Title: Bad Day
By: TT92
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: PG
Pairing: gen
Disclaimer: Yeah, don't own the show/characters. Sad.
AN: This is just a idea that occurred to me. Any and all facts are based off my own (and therefore possibly skewed) experience and this was not betaed. All errors are mine.
This takes place somewhere between "Cradle to Grave" and "Outfoxed."
Summary: Some days are ok, some days are good, and some days go the exact opposite of the way they should. Teamfic with a Morgan focus.

***

"Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide." Napoleon Bonaparte

"Hotch, what the hell?"

"Morgan, just give me a minute to explain." Hotch exasperatedly replied.

"Did you even think about what you were doing?" Morgan yelled.

Hotch sighed. He expected a visceral reaction.

"Morgan, please, calm down!" JJ interjected.

"JJ, stay out of this!"

"Morgan, you're in a-"

"That wasn't your place!" Morgan continued undeterred. "He could die! Why did you that chance?"

"I had to, for him." Hotch attempted.

"Bullshit!"

The next second came and went very fast. By its end, the pieces of Morgan's shattered phone littered the tiled floor, and he was gone.

JJ's wide eyes flickered between Hotch and Morgan's previous presence. The perfect O her mouth formed captured the moment entirely.

Hotch wasn't prepared for quite that reaction.

Hours earlier...

Derek Morgan had been having a bad day.

Not that it surprised him. Any day that began at 5:37 a.m. typically wasn't a great day. Especially when the day had started with a call on his cell phone.

A serial killer was loose in Seattle. He had beaten three twenty-something women to death in a week and was escalating. Seattle, desperate for help, turned to Hotch, who in turn called Morgan.

The team was on the jet within the hour.

"Thank goodness Seattle is a few hours away."

"Why's that Emily?" Rossi asked.

"A few extra hours of sleep," She replied with a very tired smile.

"Maybe. We need to make sure we have something to begin with when we land," Morgan stated.

Almost all of the faces fell. Only Hotch and Rossi kept their feelings concealed.

"We know this kind of killer. It's gonna get real ugly, real fast."

"So there's DNA evidence, but no match?" Hotch began.

"No. Not in any system thus far."

"It's not surprising there's evidence," Rossi picked up. "These kills are fast and rushed; it would take a lot of skill and planning that's not here to pull these off without leaving something behind."

"It doesn't look like he sticks around," Reid jumped in. "The victims were all found in public places only hours after they were killed. It looks like the second victim was found merely two hours after she died."

"Does that mean he's not a sadist?" JJ asked.

"Most likely. He would have stuck around or drawn out their deaths." Morgan answered.

"Which begs the question, why?" Prentiss pointed out.

"Anger."

Every face turned to Hotch.

"Look at the rage in how beats the girls. That's a lot of physical force to exert just because. There has to be some reason behind hit. Also, the victims have different physical characteristics and look like victims of opportunity. In fact, it looks like he didn't plan these murders at all. Different public places, different streets, there's no organization. Whatever his trigger is, it's very sudden and very powerful."

"Anger is certainly that," Rossi agreed.

"His victim choice indicates that he is physically imposing. These girls were not strong enough to fight back, and there's no defensive wounds. But victimology is going to be very limited, these women are all so different. It looks like they were just very, very unlucky," Prentiss added.

"So, what else do we know about him?" JJ questioned.

The plane quieted.

"We can't find anything else?"

"Unfortunately, with little to profile on the victims, lack of a definite trigger and no clear signature yet, he's going to be difficult to profile. He's probably 20-40 years old, and although the girls are all white, because of how much they vary, we can't rule out that he could be any race," Reid supplied.

"We need more bodies, don't we?"

JJ's inquiry was met by quiet nods. Her face maintained composure, but her eyes betrayed her sadness.

"All right, that's a good start. Get some sleep, we still have a couple of hours until we land."

Morgan hated rain.

He really wanted to blame it for the bad morning he was having. Not that it was fair. Not that he cared.

As the team was exiting the plane, he heard a fax come through. Doubling back to retrieve it, the picture of a young black woman greeted him, her dead eyes piercing into his.

Rain poured down on the team as they drove to the police station. Any evidence had been washed away. She was just another body to add to the count.

Morgan began feeling twinges of failure before the introductions had even begun.

