[fic]: Maybe, a little similar to love
[mood| 
uber-busy]
Title: Maybe, a little similar to love
Autore: Lago Lindari
Beta: not yet beta-ed. Forgive eventual mistakes.
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Rating: PG
Summary: "Will you stop that!" Reid snapped, causing Morgan's mouth to clamp shut in surprise. "I've had enough of this - this attitude that you - that everyone keeps giving me, like I'm -"
Note: follows episode 4x24, Amplification.
Morgan had lost count of how long he'd remained there - seated down under the cold neon lights, trying to find a comfortable position on the stiff chair - looking at Reid. Reid, who lay quietly under the crumpled bed sheets, his head resting on the pale pillows as he slept - hair tousled, smudged bruises around his eyes; Reid, whose cheeks had regained some colour, and who was alive and warm and breathing on his own. Yes, Morgan could not remember how much time he'd spent mapping Reid's features, memorising the creases around his mouth when he pursed his lips in his sleep, the way his fingers rested on the covers. Yet, somehow - it didn't seem like a long time at all.
And, when Reid stirred and mumbled something soft and unintelligible, before he squinted his eyes open, blinking against the light - Morgan just leaned forward and smiled, the tiredness and aches long gone. "Hey, kid," he said, and couldn't help a chuckle when Reid mumbled - "What - no JellO this time?," a disappointed frown appearing on his face.
Morgan shook his head, slow, unable to wipe the smile off his face. "Not this time, no," he pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping one finger on his chin. "I'll get you some as soon as Doc says it's alright. All the JellO you can eat."
Reid eyed him with mock suspicion. "Promise?"
"Depends if you behave, kid, and get well soon," replied Morgan, and was rewarded by a tiny grin appearing on Reid's lips. He didn't reply, though, grimacing as he shifted under the sheets - then lay in silence, looking back at Morgan - a soft, quiet smile hovering on his face.
"Have you - been here all along?" he murmured, eventually, and Morgan hesitated just an instant before nodding.
"Yeah. Garcia's been here, too, while you were out - told me to give you love and kisses for her when you came round," he said.
Reid actually chuckled, narrowly avoiding a coughing fit in the process. "So will you?," he asked.
Morgan tried to look innocent. "Will I what?"
Reid pouted. "I'll tell her you didn't, if you don't" he said, sounding, for once, as young as he actually was. Morgan grinned.
"You wouldn't."
Reid managed to grin back, although it took him a little too long before he managed to speak. "You know I would... I'm evil."
"Well, I would never wanna go up against an evil genius," Morgan said, and stood up, stretching his back before he stepped to stand at Reid's side. He leaned forward, tipping his head down so he could meet Reid's eyes. He hesitated, then let his hand come up to brush Reid's forehead, pushing his locks to the side. "You're hair's a disaster," he said, his voice low and, to his relief, not too shaky.
Reid looked up at him, his lips curved in the slightest, tired smile. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Morgan paused, as he let his thumb rub lightly on Reid's skin, wandering down to his temple, his cheekbone. "Hey, kid," he murmured. "You scared the hell outta me, you know."
A cross mix between embarassment and guilt passed on Reid's face. "I'm sorry," he said, sheepish, his voice small. Morgan wanted to smile, but, for some reason, found that he just couldn't.
He leaned forward, until his lips hovered just inches from Reid's skin. He hesitated, shunned by the sudden sensation that those moments, that instant, might held some secret, desperate importance he couldn't quite put his finger on. And Morgan tried to think of words that would explain, words that would clear that sudden, heavy fog of feelings clouding his mind, pooling in the pit of his stomach, but - somehow - they failed him.
"Baby boy," he breathed, then pressed a slow, soft kiss to Reid's forehead. When he pulled back, Reid's eyes were shimmering and, through the thick haze of unnamed, complicated things crowding his head - Morgan decided to ignore the fact that his own might be, too.
It was a gentle, firm voice to snap him back to reality. "Agent Morgan?"
Morgan turned to find Dr. Kimura leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a warm, knowing smile on her face. "I'm sorry to bother you, but it's time for Dr. Reid to be poked and prodded a little. If you don't mind," she added, turning her gaze to Reid, who smiled back shyly, a faint blush tinting his cheekbones.
"Feel free to poke away, Doctor," he said, too tired even to panic. He briefly considered starting a ramble to try and hide how awkward he felt all of a sudden, and decided he just couldn't be bothered - also, it probably wouldn't have worked anyway.
