Chapter Text
The gunshot cracked through the trees, making everyone stop dead.
Emily whipped her head toward Hotch, her eyes wide and already filled with tears. "That—it came from the east, right over that hill—"
"I know," Hotch said sharply. "Go!"
They sprinted between the headstones, the beams of their flashlights jolting wildly with each uneven step. The cemetery felt suffocatingly still, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
“If that wasn’t Reid, I..." Gideon muttered as they ran.
Morgan reached the first patch of disturbed earth and spun, scanning frantically. "Come on, kid... where are you…"
JJ froze. "Hotch..." Her voice cracked as she trailed off, but the look in her eyes said everything.
Hotch followed her uneven flashlight beam toward a patch of displaced, fresh dirt that was darker and more uneven than the surrounding area, and horribly shaped like a grave dug in haste.
Hotch faltered, but Morgan didn't; he surged forward, throwing himself to the ground.
"No. No. No, no, no—" Morgan's knees hit the earth hard as he began clawing at the dirt just beneath him.
"Morgan—" Hotch lunged, grabbing his arm. "Morgan, wait—"
"HE'S HERE!" Morgan shouted, ripping handfuls of soil away. "HE'S RIGHT DAMN HERE—HE HAS TO BE—"
Morgan’s panic was contagious. Gideon fell beside Morgan, digging gentler, but still with trembling hands. JJ covered her mouth, shaking her head over and over in denial. Emily silently put her hand on JJ’s shoulder and pulled her closer to her.
Hotch stood a moment longer, staring down at the mound. He whispered the thought before he could stop himself. "...We're too late."
Morgan whipped his head up, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “Don’t you dare… You don't get to say that, Hotch. Not yet."
Morgan's breath hitched as he continued to dig. He got a little deeper into the Earth, then gasped.
"HOTCH!"
That finally made Hotch drop to his knees beside Morgan and Gideon. "Morgan? What—"
Morgan pulled back just enough for Hotch to see a small patch of pale skin emerging through the dark earth.
A hand. Reid's hand.
Hotch's face paled. Gideon let out a harsh, broken breath as if the air had been punched from his lungs.
"Oh God—Spence—" JJ whispered from somewhere above them. Hotch reached out, brushing Reid's fingers with the back of his knuckles. Reid's skin was freezing.
But— Hotch swallowed hard.
"Be careful," Hotch said aloud, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady. "We don't know if he's breathing—move the dirt around his face—"
Because if Reid’s hand was here, his head had to be just above it, Hotch prayed. Hotch shifted up a foot, his hands shaking as he dug next to Morgan and Gideon, brushing soil aside.
"Come on, Reid... come on..."
Then, his fingers touched something soft.
Hair. Reid's hair.
Hotch exhaled a sound that was less of a breath and more of a sob. He started clearing the earth around Reid's head with meticulous care, adrenaline making his blood pound so violently he could hear it in his ears.
"Jason—lift from the sides, don't touch his neck yet. Morgan, get to his shoulder. JJ, keep the light right here—careful, careful—"
Hotch brushed more dirt away from Reid's cheek, uncovering the pale curve of his face. Reid wasn’t moving. Hotch’s hand hovered just above Reid's jaw, almost scared to touch him.
"Spencer..." Hotch whispered.
Hotch had Reid's face half-uncovered now, with dirt streaked across his cheekbones and dark lashes. If Hotch didn’t know any better…
He shook the thought away as he leaned closer, trying to hear—trying to feel—anything.
Nothing.
"Hotch," Morgan rasped, his voice raw. "We're getting there, just another few inches—"
Hotch wasn't listening. His hand moved instinctively toward Reid’s half-uncovered throat, then jerked back. He couldn't check him, not yet, no matter how much he wanted to. If he tilted Reid's head wrong, if he moved him before the crushing pressure eased—he could make it worse, or, God forbid, he could kill him if he wasn’t already gone.
"Damn it," Hotch whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking. "Damn it, damn it—"
Hotch signed harshly and forced a shaking breath as he continued working at getting Reid’s face uncovered, gently sweeping away clumps of damp earth. Reid's lips were cold. Dust coated his eyelashes; a thin line of soil ran along the curve of his nose.
The most concerning problem was the dirt packed into the corners of Reid's lips. Dried mud clung to his teeth.
‘He's been breathing it in,’ Hotch thought, his stomach dropping. They didn’t know how long Reid had been buried, or if Hankle had shot him first before he threw him in that grave…
"Jason—Morgan—we’ve got to move faster if we want any chance, come on…" Hotch said, his voice shaking so badly that the commands were nearly inaudible.
