Taken by Flames [Open]

[Penelope Garcia]

It wasn't the first time that Garcia had faced death. She had conquered her own, not too long ago, seen Reid tortured until he was no longer breathing, she had been on the phone with Morgan when she was sure he had died. It didn't matter how many times she stared it down, the reaction was always the same.

It had been a relatively relaxing evening. She had done some light surfing of the internet, checked out a few comic books' latest installments, gone to her support group meeting where she had helped talk to a woman who had lost her daughter in a hit-and-run about two years ago. All in all, it had been rewarding; she wasn't racing the clock to hack into a system and save a young woman from rape and torture, but rather what she was doing was lazing about on her couch, laptop on her legs watching some live television. It wasn't often Garcia had such an opportunity--though she was slightly disappointed with what her cable package had offered her for the evening and had ended up with the local news station on.

She wasn't paying that much attention to it anyway---at least not at that point. She had been in the middle of replying to an e-mail when the words, "live at a local fire" had caught her attention. Her brown eyes had immediately flashed to the screen, and slowly her cheeks had paled and a panic had grabbed her. It was, at first, a mere empathy that went out to the victim, for the home from what she could see past the flames, had been a rather lovely place. But what had been empathy quickly turned to pure terror as she recognized a noisy little figure on the corner of the screen. It was a dog. "Clooney." She said aloud, as she felt the very blood in her veins freeze. For a moment she just stared, unsure if her heart was making it through the fright or not; though, in actuality it was a foolish thought, for it was racing and pounding as if Penelope Garcia had just run ten miles without a break.

The technical analyst stood, throwing her laptop to the side without a second thought, and moving forward to get a better look at the TV. As if getting closer to the screen could make the image clearer. The sick feeling in her stomach worsened as she realized she had not been mistaken.

"Morgan!" She gasped, and turned wildly grabbing her cellphone and purse from the side table. She was hardly ready to go out, but she didn't care. In a blur of striped PJ bottoms and red shirt she raced out the front of her apartment and began to race down the stairs. She flipped open her cell, and looked down for a quick moment before realizing she was having difficulty seeing. Had she forgotten her glasses? No. It was tears that were making it so blurry.

She was at her wits end. God damn, why couldn't she find Hotch's name in her phone? There. She quickly dialed and let it ring, though it seemed it had not rang for very long and had one to voicemail. The beep sounded, and Penelope rambled something terrible. "Hotch, it's me, Garcia. I was watching the news. The local fire. Hotch, that's Morgan's house. I am heading to the hospital now. They said the owner was taken to the hospital. Someone needs to get Clooney." She had broken into hysterics halfway through, and the machine had nearly cut her off. Though, Garcia's mind was far from how absurd she must have sounded. It was on one thing. The hospital.

It didn't take her long to get there, though in truth it felt like forever. She probably broke every single speeding law there was, and probably a few other road violations. Luckily no police had been around. Even if they had, being an FBI agent had its perks. She raced in the ER entrance and just about pushed someone out of the way.

"Can I help you?" The woman asked, rather calmly.

At the moment, calm was not something that Garcia desired. "Morgan. Derek Morgan." She gasped for breath as a few new tears rolled down her cheek. "The house fire victim. Where is he?"

After a moment of looking over the charts that were laying around she looked up. "The doctors are seeing him now."

"How bad does it look?" Garcia asked, frantically. "Tell me he's going to be okay!" Was she getting dangerous? She certainly sounded testy.

"I don't know, ma'am. Not too much burning. But its his lungs they're worried about. There is nothing you can do about it now, so why don't you sit over there and we will notify you when we know more." The nurse motioned to an empty chair, which Garcia reluctantly took.

She. Could. Do. Nothing. With all the talents she possessed, she couldn't help Morgan. She slumped down into the chair. Hotch would get the message soon, right? He would be there soon? She sure as hell didn't know if she could stand sitting alone. Not with such a pain in her heart.

[Aaron Hotchner]

It had been a relatively easy day. A quiet day in which the only horrors Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and his team had to face was an overabundance of paperwork and bland office coffee. The coffee was a given and something everyone in the BAU had long since gotten used to, and the Unit Chief was definitely no stranger to paperwork. In fact. he was convinced, if need called for it, he could complete it in his sleep. A signature here, a few words of recommendation here, legal papers, papers from the state departments, they all blurred together after a while until everything seemed to look the same. Hotchner ran a hand across his tired eyes and briefly massaged his temples, willing the pain in them to fade away.

It didn't. And so, with an irritated grimace, the profiler went into the kitchen to poor himself a light drink and grabbed a couple of aspirins on the way out.

Throwing back the aspirin and swallowing his drink, Hotch set his brief case down on the coffee table in front of his couch and thought wearily of the paperwork he still had to complete . Not that the work he hadn't finished was due out tomorrow; Aaron Hotchner was never one for missing deadlines, but it never hurt to get a leg up on the work when they had down time. It helped if he didn't have to worry about political paperwork when he was out on a case.

