Lockdown

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

30/06/2019. 19:33 hours. Bethesda General Hospital.

Emily barrelled through the automatic doors to the emergency room the minute they creaked open.  It felt as though they were opening slowly out of spite. Her hair was plastered to the beads of sweat on her brow, her breath coming in desperate pants and her dark eyes wide with fear. Only thirty minutes prior, she had received a hurried phone call from the hospital, advising her to get there. David, having been present during the call, half dragged the unit chief by her arm out of the office and to the car. He knew that she was afraid of Spencer, but she needed to be with him. Emily pressed her palms to the reception desk where a weary, dark-skinned nurse sat completing charts. She glanced up and quirked an eyebrow at the pair dressed in business attire.

“Can I help you?” asked the nurse with a distinct New York accent.

“My name is SSA Emily Prentiss. I got a call from Dr. Hawthorne regarding Dr. Spencer Reid.” The nurse gave a non-committal grunt as she turned to the computer and typed.

“Dr Reid is currently in the surgical suite. The surgical waiting area is on floor two. I’ve pinged Dr. Hawthorne, and she will meet you there once surgery is done.” Emily stilled, concern etched into her features.

“Surgery? Why?” The nurse snorted derisively. 

“Your friend decided to cut himself up real good in the trauma bay. Guy is lucky to be alive.” Emily pressed a shaking hand to her mouth to stifle the gasp of horror. Her usual ability to compartmentalise was thrown to the wind. Why had Spencer done that? David wrapped his arm around Emily’s shoulders and guided her towards the elevators. Her entire body trembled beneath David’s firm, reassuring grip. She desperately wanted it to be some kind of sick joke, but David’s hold grounded her to the situation. 

Emily had no recollection of stepping inside the elevator, let alone reaching the second floor or the surgical suite for that matter. She slumped heavily into one of the plush armchairs in the vacant waiting area. Her hands cradled her chin, elbows pressed painfully into her bouncing knees, and her eyes fixed to an off-centre diamond shape in the pattern in the linoleum floor. The misalignment of the pattern would have been an OCD nightmare for Spencer. Emily’s top lip quirked slightly at the image in her head of Spencer ranting, hands gesturing wildly at the preposterousness of it. She heard a puff of a cushion being depressed next to her before a polystyrene cup filled with coffee appeared in front of her eyes. She gratefully accepted the cup and turned her head to look at David, pushing some of her hair back behind her ear. 

"Do you think he tried to kill himself?" asked Emily, her voice quivering.

“I think so. It’s hardly a surprise given everything the kid’s been through,” responded David, sitting back in the chair, his aged hands grasping his cup.

“I know, but we’re his family. His mom -” David held up a hand to silence her.

“Emily, Diana doesn’t know who Spencer is anymore. That’s besides the point. It doesn’t matter who loves you when you fall into that deep, dark well of your mind and can’t see any way out of it. Am I hurt that the kid did what he did? Absolutely. But, it was inevitable that he was going to fall hard.”

“They’re going to lock him away, aren’t they?” David gave a defeated sigh and took a sip of the foul, bitter concoction the hospital was claiming to be coffee. He grimaced at the taste.

“Probably. It’ll do him some good to get help. I know the prospect of him being on a psychiatric unit will scare the shit out of him, but it’s in his best interests.” Emily gave an exasperated groan.