The Visitor.

A/N: It's been a while.

Are you scared I'll start hitting you? ~ Sam Trent-Saviour.

He sat in the dark and waited. He knew Reid would come home eventually. He could wait. He could wait forever if that's what it took. He sat in the dark and waited with a book on the knees of his grubby black jeans and smoked hand rolled cheroots and though he was careful to place his glass of whiskey on the small coaster – a coaster he remembers buying once a long time ago – he wasn't so careful about where his ash ended up; nor where he stubbed out his cheroot butts either. It was winter and the evenings got dark too early. It made the evenings drag on endlessly when there is nothing to do but wait. The heating had come on about two hours ago and the small apartment was beginning to warm but he didn't remove his long dark overcoat or his fingerless gloves. If nothing else he wanted Reid to realise that he'd been waiting – forever waiting – in the cold darkness.

He had cooked. He had cleaned the bathroom and he'd stood in front of the open cabinet which was above the washbasin for a while staring at the various products held within. Finally with a shrug and a frown he'd closed it and walked back to the darkness of the lounge. And there he was still sitting when he finally heard a key in the lock of the door, the door opening, closing and then just the sound of heavy breathing.

Spencer knew that something was wrong long before he opened his apartment door. If the visual signs had been missed then the smells would have alerted him. Cigarette ash on the floor by his door, fresh scratches in the wood on that door – as though someone had been clawing at the wood – And the smells… cooking, smoke, a deep dark smell he'd almost forgotten about. For a while Spencer stood and just stared at his door. He had choices; he could turn around and get someone – Derek or Hotch maybe – he could walk in and pretend nothing had happened, he could call security to check the place out for him, but what sort of a fool would he look if after all this was nothing. Reid wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and then immediately licked at his lips. The key to his door was in his hand, there was nothing to stop him unlocking the door – a door which should be secured from anyone but himself – and walking in.

'Why now?' Spencer asked his door in a whisper.

He took a deep breath and finally slipped the key into the lock. Too late now. The person the other side would know he was here. No point in delaying things. Reid pushed open his door, noting with annoyance that his alarm had been turned off. He closed the door behind himself and stood in the stinking smoky apartment. He leaned with his back to the door and considered calling someone anyway, but … too late, much too late now. He clicked on the hallway light and winced at the way the yellow light filtered through the smog. It was as though his feet had been nailed to the floor. His tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He could feel that his hands were shaking and annoyingly that his nose had started to run. He swiped across his nose with his hand and then stood looking at where he'd just spread germs over his pale skin.

'What do you want?' He finally managed to say into the darkness.

'Is that any way to greet me?' A cold voice replied.

Spencer didn't move. Actually Spencer for a while there stopped breathing too. That voice. Damn him! He thought this part of his life was finally over. He thought that he'd been allowed to move on and grow up. He touched his short hair with his finger tips and slowly made his way down the short passageway to his lounge. There was another small wall light which he switched on as he entered the room.

'Get out.' Spencer told his guest.

'What? No Welcome home my dearest?' The man stood and the book dropped with a hollow thump to the wooden floor.

'Get out.' Spencer repeated. 'And take your food with you.'

'But I've so much I want to talk to you about, like – what in the name of fuck have you done to your hair?'

Spencer stood and stared at his guest. He thought, hoped? No… regretted for a while and then maybe there was hope? That he'd never see this person again. That he'd never smell him again, but here he was acting like nothing had ever gone on, gone wrong, and that smell was making his eyes water. The smoke was making his eyes water and the whole situation was forcing Spencer to stand doing nothing but leaking from the eyes and nose and licking at his lips. 'My hair?' He finally managed to say.

The man walked closer. He had his hands at his sides and his head cocked slightly to the left as though he was looking at some great and marvellous curiosity. 'Your fucking hair. What happened?'

'I finally got a hair cut.' Spencer said back almost in a whisper.

A hand reached out for Spencer and touched what was left of his hair. A thumb drifted over Spencer's cheek and wiped away the dampness forming there. 'No need to cry. It'll grow again I suppose. You look fucking stupid though.' He paused and moved a thumb over Spencer's lips. 'Maybe wear a hat.'

