Chapter 17: The Second Vigil
JJ slid into the chair Morgan had vacated, the plastic still warm. The silence he’d left behind felt different now, filled with her own softer energy. She looked at Y/n’s face, so unlike the vibrant, sharp-witted woman she knew.The ventilator tube was an obscenity.
“Hey, you,” she said, her voice a hushed, familiar tone usually reserved for storytime. “Morgan’s briefing was, as expected, heavy on the dramatic flair and light on useful details. So I’m here for the real update.”
She reached for Y/n’s hand, her touch lighter than Morgan’s, a press of warmth against the cool skin.
“First order of business: Jack drew you a picture.” She pulled a folded sheet of construction paper from her blazer pocket, opening it carefully. A chaotic rainbow dominated the top, beneath it a green stick figure with spikes for hair holding hands with a smaller yellow stick figure. “The rainbow is because you told him rainbows are for everyone.The green person is you. He spent ten minutes arguing with Henry that your hair isn’t actually spikes, but it’s ‘spiky in spirit.’ I promised we’d tape it to your bed rail when you wake up. So.”
She placed the drawing on the side table, a violent splash of color against the sterile gray.
“The team’s a mess.A functional mess, but a mess. Garcia’s in the waiting room trying to hack the hospital’s coffee machine because she says it tastes like ‘warm disappointment.’ Reid is verifying the chemical half-life of your pain meds with the head nurse, who is now visibly afraid of him. Prentiss is on the phone with Interpol, tying up loose ends on Durand’s European contacts.And Hotch… Hotch is doing paperwork. Which is how you know he’s barely holding it together.”
JJ leaned back, the chair creaking. The monitor beeped.A steady, stubborn rhythm.“When you dropped… Morgan wasn’t exaggerating. I screamed.I know I did. It was this pure, animal sound that just came out of me when your comms went from pained breathing to nothing. To that horrible, flat silence.” She swallowed, her throat tight.“It was the longest ninety seconds of my life, getting to you. Rossi was driving like a maniac. All I could think was ‘not like this, not in some filthy room after you’d already won.’”
She watched the rise and fall of Y/n’s chest, dictated by the machine.“Finding you… there was so much blood. On your leg, your neck.Your eyes were open, but they were just… blank.Empty. I thought we were too late.” JJ’s voice hitched. She took a steadying breath, focusing on the drawing.“I kept my hand on your neck the whole ride here, feeling for a pulse. It was so thin. Like a thread.”
She fell quiet for a moment, listening to the hum and beep of the room.“I had to call Will.To tell him. And I had to figure out what to tell Jack. How do you explain to a five-year-old that his favorite sparring partner, the woman who lets him win at Mario Kart and teaches him not to be a sore loser, might not come home?” Her whisper was raw. “I didn’t have an answer.I still don’t.”
She squeezed Y/n’s hand, a little firmer.
“You have to come back.You made a promise. You told Jack that when he turned six, you’d teach him how to throw a proper punch. ‘Always from the shoulder, kid, not the wrist.’ You demonstrated on a teddy bear. He’s been counting the days.” A tear escaped, tracing a path down JJ’s cheek.She didn’t wipe it away. “You don’t break a promise to a five-year-old, Vinder. It’s a rule. It’s in the Marine code, I’m sure of it.”
She sat there, holding her friend’s hand, letting the silence be what it was—heavy, hopeful, terrible.
The door opened a crack.Reid’s face appeared, anxious.“JJ? They need you for a minute.The local DA is here.”
JJ nodded, not letting go immediately. She leaned close, her lips near Y/n’s ear, her voice a fierce, gentle whisper.
“The rainbow’s waiting.The kid’s waiting.We’re all waiting. So you finish your nap, and then you come back. Understood?”
She gave Y/n’s hand one final, firm press, then stood, smoothing her jacket. She cast one last look at the still form in the bed, at the green stick figure on the table, before following Reid out into the bright, noisy hallway, leaving the rhythmic hiss-click to continue its lonely, insistent work.