Dr. Kimura, very professionally, repressed the grin which threatened to appear on her lips. "Would you mind waiting outside, agent Morgan? It will only take a few minutes," she said, polite, and Morgan nodded.
"Of course, Doc." He turned to give Reid a playful wink. "I'll be right outside, pretty boy. See that you behave."
Reid's eyes were lighted up by something Morgan couldn't quite identify, and his smile was tiny and luminous when he said - "Will do. Thank you, Morgan."
And all the dozens of witty, bright retorts that seemed to constantly crowd Derek Morgan's mind were quick to disappear, leaving him vaguely embarassed as he felt a goofy smile splay itself on his face against his every intention - and he chose to ignore Dr. Kimura's amused smile, because Derek Morgan did not get shy, ever. "Anytime, kid," he murmured, and left the room, trying to convince himself that it was a strategical retreat and he was, most definitely, not fleeing.
---
And then, later, outside.
"So, how is he, Doctor?"
"He's a a though one." Pause, as she puts her hands on her hips, sighing in frustration. "If only he'd allow me to administer him some morphine..."
"No!" A heavy pause. Morgan does not lower his gaze. "He's had... issues."
A knowing, crooked smile. "I understood that much."
Pause. Eyes stare into eyes, and then Morgan nods, as if some agreement has been reached.
"We did not have this conversation."
Pause. Slowly, she nods. "We did not." She'd like to lean her hand on the man's arm - and clutches her folder, instead. "He'll live," she says.
Morgan remains silent. And the look in his eyes, it's almost enough to make up for - all the ones she's seen in the past few days, when the news she had to deliver were very, horribly different.
Then, he asks - "Can I - remain with him?"
She cannot hold back a smile. "You shouldn't... but you can. Just - don't tire him out. He needs to rest."
"Thank you, doctor."
She nods, and walks away, trying to stop smiling, because she's supposed to be serious.
Sometimes, she thinks, she loves her job.
---
The next time Reid woke up, his eyes did not hurt quite as much. The light had been dimmed, and the hospital seemed, somewhat - quieter, dipped in the fuzzy atmosphere of an easy night shift. The monitor at his side was beeping softly, and Reid vaguely wondered how long it would be until it started driving him positively crazy.
"Hey. You're awake," a familiar voice said, gruff with sleep.
Reid frowned as he turned his head to see Morgan, sprawled on the chair, who was rubbing at his neck with one hand, looking every bit as worn out as he sounded.
He vaguely thought he should say something to Derek, but his mind felt filled with a thick, murky fog, and thinking was - how weird - just too difficult. "Hi", he settled on in the end, fighting to shake the dizziness off.
"Hi yourself," replied Morgan, his smile standing out against the half-darkness. Reid forced himself to keep his eyes open as he counted to 2584 in the Fibonacci sequence, trying to let his sight adjust to the shade. (And, for him, it wasn't even curious that it wasn't any different than simply counting to 18; but then, that was Spencer Reid, and that's just how things were with him.)
Morgan's shape gained definite contours and details, and Reid's brain cleared off enough to allow him to notice the dark shadows under the man's eyes, the scruffy stubble dusting his chin and cheeks. Reid cleared his throat a couple of times, trying to gather some moisture in his mouth. "What time is it?" he croaked.
Morgan shrugged, eyeing the clock hanging on the wall above Reid's head. He refrained from grimacing at the glowing digits. "It's late. Or early, if you prefer," he said, his voice still hoarse.
Reid cleared his throat again, and when he spoke, his voice was a little firmer. "You should go home."
"I'm good where I am," replied Morgan. They stared at each other in silence for a while, weighing each other with careful glances - the soft buzz of machinery in the background, the dim beeping of monitors.
"Thank you," Reid blurted out of a sudden. "I really appreciate - you know," he made a vague gesture with one hand, which - he found out - felt heavy as lead. "Everything. Thank you. But really, you should - go. Look tired," he mumbled.
Morgan smiled. "You look worse." He stretched, bending his neck, relieving the stiffened muscles in his back. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine," he said - and whatever convincing effect he'd hoped to achieve was ruined by the huge yawn he wasn't quite able to stifle.
