Chapter Text
Reid hadn’t planned on dying in the forest on his day off.
Reid found his situation concerningly funny, and if he could breathe, he would’ve laughed. Out of all of his bad luck and near-death encounters on cases with the BAU, it was his day off, the day he was meant to have spent relaxing , that would be his end. Reid had knowingly, and somewhat intentionally, gotten himself into this mess earlier that day, so he had no one else to blame but himself for the fact that he was splayed on his back five feet from a corpse, dying from a gunshot wound on a beautiful autumn evening.
Exhaling slowly, Reid tried to lower his racing heart rate. His gun lay in his right hand, and his left lay over the wound. He could feel his heart pulse from the wound and he elicited a small gasp as he pressed down, trying to slow the blood loss. Blood soaked through his sweater and coated his hand, slick and still warm.
He slowly and painfully brought his right hand to the inside pocket of his jacket, fumbling around trying to find his phone. He slowly and painfully brought his right hand to the inside pocket of his jacket, fumbling around trying to find his phone. Right. He forgot. No phone, and even if he had it, definitely no signal. With a sigh, Reid dropped his hand and resumed pressure on his wound.
Terror gripped Reid as he realized for the first time in a while he was truly alone, with no one to help and no one around that could help. He had gotten a glimpse of what awaited him after death eight years ago, and it threw his whole world off-kilter. He wasn’t prepared to experience that again, and he certainly wasn’t ready to die. He still had coffee shops to try out, papers to publish, degrees to earn, books to read, people to meet, words to be said. Goodbyes to be said. I love you s to be said.
A sob escaped his throat as he thought of everything he still wanted to do. He wanted to see the team again. He wanted to debate Hotch about psychological conditions and look over Rossi’s manuscripts with him. He wanted to go to foreign film festivals with Emily and watch the Tenth Doctor’s regeneration with Garcia. He wanted to win his prank war with Morgan, and spend more time with JJ and her family. He wanted to teach Henry at least one magic trick before he was gone. He just wanted more time . After everything he had gone through in his life, all the pain and all the suffering, was that really too much to ask?
That scared Reid to the core, more than anything had before because he desperately didn’t want to die but there was nothing he could do about it. He had never felt more helpless than he did right now. All the words and statistics in the world couldn’t help, and there was nothing he could do but wait and hope. The latter one was significantly harder to do as he heard his wheezes grow, out of fear or pain, he couldn’t tell. Maybe both. He could feel every breath shortening as his collapsed right lung failed to expand. Reid coughed, and when a metallic taste filled his mouth, he knew it was blood.
Just as he was about to lose all hope, he heard it. A call.
“Mr. Reid!” A voice called out. “Mr. Reid!”
It was faint, and the first time Reid heard the voice, he thought his genetics had finally caught up with him and he was hallucinating. But then the voice called again and again and wouldn’t stop bothering him. Reid wanted to call out and correct the voice that it was actually Doctor Reid, or Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid, but not Mr . Reid. Who would call him Mr. Reid?
Then it clicked in Reid’s mind as the voice called his name again. The voice of someone no older than a teenager. Could it be? No, no way. Reid had told the boy to run and call Agent Aaron Hotchner at the BAU because there was an emergency. He specifically told the boy not to follow him into the forest.
Forcing his eyes to open, wait, when did he close them? Reid turned his head side to try and call back. Instead of calling out and correcting the boy, he wheezed, a wet gurgle emerging and the blood in his mouth spilling on the forest floor. He coughed again, resulting in a spray of blood landing on the ground and a sharp pain in his head. Black spots dotted his vision as the lack of oxygen began making him light-headed.
Desperation really set in as the voices calling his name began to fade. “No!” He wanted to scream, “I’m here! I’m here!”
Responding was now clearly off the table now, and Reid had no way to get the boy’s attention so he did the only thing his mind could think of: get up. Propping himself up on his elbows, Reid turned to the side and began to slowly drag himself from behind the trees and onto the trail. His head pounded and he couldn’t see straight, the trees multiplying and swimming every which way. He hoped that he wasn’t about to run into a tree. His chest throbbed, the pain from trying to run while recovering from anthrax six years back was nothing compared to the pain he felt now.
Reid looked forward to where the trees lowered to the trail. Twelve inches had never looked so far in his life. It was all or nothing. What did he have to lose, anyway? He was probably going to die either way. With a groan, Reid threw himself over the edge and into the path. He tumbled down, hitting the ground with a thump and landing on his back.
Reid was pretty sure he passed out from the pain, but when he awoke, he couldn’t help but grin manically at his success. Sure, there was still quite a bit to go before he was out of the woods, literally and metaphorically, but Reid couldn’t get the thought that he did it, he did it, he did it, he did it, he did it . If he died, at least he knew that he had saved the boy and had done everything in his power to save himself.
Sweat ran down his back and his hair was plastered to the back of his neck and covering his forehead. His ears were ringing and he could see his breath come out in little white puffs in the cool autumn air. It was a strange sensation, heat and pain emanating from his ribcage all over his body, yet his fingers and toes were slowly going numb from the cold and lack of sunlight.
Reid stared at the night sky, the night sky outlining the deciduous trees that towered over him. It was the first Saturday in October and exactly 22 days, 3 hours, and 17 minutes until his birthday. The leaves had turned colors early, and if it wasn’t dark out, Reid was sure he’d be surrounded by an array of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens. It was a beautiful night, the lingering remains of the sun revealed clouds shrouding the sky in bits and pieces. For as much as he hated the dark when he was younger, he had grown fond of the nighttime. The air of mystery and suspense the night brought couldn’t be matched with the day’s sunshine.
“Pity. No stars. I hoped there’d be stars,” Reid thought. He would’ve liked to see the stars one last time, but the night was reluctant to reveal herself. It was a good day to die, Reid decided. Not a perfect day, but a good day.
A light rain began as Reid closed his eyes, and he felt at peace. He felt a tear trickle down the side of his face, blending with the raindrops. It was as if the sky had opened up to cry with him. With a sigh, Reid finally let himself close his eyes and rest.
He never saw the boy, nor did he hear the group of dogs leading the police and paramedics arrive.