TWO

Recordings of Conversations.

I got into the habit of keeping recordings of conversations between the two of us. A lot of it makes no sense.

One: Interview at Park Grange Hospital.

Floyd was hospitalised for a short while after being shot. His mental health had deteriorated at his point, but I thought I could perhaps get him to talk to me.

Rossi. 'How are you feeling?'

Floyd. 'How the fuck do you think I'm feeling. I'm strapped to a fucking bed. How can I do what I need to do when you're holding me here like this?

'It's not only for your safety. Can you tell me what happened?'

'I was shot. Being shot does little to ease the rage going on in my head. I'll kill the fucking lot of them. You have no damned right to keep me here. I've done nothing wrong.'

Rossi. 'You killed some people. I would class that as something wrong. How do you feel about it?'

Floyd. 'Feel about what? They were nothing. Would never amount to anything. They were whores and junkies. At least they were if I'm going to admit to anything, which I'm not, but I'm telling you, old man, that they were the end of their line. They would have offered nothing to the world. Their loss is not going to change a thing. Less disease. Less money passed to drug dealers. If I had killed them and only if, then I would have been doing to world a fucking great favour. You should be thanking me, not shooting me and dragging me here when I was trying to regrow the parts your lot blasted out of me. Your mistake, I guess. I'm not that easy to kill.'

Rossi. 'You seem to know a lot about what happened for someone who says they had nothing to do with it.

(Some emotion now showed. A raised eyebrow. For Floyd that was a sign that he was listening. You had to be with him for a while to pick up on certain things. It was one of his ticks. I don't think he could stop himself from doing it.)

Floyd. 'Did I say I had nothing to do with any of it? I did?' A deep sigh. 'Supply and demand. Always be careful who you pick as your mark. I'm always careful.'

Rossi. 'Is that a confession?'

Floyd. 'It's a statement. Take it as you will. I don't have to be the hand which drew blood to be the one who caused it.'

Rossi. 'A hit? You hired someone?'

Floyd. 'You'll never understand. Why are you bothering to ask? Why do you ask me things and then not listen to the answer? There's more to me than you'll ever know.'

Rossi. 'Then fill me in. Tell me what I'm missing.'

Floyd. 'Fuck off. Let me go or leave me alone. Maybe come back when you're being twisted and fucked with the way I am. Come back when you realise that your gods are not what you thought they were. That's all for now. Screw you Rossi… and next time you visit at least bring coffee and some smokes with you.'

End of recording.

Two: Interview at Mount Ridge Sheriff's Office.

Rossi. 'What have you done with Reid?'

Floyd. 'Where would you like me to start? When I first fucked him, when I first kissed his dimple – oh what a delight that was! Or do you want to know what I did to him when we hid away in the caves… or perhaps what went on in secret behind closed doors. Locked and closed. Locked and closed because sometimes things are fucking private and not a thing I have any interest at all in discussing with you. What's wrong with your fucking chin! Stop that! It's going to cause me to do something you'll not like. A shave maybe? I give good full body close shaves and hardly ever nick the skin. Get me a knife. I'll show you.'

Rossi. 'Where is Reid?'

Floyd. 'What the fuck? What? What! Why? What's he got to do with you?'

Rossi. 'He's one of our agents.'

Floyd. 'Apart from that, what's he got to do with you? Get me a fucking knife or I'll have to chew that beard right off your smug arsed face.'

Rossi. 'He's missing.'

Floyd. 'No he's not. I know exactly where he is. He knows where he is. He's not missing.'

Rossi. 'We would like to know where he is…'

(A pause here as Derek Morgan enters the room.)

Rossi. 'For our own peace of mind, we would like to know where he is.'

Floyd. 'I'm not talking whilst that bastard is in here. His stink makes my throat close up and my eyes water. Fuck you. Arseholes. Get rid of him. Get me coffee. Get me my smokes and I might tell you something. I can't fucking concentrate with that thing sitting there.'

Morgan. 'You have a problem with me?'

Floyd. 'With you and millions of others just like you? No… just you. Just you. Get rid of him Rossi or this stops now. Lock me away. Throw away the fucking key, but I'll not tell you a thing all the while that cunt is sitting where I can smell and see him.'

End of recording.

Three: Interview at Mount Ridge Sheriff's Office.

Rossi. 'He's gone, but I have to remind you that this is being recorded and he will be listening to what we are saying. What is it you have against my agent?'

Floyd. 'I can see he's fucking gone. I'm not blind. My sense of smell is a bit singed but my eyesight is pretty damned good. You want to know where Reid is?'

Rossi. 'A location would be good. A way to contact him.'

Floyd. 'There is nothing I want more than peace. I love it. The sound of nothing but the slips and groans of nature. The smells of the woodlands. There is nothing more I want. Reid is somewhere safe. He is in peace…'

Rossi. 'Is he dead, Floyd?'