The corners of Reid's lips twitched. "I see," he said. "But I insist - you can go. Promise I'll still be here when you come back," he tried, with a weak smile, and Morgan couldn't help but grin at the valiant attempt.
"Thanks for the offer, kid," he said. "But I think I'll stay right here. You know, just to make sure," he added, trying to sound casual - but he could tell Reid was not fooled. (Damn, not even anthrax infection could impair the kid's insight). As Reid's smile faded, Morgan focused his gaze on the green digits of the clock, the steady progress of the seconds, trying to ignore the way Reid's eyes were fixed on his face, determined not to look away.
"Morgan," said Reid. Morgan tried to convince himself he hadn't heard. It didn't work.
"Morgan," Reid repeated, his voice soft - and Morgan had no choice but look at him. Their eyes met in silence, and - the question hovered between the two of them, with no need for it to be voiced. Morgan could read it clearly in the way Reid's brow was furrowed, just lightly, the way his lips seemed just about to pout, like every time he struggled to understand the reason behind some unusual behaviour - why, Morgan?
And he could clearly read the warning, too, lying hidden in the firmness in Reid's eyes despite the weakness and the haze of chemicals: don't make me profile you. Morgan gave a deep sigh.
"I keep thinking that I left you alone when I shouldn't have."
Reid's expression softened in a tight smile - which looked, though, somewhat stung. "You don't need to stay here out of guilt," he said, gentle.
"It's not that," replied Morgan. "It's just - after Hankel, I'd - I'd sworn no one would fail you again. We'd always have your back." He paused, staring at his hands, hanging limp between his knees. "I'd always have your back," he added, barely more than a whisper.
Reid looked at him. "So, basically, guilt," he commented, dry.
"Yeah. No. I mean - I," Morgan shook his head. "I was so angry at JJ for - because she wasn't there. With you. Where she - was supposed to be," he said, and his smile was so bitter his teeth seemed to grind. "And I have turned out to be no better."
Reid kept staring at him, blinking slowly. His eyes felt puffy, and they burned when he tried to focus. "It wasn't your fault," he said, his voice a little unsteady.
Morgan dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I should have been there."
"Yeah, and what good - would that have done?" Reid said, as he struggled to prop himself up against the pillows. "You'd just gotten yourself - infected as well, and -" he paused, gulping down air, and Morgan was quick to get by his side - his hands gentle but firm as he pressed on Reid's shoulders, guiding him to lie back down.
He let one hand linger there, a moment longer than needed. When he pulled back, Reid thought his shoulder felt, suddenly, cold. "I'm sorry, kid," Morgan said, a stricken look on his face as he sough out Reid's eyes.
Reid stared straight back. "I said it was not your fault."
Morgan's hand tightened on the bed's handrail. Hard. "I should have been right there with you! I -" he said, fighting to keep his voice low -
"Will you stop that!" Reid snapped, causing Morgan's mouth to clamp shut in surprise. "I've had enough of this - this attitude that you - that everyone keeps giving me, like I'm -"
"Reid - Reid, it's fine. Calm down," Morgan tried, taken aback, reaching towards Reid without quite knowing what to do - hands hovering useless, splayed in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry. We can talk about this when you're better."
"I say we can talk about it right now," retorted Reid. He tried to lift his hands and found them trapped by the IV and the heart monitor cable and the chest catheter and whatever the hell they'd hooked him to - and barely refrained from ripping everything off, getting more and more annoyed. "I don't need anyone to babysit me. I'm a fully grown male and a qualified agent just like the rest of you," he raised his voice, his chest heaving. He blinked as he felt his eyes start to burn again, losing focus. "And I'm tired of everyone thinking - that I can't make my own decisions - can't be responsible for myself. And if you, you think - think I can't be trusted to do my job - ..." he was forced to pause, struggling for breath, refusing to look at Morgan's face.
Morgan's eyes darted to the monitors suspended beside the bed, the beeping of which was getting faster, losing its regular rhythm. "Reid," he called, suddenly alert, the conversation forgotten.
Reid's hand went to his chest, clutching the thin fabric of the hospital gown. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate, to make his breath slow down, to make the air go in, damnit -
"Can't - breathe," he managed to get out, between gasps - and then the air was making a strangled, awful sound in his throat as his eyes snapped open and he tensed, his head thrown back against the pillow - and Morgan was on his feet, slamming his palm on the red alert button, and striding to the door, shouting - "Medic! He's - hang on, Reid, - Medic!"