His day only got worse when Reid began struggling with the case. His leg was in pain, not something new, but never like before. He began wincing and grasping his leg, at first sporadically, increasing within hours. The necessity of Reid's mind caused Morgan to sadly have a concerned heart but blind eye; when Morgan caught Reid trying to secretly brush away a tear, he ordered Reid to go and rest. Neither man liked it, but neither had a choice. JJ accompanied Reid to the hotel, leaving his unfinished geographical profile behind.

Morgan and Prentiss informed the family of the latest victim. He wasn't sure which was flowing faster, the rain or the mother's tears.

They rode back to the station in silence, both praying for news of some sort of lead.

"Anything new?" Morgan asked mere seconds after entering the door.

"Not really, there's just not enough specific evidence. We need a specific signature, more than the beatings," Rossi replied.

"Have we tried victimology?"

"But of course, my sexy leader," Garcia's voice trailed out of the phone on the table in front of them. "But, like you all guessed, hardly any connections. These women grew up in different areas, had different friends, jobs, hobbies, etc. Any connections I did find were not only microscopically small, but never between all four, just two or three."

"Is there any behavioral evidence? Anger like this doesn't just pop up. There's got to be something to make him stand out even when he's not angry," Morgan tried.

His phone began to ring. Surprised, he looked to the caller ID. JJ.

"Excuse me," He said without thinking as he went into the hallway. "Hey JJ, what's up?"

"I'm in the emergency room of Harborview hospital."

Morgan almost tripped in surprise at the information alone; JJ's distressed and rushed tone was hardly helping.

"What?"

"As we were going to hotel, Reid's pain kept getting worse. When we got to the room, he rolled up his pant leg and it was swelling up. He lied down for a while and when he woke up, he was really sweaty and pale. He tried to lie down again, but he couldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"He kept moving and because of the pain he couldn't get comfortable. Then, every time he tried to get up, he got really dizzy, and then he started to feel faint. I called 911 and they said to take him to a hospital," JJ's fear seeped through the phone.

"It's ok JJ. He's going to be ok," Morgan prayed he sounded calmer than he felt. "What's going on right now?"

"They got him in right away. I haven't talked to any doctors or nurses yet, but I only got here about twenty minutes ago."

Morgan sighed, his day only worsening by the moment. He wanted more than anything to run to the hospital, but the case needed him.

"Do they need anything right now? His medical records?"

"I gave them his credentials, and they got enough of the information to know who to contact in Quantico for his file."

"I'm guessing it wasn't Garcia."

"I doubt it. Why is that important?"

"I don't want anyone on the team finding out."

"Why not?" JJ questioned testily.

"I'm down one profiler. I need everyone's heads with me, on the case. You stick with Reid. Call me immediately if anything changes," Morgan replied.

"Ok."

She couldn't hide her doubt. Morgan hastily hung up and joined the others in the conference room, trying to convince himself deep down that he didn't have time to worry about her questioning, that he was certain he made the right call. He knew it was a lie, but he was willing to believe it at the time.

Boy Morgan was tired.

Although it was two in the afternoon there, he had been awake for twelve long hours. His body was trying to convince him it had been even longer.

What he hated more was that he felt he had nothing to show for it.

No leads. No more bodies. No progress.

The disapproving looks of the local cops cut into him. They were trying, but it felt like they were fighting impossible odds. How is a killer caught when the crime is impersonal and the victim random? Anything they normally looked for was missing.

"What else is there to look at?" Prentiss finally asked in exasperation.

"The geographical profile," Rossi replied.

Everyone turned to Morgan.

"Have you talked to Reid or JJ? Is he feeling any better?"

Morgan's insides twisted. No one knew, yet; JJ hadn't called or contacted him at all, and that worried him even more.

"No, not yet."

"Perhaps we should call," Rossi suggested.

"Reid would be here if he was up to it. If he's not, he's not ready," Hotch stated.

"You know, something's not sitting right with me."

All eyes shifted to Emily.

"He's beating them everywhere but mostly to their faces. One blow we would be able to assume is to incapacitate the girls, but he repeatedly hits them. Why? The victims are random. Hitting them in the face is personal, but he doesn't know them."

"That's a good thought Prentiss, go with that, try to figure it out," Morgan encouraged, invigorated by the hope of a lead.

"Perhaps there's a pattern to where he is."

"Hotch, we've looked at the scenes."