He reached down to snap open his brief case and was just about to set to work when his phone rang. He reached into his pocket before realizing it was empty and bit back a curse as he headed to the coat rack by his door, where he left his jacket with his phone buzzing in his pocket. "Dammit," he muttered, as his hand closed around the device and pulled it out just in time for the ringing to stop. The screen lit up.

"1 new Voicemail"

He didn't waste time. Flipping the phone open, he hit the key for his voice mail and waited for the call to connect. He was expecting J.J.'s voice to float through his speakers, expecting her voice, grim with the news of a case. It had been far too long since the last one. (Not in actuality, but with their luck, whenever a lull started to take hold of them, a case would come up. The BAU never got to rest for long.)

Instead, it was Garcia's voice that met his ears. And she was sounded panicked, all of her words seemingly uttered on the same breath. Hotchner's face darkened as the message went on. "Hotch, it's me, Garcia. I was watching the news. The local fire. Hotch, that's Morgan's house. I am heading to the hospital now. They said the owner was taken to the hospital. Someone needs to get Clooney."

Local fire? His mind hadn't quite caught up yet. He hadn't had the chance to turn on the news, but he certainly wasn't wasting time to do so now. He could trust Garcia. If Garcia said the house was Morgan's, and Morgan was in the hospital, then Morgan was in the hospital. Which was where he needed to be.

Without breaking stride Hotch snapped off the lamp on the end table and headed out the door, dialing numbers as he walked. He called each of the team in turn and left the same message: "It's Hotch. Morgan's been hurt. Head to Quantico Memorial Hospital. I'll see you there." After hanging up he suddenly remembered Garcia saying something else to him in the voice mail. Something about Morgan's dog.

Gripping the steering wheel hard, he tore out of the driveway and headed towards the hospital. If the dog was there when they got Morgan out, he'll be in good hands. He conceded. Right now, he had Morgan to worry about.

He arrived at Quantico Memorial Hospital only a few minutes later. The sight of the building turned his stomach at the thought that one of his agents -- one of his friends was in there. He'd been through this procedure a dozen times or more. It never got any easier. He didn't know what to hope for, since he hadn't seen the report himself, he didn't know how bad the fire was. His mind was already running through scenarios and routine questions that he had no answers to. How bad was the fire? Was Morgan inside when it happened? How long had he been inside the house while it was burning? or worse, Was it a gas-leak fire? Or ...arson? Was someone targeting him? The endless questions frustrated him, but even worse was his lack of answers. Aaron Hotchner dealt well when there was information to go on, things to assess. Not knowing was always unnerving.

He walked inside demanding answers. And he was determined to get them. Aaron stepped through the automatic double doors and headed purposefully for the receptionist waiting behind the desk. He had carefully schooled his face into a mask of professionalism. "Hi, I'm Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, I'm with the FBI," So it wasn't exactly an investigation, there was really no need for the formal title and playing the old FBI card, but if he wanted information, this was the fastest way to get it. "And I'm here for Derek Morgan, he was a victim in the local fire...? Hotch trailed off meaningfully with a slight tilt of his head and waited impassively as the woman stared blankly for a moment, a slight worried crease between her eyebrows at the "FBI" title before quickly snapping back and typing away at the keyboard in front of her.

"He was just admitted." she offered him a light smile and Hotch took that as a sign that Morgan wasn't too badly damaged by the fire. "They put him in a room off of the ICU," at Hotchner's look of alarm she was quick to reiterate. "He's not in critical condition, it was a convenient location at the time, I'm sure they'll be moving him shortly." Breathing a sigh of relief, Hotch thanked the woman and wandered off to find Garcia, whom the receptionist had said had already arrived.

He found her in the waiting room, looking anxious. As he walked over, his professional composure melted and he was Aaron Hotchner again, a man here to see a friend. He offered Garcia a smile and a soft, "Hey." His dark eyes met her teary ones and he knew she wouldn't miss the understanding look he gave her, punctuated by a slight nod. "He's alright, Garcia," Hotch told her, his voice warm with relief. "I just talked to the nurse, she says he's been moved into a room off the ICU--" he quickly explained to her what the nurse had told him. "You should go see him," he nodded in the direction of Morgan's room. "I'll wait here for the others and get them up to speed. We'll meet you there."

[Dr. Spencer Reid]

((ooc: I hope it's okay that I posted next...))

Reid was in bed. It was late at night and he needed the sleep. His dreams had a different idea, though. He had only been a sleep for a from minutes, maybe an hours or two when he julted awake. He was covered in a cold sweat and his breathing was hard. He didn't remember what the dream was only that it had been scary. He had a sick feeling when he tried to recall it. Deciding that it was best for him to not remember it he put his head back onto his pillow. He couldn't go back to sleep, though. Everything he closed his eyes he got a sick feeling and saw a face that could only be descried as evil and something you saw in horror movies. Yet he kept trying. Finally he decided that it wasn't worth it and got out of bed. He found himself in his small living room. Turning on the TV he found himself watching an old "Friends" episode. Just what he needed something funny and mindless to take his mind off the nightmare.

