Windchimes.

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears: - John Vance Chene.

Floyd stood with Hotch and looked as the doors had the seals removed. He put a hand to his nose knowing full well what the smell was going to be like. There were hundreds of rotting corpses in that sealed up building in the heat and with the un-circulated air. SWAT were going in first. He was glad of that. He didn't want to be in line of fire for those mad men still inside, and somewhere deep inside he felt it would be fun to see the looks on their faces as they entered the tomb.

He was right about the smell. It hit them like a wall. Floyd knew what to expect. The others had no idea. They wouldn't even be able to begin to comprehend the carnage until they saw it, and then maybe replayed it through their brains. Flanders was a part of this. And he knew they would string him up for his part in it even if it was not his choice.

Flanders watched them recoil. He watched the hands fly to noses, and he watched someone chuck up. He raised an eyebrow. If they thought the smell was bad here, how would they react when they reached the cross roads with the fountain? He made a small grunt of amusement imagining SWAT's reactions but got a hard look from Agents Hotchner and Morgan. They didn't understand that the only way he was going to get through this was to laugh.

It escaped in a sort of snigger.

"What the hell is so amusing?" Morgan had grabbed his arm.

Floyd looked down at the hand but didn't touch it. "Let go of me."

"What are you laughing at you son of a bitch? You find this funny?" His face was right there in Floyds. He could feel Morgan's hot breath on his face.

He stared in Morgan's angry eyes. "It was a nervous escape of air. Now get your damned hands off me before I break your fingers."

Derek swung Floyd around so he was facing him properly and pulled his helm off. "What's going to happen when we go in there? He might trust you, but I sure as hell don't."

Flanders made a grab to get the helm out of Derek's hands. "What is it with everyone wanting me dead? What did I ever do to you except deliver a message from your agent?"

The helm was thrown to one side. "Move your ass Flanders. You first I think."

He walked slowly. He knew they would have no reason not to open fire when SWAT arrived. "I need the helm."

A slap around his hurting head. "You get nothing."

Flanders looked over at Hotch who was walking forwards into the gloom ahead.

"They will try to kill us all. You know that don't you? You saw what they have done. What they are capable of?"

Morgan grabbed his arm again and pulled him to face. "You – what you are capable of. Yes we saw – we saw what you did."

Flanders looked down at the hand. "You are touching me again. And you saw nothing. You didn't see it all. You only saw selected high-lights. You didn't see it. You just have no idea do you!" He pulled away from Morgan and started to follow Hotch.

………………….

He could feel hands on him again. Why can't they just leave him alone? Spencer could hear a panicked voice and something being held on his leg. He tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but the effort was too much. He lay on his back not able to resist as he felt his clothing being cut off him. He heard collective gasps. More than one person. Hotch?

"Hotch?" He moved his hands out to try to touch the person with him. He heard people talking to each other but couldn't work out in his confused mind what they were saying.

Spencer felt them remove his dirty bloodied cords and his blood encrusted shirt, and one part of his brain was telling him to wrap his arms around his chest and protect himself, and the other part of his brain needed it to be Hotch. His hands flailed in front of him again until finally he touched something. He was expecting a suit jacket or maybe a flak vest; but his brain wasn't processing information correctly anymore.

He grasped the clothing and knew this was Hotch. He had come to keep him company and lay with him while he struggled to keep breathing.

Spencer coughed - deep phlegmy hard cough and rolled over onto his side as his head span with lack of oxygen. He wanted to ask to be held but he had no energy left. There were no comforting words or hands. Just rough hard painful hands pulling and touching him.

……………….

Silence. No sudden firing of weapons. Just the heavy breathing of the men around him. Buzzing of flies. Moans and the splattering of hardened men emptying their stomachs.

Flashlights lit up the area like a crazy psychopaths laser light show. Hanging from ropes along the balconies and stairs where men in white hazmat suits swaying slowly in the slight breeze the open doors had created. If this was some sort of political message it was lost on Morgan who was now grabbing at Floyds arm again.

"Where did you leave him?"

Floyd's eyes were already looking in the direction they needed to go. "Touch me again and I will rip your face off." He walked off to where he had left Spencer to get beaten to death with a baseball bat.

He shone his flashlight at the ground where they had been laying together. Floyd crouched down and ran his fingers over the red smears left behind on the floor.

"What are you doing?" That Morgan's voice again.

Why can't he shut up? Why cant he just leave me be? Why does he have to ask such stupid questions? "He was here." And he stood up again. "He was here when they – well this is where it happened." And he noticed Hotch was standing looking at the mess on the floor too.

"Flanders, go with SWAT and show them who is who please. We will find Reid." Hotch shone his flashlight around.

He stood and looked over at SWAT who had detached the swinging terrorists and were looking down at the bodies. "I need to find Spence." He stood and looked at the direction the blood was leading them.

Morgan's voice again. "What is your great need to find him? Tell me what is going on or get over there out of my damned way."

Now Flanders was cross. He had been calm for a long time now, and his pissed off and angry barrier was now breached. "I need to find him and no it's not guilt. I don't feel bad about what I did because I did what I needed to do to stay alive at the time. I am sorry it was Spence it happened to, but there was nothing I could do to prevent it."

Morgan in his face again. "You could have said no."

"Yes you are right I could have said no. Silly me, why didn't I think of that at the time? I am a scientist, not a terrorist, not a trained marksman, not someone who has gone through FBI or SWAT training, I work in a lab. What do you think they would have done to me had I refused? They had gone beyond the point where I was of use. That's why they removed my protective suit. They didn't know I was immune and I wasn't about to let them know. Now can we go and find him?" he paused. "Oh and Morgan, don't touch me. I don't like being touched."

Hotch walked closer to Flanders. "It would help us if you could go and identify the people in hazmat. We need to know if the leader is amongst them. I don't want to take a civilian out there especially not knowing if there are more armed terrorists here."

"I'm coming with you." And he started to walk off following the blood trail down the passage way with Morgan running behind him. A hand on his shoulder.

"We don't need your help here. Go and do what you were asked to do."

Ignored. Flanders kept walking looking at the marks on the floor and seeing how they suddenly stopped. He stood and turned a circle.

……………….

In the back of his mind he could hear laughing and when he felt his lungs failing he tried to take a breath as a hand wrapped itself around his nose and mouth. His head was pulled back straining on his swollen throat preventing even the smallest amount of air from creeping down and he didn't struggle when he heard Hotch because now it was over and he lay and let it happen and listened to the wind chimes

……………….