Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX: PENELOPE

"Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none."

     — William Shakespeare.

—

"Did she say which room?"

"I don't know. She just said we needed to be here."

Dodging around a couple of nurses, I do my best to keep up with Reid. The hospital is busy and loud. It was only a couple of hours ago that I fell asleep on his couch. Now, we're in a hospital. "That's JJ," I gasp, noticing our friend pacing up ahead.

She's in a small waiting area, just her and Hotch so far. They both look over when we race to join them. "Garcia?" I ask, breathless.

"She's in surgery. There's no word."

"This is crazy."

My chest is tight, every breath pulling in the barest amount of air. "She'll be fine. She's tough. It's— It's fine." But the thought of her lying on that operating table, having the bullet dug out of her... it makes me queasy.

More rushed footsteps. Prentiss jogs up to us, followed shortly after by Rossi. "What do we know?"

Hotch's expression is even grimmer than usual, as he crosses his arms and replies, "Police think it was a botched robbery."

"Where's Morgan?" Prentiss asks nervously.

JJ sighs, "He isn't answering his cell."

"I'll call him again."

I begin to pace. JJ leaves, then comes back. Every second drags on. "They won't give me an update."

Reid huffs. "Morgan's phone just keeps going straight to voicemail."

"Where the hell is he?"

What seems like hours roll by. I sit in the waiting room, across from JJ. She's not even focused anymore, just staring off at the floor, her leg bouncing incessantly. Prentiss takes her hand. Forcing myself to breathe, I go for my inside pocket for some nicotine gum. There's none left. "Damn it." I can already feel my hands shaking. After the day I've had, the anxiety about Garcia sends me spiralling into cravings. I need something. Anything. I don't know what I'll do if I go without. I could step out, buy a pack of cigarettes from the nearest store. But then I'd have to leave. What if when I'm gone, Garcia...

I can't let myself finish the thought. Tapping my foot, I hunch my back, hands clutching at the sides of my head. I hear the rustle of fabric as Reid leans closer, whispering, "Hey... can I get you anything?"

"Nothing that's good for me."

He sighs. "You don't need it. It may feel like it, but you don't. Try one minute without, okay? Just one. Sit here with me and let's see if you can last a minute."

A bitter chuckle passes my lips. "Are you seriously coaching me on fighting cravings?"

Meeting my gaze, he smiles weakly. "I learned from the best."

All amusement fades when I hear those words. "That's not me."

More time. There's so much time here. All of it is pointless for us. A figure rushes down the corridor and I look up, standing the second I see Morgan. He tries to read our expressions but JJ saves him the trouble. "She's been in surgery a couple hours."

"I was in church. My phone was off."

Reid tries to assuage his guilt. "There's nothing you could've been doing here."

"The police got any leads?" he asks apprehensively.

Hotch shakes his head. "I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn't think we'll get anything from the scene."