That's when he heard his phone ringing. At first he was going to ignore it, but then quickly realized that the only one who would be calling this late was JJ with a case. Quickly he got up and looked around. Remembering that he had left it on his night stand he went into his bedroom, not even trying to get there fast. He knew that he wouldn't make it on time anyway. Bye the time he got there the ringing had in fact stopped. Picking up the phone he saw that he had a message. It was probably a good thing that they had another case. It has been to long. Or maybe it hadn't been long enough. Checking his messages Reid was struck with horror. Running into the Living room he quickly changed the channel to a local channel. The flames caught his eyes.

"Police say that they have no idea what started the fire." A reporter was saying as the montage of pictures passed over the screen. "There is no word on the victim that was taken to the hospital. We have been told, however, that it was an FBI agents house. Whether it was him inside of not is yet to be known. This is Helen Barnes, reporting at...." Reid turned from the TV and grabbing his messenger bag he was out in the hall in a matter of seconds, forgetting to turn of the TV.

He couldn't get to the hospital fast enough. Red lights and cars, amazing a lot for it being the middle of the night, hindered his way. Reid, a guy that never speed a day in his life, was going over ten miles over the speed limit, scared that if he was only a few minutes late Morgan would slip away. How many times had he seen a fire victim die? Burns were one of the worst things to fight. As well as smoke inhalation, and Carbon Monoxide poisoning. There were a hundred things that could go wrong. There was there as fact that this could have been arson. And Morgan had been the target. What if it was the team? Could some one else's house go up in the next few minutes? Fear and panic struck Reid as he ran through the hospital doors.

It wasn't hard to find Hotch and Garcia, sitting in the waiting room. Like Garcia, Reid was in his pjs, a pair of navy blue pants and a large white t-shirt. "How is he?" He asked with out sitting down. He was the only one so far that hadn't talked to the nurse. He had completely forgotten. He watched Hotch's face. It didn't seem that bad. He looked composed, not like someone about to lose a friend. Hotch had worked with Morgan longer than any of them. "Who could have done this?" Was Reid's next statement, afraid of the answer.

[/blockquote]

[Penelope Garcia]

It seemed like an eternity of wallowing in tears and fear that Garcia had sat in the lobby. Had this been what it had been like for her team when it had been she that had been rushed into the hospital? She would certainly have to apologize. This was near torture. She shifted her weight in the uncomfortable hospital chair and wiped a few more tears away from the corner of her eyes. She tried to focus on something else, forcibly trying to get her mind to leave the thoughts of death and horror behind.

For being a place where comfort was needed, hospitals didn't seem to offer anything comforting. Their chairs were horrendous, the architecture left something to be desired. This isn't a place I'd be comfortable dying, she thought, though immediately regretted it as another sob welled up in her throat and she looked to the swinging doors as a doctor came out with a chart. She seemed to perk up and listen with everything in her being.

"Brady?" He called softly, and another family stood and crossed over.

At that moment, the analyst was a bit jealous that they would get such relief from their agony of waiting. Why must the visitors suffer as much as the emitted? Was Morgan suffering? She cringed at the very thought and buried her face into her hands with a shaky breath. She needed to calm down. Having a heart attack from panic would be counter productive---even if she was in the right place to receive immediate care.

It was the feet that showed up in her vision that caused her to look up. "Hotch!" She gasped breathlessly. He had gotten her message! A thousand words raced through her mind at once and she opened her mouth to begin and give them life, though something her boss had said stilled her immediately. "He's alright, Garcia."

"Alright...?" She seemed a bit dazed. How had he found that out? It was then he noticed he was putting his badge back into his pocket. Well, why hadn't she thought of that? "Thank God." She exclaimed, a new wave of tears dripping from her eyes soundlessly in relief. He was going to be okay.

Reid seemed to arrive at just about the same time. "How is he?" His voice sounded concerned, though reserved. It was just like Reid; he was one of the members of the team that would drop things quickly. He had probably been up anyway. What would Morgan have said? Watching Star Trek and seeking physics errors?

Such a thought eased her rampant worry even more. "Doctor said he is going to be okay." Garcia explained before Hotch finished. "Go see him?" She asked, confusedly. Though, her body immediately responded and the analyst jumped up from her chair and moved back toward the double doors. "See you guys soon," she murmured over her shoulder as she rushed down the hall.

It was all for the best that she missed Reid's question on cause of the fire. For indeed at the moment Garcia was not in a mood to even think of foul play. She just wanted to make sure she still had a Superfox. It didn't take her long to locate a nurse's desk. "Derek Morgan." She said simply, and ardently, as she put both of her hands on the counter.

One woman looked up and then asked, "Relation?"

"I work for the FBI. I'm a partner of sorts." She said quickly, fishing for her ID to show her. She flashed it a moment and repeated his name, and then asked for the room number. The woman turned immediately to fish it out.

