Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 58. Ducks Amok

Reid didn’t recognize the number of the incoming call, but he did know the area code was one of those assigned to New York City.

“Hello?”

That was the precise moment when Spencer Reid’s world came crashing down.

xxxxxxx

Hotch was splashing cold water on his tear-scalded eyes, confident his emotions went unnoticed by his team, when he heard the scream. He bolted from the lavatory, nearly tearing the door off its hinges.

Reid was on his knees, having crumpled out of his seat, unable to remain upright. Curled in on himself, forehead almost touching the floor, the sounds issuing from his throat were a cross between sobs and howls. It sounded as though they would tear his flesh and rupture his organs with their intensity.

For a moment Hotch’s brain flashed on how he’d felt cradling dead Haley.

The others had leapt to Reid’s aid. Morgan, J.J. and Prentiss crouched around their friend, frantic to discover the source of his pain. But Reid couldn’t talk. All he could do was rock in cruel parody of a salaam, arms wrapped around his own midriff as though trying to hold himself together, bending closer and closer to the floor.

Reid’s phone had fallen from nerveless fingers. Rossi picked it up.

“WHO IS THIS!?” Forceful authority, a trademark of the oldest, most experienced agent’s voice snapped across the miles, leaving no room for deliberation on the other end of the line.

“I…I…I was talking to Dr. Spencer Reid?”

“Well now you’re talking to ME, so I’ll ask you once more…WHO IS THIS!?”

The functionary on the other end of the line needed a moment to gather himself. He could hear grief-stricken yowling in the background and other raised voices. It sounded as though he’d dialed a number that led directly into the heart of Hell. It didn’t make sense. The notification and status he’d been told to relay to the next-of-kin wasn’t that bad! And the man he was talking to now sounded as though he was one breath away from crawling across the communication link and inflicting unimaginable pain on the caller, slowly and for an extended period of time.

“I’m Greg Stanford…I work at Bellevue Medical Center in Manhattan…I…I just called to let Dr. Reid know we have his wife here…I…I…I…”

Rossi drew a deep, controlling breath even as his stomach dropped. “Alright. Please start again and tell me everything. I’m Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi of the FBI. Now…what happened?”

The caller sounded a little shaky, but regained his balance as he read from the chart he’d been handed  for Ana Reid.

“She was attacked and sustained a laceration to the back of the head, resulting in concussion.” The words speeded up as though trying to stave off being interrupted by another bout of emotion from the other end. “She’s groggy and upset, so we sedated her. We’d like to keep her here overnight for observation. But…but she should be fine.” Greg Stanford paused, waiting for a response other than someone dropping the phone and taking leave of his senses.

“What about the baby? Who’s looking after Melinda?” Rossi’s voice was tight with anxiety. Reid wouldn’t have reacted the way he did if there wasn’t more to the story.

“Like I told Dr. Reid, there’s no baby. Uh…” Rapid shuffling could be heard. The paper-search was on for mention of anyone other than Ana Reid. “There’s nothing here about anyone other than the patient.” The voice trailed off. Finally, Greg Stanford was beginning to understand. “Oh…there should have been a baby?”