Chapter 2

Missing

The excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather than in its value: -Charles Dudley Warner

A/N: very slight inferred noncon/slash

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

A child had been taken.

A vile crime. Taken for money they assumed.

The family who had come from money. Wealth on both sides – were clumsy with their offspring. The mother an artist and the father who would spend his time watching old black and white movies. Mostly silent ones on an old projector. Gideon would have appreciated this passion more than Hotch did. The child though – a strange little boy with hair too long and a smile always on his face was left to roam the vast halls of the unique castle like home he lived in.

And then one day Sam was gone. The nanny came to find her in her studio, which was in fact a big glass roofed room at the top of their home and announced in her stiff British accent.

"I can't find Sam. I've looked everywhere."

Mrs Trent-Saviour looked over her shoulder at nanny Lopez. "Well look again. He never goes far."

"Ma'm – it's been all day. I can't find him. He would have come down for lunch. He never misses his lunch."

Mrs Trent-Saviour put down her brush and wiped her hands on the front of her artists overall. "All day? And you are telling me now at – what the hell time is it?"

"It's nine in the evening Ma'm."

"And does my husband know that you have mislaid the heir to our fortune?"

Nanny Lopez swallowed and slowly shook her head. "He still has do not disturb on the door ma'm."

"I'll give him do not disturb!" She pulled off her overall to reveal a long net and lace red party dress underneath with a pair of Wellington boots.

The police were called.

They requested the help from the FBI when a ransom note appeared.

'we have Sam'

Written in the child's handwriting. The 'S' was back to front.

Sam was ten.

-o-o-o-

Reid stood looking down at the bit of paper inside the evidence bag. "I have compared this with other handwriting of his and it is the same. I was bothered at first at the er – the depth – the – pressure – the pressure he had used on the pencil." Reid put the note down and scratched his chin. "but looking at his other writing it seems normal for him. He always mirrors his 'S'. Very immature for a child of ten. Almost as though he is writing with the wrong leading hand. But yes, this is his handwriting."

Morgan wanted to know how the message had been delivered.

Hotch sighed and put another plastic evidence bag on the table…It held a screwed up and partially burnt envelope. "The father threw it away before he had read the contents. As far as can be ascertained there are no fingerprints and it was self sealing. Nothing there at all. It's been printed from a basic ink jet printer which can be found in almost any home in the State. The post mark was destroyed."

"And this child has had no formal education? Can he use a computer? Do we know if he has a printer available to him?"

Prentiss spoke to Reid without looking a him. "What are you suggesting? That this is the boy's doing?"

"A very intelligent child with no formal up education – left to run wild in his home – massive as it is – It was just a thought." He slipped his hands into the pocket of his brown cords hoping to hide the sudden shaking he could feel working it's way through his body. He bit down on his bottom lip and concentrated trying to remove it….push it back. "If you will excuse me." He muttered and pulling hands back out of his pockets he wrapped his arms tightly around him and left the conference room almost at a run.

That was ok.

He did that sometimes. A bit too often for Hotch's liking and a bit too often for Rossi's. The two man glanced at each other but neither said anything. As long as Reid could keep himself together that was all they needed. No miracles expected here.

-o-o-o-

He stood in the men's room and leaned on the cold tiles. He could feel the cold through his light brown patterned shirt. He put his hands out in front of him and watched the shaking. A furrowed his brow concentrating on them. Trying to force them to stop this stupid behaviour. He was sure that the others – that lot – the people who used to be his friends and now won't even look at him – he was sure they thought it was drug related. Maybe it was – maybe that was what was happening here, but how was it he was getting the bad symptoms and not the wonderful rush – or – hey even the death – he was looking for. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm and then placed his hands on the tiles behind him. Palms first – and tried to stop this feeling. He could feel his heart beating too fast and his breathing coming in short and sharp. He could feel a band of pressure around his brain squeezing tightly.

Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes and stood with his feet together and wanted to scream. Although he never seemed to need to sleep there was a deep down right in the pit of his soul tiredness and it was this which he needed respite from. It made his eyes water and his knees shake. He wanted to curl up and lay in the shadows of a cubicle and just close his eyes and be nothing.

It was Morgan who came in to look for him. Someone always did in the end. They couldn't just leave him.

"You OK there kiddo?"

He could only just hear Morgan's voice over the thumping of his own heart and the ragged breathing. He tried to nod, but it didn't quite work.

"Anything I can get you? Sit – sit down you look like you're gonna pass out." He put a supportive hand on Reid's arm. "Let me help you Reid. You don't have to go through this alone."

He kept his eyes closed as he talked. Reid didn't think he could open them without giving away some secret from deep inside of him. His soul – his damaged soul – or see how fast his heart was beating in his chest. "Go through what Morgan? You have no idea what I am going through." But he allowed the hand to guide him until he was sitting on the floor. He could feel the wonderful cooling of the floor tiles through his cords. He wanted to take off his shoes and socks and let his feet suck up this comfort, because he knew it wouldn't last long – but he had marks on his feet. He couldn't let Morgan see that. Not yet another batch of tests and questions and more tests.