"137. It's down the hall and on your left."

Penelope was off and around the corner before the sentence had even finished. She was within sight of the door, and the woman stopped to take a deep breath. Easy. She told herself. No use making him worry. Don't go in freaking out. She finally had gained enough control over herself to enter the room slowly. Derek was there, all right. Hooked up to an oxygen tank and a drip. But he was alive; the beeping of the heart monitor told her that much. Annoying beeping had never sounded so good.

She crossed to him quietly, for his eyes were closed and she wasn't sure if he was sleeping or not. After such injuries, he would need rest. Cautiously, so as not to hurt him, she slipped her hand into his and stood by the bed, slowly letting out a small sigh of relief. "Dammit, you scared me," she whispered to the man, before letting her chin drop to her chest in a release of tension. He didn't look too horrible. Though sometimes it wasn't how one looked, but how one felt.

"You would probably be quite happy to know that your sexy even makes it through hospital hook-ups and gowns." She added quietly, with a slight jest in her voice as a few more tears slipped from her brown eyes. Thank God he was alive! Her heart was still recovering from the weight of her distress, but the pressure had certainly begun to lessen.

She reached behind her with her free hand and moved a chair closer to the side of the bed and let herself sit. She had no intention of going anywhere. If she had to flash her badge to every nurse who was on shift tonight, she would do it. Morgan was not going to be alone a single second. After all, he had done the same for her.

[Derek Morgan]

When Derek Morgan first came into consciousness, the bits and peices fell into place slowly, like an one thousand peice puzzle.

Before his mind had even woken, he was painfully aware of air. He'd never been quite so aware of it, had always taken it for granted. He took a breath, a deep one, and was immediatly aware of it having been a bad idea. The breath burned all the way down his throat, was sharp against his lungs. By some miracle, he managed not to cough and sputter against the oxygon mask he found against his mouth and nose.

The second thing that he became aware of upon awakening were the sheets - scratchy and painful against his skin. His own sheets had never been scratchy before - his profiler mind working overtime, he deduced that he wasn't at home. The oxygon mask, the lights that filtered through even though his eyes were closed ... Derek Morgan was in a hospital.

There was an IV, he noticed that next. It was surprisingly painful ...

Memories came back next, slowly at first ... bright, orange flames like fingers, reaching for him with malice in mind. Reaching for him, reaching for Clooney... memories became foggy, but he was saved from wading through them by the click of a door opening.

Footsteps made their way to his bed, sounding as if they were restraining themselves from moving too quickly. Breathing, quicker than normal human breath, the swish of fabric. Morgan was suddenly aware that his eyes were still closed.

A hand, suddenly, in his.

Garcia

He was suddenly convinced of this fact with his entire being. Just how had she ended up here? Had she gotten a call? Had Hotch gotten a call? He hadn't wanted them to worry.

"Damnit, you scared me."

Yes, it was Garcia, and his heart quickened a pace, his head rushing. He tried without luck to answer her, finding his mouth was not cooperative - tongue too thick, lips too heavy. He didn't want her to be afraid - he was right here, he was alright, wasn't he? He was alive, wasn't he?

"You would probably be quite happy to know that your sexy even makes it through hospital hook-ups and gowns."

With plenty of effort, he moved his head to the side, forcing heavy eyelids to open.

If he was dead, he'd never seen such a beautiful angel - or an angel in pajamas, for that matter. Again he attempted to answer, this time with a slightly better rate of succsess. "Pajamas suit you, baby girl." His voice was a shock to him- nothing like what he remembered, hoarse, rough, and surprisingly painful. He failed to supress the cough that racked his body, and turned away from her with a groan. "Sorry." He rasped out, cringing and turning back to her again.

He noticed now how worried she looked - her face was too pale, eyes too wide.

"I'm fine," He tried to convince himself, only succeeding in inducing more coughs. "Really."

[Penelope Garcia]

It was with hawk-like interest that Penelope Garcia saw that Derek had managed to move his head. Oh, but it was enough to ease her heart even more so. He seemed a bit drowsy--that was to be expected, of course--though Morgan was certainly functioning. Was he functioning well? That remained to be seen.

"Pajamas suit you, baby girl."

She smiled, happy he was able to talk, though inwardly her heart pained at hearing the coarseness of his voice. Nothing like the velvety-smooth tone they normally bantered with. Still...to hear his voice at all was quite a blessing. "If I had known all it took to catch your eyes was a pair of pajamas, I wouldn't try so hard to impress you at work everyday. Do you have any idea how much heels hurt?" It was said lightly, though softly. She still felt as if she were disturbing him.

He groaned, though the blonde analyst wasn't entirely sure whether it was from her not-so-witty remark, or the fact he was in pain. Instantly she gasped and loosened the hold on his hand, trying to account for both. Just in case. "Morgan?" She asked softly. His coughs were something terrible to listen to. His lungs must have taken a good blow from the smoke. It had no business being in his lungs.

"Sorry."