Hotch blinked away the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes and used his fingers to scoop debris away from Reid's lips as gently as he could.
"That's it, Spencer... let's get this out... come on..." His voice cracked. "I need to feel you breathing… give me something, come on…"
Hotch brushed his thumb across Reid's cold, clammy cheek before lowering his ear until it hovered just above Reid's mouth, praying for warmth, a whisper of air, anything.
Nothing. He sighed as he slowly straightened up, never taking his eyes off his unresponsive youngest agent.
"Oh God," JJ whispered behind him. "Hotch... Aaron—"
"No," Hotch snapped sharply, shaking his head. "We are not calling it, not until he's fully uncovered…he's hypoxic—maybe shallow—maybe—" His voice cracked again. "Dig. Just... come on, just get him out—"
They worked faster, but not any less careful. Morgan got down to Reid's shoulder. Gideon freed his torso. Even Emily had come down with them, brushing away dirt from packing his arms in.
Hotch kept digging near Reid's face, sweeping along his jawline, cleaning his lips, clearing his nostrils gently with two fingers.
"Come on Reid, fight for me... just a little longer… almost there…"
Reid didn't move. Hotch's chest caved. "Give me something, Spencer, please... anything..."
Reid gave him nothing. At last, they cleared enough soil for Gideon and Emily to step back as Morgan wedged his arms under Reid's torso.
"Okay—okay, I've got him," Morgan said. "Hotch—help me—"
Hotch slid his hands under Reid's upper back, swallowing a cry when he felt how terrifyingly limp his younger agent was.
"On three," Hotch commanded. "One... two...three…"
Dirt spilled from Reid's clothes as they lifted his deadweight, pouring off his shoulders and chest as though the earth were reluctant to let him go.
Morgan staggered momentarily under Reid’s weight. Reid’s neck lolled sideways, causing his head to fall back until Hotch cupped it with one hand.
"Easy—easy—" Hotch murmured, his voice trembling too much to sound reassuring.
They carried him a few feet from the open grave and laid him flat on the cold grass. JJ gasped, covering her mouth. Gideon whispered something under his breath. Reid lay motionless, pale and still under their fearful gazes.
Hotch knelt by Reid's head immediately, leaning close, hovering above his face to feel for the slightest breath again now that they had him freed.
Nothing. He straightened up and pressed two fingers to Reid's carotid artery, and it only took a few seconds for Hotch to clamp his eyes shut and worry his lower lip so hard he drew blood.
Nothing.
Hotch only noticed how much his hands were shaking when he pulled away from Reid’s rapidly cooling skin.
"No... no, no, no... Spencer—come on—come on, kiddo—"
Morgan backed up a step to give him room, running a hand down his face. "Hotch—Hotch, do something—"
A rare surge of something bordering panic jolted through Hotch’s body, but he forced his hands to move. He tilted Reid's head back, his fingers trembling so hard he nearly fumbled the head-tilt chin-lift. Reid's jaw hung open limply.
"JJ, call for medics—Prentiss, go up to the top of the hill to flag them down—Morgan, clear his airway—”
Morgan was already beside him, sweeping dirt from Reid's mouth the way he saw Hotch do moments earlier.
"I got it—I got it—Hotch, go—GO—"
Once Morgan had gotten what he could, Hotch pressed his mouth over Reid's, sealing the connection, and breathed for him. One breath. Two. He pulled back, listening.
Nothing. Not even a twitch. Guilt slammed into Hotch with brutal force.
‘I should have found him sooner. I should have known Hankel would escalate. He trusted me. I told him he'd be okay. I told him we'd get there in time—’
He shoved the thoughts down and started compressions.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
His palms pressed into Reid's sternum, feeling the give of fragile bone beneath thin muscle.
"Come on, kid... come on, Spencer... stay with me... breathe..."
Morgan was crying now, silent tears streaking through the dirt on his face. "Hotch, he's gotta come back, he has to—"
Hotch didn't stop. He gave Reid two more breaths, pulled back, and listened.
Still nothing.
Behind him, JJ's voice broke. "Please—Spence—please—"
Gideon sat motionless, staring at Reid as if he could force life back into him by sheer force of will.
Hotch leaned back over Reid, breathing for him again and again. His voice cracked on the next exhale. "Please... don't leave…"
He pressed down on Reid's chest harder.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Reid's head rolled slightly with the motion, his soft brown hair brushing Hotch's wrist. Hotch's knees dug into the damp grass, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
"Spencer... we can’t lose you… I can't lose you..."
Hotch bent down again—another breath, another—and Reid still didn't respond.
