Whumptober Day 9
No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT
Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning | Caught in a Storm
Warning: car crash, leg injury, ptsd hinted at, storms
Word count: 887
The case was over and you were driving back, there was heavy rain and strong wind that was supposed to last a few days minimum. And with the hotel you were staying at (and every other hotel) fully booked, it meant that you’d have to drive back. It wasn’t too long a drive, only seven hours. You were each taking it in turns to drive, with Aaron currently driving, you behind the passenger seat. You were lucky enough that you have been supplied with an eight seater - you could all fit in with your go-bags with plenty of room. It was your turn to drive next. You weren’t exactly looking forward to it, your anxiety had been playing up all day and you couldn’t quite pin down the reason.
Sensing eyes on you, you look up, catching your boss’ eyes flicking to you in concern every thirty seconds. “You should get some sleep,” He said, you gave a small shrug.
“I’m not tired.”
“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting off.”
“I don’t know,” You replied, “I just feel like something is wrong, that’s all,”
Aaron gave a nod, “I’m sure it’s nothing,”
“I hope so,” You laugh, “But, yeah, no rest for the wicked it would seem,” Aaron huffed a laugh. The case was in South Carolina, an unsub tryinging to ‘clean; the streets of the homeless. The man was rather easy to find and apprehend and soon enough, you were on your way back. You were only three hours into the drive, all of you running on nearly twenty four hours of no sleep. Derek had gone first, driving for an hour, then Spencer (wanting to get it over with), and now Hotch, then you, and then Emily and the chain would continue until you were home.
“You could just be tired,” Hotch suggested.
“Yeah, probably,”
Hotch gave a small smile as you yawned, “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when it’s your turn,” You nodded, bunching Morgan’s hoodie (that you may or may not have stolen from his go bag) into a ball, placing it on the window and resting your head against it. You were fairly sure you weren’t going to get any sleep, but soon enough, the pitter-patter of the rain against the car drew you into a peaceful sleep.
Aaron softly calling your name drew you out of your sleep, he gave you a small smile, “Your turn,”
You nodded, “You want a makeshift pillow?” When Hotch shook his head, you threw the hoodie on over your head. You jogged around the car, slipping into the driver’s seat. Waiting until Aaron was buckled in, you started the car.
Twenty minutes in, you felt tired. And sick. Your eyes felt heavy. Seeing a sign for a rest area with a fuel station a mile or two ahead you breath a sigh of relief. You were going to stop and get a coffee. A coffee sounded great right about now. Blinking felt harder, upon this realisation you opened the window, welcoming the cold bite of the air. It did wonders for waking you up.
The pit stop cam fast, which you were happy about, and you quickly grabbed a coffee, waking Hotch before you did. You made it back in record time with a large cup of coffee in hand, you slipped it into the built in cup holder. After buckling yourself in, you start the engine, resuming your journing (continuing the timer).
There were hardly any cars on the road, which you were happy about. Although, your anxiety started to worsen. You sighed, perhaps the caffeine was causing your anxiety to heighten. You turn the radio on, the volume set at two. You hummed away to the song.
The screech came out of nowhere and the headlights blinded you. The impact crushed your side of the car and you cried out in both in shock and pain from the collision. The airbag released, slamming against your chest and face.
It takes a moment before your brain registers the pain and then it hits you full force, your chest and face hurt, you feel a considerate ab=mount of pressure on your legs that causes you to wince. You head hurts and you think there might be something dripping down your face. You lift your head up, realising the team are also in the car with you. But there’s no one there. Everyone’s gone.
“H’tch?”
A hand is placed on your shoulder and your head snaps to them. Hotch. He’s speaking but you can’t hear him over hte blood rushing through your ears. “Where’s everyone else?” You watch his lips carefully, ‘everyone’s okay, paramedics are on the way’ you nod, hoping you read his lips right.
When the paramedics get there, they quickly assess the situation. The car crunched under the impact of the other car, trapping your legs. No fractures or breaks, or permanent damage, nothing that wouldn’t heal with time. You have a concussion and severe bruising from the airbag, but it could be worse.
A month later, you’re fully healed and your doctors are okay with you being on active duty. You were fine. Except for the nightmare, the fear of cars, the fear of driving, and the irrational connection between coffee and danger.
But that’s a story for another time.
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