Fractures

Jack Torrance once said: - Darling. Light, of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just gonna bash your brains in. I'm gonna bash 'em right the fuck in. Ha, ha.

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He woke up laying on his back staring at the white ceiling. He moved his fingers and curled and uncurled his toes just to make sure everything was alright. He seemed to be able to feel all that he should and so he lifted his hands up in front of his face. One hand looked normal. The other had taken damage. His thumb had a big dressing over it and looking now down his arms he could see lacerations and deep welts covering his skin. He moved his hands down to his chest. A scowl. Topless. His torso hurt. He could feel lumps and bruises covering his skin. He licked his lips and moved his hands further down. Thank god he had trousers of some type on. They felt like pyjama type trousers.

Slowly he pulled his knees up towards him and pressed the bottoms of his feet onto the floor and immediately regretted the action. Agony tore through him and caused a small sound of distress to escape dry lips. He thought at first it was some kind of weird echo, but then careful listening let him know that there was someone here with him. He could hear breathing. He rolled over onto his side and looked in the direction of the noise. A small frown. Someone was laying on his side with his back to him. He was curled up in a corner facing the wall.

Spencer managed to get up onto his hands and knees. Something was tugging at his ankle but he would look at that later.

He thought briefly of going over and seeing if his person was alright, but he didn't know who he was. Maybe retreating into his own corner would be a better idea.

He crawled backwards until his toes touched the wall behind him. A jolt of pain shot through his body. Why did everything hurt so much? Not taking his eyes off the person laying in the opposite corner he pulled himself up to sit. Even sitting was painful and as he rested his back against the white wall he realised that hurt too. He ran fingers over the big leather strap he could now see around his ankle. There was a row of small locks and one big padlock attached and a chair leading back to the wall he was now sitting against.

Spencer knew he had to keep his eye on the person in the corner and so pulled his white pyjamaed legs in close to himself and wrapped his arms protectively around them squeezing tightly.

Sleep would be good now, but he seemed to be in too much pain to sleep and he needed to watch this other person in the room with him. Was he chained as well? From this angle he couldn't see. Slowly with a small sigh he slid sideways and lay foetal on the floor. Gradually his eyelids slipped shut and as his mind slipped back from where it had come from he wondered – when he awoke again would he remember where he was? Or more to the point, would he remember who he was?

……………………

Floyd heard them drag someone into the room with him. He didn't turn to look he just lay where he had managed to creep to earlier. He wanted shadows but in this room there were non. Flanders was fighting the chemicals they had injected into him. Only a small while ago he had been laying on his back screaming in agony, but it was worth it. They weren't going to win this. He was stronger than them. They had no idea what they were dealing with here.

He listened to the soft whimperings and cries for them to stop and the begging to let him go. He listened to the crying and sobbing and protests and then there was silence. Still he didn't turn to see who it was. The pain still ripping through his body was still raw and the sound of blood thumping in his ears and the feeling that his heart would explode took away all reasoning. This person could stay as long as he kept quiet.

How much later he had no idea, he had started to be able to close down and heal as slowly the pain abated, but now he could hear movement and the occasional murmurings. Whoever this was had best shut up or he might have to get up and force him into silence and he really didn't want to do that. The whole point of this was to gauge his reactions to things – maybe (that was a guess Floyd, don't assume.) so he was going to maintain total control and not react the way they wanted him to. Putting a rabbit in the pen for him to slaughter wasn't going to work. Not right now anyway. Perhaps later when this bleeding pain was gone completely and he could think again.

Now the sounds of someone sleeping. The heavy breathing with the occasional hitch in his breath. Floyd frowned over in his corner and decided now was a good time to turn over and see who it was they wanted him to kill – it seemed like the logical reason they had put him here, after all he had attacked everyone else getting close to him

Slowly he turned and looked. The way the light was shining brightly down on him made his hair glow auburn and his skin shine white. The lacerations on his pale flesh stood out angrily. Floyd took a deep breath and reached out a hand, though he knew that he was too far away to touch. Is this who they wanted him to kill? Was that perfect throat the one they wanted to see him rip open. Well it wasn't going to work. His inner self would never do that. Not to this perfect person. Well perfect apart from the need to take drugs to drown out his pain and perfect except for the insecurities he carried around with him everywhere. Floyd knew he could hurt this person, but could never kill him. Not purposefully anyway. He lay and watched that beautiful face and that odd feeling twisted inside him.

"Spence Babe?" His voice came out as a juddering whisper.

…………………

Aaron and Morgan stood in the office.

Morgan had been shouting and pacing and Aaron for once let him. He wanted to join in the shouting too, but needed to stay in complete control.

"I still don't understand why you let him go." Aaron's monotone voice in contrast with Derek's verbal assault.

"We did advise he stayed here Agent Hotchner, but his next of kin insisted he was moved to a facility closer to his own neighbourhood. It is an excellent facility, Dr Reid will be cared for just as well at St Augustines."

Derek approached the desk and slammed a fist down. It made Aaron jump slightly and caused the man the other side of the desk to stand. "But he isn't at St Augustines!" Morgan shouted. "How many times do we have to say the same thing?"

"I won't be talked to in this manner in my own office Agent Morgan. I don't care who you are. You cannot intimidate me." They doctor was staying in control.

"Morgan just sit down for a while." It wasn't a request from his boss, it was an order. Derek threw himself down into a chair and rubbed his hands over the back of his neck.

"He is right though doctor Culver. Dr Reid never arrived at his destination." Again his voice staying in control of the mad scream going on in his head.

"Well I am surely sorry about that, but he ceased to be our responsibility as soon as the release papers were signed. The papers I believe you have taken for analysis. May I suggest that you focus your energy there?" Looking at Morgan now.

A sigh. "Dr Culver." It was getting harder to stay in control now. "Do you remember enough to be able to give a description to our sketch artist?"

A nod. "I think I can do that, so long as it doesn't take up my clinic time or is during my rounds and I have a lecture to attend."

Derek was standing again. "Well we will try to fit it in around your very important duties, but I think a missing – abducted sick and badly injured young man is slightly more important than your damned lectures!" He had started in a low calm voice and finished off desk thumpingly mad. Derek looked at Hotch who gave a small nod towards the door and Morgan left the room.

"Just because I am not shouting doesn't mean I don't want to reach over the desk and show you how angry I am." Hotch got up and followed Morgan. He turned as he left the room. "I will send over a sketch artist. Make sure you are available please."

Alex:- What we were after now was the old surprise visit. That was a real kick and good for laughs and lashings of the old ultraviolence.