"If you would confide in me. It will go no further than me – Reid – you are like a kid brother to me and this is hurting me too."

"And the moment I say something – something – that you consider – well – that you don't like you will report me? You will tell Hotch or Rossi." He opened his eyes and gave Morgan the briefest of glances before looking away again. He hoped Derek caught the pain in his eyes. He hoped he did because that was all he was able to give him.

Morgan shuffled his position so that he was sitting on the floor next to Reid rather than in front of him. He placed an arm around the younger man's shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer and give him some comfort but Spencer was resistant. He allowed the contact, but that was all. "It's that bad? What you have racing around in your mind right now is so bad you can't tell me?"

And all Spencer wanted right now was to stick a needle in his vein and hear the skin break and watch as he slowly destroyed himself, even if he couldn't feel it. Even if he got no pleasure from it.

"It's not that I can't tell you. It's that I don't want to. You know – kinda private." And now he pulled away from Morgan's attempt at comfort. It felt suffocating and uncomfortable. He pulled his knees up wrapped his arms around his legs. "I will be alright. Just give me a minute."

"Are you still seeing a counsellor?"

"I have talked until my mouth bled. There is nothing more to say."

"Reid…………"

He cut him off. "and now you want to give me a headache? Can't you just leave me alone?"

"I can partially understand what you are going through."

Spencer suddenly stood up. He was still shaking but now he didn't care if Morgan saw. "Partially understand? What part do you understand Derek? Because unless I am being very stupid I don't think you have the first idea of what is going on in my head."

Morgan quickly got to his feet too. "Hey hey whoah there….don't take it out on me. I'm trying to help you."

"I never asked for your help! Leave me. Now – leave me now." And he meant it. He had an over powering need to hit this man who though he knew what it was like. Because he had been abused as a child he thought he knew how he felt.

"You're pathetic!" Reid suddenly screamed at him. "I don't want you near me – and I don't want you touching me!" Morgan was backing off with his hands raised calmly in front of him.

"I won't touch you. What the hell is this all about though."

"You! You and them – probing and watching and waiting for me to make a mistake. Well there! Are you happy?!"

The door behind Derek swung open and in marched the cavalry. Though whose colours they were wearing wasn't obvious.

Rossi asked Derek to leave and he did – though reluctantly. Hotch waited until the door was shut again and just stood watching Reid who was pacing in a small circle.

"We could hear you shouting out in the bullpen."

"Yes – well he was in my face."

"This is difficult case Reid. If I can't have your full attention on it I would rather you went home and thought about what the hell is going on with you."

Spencer stopped pacing and looked at Hotch and then at Rossi. "Fine. See you later then." He put a hand on Hotch's shoulder to push him out of the way. A hand was placed over his.

"Reid….."

"No…I don't want to talk about it because you wouldn't understand. That's the end of it. Please don't ask me again and please – don't touch me."

-o-o-o-

And this was why he was at home during the day. Again pacing the room wondering what to do. Ardal would be out whoring, he would be no good and he couldn't risk going somewhere else. He had to wait.

He tried to read but his eyes wouldn't stay on the page. He turned on the computer but the gentle hum of the fan sounded like a helicopter living behind his forehead.

So he was standing motionless in the middle of the apartment when the buzzer went from downstairs.

"Now what?" He was almost at a run to get to the buzzer. Just so that they didn't make that noise again….that noise which shot through his head.

"What?" He snapped.

"It's Garcia. I have some ice cream for you."

In the name of everything cursable – ice cream? He pressed the buzzer. However annoying this interruption was he always found turning Garcia away difficult. He leaned on the door and waited for her two knocks. Always two.

Spencer could feel that hot sweaty shaking feeling coming on again as the knocks sounded. He couldn't let her in. Her voice would kill him. He colours would kill him! He could see familiar swirling colours out of the corners of his eyes which he tried to ignore as his sweaty finger slid over the door lock and then he tried again.

He opened it with the off but not enough room for her to come in.

"Spencer." She could see there was something very wrong. "Is this a bad time?" She understood. She could see.

He nodded slowly.

"You can always just tell me know when I hit the buzzer. You can't offend me." She handed him a bag with ice cream. "If you ever need anything…"

He wanted to nod but he couldn't. It would have turned his brain to mush if he moved it like that. He waited until she turned her back again before he closed the door and dropped the bag on the floor. He stood for less than a minute when again the two knocks. She was back…A message. A lecture. He didn't know what, but she knew he was here so no point in ignoring it.

With a sigh he turned and pulled open the door.

It wasn't who he expected.

"I need to talk to you."

Reid's eyes went big at the sight of Floyd standing there. "I have nothing to say."

"Good. Let me in and shut up so I can talk." Floyd was leaning heavily on the door preventing Spencer from closing it again.