"Maybe we need to go broader. We have no idea if he's on foot or in a vehicle, but it's a fair guess that he doesn't have a car. How he comes upon the victim is every bit as important as where he was. Are these out of way or on his daily routine?"

"So you say look at the blocks around the scenes?"

"Yes."

"Ok, Rossi, stay here, work with Prentiss, work out the kinks in the profile. Hotch and I will revisit the scenes, see if we can't find something. Also, one of you call Garcia. See if she can't make something out of Reid's geographical profile and add to it. I don't know if she has a program for that, but it's worth a shot."

Random, unimportant buildings passed Morgan by as he and Hotch drove through the Seattle streets. He anxiously looked at his phone as often as possible.

"You ok?" Hotch suddenly asked.

"Wha- yeah, fine."

The quiet returned. Both men jumped at the shrill ring of Morgan's cell.

"Morgan."

"Derek, you need to come here."

JJ hadn't even waited for him to finish his greeting.

"What? What's going on?"

"Get here now. The doctors need to talk to you and they won't tell me anything until you get here, but they said it's urgent. You need to come to the ER waiting room."

She abruptly hung up on him.

Morgan debated his options for a minute. Hotch would be certain now that something was up, but Morgan didn't feel like dragging extra people into this. But, then again, the time it would take to go back to the station and to the hospital...

Morgan sighed. He knew that he day was going to continue on its downward trend.

"Hotch, we need to go to Haborview Hospital."

Both entered the emergency room doors, anxious and afraid of what they would find. Hotch spotted JJ first and rushed over to her, Morgan a step behind.

She had aged years in a matter of hours. Her face was creased in worry and fear, but her eyes were the worst. Apprehension and exhaustion gripped them, but she was visibly relieved when she saw Hotch and Morgan.

"Ma'am, our unit chief is here," she informed the doctor behind the desk.

Immediately she joined the group.

"I'm sorry to be brief, but we have to talk quickly. You're the unit chief?" She pointed to Hotch.

"No, he is."

She looked to Morgan.

"Agent Reid's femoral artery was pierced by a stray bone fragment from his femur in his left leg."

The three agents shared a look of shock.

"A stray bone fragment?"

"When he was shot a couple months ago, the bullet most likely grazed the bone. It was probably small enough that his doctor in DC didn't even notice. However, for months, that bone has been separating from his femur almost creating a crack along the back of the bone. Something caused it to crack even more, shift away from his femur, and pierce his artery," she explained.

"He slipped," Hotch hardly more than whispered.

"What?" Morgan whipped his head around to face Hotch.

"Reid fell this morning. As we were getting off the plane. You weren't there, he slipped in the rain getting off the stairs."

"But why didn't we see that? His leg swelled up, but I didn't see his bone," JJ asked quietly.

"The crack isn't protruding very far, but it is very long and very serious," the doctor continued. "We repaired the damage to his artery and stopped the bleeding. He has suffered tremendous blood loss, and we've already given him one transfusion. I'm expecting he'll get at least one more. But this leads us to a larger issue. If the fall was the cause of this injury, it did more damage than what he already had. There is a significant split between the fragment and his femur. We can do surgery to fix it, but there's a complication. Any surgery involving bone also involves blood loss. With the amount of blood Agent Reid has already lost, he could very easily die on the table."

The three stood in silence for a moment.

"Well, there's no reason to do the surgery, is there?" Morgan finally asked.

"Yes there is, actually. If we don't perform the surgery now and wait a few days for his body to recover, he will never regain full mobility with his leg again."

"How much would he get back?" JJ inquired.

"Max? 80%, but that's a stretch."

"Why would waiting do that?" Hotch nearly demanded.

"With waiting, his body also won't focus on healing his leg, it will first focus on healing it's blood loss and returning to its normal state. The bone will start to set where it is. Repairing it after a few days will not only be painful but difficult. Most likely, the bone would be too frail afterwards due to the repairs to support full weight again, or the procedure simply wouldn't be as effective as it would now. If you wait, I don't think he would ever get off of using a cane."

"What are his chances of not making it?" Hotch asked.

"I'd say one out of two with his blood loss. Sometimes, just the shock is enough to cause the body to shut down. I'm sorry, but I need you to make a decision right away. He is still on the table, all I have to do is make a call to the OR and they will proceed or finish up."

