Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 12. The Bullet Bond

Reid got the call while the team was at the Bridgewater Hospital waiting for Hotch to be checked out.

“Dr. Spencer Reid? Husband of Ana Reid?”

The young agent’s intestines turned to ice. He knew what calls that started that way usually meant: tragedy, loss, unimaginable sorrow. The team saw their friend somehow…diminish. He swallowed past the thick lump of dread that had taken up residence slightly below his Adam’s apple.

“I’m Spencer Reid.”

With varying velocities, the team came to their feet, drawing closer to something unknown, but undeniably awful that had landed in their midst.

“Mr.…uh,…Dr. Reid, this is Dr. Martinez, I’m one of the on-call emergency room physicians at St. Sebastian’s Hospital.”

Oh, God, why is it always St. Sebastian’s?

It was the hospital that had treated Hotch after he’d been stabbed by George Foyet. It figured prominently in the team’s collective nightmare of what had ended in Hotch losing the woman he’d loved. Reid knew there was too much distance between them for him to reach Ana’s mind, but he was sure if the worst had happened… if she wasn’t in this world anymore…he was sure he’d know. But fear and the anonymous voice calling from an emergency room 500 miles away turned his brain to gel. He was numb. He heard a shrill whining in his ears and hoped he wouldn’t pass out.

“Just tell me. Please. What happened?” He felt J.J. place a tentative hand on his arm. The others had surrounded him, searching his face for clues, trying to hear the news that was leaching away what little color he had.

Unfortunately, Dr. Enrique Martinez was relatively new to his position, which is why he’d been designated to make the call; his superiors thought it would give the nervous newcomer a chance to breathe between emergencies. But the stressful atmosphere of the ER still affected him enough to muddy his communication skills and neglect next-of-kin’s priorities. Instead of starting his tale with Ana’s current condition, he opted for more of a timeline approach.

“Your wife collapsed on the street a short while ago.”

No, no, no. Ana, no.

“Bystanders called 911 and she was brought in by ambulance.”

We’re just getting started. You can’t leave me now. Ana, no, no, no.

“She came to during the ride in and was in a good deal of pain.”

Our baby? Please, no, No, NO.

“My initial examination didn’t find anything that could have caused this…event…”

What? A tiny grain of hope surfaced in the morass of worry.

“…so we’re scheduling some more tests and we’d like to keep her overnight.”

Reid didn’t hear much after that. When the words ‘death’ or ‘miscarriage’ didn’t occur and he grasped the fact that his wife was alive, receiving care, and under observation, the arm holding his phone grew unaccountably heavy. He swayed. If it hadn’t been for the supportive hands of his friends, he might have imitated Ana and collapsed on the spot. As it was, while Morgan transferred Reid to a seat, Rossi relieved him of his phone and interrupted Dr. Martinez’ ongoing soliloquy.

“Doctor! This is Agent David Rossi of the FBI. What is Mrs. Reid’s condition, please?”

“Uh, like I was saying, she’s resting comfortably right now. Says she’s a little sore and wants to talk to her husband once she’s assigned a room…”