Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. But Ben's all mine!
A/N: HEY HEY HEY! I'm backkkkk! I promised a sequel and here it is! I do apologize for the excessive wait, but between a loss of inspiration and an excessive amount of school work, I was finding difficulty in updating. So as you guys know this is the sequel to my previous story More Than Doubt and for any one new checking out this story, it is almost essential to read my previous story in order to understand what is going on. This is a story heavily based on the events that took place in the last story. So please take a look at the other one-first, if you are willing to give this one a shot XD. Otherwise, you will be very confused. :/
I feel inclined to note that the summary I have posted is temporary and will hopefully be improved. I didn't feel like trying to work one because it would take forever and I really wanted to post this after al this time. So yeah...
ANNND, previously I had considered the shipping of Emily and Reid, but I have decided that since my first story originally had no pairings I would just leave it that way. I'm not big on romance and I want this story to focus more on suspense and action rather then all that mushy gushy stuff. Sorry! :/ (However, there may (will) be some vibes, and we will occasional take a trip to Emily's subconscious, so who knows what's going on up in there ;)
Also, just a general warning. I am not a doctor, nor have I ever claimed to be, therefore I apologize for any flawed medical information, now and in the future.
Also thanks to everyone who continued to motivate me while I was away! I wanted to give a BIG shoutout to diehardcriminalminds who even after all this time continues to motivate and inspire my updates! Thank you so very much! This chapter is dedicated to you :). I hope you enjoy!
Now enough with my ramblings. I now present you with the sequel. Enjoy ;)
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Remembrance
Chapter One: A Constant Reminder
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It was yet another warm, sunny day that Morgan found himself making his way up the long and all too familiar steps of the Hospital entrance way. As he approached, he paused, as he always did, and looked at the large, red lettered sign looming over head: Virginia General Hospital. He felt the familiar tightening in his chest, a slight breathlessness as air caught, and he forced himself to swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat.
It was just another day. Another visit. He had done it countless times before. But like every other time, he found himself perpetually stuck, transfixed by the lettering of the hospital entrance, as if too afraid, too weak to enter. He could not understand; it was the reality of it all that got to him. The day after day visits for a purpose he found himself loosing faith in.
Virginia General Hospital. He closed his eyes and took a deep controlling breath.
Even after all this time...
"BP dropping...vitals-vitals, Mitch..." the younger paramedic looked to an older man who was working on bandaging the bloodied chest wounds, "he's going into hypotension."
The older man eyes darted toward a small monitor as it began beeping rapidly. He quickly finished covering the wound and went to grab something from under the gurney.
"His vitals are so low...how has he not..." The younger man mumbled, his eyes locked on the monitor. His hands worked sloppily as he hooked the young man up to an IV. "Oh my..."
A fury of loud beeps erupted suddenly.
Reid's body began to jerk and convulse.
"He's seizing!" The younger paramedic yelled, gripping the bony arms of the young man. The newly bandaged wounds began leaking blood. Limbs flailed wildly, jerking in random motions. "Damn it!" The older paramedics movements were quick and well practiced. He pulled a syringe from the box and injected it quickly in the IV port.
Seconds ticked by, feeling like an eternity.
The convulsing slowed. Reid's head lollied to the side, his body still. The rapid beeping slowed to steady, constant chirps.
Morgan watched helplessly. Unmoving.
"BP critical. The kid needs an immediate transfusion. God, we need an OR…"
Morgan shook his head of the memory, wincing slightly. The memories of that night never left him, and intensified with his every step closer to the hospital.
Dark brown eyes remained glued to the large red lettering. A constant reminder.
An eternity encompassed within a matter of minutes passed, and finally Morgan pulled his gaze away.
He drew his dark fingers into tight fists, and forced himself to take those final steps forward into the building.
The double doors opened automatically and he was hit with the familiar chilled air, astute chattering, and shuffling of doctors and patients. The overall atmosphere of hospital life that he had grown accustom to.
It had been 18 months since that night, since Reid had been admitted. And Morgan had visited him every week.
In the earlier months, Morgan had taken time off work in order to see Reid. He had come every single day to the hospital. To sit at the agents bed side, to simply talk to him, hoping that maybe, maybe, one of these days, his words would reach him. Pull his partner, his brother, back to life.
However, that mentality had been short lived.