---
Morgan raised his eyes as Dr. Kimura stepped out of Reid's room, readjusting her stethoscope around her neck, and looking decidedly more irritated than worried.
"Is he - will he be alright?" He asked, urgent, trying to keep his voice even.
The woman just looked at him with hard eyes. "Come with me, please," she said, her tone clipped, and turned her back to Morgan, walking until she was out of earshot from Reid's room. Morgan gave one last glance at Reid, who was now breathing regularly, his eyes closed - a whole new set of tubes arranged around him - then followed her, crossing his arms tight on his chest.
Dr. Kimura sighed, peeling off her latex gloves. "First, I'll have you know he's fine. Similar relapses can happen. The lungs are still weakened by the infection, and it will be some time before their functionality is fully restored." She paused as Morgan closed his eyes for an instant, relief surging in his chest. "We had to put him back on oxygen, and it will be two to five hours before we try and let him breathe on his own again."
She raised her chin and glared at Morgan, cold - and he felt himself shrink under her gaze. His shoulders hunched forward, just barely, and he tried fruitlessly to get rid of the tension pulling at his neck, the gnawing feeling of being about to be given a good scolding.
When Kimura spoke, her voice was sharp. "Agent Morgan, I thought I'd made it clear that you could stay as long as you didn't agitate him."
Morgan bowed his head, nodding slowly. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean -"
"I'm sure you didn't," she interrupted, managing to look intimidating despite her small size. "However, agent, I'm afraid you will not be allowed into that room again anytime soon. You'll understand I cannot endanger the patient's recovery."
Morgan swallowed. "I understand," he murmured, feeling his face warm up with shame under the doctor's reproachful gaze. He stuck his hands in his pockets, wishing he'd find something to fidget with - and turned to steal a glance towards Reid's room, where he could see him laying asleep behind the plexiglas. Morgan felt his chest tighten.
"Can I," he said, and had to stop with a choke when his voice failed him. He cleared his throat. "Can I stay out here?" he said.
"I'd recommend you go home, and try to get some rest," she replied, crossing her arms in an authoritative stance. Morgan swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry.
"I won't bother anyone. I just -" he said, his eyes darting again towards the plexiglas panel. "I just can't - leave him. Not yet. Please, Doc," he added, trying for a playful smile, and failing.
Kimura looked at him for one long moment. Then, her eyes softened a little. "Alright. I'll have someone get you a chair." She could see the tension drain from Morgan's posture, as he took one deep relieved breath. "Just don't try to charm any more of my nurses into sneaking you sweets stolen from the common room. I've seen the JellO," she smirked.
"Promise I won't," Morgan replied, offering her a warm smile. And then - "Thank you," he added, somewhat gruffly. Kimura smiled back.
"No problem, agent Morgan." She glanced one more time towards Reid's room, and walked away without commenting further, shaking her head because - honestly - these men.
---
Again, later, outside - he sits, leaning his arms on his thighs, never losing sight of the sleeping form behind the glass.
And, if Morgan could make sense of all the thoughts heaving in his head - the thick turmoil that refuses to acquire an order, a well-defined shape (because sometimes, even a profiler can turn out to be not quite good enough to profile himself) -
They'd probably be something like this.
Alright. Then, maybe, I am wrong - on a conscious level, I know you are an agent - and a good one, kid - that your choices are your own. (I know.)
I'm sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve. You don't need anyone to hover by your side and oversee every step you take, each of your decisions. I know.
Except I want to . Because - because you are so young and look so vulnerable despite that giant brain of yours - (because you're Reid) - because I care.
And, for some reason, I hate the idea of knowing you're alone - I want to be here every time you wake up, and walk you out of here - and spoil you rotten for a while (for the rest of your life) because, hell, kid, you so deserve it.
(Need to remember to get him some JellO.)
So, right; I'm sorry for not treating you as the man you are. I understand, I get it, but, nonetheless - the fuck I'm leaving. So you'll just have to get over it.
And instead, as he sits, without words to help him explain - all that Morgan recognizes is a bastard mix of fear and frustrated relief. And a strained longing, that makes his head sort of spin - something which leaves a sweet, confusing aftertaste in his mouth - (and that is, maybe, a little similar to love.)