'I actually like it.' Spencer pushed the hand out of the way. 'And I want you to leave.'

'So many nights crying over the loss and so here I am and you want me gone?'

'I never once cried over you.' Spencer looked around the lounge. There were books scattered all over the floor, dirty plates, empty coffee mugs and cheroot butts on almost every surface. 'You enjoy messing with me don't you?' He moved around the visitor and began to pick up books and put them back on the shelves.

Arms wrapped around Spencer's waist and a mouth kissed the back of his neck.

'I missed you.' He said as shirt buttons were slowly undone.

Spencer stood with his forehead resting on the edge of the bookshelves. He could feel his heart pounding dangerously in his chest and he could feel blood surging dangerously to all the wrong parts of his body. His face felt too hot and long forgotten but suddenly only too familiar twisting started in his gut. 'Where have you been? You've been gone nearly two years. I waited for you. I virtually put my life on hold waiting for you to come back. Not a word. Not one message. Not even just in my head. Nothing. And now you come back and make my place a stinking mess and… what are you doing with your hands? Please don't.'

But the hands continued to investigate the flesh under the shirt and the mouth continued to plant small kisses on the back of his neck and now over his ear. 'I couldn't get a message to you Spence. I would have. You know I would have.'

'I know nothing of the sort. You abandoned me. You cant just walk back in again and expect me to…'

'Yes I can.'

Hands rested on Spencer's shoulders and slowly turned him around to face. 'Please Floyd. Please leave. I can pretend I had too much to drink. I can persuade myself it was a bad dream. Please leave while I can still do that.' He pushed the hands off his shoulders but didn't make any attempt to move them now that they were back inside his shirt moving slowly over his skin which had suddenly come up in goose bumps.

'You've found someone else?' Floyd's mouth was so close to Spencer's that their lips brushed against each other's as he spoke.

Spencer slowly shook his head. 'No.'

'I cleaned the bathroom.' Floyd told Spencer's neck. Spencer replied that he could smell the bleach. 'I cooked.' Again Spencer said that he could smell the cooking. 'I sat in the bedroom – our bedroom for a while.'

Spencer's throat made a dry click as he swallowed. 'And now you have to leave. Whatever there was between us should never have been and will never be again. I don't want or need you in my life.'

'Who have you been fucking?' Floyd's voice hissed over Spencer's ear.

'N, n, no one! And stop that!' Spencer slapped away the hand working experienced fingers over his belt buckle.

Floyd slipped the tips of his fingers over the front of Reid's waistband. 'Then why do you have lube and condoms in our bedside drawer? Who've you been having over here? Oh Spence babe, don't tell me you pick up boys at clubs still do you? Surely you've outgrown that filth. And so that beggars the question babes… who is the lube for? Because it's certainly not for me now is it? Have I ever gotten you any lube… no sweet thing I've not, so who's it for?'

Spencer moved away quickly and tried to do his buttons up again. He paced around the coffee table tripping on half filled bowls of meat of unknown origin, but he didn't get within touching range of Floyd. 'My private life is exactly what it is… private, and I have no wish to discuss it with an old boyfriend who walked out one night and never returned.'

'Boyfriend? Is that all you thought of me as? I thought we were lovers. I thought you couldn't get enough of me. I thought you were so deeply in love with me that…'

'Stop it!' Spencer raised his voice. 'You know what you were. You are fully aware of your place in my life. I don't want you back there again. I don't want you in my life. I don't want to be surrounded by your jealousy and hate. I don't want to spend my life scared that I'll say the wrong thing. I don't want you. Do you understand? Yes I have friends. I have friends I bring home sometimes but that's nothing to do with you. So please explain why you are here or get out.'

Floyd slipped off his heavy coat which for Spencer wasn't a good sign. It meant that Floyd had no intention of leaving just yet. It also had the unfortunate side effect of showing Spencer that the body under the coat was the same delicious body which he'd loved and caressed. He knew that he still knew every lump and bump of that body, that he knew every mark and scar and where they'd come from. Spencer was staring. He was aware that he was staring but couldn't help himself. He was slowly and carefully undressing Floyd with his eyes. Floyd was fully aware of this too.

