#negative speedforce

It's only a few minutes before his phone rings. The fucking Star Trek theme plays, deafening in the somber silence of the car. Mickey would laugh if he could. Instead, he flips it open, not even bothering to check the caller ID. He only has that ringtone set for one person, after all.

"Hey," he says. Hotch glances over at him, but doesn't ask. "Are you okay? What happened? We heard Morgan say--"

"Mick." Mickey's mouth snaps shut. He wants to ask why Morgan has Spencer's phone, but he can't find the words, because deep down, he knows why. The only logical reason is that Spencer couldn't call himself. He tries not to feel sick about that. Morgan keeps talking, anyway. "He's okay. He's been injured, but the medics are on their way. He's just - he's asking for you."

Mickey feels his throat tighten. He sniffs, and his eyes burn, but he keeps his voice steady as he answers: "Well, tell him to keep his shirt on, I'm on my way."

Morgan huffs, and Mickey can only imagine his eye roll. "Kid's stubborn," he says, as if Mickey doesn't know that. "Wouldn't let me dress his wounds unless I took his phone from him and made a call. He told me to call, so I'm callin'."

At least that means Spencer's lucid and talking and not... Mickey closes his eyes and tries to even his breathing. It's good. It's good. His worst fears haven't come true. After a moment, he replies, "Is he... Is everything--" His voice breaks, and he hates himself a little for it. He was never this guy - the worried boyfriend, waiting by the window. Then again, he never had anyone get close enough to care about them like that. Eventually, he manages: "How's he doing?"

There's a pause - Morgan's either considering his question, or covering the speaker to say something to Spencer. Mickey's not sure he likes either option very much. After what seems like a lifetime, Morgan says, "He wants to talk to you."

"That's not an answer," Mickey accuses.

"Hey, man, I'm just telling you what he's telling me. And he wants me to tell you that he wants to talk to you."

Mickey's saved from responding when the car lurches forward as Hotch speeds around a corner. His phone bumps against the dashboard as he puts his hands out to catch himself, regretting it when the pain shoots up through his wrist. Hotch mutters an apology under his breath, but Mickey is busy bringing the phone back up to his ear. "--everything okay?" Morgan is asking.

"Yeah, sorry," Mickey says. "Just riding passenger with Speedracer at the wheel." If he didn't know any better, he'd swear Hotch just breathed out a laugh through his nose. But when he glances over, Hotch isn't even looking his way. His eyes are straight ahead, brow furrowed in concentration.

After a moment, Morgan asks, "So can I put him on?"

Despite himself, Mickey hesitates. Mostly because this feels like something out of a shitty drama movie. Being called by your boyfriend, who's bleeding out in some back alley you're just a little too far away from? Yeah, he's seen that movie, and he's not interested in the lead, no thanks.

But worse than that... it feels like it's a goodbye. And Mickey isn't ready to say goodbye.

For Spencer, though, he'd do almost anything. So he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and mutters, "Yeah, okay. Let me talk to him."

He doesn't even have to ask twice. He hears Morgan's footsteps and some shuffling as the phone changes hands, followed by a few deep breaths. Then: "Mick'y?"

Relief washes over him at the sound of Spencer's voice. He sounds like he's in pain; his words are a little slurred and disjointed, but at least he's talking. That's more than Mickey could ask for. "Hey," he says finally. "You scared me half to death. What the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"Ah, Morgan's making a bigger deal 'f it than it is," Spencer murmurs drowsily. Mickey's pretty sure he's supposed to keep him talking if he can, which has never been a problem before, so he figures it'll be okay. Talking is kind of Spencer's specialty. "We got the unsub. Well, Morgan got him... The guy brought a knife to a gun fight. I guess the knife is pretty good when an agent doesn't know the gun fight is happening yet."

Mickey sighs. It's not surprising that the unsub got the drop on them - he was an ex-Navy SEAL, highly trained in stealth and preying on men who reminded him of his abusive ex-commander. He was strong, skilled, and could easily overtake any member of their team. A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Spencer reminds him that, rationally, even if he were there, he wouldn't have been able to prevent this from happening. Irrationally, he wishes he'd been there, anyway.

But Spencer must read his sigh as disappointment, because he whispers, "Don't be mad, please?"

Mad? Of course he's not mad. Mickey could laugh if it wasn't so sad. He'd never get angry at Spencer for being hurt - sure, Mickey can get worked up, but never over something like that. He can't take it personally; he's pretty sure Spencer's disoriented. Honestly, it sounds more like something Spencer would have said to his dad. Anger and sympathy twist in Mickey's chest. Sometimes he forgets they both have old scars to bear.

"Of course I'm not mad," he says softly. He tries to keep his voice low enough that Hotch can't hear, but loud enough for the phone to pick it up. It's not like Hotch would care, really; he knows about their relationship, it's no secret. The moment just feels... private. And if Hotch overhears, he doesn't show it. Just faces forward, stoic as ever. So Mickey continues, "Never mad at you, especially not about this. I'm just worried. You never said how you're doing, you know."

Spencer hums as he assesses his injuries. Over the line, Mickey hears Morgan yell: 'Kid, sit still. You might not be out, but you're still down.' He can practically picture Spencer sitting up, trying to check his own wound after being stabbed. He may be a genius, but he's also an idiot. Mickey's idiot.

After a moment, Spencer responds: "So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but… I’m kinda bleeding. A lot."

A jolt of panic shoots up his spine. Mickey takes a deep breath and tries to keep in mind that, if Spencer's this coherent, it's probably not that bad. Morgan would've told him if it was. But he can't help but worry. He still tries to keep his voice light and calm when he asks, "How many times have I told you to be more careful?"

On the other end of the line, he hears Spencer sigh. It's tired; like he's getting ready to take a nap. Mickey tries not to panic. "You've always been a better listener than me," he admits. A yawn follows shortly after.

"Hey, now, don't fall asleep on me," Mickey rebukes. He glances over at Hotch and meets his eye this time. He looks mildly concerned, which, in Hotch's Richter scale levels of emotion, usually means he's extremely worried. Mickey hurries to keep Spencer awake, saying, "Come on, talk to me. Tell me about... The Waitabits again. Remind me how it ends? What's that thing with the train again?"

That gets Spencer talking - sleepy, slow, but talking nonetheless. For the next few minutes, Spencer reminisces about Eric Frank Russell's most interesting work, Hotch drives like a maniac, Derek tries his best to dress Spencer's wounds, and Mickey listens to the soothing sound of Spencer's voice, sending a quick prayer to whatever gods might be listening. He's never been a man of faith, but he could use the help right now.

Eventually, Spencer stops mid-sentence. There's a moment of silence, a moment where Mickey runs through the stages of grief at an alarming rate, but then he says: "Morgan, look." Then, in the background, he hears Derek yelling: 'Over here! Agent down!'

Mickey breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank god," he murmurs. Hotch glances over, and Mickey gives him a quick nod. "Paramedics. Should we meet you at the hospital?" Before Spencer even answers, Hotch makes a sharp right turn, pivoting towards St. Agnes.

On the phone, Spencer lets out a soft, breathy laugh. "I would hope so. The doctors start to worry if your emergency contact doesn't show."

Even though Spencer can't see him, Mickey still rolls his eyes. "Alright, smart ass, I'll be there."

"Mm," Spencer hums contentedly. "Thanks, Captain." By which he means: Love you.