"You think I don't know that, kid?" he murmurs at some point - but Reid just murmurs in his sleep, and Morgan looks at him in silence, and stays on watch.
uber-busy]
Title: Maybe, a little similar to love
Autore: Lago Lindari
Beta: not yet beta-ed. Forgive eventual mistakes.
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Rating: PG
Summary: "Will you stop that!" Reid snapped, causing Morgan's mouth to clamp shut in surprise. "I've had enough of this - this attitude that you - that everyone keeps giving me, like I'm -"
Note: follows episode 4x24, Amplification.
Morgan had lost count of how long he'd remained there - seated down under the cold neon lights, trying to find a comfortable position on the stiff chair - looking at Reid. Reid, who lay quietly under the crumpled bed sheets, his head resting on the pale pillows as he slept - hair tousled, smudged bruises around his eyes; Reid, whose cheeks had regained some colour, and who was alive and warm and breathing on his own. Yes, Morgan could not remember how much time he'd spent mapping Reid's features, memorising the creases around his mouth when he pursed his lips in his sleep, the way his fingers rested on the covers. Yet, somehow - it didn't seem like a long time at all.
And, when Reid stirred and mumbled something soft and unintelligible, before he squinted his eyes open, blinking against the light - Morgan just leaned forward and smiled, the tiredness and aches long gone. "Hey, kid," he said, and couldn't help a chuckle when Reid mumbled - "What - no JellO this time?," a disappointed frown appearing on his face.
Morgan shook his head, slow, unable to wipe the smile off his face. "Not this time, no," he pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping one finger on his chin. "I'll get you some as soon as Doc says it's alright. All the JellO you can eat."
Reid eyed him with mock suspicion. "Promise?"
"Depends if you behave, kid, and get well soon," replied Morgan, and was rewarded by a tiny grin appearing on Reid's lips. He didn't reply, though, grimacing as he shifted under the sheets - then lay in silence, looking back at Morgan - a soft, quiet smile hovering on his face.
"Have you - been here all along?" he murmured, eventually, and Morgan hesitated just an instant before nodding.
"Yeah. Garcia's been here, too, while you were out - told me to give you love and kisses for her when you came round," he said.
Reid actually chuckled, narrowly avoiding a coughing fit in the process. "So will you?," he asked.
Morgan tried to look innocent. "Will I what?"
Reid pouted. "I'll tell her you didn't, if you don't" he said, sounding, for once, as young as he actually was. Morgan grinned.
"You wouldn't."
Reid managed to grin back, although it took him a little too long before he managed to speak. "You know I would... I'm evil."
"Well, I would never wanna go up against an evil genius," Morgan said, and stood up, stretching his back before he stepped to stand at Reid's side. He leaned forward, tipping his head down so he could meet Reid's eyes. He hesitated, then let his hand come up to brush Reid's forehead, pushing his locks to the side. "You're hair's a disaster," he said, his voice low and, to his relief, not too shaky.
Reid looked up at him, his lips curved in the slightest, tired smile. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Morgan paused, as he let his thumb rub lightly on Reid's skin, wandering down to his temple, his cheekbone. "Hey, kid," he murmured. "You scared the hell outta me, you know."
A cross mix between embarassment and guilt passed on Reid's face. "I'm sorry," he said, sheepish, his voice small. Morgan wanted to smile, but, for some reason, found that he just couldn't.
He leaned forward, until his lips hovered just inches from Reid's skin. He hesitated, shunned by the sudden sensation that those moments, that instant, might held some secret, desperate importance he couldn't quite put his finger on. And Morgan tried to think of words that would explain, words that would clear that sudden, heavy fog of feelings clouding his mind, pooling in the pit of his stomach, but - somehow - they failed him.
"Baby boy," he breathed, then pressed a slow, soft kiss to Reid's forehead. When he pulled back, Reid's eyes were shimmering and, through the thick haze of unnamed, complicated things crowding his head - Morgan decided to ignore the fact that his own might be, too.
It was a gentle, firm voice to snap him back to reality. "Agent Morgan?"
Morgan turned to find Dr. Kimura leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a warm, knowing smile on her face. "I'm sorry to bother you, but it's time for Dr. Reid to be poked and prodded a little. If you don't mind," she added, turning her gaze to Reid, who smiled back shyly, a faint blush tinting his cheekbones.
"Feel free to poke away, Doctor," he said, too tired even to panic. He briefly considered starting a ramble to try and hide how awkward he felt all of a sudden, and decided he just couldn't be bothered - also, it probably wouldn't have worked anyway.
