There and Back
Title There and Back
Prompt: Coma
Medium Fic
Author(s): ficdirectory
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Hospitalization.
Summary: Garcia is in a coma, but the BAU is at her side to help her through it.
Notes: Written for hc_bingo.
"Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door."
- Emily Dickinson
Waking up from a coma isn't what they make it out to be on TV. It's slow. It hurts. Nothing makes sense. The only comfort comes when you close your eyes.
Sometimes, she is aware of people, and sometimes she isn't. Her parents aren't here. She has no other family. In these moments, coworkers take the place of family.
Rossi is like her grandfather. His hand feels warm and deeply creased. And he talks to her about pheasent hunting with his black lab. He says Kevin misses her, and she wonders who that is. He calls her kiddo, and tells her to fight, but she's never been a fan of fighting, and she was always picked last for teams.
Hotch reminds her of her stepdad. Kind of stoic and calm. When she thinks of work - the attack coming back in snatches - she can remember him stressing her out. Because he has too much intensity. But now, he's like that calm place right in the center of a storm. He doesn't touch her, but he tells her things. Things that she is pretty sure he doesn't tell anyone else. How Jack is doing. How much he misses Haley. Sometimes, he tells her that they'll catch who did this. His words will echo in her head then, and she'll wonder: Who did this?
JJ is too young to be her mom, really. But, if her messed-up, unconscious memory serves, JJ is a mom, and it shows. She talks softly, reassuring her that everything is okay. JJ is the only one who encourages Garcia to rest. JJ massages the back of Garcia's hand with her thumb. When she says, "I miss you," a feeling swells inside Garcia, like her heart is growing too big for her body. Like a tightness. "It's okay," JJ soothes, and presses a kiss to the back of the hand she holds. Sometimes, she falls into a song, humming under her breath. Other times, she sings full-out. Garcia likes those times the best.
Emily - like an older sister, back from college - comes less frequently, but when she does come, she sends word from Morgan, who hardly comes at all. He can't, Emily says, because this is too much for him. "He can't do hospitals." This makes Garcia wonder what that means. What could one person do to a hospital anyway? Otherwise, Emily is quiet. Her touch, when it comes, is tentative, and her hand is cold. There is metal on her fingers.
And Reid....Spencer...he is Garcia's favorite, because he is sort of weird like her. He spent most of his time sitting across the room from her, like an awkward little brother. He's constantly talking and using words she can't understand. He says it's a good idea for coma patients to have stimulation as well as rest, because even though her conscious mind couldn't absorb it, the unconscious mind undoubtedly could. Today, it was a crossword puzzle from the New York Times, and he kept asking her to figure out the clues. "He played Big Daddy." "Rosary bead." "Japanese kombu ingredient."
She doesn't know the answers. But she wishes somebody would give her a clue about how to get out of this.
--
Sometimes time stretches out like some kind of interminable thing. This version of time looks like blinding white walls. It is too quiet, because all the people have stopped visiting. It's scary because it never ends. And sometimes, time is like the crocodile that swallowed the clock in Peter Pan - chasing her, and devouring parts of her before she can make sense of what's happening.
When Penelope thinks about it too much, the tightness comes back inside her. She wishes for JJ, or anyone, to come and take it away, the way mothers can take away anything bad.
--
It's too bright, but Garcia can't help opening her eyes. She sees faces, but doesn't recognize them.
One speaks. "Hey, Baby girl."
The voice sounds tight. Thick. But she recognizes it. Derek.
Another. "How are you feeling?"
Hotch.
"She might not be able to respond given the trauma--"
Reid.
"Hey," JJ says softly, rubbing her thumb over Garcia's hand, the same way she always has.
This one word sounds like the prettiest one Garcia has ever heard.
"Hey..." she whispers back.
Part 2: Butterflies
Part 3: Beyond a Reasonable Doubt
Prompt: Coma
Medium Fic
Author(s): ficdirectory
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Hospitalization.
Summary: Garcia is in a coma, but the BAU is at her side to help her through it.
Notes: Written for hc_bingo.
"Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door."
- Emily Dickinson
Waking up from a coma isn't what they make it out to be on TV. It's slow. It hurts. Nothing makes sense. The only comfort comes when you close your eyes.
Sometimes, she is aware of people, and sometimes she isn't. Her parents aren't here. She has no other family. In these moments, coworkers take the place of family.
Rossi is like her grandfather. His hand feels warm and deeply creased. And he talks to her about pheasent hunting with his black lab. He says Kevin misses her, and she wonders who that is. He calls her kiddo, and tells her to fight, but she's never been a fan of fighting, and she was always picked last for teams.
Hotch reminds her of her stepdad. Kind of stoic and calm. When she thinks of work - the attack coming back in snatches - she can remember him stressing her out. Because he has too much intensity. But now, he's like that calm place right in the center of a storm. He doesn't touch her, but he tells her things. Things that she is pretty sure he doesn't tell anyone else. How Jack is doing. How much he misses Haley. Sometimes, he tells her that they'll catch who did this. His words will echo in her head then, and she'll wonder: Who did this?
JJ is too young to be her mom, really. But, if her messed-up, unconscious memory serves, JJ is a mom, and it shows. She talks softly, reassuring her that everything is okay. JJ is the only one who encourages Garcia to rest. JJ massages the back of Garcia's hand with her thumb. When she says, "I miss you," a feeling swells inside Garcia, like her heart is growing too big for her body. Like a tightness. "It's okay," JJ soothes, and presses a kiss to the back of the hand she holds. Sometimes, she falls into a song, humming under her breath. Other times, she sings full-out. Garcia likes those times the best.
Emily - like an older sister, back from college - comes less frequently, but when she does come, she sends word from Morgan, who hardly comes at all. He can't, Emily says, because this is too much for him. "He can't do hospitals." This makes Garcia wonder what that means. What could one person do to a hospital anyway? Otherwise, Emily is quiet. Her touch, when it comes, is tentative, and her hand is cold. There is metal on her fingers.
And Reid....Spencer...he is Garcia's favorite, because he is sort of weird like her. He spent most of his time sitting across the room from her, like an awkward little brother. He's constantly talking and using words she can't understand. He says it's a good idea for coma patients to have stimulation as well as rest, because even though her conscious mind couldn't absorb it, the unconscious mind undoubtedly could. Today, it was a crossword puzzle from the New York Times, and he kept asking her to figure out the clues. "He played Big Daddy." "Rosary bead." "Japanese kombu ingredient."
She doesn't know the answers. But she wishes somebody would give her a clue about how to get out of this.
--
Sometimes time stretches out like some kind of interminable thing. This version of time looks like blinding white walls. It is too quiet, because all the people have stopped visiting. It's scary because it never ends. And sometimes, time is like the crocodile that swallowed the clock in Peter Pan - chasing her, and devouring parts of her before she can make sense of what's happening.
When Penelope thinks about it too much, the tightness comes back inside her. She wishes for JJ, or anyone, to come and take it away, the way mothers can take away anything bad.
--
It's too bright, but Garcia can't help opening her eyes. She sees faces, but doesn't recognize them.
One speaks. "Hey, Baby girl."
The voice sounds tight. Thick. But she recognizes it. Derek.
Another. "How are you feeling?"
Hotch.
"She might not be able to respond given the trauma--"
Reid.
"Hey," JJ says softly, rubbing her thumb over Garcia's hand, the same way she always has.
This one word sounds like the prettiest one Garcia has ever heard.
"Hey..." she whispers back.
Part 2: Butterflies
Part 3: Beyond a Reasonable Doubt