"You okay?" She asked tentatively. What a stupid question. He was in a hospital. He was far from alright.

"I'm fine, really."

Like she believed that. Still, now was not the time to go all crazy over a little lie. He had enough to think about without a Garcia-serious moment. Like getting better. Yes. He had to get better. She gave his hand a light squeeze and smiled softly, instantly adopting a playful mood once more.

"I gotta say, Superfox. I have not seen a single person make a hospital gown look good before you. You should think about wearing it to work. Especially if its the backless kind." She grinned at her own statement and then leaned against his bed and seemed to examine him. Sure, she had tried to get into medical school and failed, but she had seen plenty of TV. It didn't look too serious; and she hoped the Dr. Garcia's assessment was correct---she would hate to lose her license for a misdiagnosis.

She frowned lightly then, and looked back up to Derek's face. "What happened?" She asked slowly. She wasn't sure it was the right thing to ask, given the circumstances. But it seemed to be the only thing she could think about. Other than how close she ahd come to losing him....again. And that was not something the woman wanted in her brain for any time at all. She needed him. He needed her. Solace. Yes, that was the reason. Solace from the terror of the job they faced everyday.

Becoming part of the terror they faced everyday would defeat the purpose of offering solace; and Garcia was not ready to ponder or entertain any thought that would have them not together. It just wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. "If you can't talk about it I understand," she rambled a bit. Oh, her nerves were taking her again. Though, surprisingly her eyes were dry. For now, leastways. If thoughts continued where she had already started heading they wouldn't remain that way for long.

[Aaron Hotchner]

"Alright...?"

Garcia's dazed voice reached his ears with startling clarity, and even though it was good news she was repeating - good news he himself had given her, he cursed his mind's ability to sharpen its focus under stress, rather than zone out and allow him a moment's peace. It hadn't been a particularly difficult day at work today, just the standard paperwork and the usual politics of running things when not on a case, but the stressing news of one of his agents in danger had, as it always did, pushed his regularly exhausted mind into overdrive. Questions were swimming in his head, but he wasn't up to voicing them. This can't be intentional. This can't be happening again. Because, as much as Hotch was insistent on taking the pain of others onto his shoulders, and protecting others from harm, a little selfish part of his brain couldn't help but wonder why it was always his team that was targeted. The people close to him were always getting hurt. Weren't there any others out there to take the heat for a while?

Of course there was. His job was based on preventing those problems.

And yet, somehow, those problems always seemed to find him, in one way or another. Hotch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Focus on the good things. he coached himself, Morgan's going to be all right. Though these thoughts helped, they didn't completely drive away the lingering resentment he felt towards those who hurt his team. But this time, he reminded himself it's not a who that's responsible. This wasn't an enemy he could fight. Unless someone was responsible for the fire (and, at this point in the game, he wasn't willing to rule out foul play), there was no UnSub to blame for the pain his friend was in. In fact, some part of Hotch was hoping this was arson. At least then there would be someone to pin the blame on. That would make it easier.

But for now, at least Morgan was going to be okay.

"Thank God." Garcia had murmured with feeling as she hurried off to Morgan's room.

Yes, Hotchner thought with just as much feeling, thank God.

"Who could have done this?"

Reid's quiet voice jolted the unit chief out of his thoughts, though their trains of thought were oddly parallel. Aaron frowned in thought, a small crease appearing between his dark eyes as he considered the question. "I'm not sure, Reid." he said quietly after some thought. "It could've just been a gas leak," he tried to sound hopeful, but to him his voice sounded more as if he were wishing for the other option. He stood up and looked to the youngest member of his team. "How about we go check on Morgan first? Who knows, maybe he'll have some answers for us." he shrugged and offered a hopeful smile before heading towards Morgan's room.

He arrived at his friend's room and prepared himself for the worst. Even though the nurse had said he wasn't in critical condition, even though he'd been in this situation at least half a dozen times in the
past two years alone, involving one teammate or another - it never got any easier.

"Hey," he said in greeting, thankful he was breathing on his own. "Up for some more visitors?"

[Dr. Spencer Reid]

Reid paced back and forth across the small waiting room paying no attention to the other family in the room now watching him. He wanted to see Morgan, though Hotch had only said for Garcia to go. He knew that it was best for Morgan to only see one person at that moment, he had been through a lot. Yet some how he hated that it was Garcia that Hotch had let go. Sure she was the closest to him, even the blind genius knew there was something going on between them. Yet she wasn't the only one that was really close to him. In his years at the BAU each member had formed their own place in his heart. First was Gideon, who had been his father. Then there was Morgan who was is brother figure, always there to take care of him. Ever since Gideon had left Morgan had been moved to the number one spot in his mind.

Reid paced slightly quicker as he thought of all that Morgan had done for him. He had been there when he was infected with anthrax, threatening to never leave his side. He had helped him through his nightmares and tried to get him girls. Reid wasn't sure what he would do if he died. Though he had been told that Morgan would be okay, there was still a piece of his mind that knew that people could relapse. With gun shot victims 40% of them fell back in to critical condition after being stable. Fire wasn't the same, but there was always that chance. If he was burned then he could get an infection, burn wounds being some of the dirtiest.