While Morgan had promised himself to never give up on that kid, to do everything in his power to right all his wrongs, Reid's life remained on pause, suspended between the living and nonliving.
Morgan's did not.
...Quantico...
The Behavioral Analysis Unit team hadn't been able to properly assess a case in months. For the FBI, this type of behavior was profoundly unprofessional; unacceptable in nature. The Federal Bureau of Investigation was an organization founded on suppressed personal emotion and meticulous, rigorous thought. But for the people behind the crisp black suits, dark glasses, and sleek revolvers their job became a matter of coping, a means of finding a distraction to keep from falling apart.
A diversion.
Today the team, minus Morgan, sat at the round table, contemplating the same case for months. Amongst the group was JJ and Hotch who once again presented the very same case details and evidence to the others. It wouldn't be unrealistic to say that the information was branded in their memory. Yet Rossi, Emily and Garcia watched apprehensively.
"Every aspect of this case has been examined and reexamined, but there is still no evidence disproving or supporting the assumption of an inside job..." The deep, professional voice of Aaron Hotchner pierced the quiet of room as he looked toward his team. Every since he had returned to work, Hotch had redefined his job requirements. He was acting Unit Chief, it was his responsibility to relate the evidence, gather the information, interview the suspects, and most of all, protect his team. An excessive scrutiny had overcome the usually composed and collected man. He had developed an insecurity, one that blemished his impeccable ability; it was a belief that no matter his efforts, no matter his hard work and determination, he was always one step behind, and therefore, would always fall short in keeping his family safe.
JJ redistributed the same case files and continued the statement when Hotch paused, "...a middle man. Someone who is working on the inside and was in contact with him. Most likely a relationship prior to his own incarceration or entrance to the prison. And a suspect in the recent attacks..." She placed the last case file in the hand of Rossi, who acknowledged it with a slight nod of the head. JJ simply resumed her position back at the front of the room, her expression blank. Her voice monotonous and barren as she continued speaking. She had taken on an almost robotic quality. One that did not express, nor feel. Strictly professional, more or less.
Rossi proceeded, "Security footage, witness testimonies...all evidence is lacking. The Warden stated that the prison experienced a power failure lasting for exactly 63 seconds..." The change in the older man was frighteningly evident as well. The dryness of his past sarcasm, was a dryness that had spread to every aspect of his being. He was no longer the fun spirited Rossi, but an old man that seemed to have aged a billion years in the past 18 months. His natural bravado and charm seemed to have disappeared.
"...Every electronic device received an encrypted code from an unidentifiable source, signaling for a collective shutdown. I'm still unable to track or figure out the encryption..." Garcia briefly looked around at the other members, before taking off her glasses and rubbing her puffy eyes. "Even after all this time. I still can't track him," Garcia thought out loud. She nervously fingered the hem of her dark, plain blouse, a habit that she had developed, and was unable to disguise the small sob echoed within her voice.
She couldn't do it.
Still.
Even after all this time...
She let him down. She was letting Reid down again!
Images. A sudden burst of suppressed memories flew within her mind. So many images of that night. The knife. The blood. Those wicked eyes...
Garcia's breathing started to quicken and drew the other's attention.
This was not a rare occasion.
Without a word, Rossi reached into Garcia's large bag resting against the table leg, and pulled out the small bottle that lay on the top of all her things. He popped the lid with practiced hands and slid two pills from his palm into Garcia's. JJ already had a glass of water ready.
Without a second thought, Garcia swallowed her medication in a single efficient movement, accepting the water from JJ and the soothing from her hand rubbing comforting circles in her back. Within minutes, Garcia's breathing returned to normal.
She closed her eyes, unaware of the cup she was crushing in her hand, and slowly counted down from 30. Like in her therapy sessions.
"...We have been asking ourselves the same questions for the past month..." It was Emily who continued with the lingering thought. She gazed at the others through a hardened expression. Her face softened slightly as her eyes found Garcia's quivering form. She had been effected the worse.
What she had been forced to do...Emily could not bare to think about it, had forever changed her.
Emily, herself knew she had changed, if not the most. Compared to the others, she seemed to be the most collected and composed. She was able to keep her external emotions under control. She had spent her whole life practicing.
But on the inside, however, Emily was not ok.
She felt completely empty.
Hollow.
18 months. Since.
Everything.
The uncovered emotion. The revelations. The indescribable pain.
Her whole world, turned upside down. It all seemed surreal.