'I would like you to leave.' Spencer whispered. 'I have a new life now and it happens to be a life I like. I don't want you to be a part of it anymore.'

Floyd nodded as though understanding what was being said. He looked around the lounge and then looked directly into Spencer's eyes. 'Who pays the rent on this shit hole?' He asked Reid.

'All the paperwork is in my name.' Spencer started to back away towards the door.

'Wasn't what I asked though was it babes? Who pays the rent?'

'I tried to stop the payments. I wanted it stopped. I couldn't.'

'So who pays the rent on this place Spence?' Floyd pursued a quickly retreating Reid. 'Did it not occur to you that if I was still paying the fucking rent that I'd be back? Didn't that cross your sorry confused pathetic excuse for a mind?'

'For a while it did.' Spencer's back hit the small hallway table knocking over an empty vase which fell with a crash to the floor.

Floyd looked at the coloured shards of pottery on the floor for a second and then back to Spencer again. 'So where the fuck, my darling love – are all my damned things? My books, clothes, bits of carved bone, toys? Surely if you're accepting my money to live here you cant possibly have got rid of my things? You'd not do that would you sweets? Not get rid of my hand stitched shirts and my carefully chosen things?'

Spencer's eyes flicked to the hall way cupboard. 'I…'

'Not to some fucking charity I hope.' Floyd's eyes followed where Spencer's had glanced to.

'I packed things away. I didn't want to see them every day. You were gone! I didn't know where you were. For all I knew you were dead somewhere. Where have you been?'

Floyd smirked at Spencer and leaned a shoulder on the wall as he looked at the clothes Reid had on. 'I got called away. I've been - somewhere… I couldn't get a message… didn't I say that already? So you take my money like the whore you are but you don't want anything here to remind you of me? Come here? Let me show you something.' Floyd put out a hand to Spencer who in turn sighed and shook his head. Floyd crossed the small passageway and pushed open the bedroom door. 'Just look. Tell me what you see in there.'

'I know what's in my bedroom.' Spencer snapped.

'MY! My bedroom… not yours. Remember who pays for it. Remember who got that bed with the carved headboard. I think if you really wrack your brains Spence you'll remember that it was me. So you get rid of my little personal things but you like to be fucked in my bed?

Spencer took a step towards Floyd, his shoe crunched on the broken vase and scratched at the wooden floor. 'No one fucked me in that bed, as you so crassly put it!' Spencer's voice was raised now in anger. 'Someone has though made love to me. If you consider that to be a problem then please take the bed and go!'

'Love?' Floyd snorted the word out at Spencer. 'You fucking idiot! No one loves you. No one has ever loved you. They all abandon you. Cant you see that? Are you so stupid that you've not realised that people hate being around you? That you drive them away with your pathetic whining and rambling conversations which no one is even slightly interested in. Haven't you noticed how everyone in your life who you've ever gotten close to eventually leaves you? Get me a pen and paper, I'll write a list for you. Who do we start with? Your childhood friends? Your father? Your mother? Fucking Gideon? That whore JJ? Those who've not run off or killed themselves have distanced themselves from you. Where are you now Spencer? Where are you? Look around and tell me where the hell you are right this minute.'

Spencer thought for one horrible moment that the smoke was going to make his eyes water again. He took a deep shuddering breath and glanced around the gloomy hallway. 'At home.' He stated.

'And do you know the date? What is special about today?'

'Christmas eve.' Spencer whispered.

'And you are at home once again alone. Did you tell everyone that you had a date? That's your usual excuse. Well it's not just an excuse this time… you didn't know that of course, but look… here I am! Go get changed and I'll take you out for a drink. Or we can stay here and eat. I've cooked. I've cooked your favourite.'

'Chilli isn't and never was my favourite. You just have to make that to disguise the taste of the meat you've used.' Spencer now looked towards the kitchen. 'Floyd?'

'Well yes… You may well Floyd me but you've eaten it in the past. You'll eat it again. You might be busy over the new year with a case though. I'd say I was sorry about that, but really I'm not. Now I've had a few very long boring days and nights here alone and I want comfort and company. Are you going to provide or am I going to have to beat you until you give in and remember that you want me?'

A/N: Any point in continuing? Let me know. Pb xox