When Hotch started to talk Reid sense something in his words. It wasn't just worry. Yet the young profiler couldn't place it. Reid was opposite of Hotch's wishes. He didn't want it to be an UNSUB because that meant others from their team could be in danger. "What is it is an UNSUB?" Reid asked stopping for a second in front of Hotch before starting to pace again. "What if he's targeting the team? You know we have put hundreds of arsonists away, one could be out of jail, or something? What about JJ and Emily and Rossi? Where are they?" Reid asked knowing that he was being far to cynical. If it had been an arson trying to kill off the team then way hadn't he made sure that Morgan stayed in the house where he would die?

Hotch declared that they should go and see him. Relies filled Reid and all his worries about who had done it was gone. Following Hotch he had his way down the hall. When the reached the door Reid felt sick with worry, almost to afraid to see the old man's wounds. A few seconds after Hotch he entered the room. Morgan didn't look that bad, Reid was sure of that. No lasting burn wounds. The largest concern was the oxygen next to him. Tears almost threatened him, but he was able to reprise them, no need to cry when he was alright. "Hey." Was all Reid was able to say as he joined Hotch and Garcia on either side of his bed.

[Derek Morgan]

"I gotta say, Superfox. I have not seen a single person make a hospital gown look good before you. You should think about wearing it to work. Especially if its the backless kind."

"Only for you, baby girl." Morgan answered, rubbing his thumb over Garcia's hand. He was surprised, again, at just how much speaking hurt - like liquid fire going straight down his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping beyond hope that Garcia hadn't noticed.

"What happened?"
Garcia's voice was so quiet, almost fearful of disturbing him, that it frightened him more than it would have it she'd have screamed.

Memories plinked into view. Of orange flames, reaching high, licking the roof of his house. Of Clooney, howling like a tortured beast... him, racing back inside to grab him, taking in lungfulls of air...

"I..."

"If you can't talk about it, I understand."

"No, I..." The look on her face was pure torture, and it was all he could do to wish to take it back. "Clooney. I went back inside... Clooney, tell me he's alright, Garcia. Please." His eyes must have looked wild, tortured, perhaps even disturbed.

She didn't get the chance to answer, because at that moment, the door to the hospital room opened and two familiar agents stepped in.

"Up for some more visitors?" Hotch asked, and Morgan checked himself almost immediatly, choking back the panic that had found its way to the surface moments before.

"It seems I bring in the whole managerie, doesn't it."He attempted to joke, feeling rather exposed.

"Hey," Reid said, and Morgan found his voice a relief, as if during all he'd gone to, he'd feared that Reid had somehow gotten himself injured as well. Considering it was /Reid/, he figured that it wasn't too much of a stretch.

"Hey, kid. "

[Penelope Garcia]

She grinned through her wet cheeks and pink eyes. He wasn't dying on her if he was joking with her like that. Which could make the blonde smile no matter her mood; nothing could make her feel more important or better than Morgan. She needed him, and he needed her. If he died, she would be lost here, and there was no doubt in her mind he would be lost without her on the other side. It was a bit of a comforting thought, and the warmth of his hand seemed to strengthen it.

He began to work through what had happened, though, and Garcia's grin had faded. He was having so much trouble speaking; it pained her to listen to him. It sounded like he was suffering, and it wasn't something she thought she could take. To see the absolute strongest person she knew so beaten and tired...it broke her heart. "Clooney. I went back inside... Clooney, tell me he's alright, Garcia. Please."

Clooney? "I--I think he's alright, sugar. He was alive on the live news coverage from your house. He was the reason I came out here and recognized the house. I called Hotch about him; I don't know if he picked him up or not." She admitted. If not, and her chocolate god desired it, she would walk right out of there and bring that dog to her place. So what if no pets were allowed? Garcia was not one to necessarily follow all rules.

Speaking of Hotch, he and Reid entered the hospital room themselves, both announcing their presence in a different way; characteristic of their personalities. She turned to look at them and smiled slightly. With Hotch there, she was certain Morgan would want to know about Clooney. Though, she didn't want him talking too terribly much. He had to save that sultry voice of his.

"Did you get Clooney?" She asked quietly. He had arrived at the hospital in a rather timely manner. It seemed altogether possible he had not stopped by to get the dog. Surely Reid hadn't. As much as she would eagerly go fetch the poor thing, she didn't wish to leave Morgan's bedside. Secretly, she hoped the dog was at Hotch's house or something. For both her sake, and Morgan's.

She frowned slightly. Where was everybody else? When she had been in the hospital, the entire team had been there when she was conscious again. JJ, Emily, Rossi...they were caring people and loved Morgan. Why were Reid, Hotch and she the only three people who had come to see him? She was a bit maddened by the fact that it was such a way things had turned out. Though, it was merely because she felt Derek needed the same reassurance of affection and care from his team as she had. It had meant the world to have them all there.