Dr. Kimura, very professionally, repressed the grin which threatened to appear on her lips. "Would you mind waiting outside, agent Morgan? It will only take a few minutes," she said, polite, and Morgan nodded.
"Of course, Doc." He turned to give Reid a playful wink. "I'll be right outside, pretty boy. See that you behave."
Reid's eyes were lighted up by something Morgan couldn't quite identify, and his smile was tiny and luminous when he said - "Will do. Thank you, Morgan."
And all the dozens of witty, bright retorts that seemed to constantly crowd Derek Morgan's mind were quick to disappear, leaving him vaguely embarassed as he felt a goofy smile splay itself on his face against his every intention - and he chose to ignore Dr. Kimura's amused smile, because Derek Morgan did not get shy, ever. "Anytime, kid," he murmured, and left the room, trying to convince himself that it was a strategical retreat and he was, most definitely, not fleeing.
---
And then, later, outside.
"So, how is he, Doctor?"
"He's a a though one." Pause, as she puts her hands on her hips, sighing in frustration. "If only he'd allow me to administer him some morphine..."
"No!" A heavy pause. Morgan does not lower his gaze. "He's had... issues."
A knowing, crooked smile. "I understood that much."
Pause. Eyes stare into eyes, and then Morgan nods, as if some agreement has been reached.
"We did not have this conversation."
Pause. Slowly, she nods. "We did not." She'd like to lean her hand on the man's arm - and clutches her folder, instead. "He'll live," she says.
Morgan remains silent. And the look in his eyes, it's almost enough to make up for - all the ones she's seen in the past few days, when the news she had to deliver were very, horribly different.
Then, he asks - "Can I - remain with him?"
She cannot hold back a smile. "You shouldn't... but you can. Just - don't tire him out. He needs to rest."
"Thank you, doctor."
She nods, and walks away, trying to stop smiling, because she's supposed to be serious.
Sometimes, she thinks, she loves her job.
---
The next time Reid woke up, his eyes did not hurt quite as much. The light had been dimmed, and the hospital seemed, somewhat - quieter, dipped in the fuzzy atmosphere of an easy night shift. The monitor at his side was beeping softly, and Reid vaguely wondered how long it would be until it started driving him positively crazy.
"Hey. You're awake," a familiar voice said, gruff with sleep.
Reid frowned as he turned his head to see Morgan, sprawled on the chair, who was rubbing at his neck with one hand, looking every bit as worn out as he sounded.
He vaguely thought he should say something to Derek, but his mind felt filled with a thick, murky fog, and thinking was - how weird - just too difficult. "Hi", he settled on in the end, fighting to shake the dizziness off.
"Hi yourself," replied Morgan, his smile standing out against the half-darkness. Reid forced himself to keep his eyes open as he counted to 2584 in the Fibonacci sequence, trying to let his sight adjust to the shade. (And, for him, it wasn't even curious that it wasn't any different than simply counting to 18; but then, that was Spencer Reid, and that's just how things were with him.)
Morgan's shape gained definite contours and details, and Reid's brain cleared off enough to allow him to notice the dark shadows under the man's eyes, the scruffy stubble dusting his chin and cheeks. Reid cleared his throat a couple of times, trying to gather some moisture in his mouth. "What time is it?" he croaked.
Morgan shrugged, eyeing the clock hanging on the wall above Reid's head. He refrained from grimacing at the glowing digits. "It's late. Or early, if you prefer," he said, his voice still hoarse.
Reid cleared his throat again, and when he spoke, his voice was a little firmer. "You should go home."
"I'm good where I am," replied Morgan. They stared at each other in silence for a while, weighing each other with careful glances - the soft buzz of machinery in the background, the dim beeping of monitors.
"Thank you," Reid blurted out of a sudden. "I really appreciate - you know," he made a vague gesture with one hand, which - he found out - felt heavy as lead. "Everything. Thank you. But really, you should - go. Look tired," he mumbled.
Morgan smiled. "You look worse." He stretched, bending his neck, relieving the stiffened muscles in his back. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine," he said - and whatever convincing effect he'd hoped to achieve was ruined by the huge yawn he wasn't quite able to stifle.
The corners of Reid's lips twitched. "I see," he said. "But I insist - you can go. Promise I'll still be here when you come back," he tried, with a weak smile, and Morgan couldn't help but grin at the valiant attempt.
