Chapter 1

Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven: - Tryon Edwards

Maze

A/N: Slash warning.- this is a shortish joining chapter…the fic starts properly next chapter….thank you !

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

They made it perfectly clear that I wasn't really welcome, but what did they call me back for if not for this.

It was months.

He was finally home but only if someone could stay with him.

This wasn't the Reid we had grown to love. This was something smaller and somehow more fragile than the one we had known before.

He clung helplessly onto Flanders. Who in turn clung back though his reasons for the clinginess were jealousy and well maybe he thought this was how you showed love? I'm not sure that he can show it. I had him down when I first knew of him as a sociopath, but that was wrong. He can love. I'm just not sure he knows the appropriate way to show this emotion. For Flanders love and sex and food and pain are all connected and this isn't uncommon. I just don't like it being around Reid when he is in the obvious confused state he is in. Now home from the hospital I have all intentions of keeping Flanders away from him.

Right now I am sitting in his small apartment where I have been spending my nights sleeping on his couch. Spencer is sitting where he always does. Well where he has done in the days since we have been home. He has been home…this is not my home. He sits curled up into himself - body and mind and just stares out over the room and out of the window and over at the sky. He doesn't talk. He only eats or drinks if I put the plate or mug in his hand. He doesn't look at me and he doesn't respond to my questions.

"Is there anything you need?"

But he doesn't even look at me.

"You need to shower."

And he still doesn't look at me or move. I will have to get up and physically pull him from the chair to get him to move. This isn't working. He isn't going to heal with the barriers he has put in place. He is defending himself against me and I just hope to the gods that he doesn't realise how close he was to having his life support turned off….How close he was to me killing him.

"I'll have a shower first. Do you want a drink? A sandwich?"

He won't answer me. I know that, but I will feel the need to ask.

"I wont be long." And I stand up and just look down at him for a while. He was always a skinny kid, but now it has reached a point where he looks like he will die if he tries to move. I put a hand out and place it on the top of his head, and now he reacts. He flinches away. He won't let me touch him.

I sigh and walk to the bathroom.

-o-o-o-

I know.

I know what he was going to do.

How can I trust a man who walks out when I need him most then returns to turn off my life support?

I know what he was going to do….and I wont forget it. I might forgive…eventually, but I will never forget, and I will never trust him with my life. Not if it meant so little to him.

They keep saying I have closed down, but I haven't – I am very much here. I just have no reason to talk to him. He acted like a surrogate father. He did it well. He acted exactly like my father did. Only the abuse was different.

There is only one constant in my life. Only one constant I want.

Hotch is there too. He comes to see me and I know he read to me in hospital. I know he argued with Gideon and I know it was he who had Floyd brought to me, but his visits are short and awkward. I know he would rather see me alone, but Jason won't let him. He seems to have taken on this role to protect me from everything.

But it's way too late for that now.

Much too late.

I sit and stare out of the window and I can hear the shower running and I close my eyes at the thought of being here alone in my room with no eyes watching my every scratch and move and twitch. I can relax my hands and allow them the tremble slightly on my knees. They do that a lot. I can't hold a pen. I can't write my name but that really doesn't matter right now…I can't remember how to spell it anyway.

I can hear the knock at the door and I don't move because Gideon is always there first. He can move faster and he likes to vet who I talk to. The two sounds…the running water and the tapping on the door carry on and I realise in my slow way that Gideon won't answer the door. So slowly I get up and stand still while the room spins around for a while.

I have to walk holding onto the furniture. I end up just meandering in circles if I don't. They – the wise guys at the hospital say it will slowly get better…but it doesn't seem to be.

The knocking on the door gets more persistent and the water is still flowing and now Jason is singing and it hurts my head and makes the room spin a bit more.

For a minute I stand and re-brace myself. I don't move. If I did I would fall on my face and then Jason will have his reason for never leaving me alone and I can't let that happen.

A deep breath.

I look over at my door and it suddenly feels like it is a million miles away.

A sigh.

Whoever it is will be gone before I am half way there…and this is why Jason jumps up and answers the door every damned time. This time it is me. Even if the caller has gone by the time I get there, I will do this.

When I get to the door I stand and rest my head on the cool dark wood. My hands are shaking too much to work the lock. I have to think and relax and try to control what my brain is telling my body to do.

"Hang on – hang on." I mutter to myself. "I'm here now…just wait." And I lift my right hand and press it hard against the door. Sometimes this helps. Sometimes it reminds the brain of this thing on the end of my arm.

I crawl my hand to the lock and my fingers are damp with sweat so I have that to contend with also now. I just want to open the door! I just want to be able to open my own damned door!

My head is screaming with pain now and my whole body has started to shake with the effort of trying to get the lock open.

I hear it click and I hear my sigh and I slowly pull the door open.

My stomach clenches and my head swims as I look at the person the other side of the door.