From the pit of his stomach, Morgan could feel his panic. He was lost with not a clue to the right direction. The risk of losing Reid petrified him, but he knew Reid was anxiously anticipating the day to return to the field. How could he tell Reid he would never go back?

Morgan's phone went off again. The doctor glared at him, but when the caller ID showed it was Rossi, Morgan reluctantly picked it up.

"Sorry, but I have to take this," Morgan stated. "Morgan."

"They found another body."

"Wait, Morgan?" The doctor peered at Hotch and JJ.

As Morgan stepped away from the group, he caught a glimpse of the doctor's confused face and Hotch and JJ talking to her.

"When?"

"Twenty minutes ago. A man in his thirties."

"What, what the... that doesn't make any sense."

"I know, but I think I cracked it, bipolar. He's an undiagnosed man who's bipolar."

Morgan was struggling to concentrate. His mind flashed between the case and Reid. He saw the doctor talking with Hotch and JJ, and he itched to join them.

"Morgan, he's wrong," Prentiss stated as she joined the conversation. "Bipolar doesn't explain why he's hurting them so much."

"The crimes aren't personal!"

"But he's beating them in the face, that is! He's probably a rather aggressive schizophrenic."

"Schizophrenia would make him too obvious to everyone else. He wouldn't know how to escape undetected. People with bipolar disorder maintain some contact with reality. If he was schizophrenic, he wouldn't have any."

"But then someone who's bipolar in contact with reality wouldn't murder people!"

Morgan stood mouth agape as he heard the fight unfold. Their tension was almost cutting Morgan's ear through the phone; he pitied anyone who was there with them.

"How do you want us to proceed?" Rossi asked.

Both had valid points unfortunately. Their arguments were justified and both knew it. Even if Morgan had been paying complete attention, he didn't know what he would have decided. The entire time he had been on the phone though, he had been watching Hotch, JJ and the doctor. They were discussing something, and then Hotch began talking for a while.

Suddenly the doctor walked away. Morgan's blood ran cold.

He was at a loss. He didn't know what to tell Rossi and Prentiss or what to do next. What's more is he had no idea what had happened with Hotch, JJ and the doctor. His mind fought betwixt the two, Reid or the case, Reid or the case.

"Just... just, listen I'm sorry guys, but I have to go."

"Morgan, wait-" They both yelled

He had already flipped the phone shut, praying that he had made the right choice.

"What's going on?" He demanded. "Why did she leave?"

"You're not the power of attorney," JJ quietly explained.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm Reid's power of attorney," Hotch explained. "I made the final decision. Reid's emergency contact still listed me as unit chief, and we didn't realize that until the doctor made the connection between the names."

"Wait, made? You didn't wait? Hotch what did you decide?"

"We couldn't wait Morgan, and he's going to have the surgery."

Morgan sucked in his breath. He couldn't believe it.

"Hotch, what the hell?"

"Morgan, just give me a minute to explain." Hotch exasperatedly replied.

"Did you even think about what you were doing?" Morgan's voice rose with each word.

He couldn't have. To take a 50% chance that Reid would die... Morgan's mind did uncomfortable summersaults in distress.

"Morgan, please, calm down!" JJ interjected.

"JJ, stay out of this!"

"Morgan, you're in a-"

"That wasn't your place!" Morgan continued undeterred. "He could die! Why did you that chance?"

"I had to, for him." Hotch attempted.

"Bullshit!"

Morgan's bad day came crashing down all at once. The frustration with the case, Rossi and Prentiss fighting, the stress from Reid's hospitalization, Morgan's own exhaustion all converged.

He reacted physically, albeit instinctually. Morgan hardly felt upset when his phone went crashing to the floor.

He stalked away, anger pulsating through his veins.

Morgan leaned his head back against the wall of the small waiting room. The cooling touch felt refreshing. But only a little.

Thoughts swarmed his mind. Flashes of different people and places danced in and out, and Morgan felt like he might lose it again. He was so confused and had no idea what to do.

Suddenly, Morgan realized was no longer mad; he was afraid.

How much longer could he put off making a decision on the case?

What would he choose?

What if Reid died?

What would he tell his mother?

What would the FBI think?

What would they do with the team?

With him?

He let out a long sigh and tried to clear his head.

Time passed, he wasn't sure how much.

Foot steps entered the room. He didn't have to guess whose.

"Hey."

"Hey."

