Chapter Text
Houston, Texas, March 14th, 2024
Christina can feel herself coming down with something. It's that feeling in your head that just clicks all of a sudden; you're going to feel like shit tomorrow.
She's never been able to describe that symptom to anyone else. Her mom always said she was just anxious. But she's never been wrong.
The feeling starts at 2pm and slowly gets worse. She doesn't say anything, there's nothing she or anyone else can do. She'll just go home when her work day is over, take some Ibuprofen and fall asleep at 6pm. And that's exactly what she does.
—
"Christina, are you feeling alright?" It's her husband's voice that wakes her up from her 12 hour coma-like sleep. She can't actually determine whether she's feeling alright or not yet, she just woke up, she turns over and feels her entire body ache.
She winces subtly, feeling how her head pounds and her sinuses are blocked. "I'm o-" a loud crack of thunder cuts her off, giving her the chance to change her answer.
Jacksonville, North Carolina, February 9th, 1989
"Come on, sweetheart. Go lay down." Her mom sounds tired. This is the fifth time she's had to pick Christina up from school early in the past month.
She's never been a kid who gets sick very often. Maybe once or twice a year she'd catch a cold, but that was it. This is new, it seems like every week it's something. And Christina feels so guilty about it.
"I'll bring you some ibuprofen in a little bit." Christina nods, retreating to her room. Usually, when she's sick she'll watch TV and color quietly in the living room. Today, she doesn't even feel well enough to do that.
2024
"I'm okay." Surprisingly, her voice is clear. "Just didn't sleep well on Wednesday." It's a complete lie, she really should feel worse about it than she does.
"Text me if you change your mind…" bless her husband, he's been dealing with this for years. She usually does text him…eventually.
The storm outside directly mirrors how her body is feeling. It's probably just a cold, but Christina can't write off the flu because it has been a while since she got her flu vaccine. She forces herself to eat a granola bar for breakfast before heading to work.
—
It's definitely the flu. A cold cannot possibly make you feel this much like death warmed over. She's five minutes late because she has to sit in her car for ten fighting nausea and the beginning of a bad headache with any medication she can find at the bottom of her purse.
The rain does not help her symptoms, but it does allow her to blame how awful she looks on the fact that she had to walk 100 feet in the pouring rain. Her hair is soaking wet and probably will be for the rest of the day. Hopefully, her clothes will dry faster.
"Didn't bring an umbrella?" Jeremy asks, seeing her trying to fix her hair. "I did not…" she sighs. "I love the new hair." Reid teases, she just groans. It's going to be a long day.
1989
"Mommy!" She sobs, she's ten now, she really can't be saying that, but she is in so much pain. Breathing hurts so bad, but not breathing makes all the other symptoms worse.
No one seems to hear her cries so she cries harder, which makes her stomach hurt, which makes her nauseous which leads to her trying (and failing) to get up to go to the bathroom.
Her knees don't even attempt to support her weight, they buckle as soon as she tries to stand, sending her to the floor faster than she can react to it. Her entire side lights up in pain and the nausea only gets worse.
She can't get up, she's too dizzy and clearly she's not going to be able to walk. But she can't breathe and most of all, she needs help.
Her head feels like it's full of static, but she knows she has to wake her parents up somehow. She can't get up and she can no longer yell. She grabs one of her old shoes that she keeps under her bed and throws it at the door.
2024
"Christina," she's snapped out of her memory by Jeremy's voice. "Can you hand that to me…?" He asks with a slight laugh. Clearly, this wasn't the first time he had asked for it.
She does what was asked of her and goes back to the schematics in front of her. She's forced to work more slowly because of the brain fog. "Everything okay?" Jeremy asks her quietly, avoiding drawing unwanted attention.
"Yeah," but as she says it, she realizes how weird everything feels. She can't place the feeling at first.
1989
"Christina, oh my God." She wants to cry, but she can't produce any sound. "You're gonna be okay," her mom says, taking her pulse. The world faded in and out after that.
She remembers her dad carrying her downstairs. The ceiling of an ambulance, the feeling of a tube being shoved down her throat.
In that moment, she felt so small, like she was just a ladybug and no one seemed to understand just how delicate she was. She also felt like she was seeing the world from a bird's eye view. Like she wasn't even in her body.
2024
That's kind of what she's feeling now, although it's a bit less intense. "I need to go to the bathroom." She says, getting up. She needs to splash some water on her face.
Reid looks like he's about to protest, but he doesn't end up saying anything.
The bathroom is blissfully empty. She hasn't thought about that night in over a decade. It was easier not to. She exhales shakily, the cold water feels good on her face.
1989
She wakes up choking. She can't breathe, but this time, it's because something is very clearly blocking her airway. But then air is being pushed into her lungs against her will. She relaxes a bit, that's probably good, she doesn't need to worry about breathing if something is doing it for her.
Her chest and throat hurt pretty bad, she's conscious enough to know that. Voices start to filter in next. "I don't know how we're going to pay for this and another surgery."
"It'll be fine, we can both pick up extra shifts…and maybe cut down on groceries…and gas…and maybe get rid of our cable."
"This is a nightmare." She tries to move her hand, a few fingers twitch in response. "The important thing is she's going to be okay."
"We don't know that yet. They could ex-tubate her and she might not breathe on her own! Or maybe she does, but she dies of blood loss after the tonsillectomy."
She recognizes the voices as her parents and it suddenly dawns on her; they're talking about her. She's going to cause their entire family to have financial troubles and she might even die. She starts to panic again, monitors start to beep frantically behind her.
"Oh God…" her mom says distantly. She chokes on the thing in her throat again, she wants it out. "She's fighting it, that's a good thing." Her dad says, he sounds closer. 'Please…please help me,' she wants to say.
A new voice enters the room. "Her body still needs rest, I'm going to increase her sedation." No! She wants to be awake! She can breathe if they let her. Please…stop…
A sharp pins and needles feeling fills her entire body. She whines frantically, feeling completely helpless as she slips into a scary void of nothingness.
2024
She actually had never remembered that part before. Tears spring to her eyes. She was so young…she shouldn't have heard that. Really, she shouldn't have had to go through that at all. It occurs to her that this might be part of the reason she never tells people when she's sick.
She doesn't want to end up in the hospital. She doesn't want to be a burden. She doesn't want to be in medical debt again. She doesn't want to relive any of it.
Ever since then, she really hates being taken care of. It makes her feel so guilty. None of this is rational…she knows that, it doesn't make telling anyone about it any easier.
"Christina, are you in here?" Reid pushes the bathroom door open. She jumps a bit, she's kind of been caught red handed. She's still crying and there's nothing she can do to deny it now.
"I…" she doesn't actually know what to say. They're making eye contact in the mirror. "Can I come in?" He asks her, she nods. He closes the door behind him.
"You've been here for a while." She assumed as much, had to have been at least fifteen minutes if they came to check on her. "I…yeah, I was just thinking…"
"You're not feeling great, are you?" He's already caught her crying. She doesn't have the heart to push the lie any further. "No…I think I have the flu."
"Yeah, that'll do it." He laughs, leaning against the counter. "I want to go home." She says suddenly. "Okay," why was that so easy?
"That's it?" She asks, turning towards him. "What do you mean?" He asks, genuinely confused. "Well, it doesn't matter really…" Reid knows not to push his luck with her.
"Did you want to talk about what you were thinking about?" He asks her after a minute. "Um, it's really complicated…happened a long time ago, so…" she dismisses that too.
"I just want to go home…and sleep for fourteen hours." He smiles, "then let's go."