"Get away from the door Floyd. I don't want you in here."

But he found him self slowly moving back and letting the man he never wanted to see again into his apartment. He stood and watched Floyd slam the door and lock it before turning to him.

"I need to explain something to you."

Spencer started to back away. Floyd had a strange look in his eyes. He didn't like what he was seeing. "What do you want."

"Smoke. I need a smoke."

"You didn't come here for a smoke." Spencer watched with curiosity as Floyd still standing by the door pulled out a smoke and then his thin silver lighter. He lit up and inhaled and then smiled at Reid.

"You might want to sit down Spence. I don't know how long this is going to take." Floyd was still leaning on the door.

"Can I get you a coffee? Anything else?" A step towards the kitchen.

"No babes….don't worry – Spence this is serious I need to talk…"

"You said – but you haven't said anything yet. Are you going to stand there or come in?"

Floyd looked down towards the lounge and did an almost half smile. "I'm fine here Spence. I need it back babes. I'm sorry."

Reid frowned. "Need what back?" He watched the hot ash fall onto his floor and remembered the time Floyd had scrubbed it until his hands were bleeding.

"I think you are well aware of what I am talking about. I'm crippled Spence. I'm not healing. I need it back. I need to be able to heal. I need to get rid of this continual pain. I need to be able to be me again. This isn't me." Indicating him self. "I can't keep on like this babes. I'm sorry. I thought you know – being able to top myself would be good – would be a relief, but I still can't do it. A demonic trap Spence. Can't die with – and can't die without."

Spencer turned his back on Floyd and walked to the lounge. He sat on his favourite squishy leather chair and looked at nothing.

Slowly and painfully Floyd followed. He flopped down into Reid's couch and leaned forwards resting his hands on his knees. "I will take it back in bits. I don't expect you to have to cope with it's sudden loss."

"Shut up Floyd – just shut up. I'm thinking." Spencer closed his eyes and tipped his head back and took a deep breath. "You have messed with me too many times Floyd. Why should I trust you?"

"Because you have no choice. I will take it one way or the other. But I need to explain some things first."

"Explain some things. Listen to me Floyd. You drugged me. You raped me and then you rejected me. And now you come here and say you want to take back this 'thing'?"

"Yep – that's about it, but I need to explain first because it will have consequences. You cut – you take drugs – you have unprotected sex – you put yourself in dangerous situations."

Reid just stared at him.

"You see if I take it back again you will feel those drugs Spence and they will be in your system, and drugs tests will pick them up. You will stop metabolising them. You will be able to catch diseases off the whore you fuck and those dangerous situations babes…will be dangerous."

"So why don't you just take it from me Floyd. Why have you come here to tell me all this. You don't care for me. You never have cared for me, so why this act, this little game. What are you after?"

Floyd lit up again ignoring the face Reid pulled at him over it. "Babes – if I rip it straight from you it will hurt. It will give you seizures. You might even die of the sudden shock. I don't want to do that to you. I want to take it back slowly. Look at me. I need to heal."

Reid stood up. "So you are threatening me. Give back this whatever it is in bits or you will hurt me?"

"That's not really what I meant." A deep drag and watching Reid pacing the floor.

"Take it then – take it in bits – what's stopping you."

"Well babes – basically – to put it bluntly – you are."

Spencer spun on him. "Stop calling me babes – how am I stopping you?"

"I need to have you to take it back in bits you see – and you uh – look disinclined to let me fuck your brains out tonight."

"How right you are there Floyd. I am very disinclined. You stink. You revolt me. I thought I had gone over this with you already."

Floyd stood up. "You know something Spencer. I don't much like you with this attitude. I would rather have Ardal. At least he has manners."

It was all Floyd needed. Spencer was on him with speed, but no so much that Floyd wasn't ready for him. The quick grab and smack with his head on Spencer's nose had him sliding to the ground before he could even think about smacking Floyd.

"I'm sorry babes. I wanted you to want me. I wanted you to let me do this, but hey….looks like I'm going to have to do it like this. Not the first time and believe me – it wont be the last."

He was gentle.

He really didn't want to hurt him anymore than he had to – and he had to a little bit. He couldn't avoid biting into that soft skin. He had missed it so much it made his mouth water.

Floyd licked away the blood on Reid's face and ran his tongue over his still lips – though even in his unconscious state he was responding in many ways which was going to make this far more pleasurable for Floyd than it would Reid.

It took a while. Slipping bit by bit away from him. He watched carefully for signs of shock of withdrawals, but there was nothing. Spencer just lay there. Even when he was awake he just lay there and let Floyd take it all back again.

He watched the pain behind Reid's eyes and the realisation that Floyd was actually freeing him.

"I'm sorry." Spencer muttered and ran fingers through Floyd's hair.

"It's OK babes. We can all fuck up sometimes."

And he lay there responding happily to what Floyd was offering in exchange and planned how he was going to kill himself.