He felt another body sit next to his.

Silence.

"I talked to Rossi and Prentiss," Hotch began eventually. "They calmed down enough to present the parts of the profile they agreed on."

Of course, bipolar and aggressive schizophrenia shared many characteristics; how had he forgotten that?

"Hopefully they'll get something."

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

The quiet returned. Hotch let it pass for a long time before he got up to leave.

"I'm sorry."

Hotch paused.

"For what?"

"Losing it. Not working up to the standards."

"What do you mean by that?"

Morgan took a second before continuing.

"When I was on the phone with Prentiss and Rossi, I hung up for two reasons. One was because the doctor walked off, the other was because I didn't know what to tell them. I didn't know how to decide who was right," Morgan began to ramble. "I had no idea how to figure out who would be right or what we should do-"

"Morgan, calm down. This job, it's hard."

"You're not kidding. But you did it."

"Doesn't mean it was easy."

"But how did you do it? How did you decide about Reid? He... he could die Hotch."

"That wasn't as hard as you think it was," Hotch patiently explained. "I did exactly what you did this morning."

Morgan peered at Hotch, confused.

"You didn't tell anyone Reid was here, even though you wanted to. You know why."

"It was the right decision. I had to."

Hotch stared at Morgan knowingly.

"That's different Hotch. I don't know how I would have decided on this," Morgan admitted quietly.

"Yes you do."

Morgan considered it for a moment.

"No surgery would have been safer," he began.

"But not doing it would take away Reid's chance of ever going back to the field," Hotch stated.

Morgan sat in thought for a moment.

"But, Hotch, a one in two chance, that's a hell of a risk."

"That doesn't change the answer."

Both knew he was right. Neither liked it. Morgan heaved a sigh.

"I still screwed up Hotch."

"Because it was a bad day? Sometimes, there just are days where everything goes wrong. It happens. You're only human Morgan. You're not always going to have the right answer immediately, and sometimes you will be wrong. And when that happens, you have to keep going. It's as simple as that."

A silence between the two as Morgan sat in contemplation of Hotch's words. Slowly the tension eased.

"I bet Strauss will be pleased to find out about my little temper tantrum," Morgan eventually stated.

"As far as JJ and I are concerned, someone bumped you and your phone fell out of your pocket."

Jerking his head upwards, Morgan saw a faint smile on Hotch's face. The corners of his own mouth twitched upward, an action he almost thought he had forgotten; the moment had a calming peace to it.

JJ's sudden appearance in the room brought Morgan and Hotch unwillingly back to reality.

Morgan prepared for what he knew would be a long, arduous wait.

Hotch leaned over the worn file.

How many times he read over the words, looked at the pictures, analyzed the evidence, and yet he still had no progress on Foyet.

A small noise disturbed the tranquil silence of the room. Hotch looked up, expecting it be JJ moving around in her sleep again or one of Morgan's snores. However, his guess had been wrong.

"Hey Reid."

Reid's eyes were slowly but surely working their way open. Hotch quickly prepared a pitcher of water and put a straw in it for Reid; after a few sips, Reid finally appeared at least semi-conscious.

"Wha happen?" He slurred.

"You're in the hospital. You hurt your leg when you slipped on the plane this morning," Hotch explained. "You had to have surgery and two blood transfusions."

"Surgery? On what?"

Hotch caught the fear rising in Reid's eyes.

"On your femur, but the surgery went really well. The doctors think you'll make a full recovery. But you will have to spend a couple extra weeks on the crutches and you now get to have a cast."

Reid visibly relaxed and looked down his injured leg. Hotch saw him also realize that Morgan and JJ were there, undisturbed by Reid's awakening.

"They meant to stay awake until you woke up, but it's been a long day."

Reid nodded tiredly.

"How's the case?"

Hotch almost chuckled; of course Reid would be the one to ask.

"The unsub was an aggressive schizophrenic. Prentiss and Rossi got him after the tip line got a hit and brought him in. They would have stayed too, but they were exhausted."

Reid glanced over to the two sleeping bodies. He cautiously reached over his various IV lines, wires and catheter to grab the water from the bedside table.

"So, it was a good day then?"

Hotch thought for a moment.

"Yeah, it was."

"'Off days' are a part of life, I guess, whether you're a cartoonist, a neurosurgeon, or an air traffic controller." Gary Larson

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