Full Throttle

Chapter Four

The sun is radiating throughout the room, reflecting off every particle of dust that floats in the stale air when Morgan awakes again. He looks around drowsily, taking a moment to remember where he is at and why. At some point in the night, Morgan had let go of Reid’s hand and turned his head in the other direction, burrowing his face into the unoccupied end of what turned out to be a very uncomfortable pillow. Morgan rubs his eyes and yawns, glancing down at his colleague mid-stretch.

Morgan rubs his forehead in frustration, forgetting about the bandage wrapped around his head until searing pain shoots across his skin and seems to delve all the way into his brain. He pulls away as if he’s just touched a hot pan, and tries to alleviate the pain by focusing on Reid instead. The agent hasn’t moved a muscle since last night, and Morgan wishes it were still dark in the room. Reid’s wounds looked much better when it was dark. Now, the sunlight bounces off his forehead, intensifying every little detail of a laceration spanning nearly the entire length of his forehead. At least twelve stitches hold his swollen skin together. Morgan reaches out and brushes Reid’s sandy brown hair away from his forehead, careful not to touch the cut.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Shit, Hotch!” Morgan jumps at the sound of his boss’ chilling voice, cutting through the comfort of the silence like a winter breeze.

“I’m sorry.” Hotch apologizes, stepping closer to the bed and observing two of his agents. Other than the grave look on his face, the first thing that Morgan notices about Hotch is that he has traded his jeans and tee-shirt for his usual suit and tie.

“Headed to the office?” Morgan asks, trying to sound casual despite being slightly angry that Hotch could possibly go to work as if nothing is happening here.

“Yes,” Hotch nods, almost guiltily as his eyes divert to the floor. “We have to finish up our paperwork from yesterday’s case, and then we have three more cases lined up behind that.” He senses the disapproval in Morgan’s eyes, and quickly adds, “Morgan, you and I both know we can’t do anything here. People still need our help.”

Morgan heaves a sigh. He knows that Hotch is right, but he still feels like his team is allowed to be selfish just this one time. The BAU spends almost every day of their lives’ together, even their ‘days off.’ They’ve sculpted themselves into a family, and sometimes it’s difficult for Morgan to remember that, with what they do, work comes before family. It isn’t right, but it is just how things have to be.

“Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for you to have two weeks’ medical leave. Paid, of course.”

“Hotch -” Morgan starts. The thought that Hotch would make him go back to work today had never crossed his mind, but two weeks seems like a bit much considering his injuries are fairly minor. Morgan is grateful of course, for he much prefers to stay beside Reid instead of hunting serial killers, but he also understands that he has an oath to uphold. When does it become acceptable to put personal matters before your duties as a federal agent? Morgan doesn’t know the exact answer, but the fact that his best friend is lying in a hospital bed and may never stand up on his own again seems like a fairly reasonable exception - especially since it’s his fault.

“Morgan,” Hotch warns. There is a mutual, unspoken understanding that Hotch extended Morgan’s medical leave for Reid’s sake, rather than his own. Of course, Strauss could never know that. That woman doesn’t seem to understand that this team is more than just a team, JJ’s voice echoes inside of Morgan’s head. It is something their liaison had said about their Section Chief when Reid had been kidnapped by Tobias Hankel. Strauss had been especially hard on them during that case, insisting that they act objectively. Love isn’t objective, JJ had said to her, to the shock of everyone in the room. Strauss didn’t say a word after that.