Floyd's hair had been cut. Long on the top but shorter at the sides. He had on a white shirt with a dark red slightly fitted jacket over the top….the shirt cuffs showing at the ends of his jacket sleeves. His trousers high waisted and belted. He was smoking…and he had his boots on.

I knew I was staring.

He looked beautiful.

I had forgotten how much I missed him.

My mouth opened to say something but he shook his head and placed a finger over my lips.

"Is Gideon here?"

I nodded.

"The bedroom still has a lock? One he won't be able to use from the outside."

Again I nod.

He drops his smoke to the outside hall floor and grinds his heel on it and then he steps in closer to me.

"I missed you." And he has my hands in his. "I need to finish what I started."

And I nod slowly. My voice seems to have abandoned me completely.

He slides his arms around me and holds me tight…

And a memory from my childhood pops into my head….a dark building in the desert and a secret innocent kiss on the lips.

His mouth meets mine as he pushes me back into the apartment and guides me backwards towards the room which used to be ours. He knows I am unsteady – he can feel the way I am shaking and I think he can feel the way my tongue is searching for a way by his lips which he licks and then parts.

I'm not sure how we got to the bedroom….I don't remember the journey at all. I just remember the smells and the hands and the pops of memory sparking here and there and I can feel him push me back onto the bed and pull greedily at my shirt buttons and one at a time they are undone and his mouth has left mine now and he is kissing my neck and his hands are one on the side of my face with his thumb sliding slowly into my mouth and the other I can feel fingers in my hair and a mouth now moving down to my chest and he is sitting astride me and his hands are touching me on every part of my body he can reach. He pulls the shirt down my arms and kisses my shoulders and down my arms to my hands which are shaking now for completely different reasons and my fingers are being sucked on one at a time and nibbled on and his fingers are drawing circles on my chest.

I move my free hand and I carefully touch his hair and run my fingers over his ear. I want to look into his eyes…I want to see that dark burning that makes my own eyes water but he has his head down and so I close my eyes and tip my head back slightly offering him my throat.

I feel his mouth on my stomach and his hands touching new parts of my body he hasn't played with before….new marks and scars and indentations where my flesh had been damaged and my hands are in his hair and I want to reach his skin but he still has the damned jacket on. This sparked off memories again…he liked to keep his clothes on…

Was that insecurity?

"Babes."

I opened my eyes and looked up at the dark eyes looking down at me.

"You OK with this?"

I frowned at him…..

"You are asking me?" He never asks me.

"I just need to know if I am going to have to – I don't know…force you."

I shook my head. "Please just carry on." And as I spoke I can feel his hands moving downwards and mine following and he undoes my belt and waistband and my fingers slid and struggle with his belt and small row of buttons. "Did you have to wear something so complicated to get off?" I said as much to myself as anything and his hand gently moves mine out of the way.

"Sorry Babes….I wasn't thinking."

"Sorry?"

"Oh hush you….let me help you out or we will be old men and still struggling with buttons."

He was being gentle….well for Floyd's standards he was. I knew…

Bang……a memory short through my mind……he was not going to prepare me.

Bang……he was going to go in hard and fast.

Bang……he would want me to bite him if I could reach his skin……and he pulled me and manoeuvred me until I could feel him against me and the world drifted away. The memories of being hung from the hook were erased…the feeling of my life leaving me was gone and all I could feel now was Floyd.

One of my hands gripped the bedding I was laying on and the other had its fingers in Floyd's washed clean hair as his mouth sucked and bit at me and I wanted to return and as his neck presented it self to me I was there biting and running my tongue over his throat.

"What the hell?"

That wasn't Floyd's voice.

"Get out of here!"

That still wasn't Floyd's voice.

"Ignore him." That was Floyd….Oh god – Gideon. I had forgotten about Gideon and now it was too late I couldn't stop him now even if I wanted to – which I didn't.

"Go - away - Jason." And I could tell my voice sounded out of breath and full of lust…he must have heard it.

"Flanders get out." Gideon was still talking.

"I can't….not until….soon…." And he pushed harder and I laughed…and I think that was probably the first laugh I had expressed in six months. "You – don't want me – to get out – do you?" He was looking down at me and licking his lips and my body responded as my back arched and I closed my eyes…

Did Gideon stand and watch Floyd make love to me? I don't know….

The only thing I knew was he didn't get out…not out of me and not out of the apartment.

When he finally relaxed on me and then moved down and I wanted to scream because I needed more…I needed this endlessly - he took me into his mouth and gave me all.

-o-o-o-

That sweet taste.

There is nothing to compare.

I have had a few blokes in my mouth but this was the only one I ever wanted to come back to. The only one I had in my dreams….the only one I would give up everything for.

I don't know why his skin tastes so good to me…I could live off him…I could spend my day and lick every part of this skinny body and I probably will….

Tomorrow….I will do that tomorrow…I will strip him in the shower…I will let him strip me and I will run my tongue over ever inch of that sweet skin and then I will let him do the same to me.

Tomorrow….

A/N2: Please r&r - thank you!