Chapter Text
Derek Morgan was awoken by the shrill sound of his phone ringing next to his head on the side table. He was used to waking up to the phone ringing and quickly answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Morgan” He answered in a hoarse voice.
“Derek?” It was Sarah. Derek quickly looked at the clock and realized that it was four in the morning which meant that it was three in Chicago. “You need to come home. Something happened to mom.” Sarah sounded like she was or had been crying.
Derek quickly sat up in his bed and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. “What happened?”
“Mom was in a car accident.” Derek felt like his heart had stopped beating for a moment. “She’s in surgery but they aren’t sure if she is going to make it.”
“I’m on my way.” Derek hung up the phone and walked to his closet where he quickly packed random clothing. He grabbed his phone and charger and began to make his way to his truck before having to turn around and grab the keys he almost forgot.
He turned the engine on and the air in the car felt thick, almost like he couldn’t breathe. He sat for a moment before he took a deep breath and put the truck into reverse. He drove in complete silence to the airport. He was almost to the front desk when he remembered that he would have to call Hotch and inform him that he needed some time off. He brushed it off and figured that he could wait until he purchased his ticket and got through security.
Once he was through security he pulled out his phone. He went to his contacts and went to the H section, but before he could click on the name his phone began to buzz, to his surprise it was a call from Hotch.
“Morgan.” He greeted.
“We have a case,” Hotch said into the phone and seemed like he was about to hang up when Morgan spoke up.
“I...uh actually won’t be able to be on this case. I am on my way to Chicago. I was about to call you. There is a family emergency.” Morgan responded. He tried to keep as much emotion out of his voice as possible because he felt that once he let it out he couldn’t stuff it back into the box it was safely in.
“Take as much time as you need,” Hotch began. “Let us know if you need anything.”
“Yeah,” Morgan finished and hung up the phone before boarding his flight that had been called a moment earlier.
Spencer sat on the hard and uncomfortable chairs that were in the hospital waiting room. He stared at his shoes, counting in his head how many splotches of blue paint could be seen on them. He began to recount what he had been doing the day that those splotches had been put on his shoes.
He had been spending his spring break doing nothing except reading and avoiding having to see people at any cost. He was in the middle of reading the latest book published by David Rossi when his mother had come up to him and closed the book. He looked into her brown eyes, a quizzical look placed on to his face.
“You’re always reading.” She stated simply. “Why don’t you come help me paint the guest bedroom?”
Spencer had looked at her in surprise for a moment before he began to talk. “Why? Isn’t that something that Derek usually does?”
Fran Morgan laughed lightly at her youngest child. “Yes. Yes, it is, but Derek isn’t here is he? But you are and you are taller than me so you can reach the top of the wall.” She explained.
Spencer signed lightly before he got up from his spot on the couch and began to walk to the guest bedroom. Once inside he picked up the paint roller and began to get the spot high up on the wall that his mother must not have been able to reach. He must have zoned out slightly because the next thing he knew he was getting paint thrown at him.
When he turned to see where the paint was coming he was only met with his mother’s smiling face looking back at him and a big paintbrush in her hand. Spencer chuckled lightly before he took the paint roller and rolled a big line of blue on her arm.
That action had lead to what most would call a paint fight. Spencer could hardly believe that had only happened two months ago.
Spencer was still staring at shoes when he felt a large hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up and was met with another set of familiar brown eyes. Derek looked at Spencer for a moment before he plopped himself into the chair next to him.
Spencer looked away from his older brother and looked back down at his paint-covered shoes. He hadn’t realized that he was zoned out for almost two hours.
“How ya doing, kid?” Derek asked hand still resting on Spencer’s shoulder.
“Ya, know.” Spencer supplied, not looking up from his feet.
Derek looked at Sarah and Desiree who was sat across from them. Sarah shrugged lightly, “He’s been like this since we got here.” Derek nodded lightly. He understood why he was acting this way, Spencer was only 16 and had been dealt some shitty cards already.
The four of them sat in silence for the next hour when a man in light green scrubs came out into the waiting room. He walked over to the group of them as they all stood.
“I’m Doctor Elliott. I’m the doctor who performed surgery on your mom. When Mrs. Morgan came in she was unconscious and unresponsive.” He began. “We did an ultrasound and found that she had internal bleeding in her abdomen, we rushed her into surgery and it was once we were in there that we realized that she also had a severe brain bleed. By the time the neurosurgeon came, it was too late and we had to declare her brain dead. I’m sorry for your loss.” He finished explaining to the group.
Once the doctor had stopped talking it felt as if everyone was suffocating in the silence of the room. Sarah sat down heavily on the waiting room chair and began to cry loudly. Desiree stared at the doctor for a moment before she too broke into tears that shook her shoulders. Derek continued to stare at the doctor in shock. And Spencer walked right out of the waiting room and toward the exit of the hospital.
Derek looked toward his sisters who looked at him tears still in their eyes. They all looked toward the exit before Morgan walked past the entrance of the waiting room and began to follow his brother.
Once Derek had exited the building he saw his brother sitting on a bench his head buried in his hands, shoulders shaking. Derek walked over to the bench and crouched in front of Spencer trying to see his face.
Derek pulled lightly at the hands that were blocking his view of the young boy’s face. “Kid, can you look at me?” Spencer shook head, sniffling. “Why?”
“Because it’s my fault,” Spencer muttered.
“How is it your fault?” Derek asked still trying to get a good look at his face.
“S-she would still be a-alive if I hadn’t asked her to go get stuff for stupid Rice Krispie treats!” Spencer sobbed finally looking up and into his brother’s eyes.
Derek quickly pulled Spencer into his chest. “It wasn’t your fault,” He whispered into the locks of brown.