Watched

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He woke up in bed. How he got there he had no idea. He was in boxers and a vest; the covers were pulled up around his back. He lay on his front thinking. He was at home. Had it all be a terrible nightmare? He could smell stale sweat on himself. He really could do with a shower. The smell of coffee was making his nose twitch. Rolling over and across he moved to sit on side of the bed. Thumping awful pain in his head. Moving a hand up to his temples for a quick rub. His eyes locked on the marks on his arms. Needle marks? He moved his arm down again and looked carefully and run his finger slowly over the puncture marks. Where the hell had they come from?

Footsteps outside the door. Floyd! A knock on the door. Floyd wouldn't knock. On slightly wobbly legs he got up and opened the door. Mrs Gorden? He slammed the door again and grabbed his robe off the back of the door. He slowly opened the door again.

"Dr Franks, nice to see you awake. You had flu. You r- erm - Mr Franks asked me to keep an eye on you." His eyes shot to the floor.

"Oh right. He's not here?" Hands twisting

"Oh no Dr Franks, I haven't seen him as such. I got a phone call and went to pick you up, and brought you home."

"Oh right. Coffee?"

"Yes dear. And a lot of people wanting to talk to you and this." She handed him a letter. "Mr Franks asked me to give this to you as soon as you wake up."

He took it, and old habits made him put it to his face and inhale. "Thank you Mrs Gordon. I need to shower and get dressed."

"Yes. I will make you some eggs."

"Oh no – no – its ok. Coffee will be great." He went back into his room and sat on the bed looking at Floyd's hand writing on the envelope. Carefully he opened it, and pulled out the letter.

Spencer,

I won't be far. I am never far. Keep the shop running. Keep safe. Keep to the rules. Stay out of the cellar.

Floyd.

He was gone again. Abandoned again. A single wet drop landed on the paper. He screwed it up in his fist. Angry. Why did he keep running away? Why couldn't he just stay with him? He needed him! Reid changed his mind about the shower and grabbed some random clothes from the cupboard and pulled them on over his boxers and vest. He really couldn't be bothered to do anything else right now. He walked down stairs and into the kitchen. Mrs Gordon had poured the coffee and placed it next to a pot of sugar. He looked at both and poured sugar from the bowl into his mug and stirred it lazily.

"Dr Franks."

He made a small nod.

"Mr Franks was very insistent. I am to make sure you take one of these everyday." And she put a blue capsule on the table.

"I really don't need that." He glanced at it out of the corner of his eyes.

"He said you would say that and I was to tell you that he knows best."

A big sigh and snatching up the capsule and swallowing it down with a gulp of much too hot coffee. "I am going to open the shop. Thank you Mrs Gordon you may leave now." He started to walk away towards the back of the shop.

"Dr Franks, I am across the road if you need me. I will be back later."

He nodded and walked off through the door. Mrs Gordon would have considered this man very rude if she didn't know he was a bit funny in the head. Some kind of mental disease they were saying, though how someone who was not right up top could run a shop was beyond her.

Spencer walked to the door and flicked the lock and pulled the blinds up. He pulled the door open to let in some fresh air. The store had been closed for a while. It was good to be home, but he needed Floyd here too.

He went back to the kitchen and grabbed his coffee….added more sugar to it and returned to the shop. Customer. OK. Rules. Remember the rules.

Carefully. A bit too carefully, his hands were trembling. He picked up his glasses and put them on and took a deep breath. "Can I help you?" Avoid looking at the customer.

"Dr Reid?" He was sure his heart just stopped. The trembling got worse.

"Franks." Clenching his fists and grinding teeth. Not a good start – no not good. Nothing good here. Don't panic.

"We need to talk to you about Mr Flanders." He was going to be sick.

"Wh wh wh do'y need tknow" Great cant talk now. He glanced over to who was in the shop. Three suits. The door had been closed and he watched one of the men flip the lock. "Erm – don't l l l lock the d d door."

"Don't tell us what to do you little shit!" shouting in his face. He stepped back, his heart pounding. Remember the rules. Remember you are – were a profiler. You know they are trying to intimidate you. Stay calm.

"Ok ok – I I I d d don't know if I c c can help you." He did good. Well done Spence.

"Can you look at us when we talk to you?" Another voice.

"Oh." Shaking his head. "Rather not. What was it you needed to know?" That's brilliant Spencer !

They were stepping closer. Into his space. Backing further away.

"Stand still. And tell us now where Flanders is."

Now he was swaying, and really was going to be sick. "I don't know." Hand to mouth, and face to trash can under counter. Violently sick. Coming out of his nose, it exited his body with such a need. Bile and coffee. Holding onto the counter with one hand to stop himself falling over.

Someone grabbed a chair and pulled him over to sit and something being waved under his nose. He squinted at it. Pictures. Pictures of mutilated bodies. He had seen worse. That didn't freak him out. He looked at them. Nasty.

"He did this." They told him and flapped them around some more.

"No – no he wouldn't do that." Yes he would – you know he would. "I am sorry. I can't help you. I have no idea where he is." Hands twisting and twisting.

Hands on his shirt and pulling him to his feet again. "How do you contact him?" Avoiding eye contact. Being shaken and shouted at.

"I I I had flu. I haven't seen him. I haven't contacted him." Trying to twist away from this man.

"You haven't had flu! You are a certified Section eight nut job."

Puzzled look. "Medical discharges for psychological – psychiatric reasons are now covered by a number of regulations. In the Army such discharges are handled under the provisions of Army Regulation (AR) six three five – two zero zero, Active Duty Enlisted Administrative Separations. Chapter five, paragraph thirteen governs the separation of personnel medically diagnosed with a personality disorder. The practice of discharging homosexual service members under Section eight ceased after the 'don't ask don't tell' policy went into effect during the Clinton administration……………." A slap across the face stopped him mid stream.

"Shut up." Hand under Reid's chin pulled his face up in line with whoever this suit was. His face so close Reid could feel the moisture from his words on his face. His hand came up to wipe his face but he was grabbed by the wrist by suit number two.

"Don't even think about it." And his hand was pulled down and wrist bent back.

Suddenly a voice from the back room. "I think you need to let go of him now." Familiar voice. Where from?

"Who the hell are you?" Suit pushing Spencer to one side, where he smacked against a bookshelf and slid gracefully to the floor.

"A friend. Now remove your bounty hunting asses from Mr Franks shop now."

Reid watched as one of the men unlocked the door and pulled it open roughly. They filed out of the shop, and Mrs Gordon walked in with a worried look on her face.

Hands lifting Spencer up off the floor and manoeuvring him to the chair again. "You are a bloody mess boy." That familiar voice again. "Your friend sent me to give you a hand with your book shop here. Said you might need help lifting and crap."

Mrs Gordon walked over to see if any damage had been done to her temporary ward and she looked over at the new arrival.

"How nice to see you again Mr Mahoney. Mr Franks said you would be here today."

A/N sorry for any stupid errors...it was real late and I had to post !!!