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“You ready kid?”
You nod as you and Derek are outside the unsub’s house. He’s locked himself in and he isn’t letting up, so you have no choice but to kick the door down. Hotch and JJ have gone around the back, and Emily and Rossi are taking the side so he doesn’t try to jump from a window.
“Let’s go.”
Morgan kicks his foot through the door, breaking it down as the you two burst through, guns aimed. Morgan trains the staircase, slowly approaching as you scope out the kitchen. In hindsight, you should’ve checked behind you too. Suddenly, a man runs out, hidden previously behind the door, a bat in hand. You have no time to react as he strikes down, hitting you across the back of the head.
You fall to the ground, smacking your shoulder on the hard kitchen tiles. You groan, grabbing the attention of your fellow members. Morgan runs through and goes to arrest him, only to be beaten by Prentiss as she disarms him and cuffs him. The others check the rest of the rooms, and after clearing them, decide everyone’s out.
“C’mon. Y/N, you alright?” Morgan asks, sitting down next to you. You groan and nod.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you reply as you sit up. There’s a sharp stab in the back of your head, and your vision blurs a little. “I’m okay.”
As you go to stand, Derek gets up with you, an arm around your waist as he helps you out to the medics. You start to protest. “Derek, I don’t need a medic. I’m okay.”
“Y/N, you were hit in the back of the head, that’s a concussion at least. Don’t make me get Reid to diagnose you,” he replies. You shake your head and instantly regret it. A pain shoots down your spine and if it wasn’t for Morgan’s arm around you, you would’ve fallen to the ground.
“You see? You’re not okay.” He helps you get onto the bed in the back of the ambulance. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Erm,” you try to look at the hand in front of you. “Three?”
“No, I’m holding one,” Derek scolds. He turns to the paramedics. “Take them to the hospital. They’ve got a concussion.” He sits with you as they get in the back of the ambulance, closing the doors and driving off.
“‘M tired Morgan,” you slur a little, lying down on the bed. Derek shakes his head.
“You can’t go to sleep yet, N/N. Just wait until they scan you, okay? How long until we’re at the hospital?”
“Five minutes, sir. It’ll take another ten minutes to get them to the scan, and then a few more to do the scan. Then, we can determine the damage inflicted,” the medic replies.
“Please Morgan. C’mon, we’re on the jet,” you almost beg. Morgan shakes his head.
“No Y/N, you’re in the back of an ambulance. Now, you need to stay awake for another half an hour and then I promise you can go to sleep,” he answers, making you groan. The ambulance comes to a stop and the doors open, people jumping out and wheeling you out and through the hospital. You complain and whine to Derek, who’s running along as far as he can go.
“Morgan, tell them. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine,” you protest.
“Kid, you’re not. I’ll see you in a bit. They’re going to look after you, I promise,” he reassures. Morgan knows of your fear of hospitals and anything sterile, having found out one day on the way back from a rough case where neither of you could sleep.
—•—
Thirty minutes Morgan waits, and it ticks away slower than a tortoise. If feels like an hour before a doctor calls him up and leads him to your hospital room.
“Everything seems okay. They dodged a bad hit and any serious damage. We’ll keep them in for a few days to make sure nothing develops,” she explains. Derek nods and thanks the doctor before walking in.
“Hey kid, how’re you feeling?” He asks you, lying in the bed.
“Oh, hey Derek,” you greet, “why’re you here?”
Morgan bites back a laugh. “You have a concussion, kid. You got hit on the back of the head by the unsub and a baseball bat.”
“Oh.” There’s a pause. “Did we get him?”
Derek smiles. “Yeah, we got him.”
“Good.”
There’s a comfortable silence between you. Morgan pulls a chair up and sits next to your bed, getting himself comfortable.
“Hey, Morgan?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I go to sleep now? I’m tired,” you ask. Morgan laughs.
“Yeah, you can go to sleep,” he replies. “I’m right here.”
“You’re not going home?”
“And leave you in hospital all by yourself? Not a chance. Now c’mon, you can get some rest.”
You smile and lean back into the pillows of the hospital bed, pulling the cover over yourself slightly. At least the morphine dulls your headache.