hell_ofa_thing | To be alive is to be vulnerable. (( Roleplay ))

To be alive is to be vulnerable. (( Roleplay ))

The saying, hindsight is 20/20, had never been more true than now. Looking back, there had been hints all along that something wasn't right about the young man who had showed up at every single lecture he'd given within the last week. He'd seemed lonely, and it wasn't difficult to imagine he had few, if any, friends. People like that latched on to the slightest bit of attention, and that first night, Rossi had autographed his book and spent a few minutes chatting with him. Overzealous, sure, but he hadn't seemed dangerous. Clearly, he had completely underestimated the depth of his obsession, and just how committed he was to apparently having Rossi all to himself.

Somehow he'd managed to get Rossi's phone number, and had been calling him at work the last two days. There had also been that letter sent to his office, telling him how much he looked forward to spending time with him soon. That had been worrisome, and that had come yesterday. But in typical Rossi fashion, he was reluctant to say too much to anyone on the team, lest they worry, or get hurt themselves. More than himself, he needed to protect them.

Before he had a chance to deal with it, however, his stalker had beaten him to it. When he'd gotten in his car this morning, he'd had a knife pressed to his throat before he could put his keys in the ignition. He'd let the man lead him back inside before he fought back, which had a doubly negative effect: he'd managed to stab Rossi in the thigh, and the struggle had shattered the stalker's delusion that Rossi would be a willing captive, endeared to him instantly. Before he could think of anything else to say or do, the stalker slammed his head against the wall, and he saw nothing but blackness.

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His shot hit its target, and the UnSub collapsed on top of Rossi. His movements were shaky, erratic, and soon he rolled off the man he'd just stabbed, choking and gasping for air as his eyes closed. Rossi tried to sit up, and winced, pressing a hand to the wound on his abdomen. His fingers were slick with blood, but he couldn't tell how much; craning his neck wasn't even possible.

"Reid," he breathed out. He'd shot the UnSub, so he was probably all right, but he needed to know, and hear his voice.

Instinctively, Reid unloaded the gun's magazine, then let the useless weapon fall on the ground far from the UnSub. If Reid needed a gun, he had his own.

Then he ran to Rossi, kneeling by him and pressing his hand over Rossi's on his abdomen, putting pressure on the wound even though blood kept leaking through his fingers. His throat was tight, his heart pounding--no, no, no, Rossi couldn't die like this. No. No!

"Stay with me, Rossi," Reid said, struggling to maintain some semblance of calm as he took out his cellphone, dialing 911 to call for an ambulance.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Rossi's blood smeared on his phone and his cheek, but he hardly noticed. He quickly told the operator to send an ambulance--there had been a break-in and he had one federal agent down with two stab wounds and a man down with a gunshot. He hung up then, dropping the phone so he could press both hands on Rossi's abdomen.

"Talk to me, Rossi."

He knew the effects and symptoms of shock, and how easy and deceptively inviting that warmth and darkness filling his mind was. He could feel Reid's hands, hear his voice pleading with him to speak. If he could just hold on to that, muster up all of his reserves to say something, he could keep his eyes open for Reid.

For Reid.

All he could think to say, through the fog settling over his mind was, "You okay?"

Reid let out a strange laugh with a hysterical edge to it. "You're the one stabbed and you're asking me if I'm okay." He leaned in, pressing harder on the wound. The ambulance would come soon. He just had to keep Rossi awake until the paramedics could show up. "I'm fine. I'm fine. You got him before he got me."

"I thought he'd..." He breathed harshly as a wave of pain hit him. Keep talking, keep talking... "...hurt you." He'd been shot once before, a long time ago; the feeling of coldness settling over him was vaguely familiar, the rapid pulse, the way his words made sense in his head until he spoke, and then they felt sluggish and disjointed. "You have to be...okay." They had established that he was, but it felt important for some reason for Rossi to say that, to justify why he'd done what he'd done.

His eyes met Reid's, but they felt glassy, and his eyelids were just too heavy; they drooped as his head lolled to the side.

Damn. Damn damn damn damn--

Reid swore softly. "Rossi, Rossi, keep talking. Listen to me, okay? Listen." His words started coming faster. The blood was all too warm and sticky. Where the hell were the paramedics?! "You're going to get through this, okay? You're going to get through this and then probably try to work again before you're fully recovered and Hotch is going to call you out on it but you'll work anyway because that's what you do and that's what you've always done--it's going to be okay. Talk to me."

He didn't remember the last time he felt this afraid. It felt like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. "Talk to me!"

The words sounded muffled, like they were coming to him from a great distance, but he could hear them nonetheless. He could hear the panic in Reid's voice, too. He couldn't remember ever hearing Reid sound that afraid.

He could say anything. He had to say something, he had to reassure him somehow. His fingers tightened around Reid's, though it was almost imperceptible, given his lack of strength right now.

"I'm not gonna..." His eyes slid closed again, and he snapped them open. "...not gonna leave. Promise."

There were sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer until they stopped completely, and the medics rushed in.

The medics pushed Reid out of the way. He hovered, unwilling to let Rossi out of his sight. This wasn't the first time he saw one of his team members surrounded by medical personnel. It wouldn't be the last.

But Reid refused to leave.

When the paramedics loaded Rossi onto the ambulance, Reid insisted on riding with them, which they allowed.

He would hover as long as he could. He only paused to text Hotch the news and the name of the hospital they were headed to. He intended to stay with Rossi as long as the paramedics allowed.

