir, can you tell me your name?"

"Dr Spen-Spencer Re-Reid," gasped Spencer, his bottom lip and chin glistening with blood.

"Okay, Dr Reid. Just hang in there for me. Do you have any back pain at all?" Spencer tried to shake his head but the hands held it firm in place.

"N-no."

"Okay. I need you to stay very still for me." Spencer gasped. A white plastic collar came into Spencer's line of sight. The female medic carefully circled it around Spencer's neck, ensuring that it was secure and sufficiently supporting the injured man's jaw. Her hands returned to both sides of his head. More bodies approached. Another pair of hands grabbed Spencer's free right hand and tied a tourniquet tightly around his wrist. They swatted the back of his hand to encourage a vein to bulge then opened a cannula and slowly slid it in place until a flash of blood appeared. The cannula was taped in place.

"N-no n-narcotics," gasped Spencer as he rolled his eyes to desperately see what the other medic was doing.

"We'll give you fluids and IV Tylenol for now, Dr Reid. You must stay as still as you can while we get the back board in place." Spencer yelped as the back board was placed against his back, jostling his painful ribs. Straps came across his chest and legs and were buckled down. The hands still held his head in place as he was turned onto his back. Spencer was unable to hold back the cry of pain, tears tracking over his dusty cheeks.

"Let's get some fluids going wide open. A gram of Tylenol please." A clear plastic mask hovered over Spencer's face briefly before settling in place over his nose and mouth, the green elastic hooked around his collar length hair. The hands were replaced by two red foam blocks that were strapped either side of his head, the straps resting across his chin and forehead. Spencer let out a sob as the back board was lifted up and over the rubble. Once the back board was placed on the gurney, gauze was pressed against his temple and another against his still oozing leg. The medics worked quickly, dressing his visible wounds and using a pillow to support his injured arm. The gurney was wheeled into the back of the ambulance and Spencer's eyes fluttered, the darkness consuming him once more.

18/07/2017. St Andrews Hospital, Virginia. 09:25 hours.

Lights zipped overhead. Several faces peered down at Spencer as the gurney was wheeled at speed through what felt like a never-ending corridor. His back ached from lying against the hard plastic back board. He wanted desperately to get up but the several straps holding him flush to the gurney prevented him from doing so. Pain raged through his body. Spencer needed to focus his attention elsewhere so he focussed on what the medics were saying. Doors crashed open and Spencer's vision was flooded with bright light. He quickly pressed his eyes shut to block out the light.

"This is Dr Spencer Reid. He was on the overturned carriage on the 309. Left shoulder appears dislocated. Significant blood loss from left leg. BP low at eighty systolic even with fluids. One gram Tylenol given via IV. Dr Reid has specified no narcotics. Oxygen levels running low at eighty-seven percent. Pupils unequal, left side blown. Some vomiting noted on site," came the speeding, garbled voice above Spencer's head. Spencer coughed, blood splattering the inside of the mask.

"Let's get him straight to trauma CT and then get OR two prepped." Spencer gave out a low moan as he was guided forward, more flickering lights overhead. The lighting in the CT scanner room was significantly lower which Spencer found much more reassuring. It was cold, however. Very cold. Spencer's trembling form shook more. He could hear the whirring of the scanner as it came to life. The gurney stopped moving. He could feel something click into the cannula in the back of his hand.

"This is contrast, Dr Reid. It'll feel cold as it's going in." Spencer let out a whimper as he felt the cold solution crawling up his arm. Between his battered body and the sensory overload, he felt somewhat overwhelmed. His breath hitched in his throat, pain shooting across his ribs with each breath. His breaths came quicker and sharper. Spencer's eyes widened as he tried to free himself. Hands held him down to the gurney.

"I need you to calm down, Dr Reid. Everything will be fine." Spencer coughed, more blood splashing against the mask. His eyes darted around at the faces looming over him, "I need some Diazepam over here." Another click in his cannula. Spencer felt darkness creeping into his mind and over his vision.

18/07/2017. BAU Offices, Quantico, Virginia. 09:48 hours.

The team's files remained untouched as they gathered around the round table in the conference room. No one could even remotely concentrate on anything as they were entirely preoccupied with the prospect that their friend, brother and colleague may or may not have been on the derailed train. It was like Schrödinger's cat. Schrödinger's Spence. They sat in silence, staring into their coffee or at the table. JJ had counted the fingerprints on the lacquer several times. Luke drummed his fingers against his cup. Matt had absent-mindedly watched the clouds between the blinds. David muttered a prayer. Tara watched Penelope as she eyed her laptop screen, desperate for an update. Emily nibbled on a hangnail as she stared at her cell phone. The sound of ringing disrupted the stifling silence. Emily jumped, tugging the hangnail out of her thumb. She reached for the cell phone and put it on speaker phone.

"This is SSA Emily Prentiss," responded Emily breathlessly.

"Agent Prentiss. My name's Dr Harper at St Andrew's Hospital. I understand that you're the medical contact for Dr Spencer Reid?" JJ's hand came up to her mouth in an effort to stifle a sob.

"That's correct." Emily managed a stoic mask as she desperately tried to compartmentalise.

"Dr Reid was admitted to us around thirty minutes ago. He's currently in surgery. It may be best to discuss this further face to face."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." The call abruptly ended. Emily scanned the faces of her team mates who had been listening intently. Penelope was gasping, mascara streaking her cheeks. JJ was desperately trying to prevent her tears from falling. Tara rubbed Penelope's back in soothing circles as she prayed under her breath. Matt's mouth formed a grim line. Luke's knuckles whitened around the handle of his mug. David had his head in his hands. Ignoring the blood congealing in the bed of her nail, Emily managed to compose herself somewhat.

"Wheels up."