"Thanks for the offer, kid," he said. "But I think I'll stay right here. You know, just to make sure," he added, trying to sound casual - but he could tell Reid was not fooled. (Damn, not even anthrax infection could impair the kid's insight). As Reid's smile faded, Morgan focused his gaze on the green digits of the clock, the steady progress of the seconds, trying to ignore the way Reid's eyes were fixed on his face, determined not to look away.
"Morgan," said Reid. Morgan tried to convince himself he hadn't heard. It didn't work.
"Morgan," Reid repeated, his voice soft - and Morgan had no choice but look at him. Their eyes met in silence, and - the question hovered between the two of them, with no need for it to be voiced. Morgan could read it clearly in the way Reid's brow was furrowed, just lightly, the way his lips seemed just about to pout, like every time he struggled to understand the reason behind some unusual behaviour - why, Morgan?
And he could clearly read the warning, too, lying hidden in the firmness in Reid's eyes despite the weakness and the haze of chemicals: don't make me profile you. Morgan gave a deep sigh.
"I keep thinking that I left you alone when I shouldn't have."
Reid's expression softened in a tight smile - which looked, though, somewhat stung. "You don't need to stay here out of guilt," he said, gentle.
"It's not that," replied Morgan. "It's just - after Hankel, I'd - I'd sworn no one would fail you again. We'd always have your back." He paused, staring at his hands, hanging limp between his knees. "I'd always have your back," he added, barely more than a whisper.
Reid looked at him. "So, basically, guilt," he commented, dry.
"Yeah. No. I mean - I," Morgan shook his head. "I was so angry at JJ for - because she wasn't there. With you. Where she - was supposed to be," he said, and his smile was so bitter his teeth seemed to grind. "And I have turned out to be no better."
Reid kept staring at him, blinking slowly. His eyes felt puffy, and they burned when he tried to focus. "It wasn't your fault," he said, his voice a little unsteady.
Morgan dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I should have been there."
"Yeah, and what good - would that have done?" Reid said, as he struggled to prop himself up against the pillows. "You'd just gotten yourself - infected as well, and -" he paused, gulping down air, and Morgan was quick to get by his side - his hands gentle but firm as he pressed on Reid's shoulders, guiding him to lie back down.
He let one hand linger there, a moment longer than needed. When he pulled back, Reid thought his shoulder felt, suddenly, cold. "I'm sorry, kid," Morgan said, a stricken look on his face as he sough out Reid's eyes.
Reid stared straight back. "I said it was not your fault."
Morgan's hand tightened on the bed's handrail. Hard. "I should have been right there with you! I -" he said, fighting to keep his voice low -
"Will you stop that!" Reid snapped, causing Morgan's mouth to clamp shut in surprise. "I've had enough of this - this attitude that you - that everyone keeps giving me, like I'm -"
"Reid - Reid, it's fine. Calm down," Morgan tried, taken aback, reaching towards Reid without quite knowing what to do - hands hovering useless, splayed in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry. We can talk about this when you're better."
"I say we can talk about it right now," retorted Reid. He tried to lift his hands and found them trapped by the IV and the heart monitor cable and the chest catheter and whatever the hell they'd hooked him to - and barely refrained from ripping everything off, getting more and more annoyed. "I don't need anyone to babysit me. I'm a fully grown male and a qualified agent just like the rest of you," he raised his voice, his chest heaving. He blinked as he felt his eyes start to burn again, losing focus. "And I'm tired of everyone thinking - that I can't make my own decisions - can't be responsible for myself. And if you, you think - think I can't be trusted to do my job - ..." he was forced to pause, struggling for breath, refusing to look at Morgan's face.
Morgan's eyes darted to the monitors suspended beside the bed, the beeping of which was getting faster, losing its regular rhythm. "Reid," he called, suddenly alert, the conversation forgotten.
Reid's hand went to his chest, clutching the thin fabric of the hospital gown. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate, to make his breath slow down, to make the air go in, damnit -
"Can't - breathe," he managed to get out, between gasps - and then the air was making a strangled, awful sound in his throat as his eyes snapped open and he tensed, his head thrown back against the pillow - and Morgan was on his feet, slamming his palm on the red alert button, and striding to the door, shouting - "Medic! He's - hang on, Reid, - Medic!"