They didn't object to Reid riding with them, and since he wasn't interfering with the work they needed to do to stabilize him, they let him be. Once they pulled up to the hospital, though, they rushed him away from Reid, out of his scope of vision.

Almost an hour passed before they came out to update him; they'd taken Rossi to surgery to repair the internal damage. The knife had penetrated the spleen, nicked an artery. They had to remove the organ, repair the artery, replace the blood lost. It was another few hours before the surgeon came to speak to Reid.

"He's groggy, but stable. We're expecting a full recovery, but for now he'll need to take it easy, get lots of rest. You can see him."

Reid nodded, some color coming back to his face and relief washing over him. He had been sitting curled in the waiting room the whole time. He didn't even ask about the stalker who had done this. He just walked past the medic, going to Rossi's room and sitting down next to the older agent's bed.

"Rossi?"

He didn't react immediately to Reid's voice, though his name lingered on the edge of his periphery, poking at his groggy mind, still sluggish with the anesthetic working its way out of his system. It took far more effort than it ordinarily would, but he finally opened his eyes to half-mast and managed to turn his head just enough so that his eyes could settle on Reid's face.

"Spencer." He couldn't remember the last time he'd called Reid by his first name. The fact that it came out now was more instinctive than it was intentional.

If he was going to use first names, Reid was too. He smiled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Hey, David. The doctors said that you'll be okay." He let out a small chuckle. It was less from humor than it was from sheer relief. "And the team is going to kill you when they find out you didn't mention your stalker to anyone. Fair warning."

It was so strange to see Rossi on the hospital bed. Reid was used to being the one lying out after getting shot or sick--not worrying over a teammate doing the same.

He gave himself a minute before answering, breathing in and out deeply, opening his eyes up a little bit more so he could see him better.

"Think I'd rather...deal with the stalker," he joked. Breathing was something he had to be careful with, at least right now. It was interesting, to be so aware of the act of breathing, when it generally just came so naturally and without thought. It was a bad joke, but probably reassuring in how characteristic it was of him.

"You came to check on me. This morning." He meant it as a question, of sorts, but it didn't quite come out that way.

Reid laughed, but once again, it was from relief more than anything. Rossi was using black humor. He would be alright.

"I don't blame you." Who cared about a stalker when Aaron Hotchner was pissed at you, right?

He shifted his position, although his fidgeting calmed down as he became more and more assured that Rossi was fine. "Sure I did. You didn't show up for work, and I got worried. We all did."

They were all worried, of course they were. He would've been worried, too. If it had been Reid--

"Could've been hurt," he murmured, brows furrowing together darkly. He wasn't, and that was a relief. But he could have been. He'd been through the worry and fear of seeing his teammates hurt, nearly dying. They were family, and he couldn't lose any of them. Reid had been hurt before, and it had been hard to deal with then, but the idea of it now was even harder to reconcile. It made sense, in some ways; they'd been working together longer now, grown closer, more connected. They often split up together out in the field, and Reid felt almost like a partner, even though none of them had just one per se. He couldn't quite make sense of it, certainly not now when he was so groggy. But there was something that had changed, shifted, somewhere along the way. He couldn't even attempt to define it right now.

But if Reid had been hurt--

"Don't ever do that again."

Reid crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. He had had a small crush on Rossi before he had come to the BAU--it was hard not to after having read his books all through college--but now that crush had been replaced by... well, attachment, he supposed. Attachment he had with all his teammates. Love. But it was different somehow...

"If you don't keep a stalker to yourself ever again, I won't have to." Because like hell would he just walk away if the situation were the arise again.

The point had been made, and it was one he didn't have much leverage to argue with. Had the situation been reversed, he would have been just as insistent that Reid never keep that sort of thing from him. He owed it to Reid, and he knew it.

"I'll tell you," he promised. He'd seen how well it had worked out, keeping it hidden. His hand probed gently at his wounds, trying to assess the damage. "How bad was it?" Most of the pain was still dulled by medicine, so it was hard to gauge the true extent.

"Good. I'll hold you to that." And he was serious. He would get angry if Rossi tried to pull that again.

He frowned, looking up at all the machines and tubes connected to Rossi. "It was pretty bad. They took out your spleen and you nicked an artery. We're lucky that you didn't bleed out." If Reid hadn't been so relieved that Rossi was alive, he would have been scolding him. Oh well, he could leave that to Hotch.

He was getting sleepy; in typical Rossi fashion, he didn't want to have to sit here with him, worrying, when there wasn't much he could do. On the other hand, he appreciated the company. Reid's company. Dammit, he was gonna have to figure this out, try to make some sense of these feelings.

"Hard to keep my eyes open. You don't need to stick around, I'm sure the docs know what they're doing."

Reid stayed perched on chair, cocking his head. "If you don't mind, I'd rather stick around." He knew it was irrational, but he felt like Rossi was somehow safer if he was there with him. Like the simple action of watching could avert disaster. "Go ahead and rest."

It served as a testament to how tired he was that he didn't make any other protests, however weak they might have been. There was something reassuring and affirming about just being able to sit there and keep vigil, watching the other person just continue to breathe. Live. Rossi nodded slowly, letting his eyes close. Before he drifted completely to sleep, he reached for Spencer's hand.

"Thanks," he murmured. For being here, for saving me, for... He'd finish that thought later.

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To be alive is to be vulnerable. (( Roleplay ))

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Another novel. XD OMG I love threading with you. <3

Likewise! This is so exciting X3 X3

Indeed. Always fun getting into their heads like this.

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