"How did the fucking son of a bitch do it..." Her voice trailed off into the emptiness of the room, as it always did. Her mind relaying the memories of the past 18 months, the Hell that she, that they all were forced to live through.
Indescribable.
It had been over a year that the BAU team had been contemplating this case, and still could not devolve a reasonable explanation. The reasoning to why they could not, as well remained unanswered. Every aspect of the case itself was exceedingly personal, and seemingly required an unbiased, general perspective; however, every time Strauss attempted to hand the case over to another team, Hotch threatened to resign. The other members quickly following suit. Against her better judgment, the Section Chief decided that she could not afford to loose such a well respected team, so the BAU team remained employed and on the case.
The rooms heavy silence was broken when Hotch's phone rang suddenly.
"Hotchner."
The room once again grew silent at the look that overtook his face. His phone fell to the floor.
"Hotch…?" JJ regarded him with slight curiosity. Her guarded expression dropped as she met his glassy eyes.
She covered her mouth as she choked back a sob.
"Aaron?" Dave's voice sounded. But he to trailed off into silence.
A collective realization.
Emily gasped. After all this time...
"He's awake."
…Hospital…
His face retained the look of little boy innocence, but his body was a constant reminder of all that he had been through. Morgan leaned in the chair beside Reid's bedside, gripping the young man's hands tightly in his own.
A hand bearing only 3 fingers. Morgan unconsciously fingered the nub where Reid's pinky and ring finger should have been. A constant reminder.
"We are getting real close to a lead, kid." Morgan said softly. "It's been 4 months but we are so close. I know it. I can feel it, kid. You know, like that gut feeling Gideon always used to talk about..."
Morgan waited. The room remained silent, with the exception of the droning beats of the heart monitor and the young agents steady breathing. He gazed at his comatose friend. His eye's involuntarily filling with tears. It physically hurt Morgan to see his friend, his brother in this state. But he couldn't bring himself to look away.
It was his fault.
"Kid..." Morgan sighed, and finally cast his head down so his eyes glimpsed the floor. A tear soundlessly slid down his cheek. Morgan squeezed his eyes shut.
"It's been 18 months, Reid. I've come here every week and still nothing. I can't keep doing this, none of us can. You gotta fight Reid. And wake up. It's been over a year man." Morgan choked back a sob. "I still haven't been able to tell you how sorry I am. For everything."
Morgan bowed his head, allowing his tears to freely fall to the floor. He held Reid's hand tightly as if it would keep him from drowning in his own sorrows.
He squeezed. And cried.
Ignoring a slight pressure in return. Simply a figment of his imagination.
Morgan brought his head to rest on the blanket near Reid's side.
"Please...kid..."
Another slight pressure.
"...Ple-"
Morgan stilled.
Had he...?
Slowly, he brought his face up to face his comatose friend.
His eyes becoming extraordinarily wide as he met the gaze of familiar hazel eyes.
"Reid..."
The agent stared back for the first time in 18 months.
"NURSE!"
...Maximum Security Prison: (4 Months Ago)…
Aside from the slight shuffling of footsteps, and the occasional clatter of his shackles, the only other sound that pierced the dark, silent night was the heavy breathing of the police officer who was guiding the young man through the prison hallway.
Despite his current position, the young man walked with a confident, elated step.
A life sentence in prison.
Death to be determined.
Yet tonight, after 14 months, would be his last day.
Simply a matter of moments
He was yanked back suddenly into the blubbered body of the officer who's putrid breath threatened to suffocate him.
"Window of exactly 63 seconds," The Officer whispered harshly. He brought his face so close to the prisoner's face that his spit splattered his cheek. "You take the pill at exactly 5 AM and do as I have instructed." The officer pulled his face away and went about unlocking the prisoner's restraints. He placed a small, oval shape capsule in his palm before opening his cell and shoving him inside.
The slamming of the door echoed in the quiet.
The young man listened as his footsteps faded, closed his eyes and smiled. He gripped the pill tightly, gently rubbing it's smooth, rounded surface with his course and bony fingers.
Finally.
He pulled himself to lean against the cool brick of his cell wall.
Finally.
The time read 4:59. He waited.
5:00.
He forced the large capsule down his throat. His lips curled into a wide smile.
"I'll be seeing you soon, brother..."
A/N: Reviews, comments, critiques :) -I worked on my spelling, hope you can tell. XD