---
Morgan raised his eyes as Dr. Kimura stepped out of Reid's room, readjusting her stethoscope around her neck, and looking decidedly more irritated than worried.
"Is he - will he be alright?" He asked, urgent, trying to keep his voice even.
The woman just looked at him with hard eyes. "Come with me, please," she said, her tone clipped, and turned her back to Morgan, walking until she was out of earshot from Reid's room. Morgan gave one last glance at Reid, who was now breathing regularly, his eyes closed - a whole new set of tubes arranged around him - then followed her, crossing his arms tight on his chest.
Dr. Kimura sighed, peeling off her latex gloves. "First, I'll have you know he's fine. Similar relapses can happen. The lungs are still weakened by the infection, and it will be some time before their functionality is fully restored." She paused as Morgan closed his eyes for an instant, relief surging in his chest. "We had to put him back on oxygen, and it will be two to five hours before we try and let him breathe on his own again."
She raised her chin and glared at Morgan, cold - and he felt himself shrink under her gaze. His shoulders hunched forward, just barely, and he tried fruitlessly to get rid of the tension pulling at his neck, the gnawing feeling of being about to be given a good scolding.
When Kimura spoke, her voice was sharp. "Agent Morgan, I thought I'd made it clear that you could stay as long as you didn't agitate him."
Morgan bowed his head, nodding slowly. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean -"
"I'm sure you didn't," she interrupted, managing to look intimidating despite her small size. "However, agent, I'm afraid you will not be allowed into that room again anytime soon. You'll understand I cannot endanger the patient's recovery."
Morgan swallowed. "I understand," he murmured, feeling his face warm up with shame under the doctor's reproachful gaze. He stuck his hands in his pockets, wishing he'd find something to fidget with - and turned to steal a glance towards Reid's room, where he could see him laying asleep behind the plexiglas. Morgan felt his chest tighten.
"Can I," he said, and had to stop with a choke when his voice failed him. He cleared his throat. "Can I stay out here?" he said.
"I'd recommend you go home, and try to get some rest," she replied, crossing her arms in an authoritative stance. Morgan swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry.
"I won't bother anyone. I just -" he said, his eyes darting again towards the plexiglas panel. "I just can't - leave him. Not yet. Please, Doc," he added, trying for a playful smile, and failing.
Kimura looked at him for one long moment. Then, her eyes softened a little. "Alright. I'll have someone get you a chair." She could see the tension drain from Morgan's posture, as he took one deep relieved breath. "Just don't try to charm any more of my nurses into sneaking you sweets stolen from the common room. I've seen the JellO," she smirked.
"Promise I won't," Morgan replied, offering her a warm smile. And then - "Thank you," he added, somewhat gruffly. Kimura smiled back.
"No problem, agent Morgan." She glanced one more time towards Reid's room, and walked away without commenting further, shaking her head because - honestly - these men.
---
Again, later, outside - he sits, leaning his arms on his thighs, never losing sight of the sleeping form behind the glass.
And, if Morgan could make sense of all the thoughts heaving in his head - the thick turmoil that refuses to acquire an order, a well-defined shape (because sometimes, even a profiler can turn out to be not quite good enough to profile himself) -
They'd probably be something like this.
Alright. Then, maybe, I am wrong - on a conscious level, I know you are an agent - and a good one, kid - that your choices are your own. (I know.)
I'm sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve. You don't need anyone to hover by your side and oversee every step you take, each of your decisions. I know.
Except I want to . Because - because you are so young and look so vulnerable despite that giant brain of yours - (because you're Reid) - because I care.
And, for some reason, I hate the idea of knowing you're alone - I want to be here every time you wake up, and walk you out of here - and spoil you rotten for a while (for the rest of your life) because, hell, kid, you so deserve it.
(Need to remember to get him some JellO.)
So, right; I'm sorry for not treating you as the man you are. I understand, I get it, but, nonetheless - the fuck I'm leaving. So you'll just have to get over it.
And instead, as he sits, without words to help him explain - all that Morgan recognizes is a bastard mix of fear and frustrated relief. And a strained longing, that makes his head sort of spin - something which leaves a sweet, confusing aftertaste in his mouth - (and that is, maybe, a little similar to love.)
"You think I don't know that, kid?" he murmurs at some point - but Reid just murmurs in his sleep, and Morgan looks at him in silence, and stays on watch.