The Hospital, Pt. 2

One week later

Everyone except Reid was supposed to be back at Quantico. Strauss was not surprised to see that Hotch had approved vacation requests for everyone. The only reason why he was back in Virginia was because she'd refused to approve his.

She was equally unsurprised to see that the plane was undergoing emergency repairs as well, or that a part had to be ordered, or that no one knew when it would get in.

Even she didn't complain too hard.

Two weeks later

For two weeks Spenser Reid sat by his wife's beside. He watched the nurses turn her, bathe her, tend to her as carefully as they could until her cuts and bruises healed. He watched them almost literally pump weight on to her via the nutrition they forced into her veins. He watched their machines breathe for her. He did whatever little things they let him do, to help fight for her. And when they had done what they could, when she was strong enough, they took her off the ventilator and lowered the levels of medication.

She didn't respond.

They said she was in a coma, one no longer medically induced.

They didn't know if or when she would wake up.

Three days later

"That's Sting."*

JJ looked up from her book, and over at Garcia, who was sitting there, knitting. The staff had been generous, after the young FBI agent had been there for so long. He simply never left his wife's bedside. The other team members took turns making sure he ate and changed clothes, sitting with her while he slept as best he could. At the moment, Garcia and JJ were on duty while he slept in an unused room. "I don't think so. It's some classical lute thing he said she likes. He thought it would comfort her."

Garcia frowned. "No, it's Sting, I swear. What does it say on the iPod."

JJ got up and went over to the shelf to take a look. Most of the surfaces in the room were crowded with flowers, from people at the FBI, people at Cal Tech, even a big arrangement from Peter and the people at the armory. Two stood out, the bowl of roses Reid kept right beside her bed and a small one meant for a baby, with a teddy bear attached. The card had simply read 'JG'.

They had all been surprised at that one. Except Reid.

JJ had to snake her hand between two vases to even reach the iPod player. "I can't see it. Darn." She turned it up so they could hear the singer with the next song.

Nowhere

It was warm.

For the longest time they had even taken her breathing from her.

Even that from her.

Even that.

She had crawled into the darkness and waited there.

To die.

This, then, must be heaven.

It was warm.

It was soft

It smelled like roses.

You ought to be able to see in heaven.

It must just be dark here.

That was a lute, somewhere nearby.

The musician must have light.

If I follow the music, perhaps I can find the light…

Here

"Yeah, you were right. I didn't know he did classical."

"Hah. I am the goddess of all knowledge, baby." Garcia turned back to her knitting, only to catch sight of sapphire blue eyes, watching her. "Ohhh. Oh, hey. Hi there."

This was not what Gwen had ever expected in an angel. She could hear the music, smell the roses, and everything was soft and warm. This must be heaven. But she never expected an angel with bright clothing, pink and blond hair, or acid green glasses. "You're an angel?" It was meant to be a whisper; it came out as a croak.

"So I've been told. I'm Penelope. Welcome back." She moved closer, kept talking softly as JJ went to wake Reid.

"This isn't heaven?" I'm not dead?

"Nope. Heaven would have better food." Garcia turned as she heard the door opening beyond the privacy curtain. "Besides, I think this might be better."

Gwen looked over at the man standing at the foot of the bed. He was thinner than she remembered, really, and somehow more worn. Those circles looked etched below his eyes, and his hair was too long. He must not have been caring for it. It had to be…real. "Spencer?"

JJ and Garcia edged away as Spencer Reid walked toward the head of the bed, and gently touched his wife's cheek. He didn't bother to hide the tears in his eyes. And neither did she.

The end.

Please Note: The story of Spenser and Gwen will continue in a day or two, in another adventure.

*The music referenced in this story is from the album Songs from the Labyrinth. John Dowland, composer, Edin Karamazov and Sting, performers.