Becky's Writing (becky_writing) wrote,
Title: Coda to: Officer Down!
Author: becky_h
Genre: Gen, H/c.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
Warnings: Unbeta'd. There will be grammar errors.
Summary:: I promised folks I'd write a happy ending for Officer Down!(linked in title) before the new year. I try to keep my promises, so here you go.

He wakes up in the hospital, without any memory of how he got there.

He’s alive and not in pain. That means he’s not concerned about the IV, oxygen, or whatever drugs are coursing through his system to combat the pain and making him high in the process. The sun is shining just outside the closed blinds, sending thin beams of light and shadow across the floor.

The only thing, it turns out, he’s actually concerned about is the man asleep in the beside chair.

Reid’s hands are covered in blood, it’s streaked on his face and is even in his hair, undoubtedly from using bloody hands to push it out of his face.

“Reid.” His voice comes out hoarse and weak. He swallows and tries again. “Reid.”

The second time is clear, and loud enough to startle Reid awake. After a second Reid smiles. “Hey. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Drugged,” he answers, briefly. “What happened?” And why haven’t you showered and changed?

“We covered the EMTs while they came in and moved you out. Rossi stopped negotiating after they were out with you, and we stormed in. There was an explosion, but no other serious injuries.” Back to reporting, and that’s fine with Hotch: it’s information he needs.

But it isn’t all the information he needs. “Why are you still here?”

“Actually? We’re all still here. The other’s just went down to find the cafeteria. I promised I’d go back to the hotel and get cleaned up after they were back.” And that was more personal, more awkward and almost... embarrassed?

“Good,” Hotch says, suddenly feeling legitimate exhaustion along with drugged heaviness. “You need it.”

“This is how you thank me for saving your life? Great, see if I do it again.”

Hotch laughs a little, then groans. Whatever narcotic he’s being given isn’t strong enough to completely mask the pain caused by the laughter.

Reid takes the groan as permission to go on. “You lost a lot of blood and were in surgery for a while. You’re going to have to do the whole crutches and physical therapy thing, but... you’ll be okay.”

Surgery for a while, unconscious long enough for the sun to be properly up, and Reid’s still in the clothes he’d worn on the raid and covered in Hotch’s blood. That takes second to sink in and even once it has, Hotch doesn’t know what to say.

The team saves him by walking in. In stark contrast to Reid they’re all showered and in clean clothes, though obviously tired. Morgan at the front, Rossi beside him, Prentiss and JJ slipping in behind to stand on either side of the door.

“Hey. Garcia’s burning up my phone looking for an update. You got anything you want me to tell her?” Morgan asks.

“Tell her if she sends flowers, she’s fired,” Hotch says, fighting off a yawn. “Actually, you’re all fired if you don’t get out of here and let me get some sleep.”

If they don’t get Reid out of here, showered and fed, and if they don’t all get some sleep.

“We hear you,” Rossi said, prompting a confused look from Prentiss and a knowing smile of agreement from J.J.

“All right, all right,” Reid says, and stands up and is herded out past and through the others.

Morgan leaves last and his parting remark is: “We’ll be back, and I’m calling dibs on your jello.”
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