Plausible Deniability **EDITED**

Part Seven

     I was trying to hide the worry in my face by burying it in my phone, texting with JJ and Dave who were still waiting for us at the station.

     "How long has it been?" Morgan yawned and looked at his watch.

   "About thirty-two minutes," Reid never looked up from his magazine.

     I sighed and suddenly heard a loud curse and something being thrown from down the hall, immediately knowing which room it was coming from.

     I rolled my eyes, "I'll go." I got up and walked down the linoleum hallway to Evan's room.

    "God dammit, I said I don't want any!" I turned the corner and saw her trying to pull the IV tube out of her arm, a few nurses trying to fight with her.

    "What the hell is going on?!" I stormed in and closed the glass door behind me. "I'm Agent Hotchner, I'm with the team that brought her in. What's happening?"

     Everyone looked around the room in frustration and exhaustion. There was a long moment of silence before a nurse mustered the courage to speak up,

    "She's refusing medication," they started and rolled their eyes in Evan's direction. "We have to take her back to the O.R. to remove the bullet and get a few stitches but we need to sedate her. Some fragments went pretty deep-"

    "I said to just give me locals! I don't need-!"

    "One of the fragments is right next to the bone!" Another nurse argued and gestured to the x-ray on the wall, "we're gonna have to dig pretty far-"

    "No." I finally understood what the issue was, seeing the panic in Evan's face at the mention of 'pain medication' and 'sedation'. I saw a small sigh of relief in Evan's shoulders, "If she's refusing medication you have no right to give her any. She's in sound state of mind and she's not a threat," I gave her stern look, "she's making the decision. I'm sure she understands what that means."

    "Yes," Evan glared at a nurse, "she fucking understands what that means."

    "She knows it's going to hurt and she would probably be more comfortable with medication..." I glared back at her, the thought of her being in that much pain making me nauseous and my hands began to sweat, "let me talk to her for a minute. Alone, please."

    "Sure," they all filed out of the room and closed the door behind them, I'm sure, relieved that they had a break from the mess in the hospital bed.

    She stared at me with tired eyes, unwrapping another tube from her arm and tossing it to the floor.

    "Evan-"

    "Don't fucking start, Aaron."

    "They're just trying to do their job. Do you have to be so difficult?" I crossed my arms and watched her pick at the sicky residue from the bandage she just aggressively ripped off of her arm.

    "I've been shot at before and didn't need any medication. I think I can handle it." She reminded me of the scar on her ribs where she was grazed before by a stray bullet, on a case before she came to my team.

    "That was a little different," I argued, "they didn't have to dig around your ribs, Evan... there are pieces practically in your bone." I walked over to the x-ray and counted all of the fragments that they would have to remove, the shards of metal making my own arm throb with empathy.

    "So, what," I heard her mumble under her breath, her fear loud and clear.

    "Evan, god dammit!" I felt myself becoming angry with her obstinacy. I know what she was afraid of and I didn't blame her but this was a bit dramatic. Even for her. "If you're afraid that you're going to relapse because you need to take something to get through a surgery..." I shook my head, still wondering why I had to scold her about something this serious, "you're stronger than that. I know you are."