She squeezed Morgan's hand slightly to offer her own reassurance. Even if the others never showed, she would make sure he didn't get depressed. Not that the analyst actually thought his mind would turn to thoughts like that. He was a much better person than she was.

[Dr. Spencer Reid]

Reid watched Morgan as he lay there still. His heart froze. His voice was hoarse. He was pale, (How ever that works) and Reid knew he was in pain even if he would never say so. Reid was so used to being on the other side of this, being the one on the hospital bed watching Morgan and the rest of the team look after him, but this time it was Morgan who was hurt and needed help. It was all so foreign and scary for him. He wanted to cry and talk to Morgan, like the did all the time. Talk about hardships and nightmares. He wanted to be strong for him, and get him through this like he got him through so many things before this. "Hey" He repeated still not knowing what to say. A moment later he added, "Do you need anything? Water maybe?" By the sound of his voice that might do him some good. But on the flip side it could also hurt really bad.

That's when Garcia mention Clooney, and as everyone knew that was Morgan's dog. Reid hadn't known that he was out there. Hotch was suppose to have gotten him but Reid kind of doubted that he did, after all it was one of his team members in the hospital, what do you do go and get his dog? or get to the hospital as fast as humanly possible? Reid had ten bucks on getting to the hospital. After all that's what Reid had done forgetting completely about the dog. Now he felt kind of bad about that. He knew that Morgan cared very much for the animal. "If you want I can go and get him..." Reid said before Hotch could say if he had gotten him or not.

Reid was torn, though, could he really leave Morgan in the hospital to run and get the dog? He wanted to stay by his side and be there for him if he needed something, though that's what Garcia was there for right? Then there was the fact that the dog was out there alone. They couldn't be sure that the firefighters had gotten him or what ever, they were fighting a fire. Not to mention going down to get the dog would give Reid a chance to ask what happened, even if they wouldn't know much this soon after. He had to know though. If there was someone out there out to get Morgan he had to be ready for that. he didn't move, however, and waited for Hotch or Morgan to say something.

[Aaron Hotchner]

» The waiting room. «

"What if it is an UNSUB?" What if he's targeting the team?"

Hotch nodded to Reid in acknowledgment. "I thought the same thing, Reid, but we won't know anything for sure until we get a look at Morgan's house."

[/color] He looked down the hall where Garcia had disappeared some minutes ago to go visit the man in question. "For now, we should see how Morgan is holding up and take it from there."[/color] The unit chief frowned in thought for a moment, before Reid's voice broke the quiet between them again.

"What about JJ and Emily and Rossi? Where are they?"

A crease appeared between his eyebrows as he pondered the question. Despite the fact that they probably had nothing to worry about, he couldn't help but worry: with one agent in the hospital and three unaccounted for, anything could happen. He tried not to think about exactly what.

"I called everyone after Garcia called me. I left the three of them messages to meet us here, but..."[/color] He looked out the nearest window, at the calm, dark night. It was late. It had to be past eleven, at least. He glanced round at the clock over the receptionist's desk, the hands telling him it was just after a quarter past eleven. He closed his eyes momentarily in relief. "They were probably all asleep. It is late." But then, they were profilers and their job accustomed all of them to long hours and sleepless nights, ready to go at any moments notice should the phone ring in the middle of the night with an urgent case or -- news of an injured friend.

Hotchner frowned. It wasn't like them to miss a call like this, especially when a close friend was in danger. he stared at the clock a moment longer, watching the second hand make its sixty-second round twice before pulling his eyes away. He shook off the lingering doubts. He had to trust that they were all safe. It was extremely likely that his missing teammates were just asleep, or hadn't gotten the chance to check their phones yet. He wasn't the only one who brought his work home with him.

"I'm sure they're fine, Reid." He said, speaking to himself as well as his youngest agent. "They'll be here."

(ooc; you don't need to answer this, Reid. I just felt compelled to answer his questions and layer some worry on top.)

» Morgan's room «

"It seems I bring in the whole menagerie, doesn't it."

Hotch's lips twitched at the attempted humor. Well, he couldn't be in too bad a shape if he was joking. That fact cleaved a weight of worry off his shoulders, and the unit chief felt much lighter kowing his friend wasn't seriously hurt.

"Did you get Clooney?"

Hotch was caught off guard by the question, turning to Garcia in surprise, eyebrows raised. He recovered quickly though, and was about to answer for Morgan to hear, as well, as he knew his friend would want to know who was getting his dog, but Reid spoke up first,

"If you want I can go and get him..."

Hotch was already shaking his head, knowing that the young agent would offer but also knowing he wanted to stay with his friend. "I left a message with Prentiss to grab him on her way over," he explained. But he caught a glint of something in the younger man's eyes, besides the usual eagerness to assist. He wanted to get Clooney because Morgan would want to know the dog was safe, but there was something else... Does he want to see the house? Check to see if it really was just a gas leak, or something more deliberate? Hotch turned to him, nodding, tuning into profiler mode again.