When Hotch’s arms started shaking from the exertion, not to mention the adrenaline, Morgan tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hotch—switch with me. Come on."
Hotch didn't argue. He stumbled back half a step as Morgan dropped to Reid's chest and took over compressions.
"Come on, baby boy," Morgan whispered through clenched teeth. "Fight. Fight, damn it—fight—"
Hotch leaned over Reid again, cupped his jaw, and pinched his nose, breathing desperately into his lungs. Reid's chest rose, but only because Hotch forced it to.
JJ turned away, sobbing. Gideon's face was gray. Sweat and dirt dripped down Morgan's forehead as his arms began to quiver.
They were losing him.
Hotch pulled back, praying. Nothing. It had been too long. Too much time underground, too little oxygen, too much carbon dioxide buildup… he knew the statistics just as much as Reid would.
"Don't do this, Spencer," Hotch whispered, his voice thready. "Not like this. Not here."
Morgan paused for the switch, looking up at Hotch. The look in his eyes said everything that Hotch didn't want to see.
‘Aaron... I don't think he's coming back.’
Hotch's mouth fell open, his eyes burning. "No," he said, his voice betraying how heartbroken and tired he was. "No, keep going, keep going…"
Morgan nodded, his jaw clenched tight, and started another round. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
"Hotch—breathe for him—"
Hotch leaned in, sealing his mouth over Reid's cold lips, giving him two breaths that felt like they were tearing his own chest apart. He pulled back as quick as he leaned down—
Nothing.
Another round. Morgan was starting to strain from the effort of pulling Reid back. JJ had fallen to her knees beside them. Gideon whispered, "Come on... come on..."
Hotch looked down at Reid's still face—the dirt on his lashes, the faint bluish tint taking over his lips—and felt his heart break in a silent, shattering way.
"Spencer..." His voice was barely a whisper. "Please, come back to me."
Morgan pushed through another set of compressions, his hands slipping in sweat and soil. "Hotch... Aaron... I—"
‘It’s been too long,’ Hotch finally forced himself to realize. ‘We’ve got to call it, he’s gone too long without a heartbeat… we’ve got to call it… god, I’ve got to call it… how… he can’t… oh god, Spencer… how am I ever going to tell his mother—’
Hotch snapped back to reality when he thought he was in such deep denial and shock that he heard a sound come from Reid…
Until it happened again.
A sound. Something so faint Hotch thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Then… Reid’s chest moved, barely.
Morgan froze. "—Hotch?"
Hotch dropped his ear over Reid's mouth. Nothing.
Then, a shuttered, broken, wet little gasp pushed past Reid's lips.
Hotch choked on a sob that ripped straight from his chest, relief hitting him so fast he felt his head swim.
"SPENCER—"
Reid's chest jerked in a sharp, involuntary spasm as his body struggled to remember how to take in air. Another gasp followed, slightly fuller. JJ cried out, barely able to breathe herself as she sobbed in relief. Morgan sat back hard on his heels, his eyes wide and shining. Gideon bowed his head and let out a long, slow breath.
Reid gasped again shallowly, and Hotch cupped both sides of his face tenderly.
"Shh, Spencer—good, good, that's it—stay with me—shh—there we go—breathe—"
Reid's eyes fluttered behind dirt-clumped lashes. He wasn't awake, not really, but he was fighting.
"Attaboy, kid," Morgan whispered hoarsely once he found his voice. "Come on. Come on—keep breathing—"
Hotch bent close, his forehead nearly touching Reid's. "That’s it," he whispered, exhaling a sob he didn't bother to hide. "There we go, stay here. Don't you leave me now."
Reid's chest jolted again as he inhaled weakly, the breath just scraping past his lips.
"Shh, no—no, hey—turn him! Turn him!" Hotch barked, moving instantly.
Morgan helped roll Reid gently onto his side while Hotch cradled his head, keeping his neck protected and aligned. "Easy, easy, shhh… come on, Spencer, help me here—"
Reid's body spasmed with a weak cough. A wet, suffocating rattle sounded in his throat.
"Oh God," JJ whispered, horrified. "He's choking—"
"He's trying," Hotch said urgently. "He's trying to breathe—give him space—Morgan, brace his shoulder—"
Reid inhaled again, ragged and wet, and Hotch pressed two fingers desperately against the side of Reid's neck again. Finally, he felt a flutter under his hand. It was weak, thready, and inconsistent, but undeniably there.