Floyd. 'Death is such a – a definite sounding thing. There are so many definitions to such a terminal word. It could mean a broken down vehicle, or the end of a poem, but these things can be fixed. Some words are over used and need to be thought of carefully before being placed in a sentence or even in your own stupid head. A poem can be added to and expanded… The nights are long. Very long… longer if you never sleep. Can you understand that? They are eternal. That though isn't death as such. Even leaving this life – if you can possibly call this a life is not true death… you believe in life after death don't you? So how can the word death be used in the way you're meaning it when in reality it just carries on somewhere else? There are very many other worlds than this one, Rossi… the spirit and the soul move onward. They are in constant change and on an eternal journey. Because that spirit and soul are no longer available to see, smell or hear by you, does not by anywise mean that death is what it might seem. It's such a greedy idea. The thought that because you cannot communicate with someone or see them grow or smell their skin, or lick the sweat from their necks. Because you can't suck on their teeth and run fingers through their hair as you feel them grind against you, don't you feel that's selfish? No feeling for the person who seems to be gone, but only feeling for your own personal loss. Get over yourself Rossi. No one lives to keep you amused. Amuse your fucking self. We all move on. All of us.'

Rossi. 'Have you killed Reid?'

Floyd. 'You should ask him that yourself. I might have killed parts of him. I have killed his fear of the dark. I have killed his ability to cope alone. I have killed his personality, or at least chipped away at it to the point you'd not like him. Not recognise what is left. I'm unsure what you mean by your question. Have I taken his life from him? Is he rotting in a shallow grave somewhere? Is that what you mean? Elucidate. Your questions make very little sense to me.'

Rossi. 'Have you taken Reid's life from him, Floyd?'

Floyd. 'Stupid fucking question. I just said you should ask him yourself. How can you do that if I've torn him apart and eaten his heart and liver? Stupid fucking question. Try another one.

Rossi. 'I would like contact with Reid.'

Floyd. 'Tough fucking luck then. I'm keeping him safe from the shadows and demons. I'm keeping him safe. You want me to expose his location to you? You think I'm so stupid as to do that? You'll assume he's there against his will. You'll not bother to listen to him. If he's with me or somewhere I've chosen to keep him you will obviously be of the thought that I'm keeping him prisoner and that he had no choice in the matter. You're wrong. He will contact you when and if he feels like it. I'm not stopping him.' (a pause as he sips on coffee and lights a cheroot.) 'Fine I guess I'm stopping him in as much as I'll show my fury to him if he contacts Hotchner, but that's never stopped him in the past. When he feels the need you will hear from him. Until then there is little you can do. He's an adult.'

End of recording.

Four: Telephone Conversation with Spencer Reid.

Reid. 'Rossi!'

Rossi. 'Can you talk to me? Are you alone?'

Reid. 'Ah… Everything is great!'

Rossi. 'That's not what I asked you. Are you alone?'

Reid. 'Ah… Yes?'

Rossi. 'Is Floyd with you?'

Reid. 'Yes?'

Rossi. 'You don't sound sure.'

Reid. 'He's here with me. Did you want to talk to him? I'll get him. He's… he's… yes… what? Wait a minute… Rossi? Hang on.'

(sounds of the phone being dropped and muffled voices.)

Floyd. 'What? Isn't it enough that you know he's alive and well?'

Rossi. 'Can I speak to Reid?'

Floyd. 'The fuck? You just were. You want more from me that I'm willing to give.'

Rossi. 'I'm not asking much, am I? I just want to talk to Reid.'

Floyd. 'Spencer is resting. He can't come to the phone right now.'

Rossi. 'I was just talking to him. Get him for me please.'

Floyd. 'Well he had the sudden urge to lay down in the dirt here and have a sleep. I don't want to wake him. He has problems sleeping. Nightmares. Leave him. He's fine where he is.

Rossi. 'I need to speak to him.'

Floyd. 'No, what you mean is you want to speak to him. That's different. You don't actually need him to. Need would imply that you will implode with arrogance if you don't and I really don't think that's going to happen any day soon, as much as I keep requesting that from the gods, it's not on their list of things to have happen to you. So you don't need fuck all. You want… and a want is something so fuzzy around the edges that I don't think it's really all that important. He's sleeping.'

Rossi. 'Did you just hit him?'

Floyd. 'Hit? Me? Why would I hit him? Wait… no… A hit… I would really imagine that to be something open handed, you know? A slap. No I didn't.'

Rossi. 'Stop twisting everything I say. Did you hit Reid?'

Floyd. 'Um… not as such. Not me. No. A… what was it now? What is that thing called? Ah yes, a fist. I smacked my fist on the back of this head and he dropped like a plane from the sky. He's fine. Might have grazed his face a bit, but I can lick that nice and clean for him. Is that what you wanted to hear?'

Rossi. 'Truth is what I want to hear.'

Floyd. 'Truth? You really are trying my patience. Wait… hold on. Ah ha! Yes here he comes.'

Reid. 'Rossi?'

Rossi. 'Where did you go? Did he do something?'

Reid. 'Coffee. I went to get coffee. Dave, really there's nothing to be alarmed about. I am fine and Floyd is fine. Everything is fine.'

Rossi. 'He said he hit you. That you were sleeping.'

Reid. 'He was just kidding with you. He's not like that… he'd never hurt me.'

End of recording.