"I'll go with you," he offered, also knowing the younger man's habit of running into trouble by himself, regardless of whether it was accidental or not. They already had one agent in the hospital. And Dave, J.J. and Prentiss are still unaccounted for... he reminded himself. He shook off the thought and headed for the door, nodding to Morgan and Garcia on the way out. Garcia could handle him alone, and now that he knew his friend wasn't in immediate danger, getting a chance to check on his house and possibly check in with the missing members of his team was an appealing thought. "We shouldn't be too long." Who knows, the others could be here when we get back, but he didn't say this aloud.

Once outside the room, he waited for Reid to say his goodbyes to Morgan and Garcia. It was time to put this pseudo-mystery to rest for good.


(ooc; hope you don't mind Hotch tagging along. seems to me he'd offer to do so.)
[/size][/center]

[Derek Morgan]

With Reid's words, Morgan realized for the first time the absense of three of their teammates. His heart sped up, reflecting on the moniters, and he closed his eyes. "Someone tell me they're just asleep." He begged, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. Surely they would have heard if their houses had been in flames too? Or had they run over here, unaware that other team members weer in danger because of him? If that was the case, he would never forgive himself.

He watched as two more of the team left, out of his sight again. He suddenly wished that they'd stayed, though he knew that Reid wouldn't be in danger with Hotch tagging along - probably one of the reasons that he had. And, Morgan realized, to check out the house. His house. His house that was no longer there.

He had nowhere to go.

Sure, he had three other houses - but he rented them out, and he wasn't about to kick someone out of their house. He'd need an apartment.

Well, once he got out of the hospital.

He noticed suddenly that Garcia's hand was still in his, and, giving it a gentle squeeze, he turned his head to meet her eyes. Her face was teary, and Morgan sighed. He couldn't stand to see her upset over something so trivial such as this.

"Hey," Morgan said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "It's gonna be alright.

He realized that he was in a hospital bed and comforting her. Funny how that worked.

[Dr. Spencer Reid]

Reid looked at Hotch and knew what he was thinking. He was as good at profiling as he was. Reid understood that first Hotch understood Reid's side reason for wanting to go get the dog. He wanted to see if it was really an accident or not. If it was arson then they had something to worry about, but if it wasn't then they were just over reacting. Reid also knew that Hotch was tagging along because he wanted to make sure he would get back okay. Reid didn't take it personally. Honestly in a situation like this it was best to know where everyone was. The buddy system. As long as Hotch was with him then nothing to bad could happen, right? Reid wished he knew where the other three agents where. He wanted to call them all up, and decided that he would do just that when he got in the car.

Looking at Morgan, who just reflected on that point he said, "There okay. It's passed eleven." he was remembering what Hotch had said just before they had gone into the room. "We'll be back before you know it." he said trying to sound reassuring, trying to sound like, well, Morgan would in this situation. Then the young agent left the room a few seconds after Hotch. Nodding at his words, knowing how true they were, Reid started down the hall. His heart was in a knot. He felt bad for leaving Morgan, but he needed to know what had happened. It's what Morgan would have done right? After all He still had Garcia with him to keep him company. And then there was the fact that the others might arrive while they were gone. Maybe Emily was at Morgan's house now, Hotch had said that he had asked her to go down there and get Clooney.

((ooc: Sorry it's short I don't know if you want to make another thread or not at Morgan's house...))[/size]

[Penelope Garcia]

The team had been a blessing to this entire disaster, though the absence of three was making this more of a chore on Garcia's heart. Hotch and Reid did well in excusing themselves; boy genius had seemed really eager. Perhaps a bit too eager. Garcia always could sense when the kid was onto something, and this time, he was certainly acting like he was. Though, her muddled mind and taut nerves prevented her from following his logic at this point. However, it seemed Hotch had been quite aware.

Thank God her team preformed better under pressure than she did. "Someone tell me they're just asleep." They? Prentiss, JJ and Rossi. "I am sure they're fine," Garcia chimed quietly. Still, the question let her mind catch up with Reid's and Hotchner's. Her eyes widened a bit and she turned to watch them leave. She wanted to call after them, but knew she would be no help anyway. It would be best to simply stay with Morgan and wait.

""It's gonna be alright."

"It better be," Garcia replied forcefully, though with a small smile. "You know, I was all ready to head off to bed." She mulled in a slight sing-songy voice. "Though, I must say. Holding your hand is like a dream." She grinned at her attempt to lighten the mood. If there was one thing Penelope Garcia was good at--aside from computers, of course--it was lightening the mood. As such, she did not curb her words around Morgan.

He was, probably, the only one that could take them.

Yet another reason he couldn't die on her.

She let her hand squeeze his for a moment. "Clooney will be fine. The others are fine. You're going to be perfect again soon." Half of this was for herself, though, she also wanted Morgan to know she had the utmost faith in him to get better.