Hotch closed his eyes for a split second. "I've got a pulse," he whispered. "I've got him, I've got him…"
Morgan bowed his head, shoulders shaking. JJ sobbed harder into her hands. Gideon was the only one still standing, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
"That's it, Spencer," Hotch murmured, his thumb brushing dirt gently from Reid's cheek. "Just breathe, shh…come on now…"
Reid tried, failed, then tried again, gasping like a fish out of water. The harder he tried, the more it sounded… off. Reid’s breaths were getting tighter, and sounded wet with fluid.
"Hotch," Morgan said carefully, eyes wide, "he's not getting enough—"
"I know," Hotch whispered. “It’s agonal… that's not good…” He tilted Reid's head back again gently.
"Hotch, are you sure—?"
"No time—" Hotch gave him a rescue breath. Reid's chest rose weakly. Pulling back, Hotch listened. Still no full inhale on his own.
"Come on, Spencer... take it... take it..."
Reid's fingers curled slightly against the grass.
"Hotch—again—do it again—" Morgan urged. Hotch gave him one more breath.
This time, a tiny, strangled sound escaped Reid's throat. His chest convulsed, and he coughed hard as a clump of dirt and thick mud spilled from his mouth onto the grass.
Hotch caught Reid’s shoulders, supporting him. “There we go…that's it—good—let it out—come on—keep going—"
Reid coughed again, wrenching violently. Hotch eased him further onto his side so he wouldn't aspirate. Morgan helped steady Reid until Hotch had a better grip on him.
"Ah, kid," Morgan swore under his breath.
Air was finally making it into Reid's lungs. Hotch's relief rushed through him so hard he nearly collapsed.
"That's it, Spencer, shh," Hotch whispered, his voice raw. "You're breathing, there we go…stay with me—stay right here—"
Each coughing fit continued to rock through Reid's fragile frame. Morgan knelt behind Reid's back, bracing him as he met Hotch’s eyes.
"Hotch...we’ve gotta move, we can't wait. He's too unstable."
Hotch worried his bottom lip as Reid convulsed again, gagging on the remnants of whatever was still left in his lungs.
"Dammit," Hotch whispered. "He's not ready to be moved."
"We don't have a choice, Hotch!" Morgan insisted. "We're losing time—"
"I KNOW!"
The shout broke out of Hotch before he could stop it. In his peripheral vision, he saw everyone flinch. He closed his eyes for one sharp breath, then pulled himself back together.
"I know," he repeated softly, his voice lower as he ran a hand over his face.
Gideon knelt beside them. "Give him thirty seconds; let him clear what he can. If we move him now, he could aspirate again."
Reid made a tiny, pained whimper, but his airway slowly began to open, the choking easing into shallow, rapid inhales.
“He's settling down,” Morgan breathed. "Just a little—yeah—that’s better—"
Gideon met Hotch's eyes. "This is our window."
Hotch nodded. “Morgan, get under his legs; Jason, his back. JJ, keep his airway open as best you can; make sure he doesn’t curl in too much.”
Hotch slid his arms under Reid's shoulders and knees, gathering his limp, trembling body against his chest. "Okay, here we go. I've got you, Spencer, I've got you…we're getting you out of here, come on."
They lifted together. Reid's limp weight sagged into Hotch's chest, and Hotch had to hold back a wince at how light the kid was. Sure, Reid was never much weight typically, but now Hotch felt he might as well been holding a skeleton, and that was with Reid’s deadweight, nonetheless.
They took three steps before a horrible choke ripped from Reid's throat, and his body jerked against Hotch’s hold.
"No—wait—stop—" Hotch barked.
They dropped down immediately. Hotch cradled Reid's head on the grass, keeping him on his side as another coughing spasm wracked his frame.
"Shhh shh, shh, Spencer... listen to me," Hotch whispered. "You're safe, come on now, breathe, just breathe…"
Slowly, Reid's breathing stuttered, caught a little, and finally settled back into a shallow rhythm.
"You ready?" Morgan asked softly, glancing over at Hotch.
"No," Hotch admitted, his eyes glistening as he adjusted Reid's limp weight against him. “But we don’t have a choice.”
He lifted Reid again, slower this time, holding him close against his chest to support his head and keep his chest cavity as open as he could.
JJ yanked the SUV door open, and Morgan rushed ahead to layer jackets and blankets across the seat.
Hotch eased Reid into the back seat on his side. Reid whimpered softly at the loss of contact.
"Almost there," Hotch whispered. "Almost there, Spencer... stay with me..."
Hotch climbed in, cradling Reid against him as soon as he could.
“Jason, go, go—”
Every breath Reid took was wet, and Hotch held on tight, refusing to let him go as the SUV sped off into the night.