Deals

A/N: SMALL SLASH ALERT, BUT ONLY SMALL.


It had been decided a while ago.

They had already been chosen.

The whole process went strangely smoothly for all involved and now they stood hand in hand looking down at the tiny baby awaiting its new home.

A normal couple.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

In fact they were noticeable by their lack of anything interesting about them. He slightly taller than she. She with long brown hair in a ponytail. He with respectable short dark hair. She in a nice pale pink skirt and sweater. He in beige pants and a pale yellow shirt. They clutched each other's hands as they looked down at the one thing they had both dreamed of. The perfect baby.

'You know all this time we have waited and I knew all along what I would call our baby girl.' She looked lovingly down at the tiny thing sleeping the in the crib. 'But she just doesn't look like a Fiona.'

He looked at his beloved wife and shook his head. 'No she doesn't.'

A sigh.

The new mother took her free hand and stroked the back of the tiny pink hand. 'I don't know Tony.' She addressed her husband, 'but does she look more like a "Rosa" to you?'

'Such a pretty name.' He responds.

And there it was. Signed sealed and delivered. Baby Rosa Franks had her new mummy and daddy.

-o-o-o-

He follows me everywhere I go. It's like some kind of other hell I've been dropped into.

In class he is outside standing against the wall. He waits. On the occasions I have not been the perfect student he has entered the room and dragged me out by the scruff of my neck and given me a long and tedious lecture in a "special room" he has been give for the purpose of "educating" me on how to behave. It's a small room I think was a large cupboard. No windows. Two chairs. Something to make coffee on and a large hook on the wall which more than once he has suspended me from while he talks to me about manners.

I still get looks from the other kids but they are different sorts of looks now. They are "stay away from Sam" looks and I am less than happy. My drugs supply ran out immediately and no amount of my kicking and swearing at this monster would change his mind. My head is screaming out for something. I'm not sure what it is, but I fidget and wriggle constantly. My hands are always in the wrong damned place it seems. My fingers were so bruised I could hardly hold the freaking pen to do the work he was demanding I did. Demands, constant demands and they don't see it, they don't see that the first opportunity I get I'll be gone. I just need that chance. I need to get this bastard off my back.

I set off the fire alarms. My thinking was that I'd get away in the crowd, but he just plucked me from the hordes and dragged me to the room and hung me from the hook while I screamed and flailed and he made coffee and ate cookies and said repeatedly.

'Shut up little boy.'

And it made me shout even louder.

Now there is this thing attached to my ankle. He put it there. He fucking sat on me and put it there in the middle of the damned Math class. The bastard. I am tagged and everyone knows.

Lunch.

He leaves me alone. He goes someplace else but I know somehow he is watching. So here I am now. I have my tray and on it is a splodge of something which might be food, I've not checked it yet and a carton of chocolate milk. Oh let us not forget the little pot of green jello. I'm alone. No one will associate with the kid with the demon minder, so when Jarvis sits down the other side of the table and one of his little henchies sits either side of me I look up and just give him a questioning glance.

'Thought I might have something you'd like.' He says without moving his mouth. I look back up at him and frown. I don't want Johnson rushing in and squishing my face in my food again so I'm playing a game of caution here and don't answer. He lifts his carton of milk off the tray and resting under it is a small pack of something. I look at it and then back up at him.

'What do you want?'

'Rumour has it that you have a good mouth.'

And the carton goes back down on the pack.

Now there is a hand on my knee and another on the small of my back.

'That may be true, but you know my situation isn't exactly normal right now.' I tell him and give the doorway a quick look.

'He's in the principles office.' Jarvis tells me and the hand on my knee tightens then moves to my groin and starts rubbing at me and the hand on my back begins to push me forward.

'Get under the table.' The voice to the right.

'You have five minutes or you lose.' The voice to the left and a sharp push with his hand.

'You have no conception of the trouble I will be in if I get caught.' I move against the hand touching me.

He flashes the glorious white powder at me again and it was all it took. I am under the damned table and pulling at Jarvis' clothing before I even have time to think of the consequences or even when I will get the chance to use the stuff, or even how I will hide it from Johnson. But Jarvis is fucking my mouth and all other thoughts are well and truly gone from my head. I don't know how long I am there for, only a few minutes I suspect. He was pretty desperate. Just as I am about to pull back he is gone and in place of what was there is a boot. A big Jarvis sized boot and the kick is hard enough to knock me back so my head smacks on the bench seat behind me. Somewhere I hear laughing and I can feel the feet of other people joining in. My face is usually kept pretty much clear of Johnson's fists now. They have to be careful I have a neck injury. These kicks though, they seem to be aimed at my face and lower regions.

Everything started off and finished with equal suddenness. One second it feels like fifty pairs of feet are kicking me and the next it is just one voice.

'Where's your nigger when you need him.'

And one last boot to my face and he is gone.

The whole damned school must've seen that. Everyone must know what just happened and there is no way in freaking hell I am going to go back to any damned class in this school now. I think my balls are crushed and there is blood dripping from various places on my face. Slowly and remember I am under the table in the lunch hall, very slowly I roll onto my side and then not so slowly I vomit food and blood and something else over the green and yellow tiled floor. I stay there. Not through choice but because it is around then that darkness crawls across my vision and I sort of pass out lying there in my own puke.

Not sure of the time scale here cos I was still in that dark place when someone finally pulled me out and took me to the first aid room. It must have been a while though because when I next open my eyes and look around me it's not Johnson who is there it's Aaron. He doesn't look concerned that his ward had the shit kicked out of him, like you'd think he would, no, he just looks very pissed off with me.

'Ah shit.' I manage to say. I know without even asking him that I'm in deep fucking trouble now, but how much more than I'm already in, if that makes sense, can a boy be in? I've done everything and been punished for everything, where to go now?

'Why do you continue to mess up.' He says to me. 'You had twenty clear minutes to be trusted in and you tried to give oral sex to a class mate. I just want the best for you Sam, I don't want to see you forever in trouble. I don't want to see you turning out like your father, but I really wonder if there is any hope left for you. Why did you do it?'

I blink though what feels like a broken face at Aaron but I don't say anything.

'I've given you so many chances. This I am afraid was your last one.'

I frown at him.

'They wont have you back here again. Jarvis is down at the police station saying you molested him.'

'Right.' I say. He thinks he knows what happened. Cant argue with Aaron when he is in this frame of mind.

'I've arranged for you to go somewhere else. Johnson will be accompanying you.'

I frown at him again. 'A different school?' Damnit my lips hurt. I put my hand to my face to feel the damage, but Hotchner's hand pulls it away again.

'Don't touch. They need to put stitches in and yes, a different school, sort of. Sam I don't want you in my home any more.'

Why the fuck do those words hurt so much? 'You're kicking me out?' I really don't believe he would do that. Hell we have a bond! We are bonded he and I, he can't just get rid of me! 'You cant!' I'm pissed off and the sudden shout brings on a coughing fit which makes every part of my body hurt and my nuts scream. I move to my side and chuck up stuff I missed earlier.

'No I'm not kicking you out Sam, you did that yourself. I'll be your ward, I'll make sure you stop this behaviour. I'm sending you to Boot Camp.'

No…fucking hell no. Shit on a stick…he wouldn't do that. He just wouldn't. I know he wouldn't…and these are the only words going through my mind as they move me and clean me up and put butterfly clips and shit on my face.

-o-o-o-

I did, very stupidly think for a short while that we were getting through to Sam. He could sit and eat a meal at the table now and use utensils, even if a bit clumsily, but it meant both hands are occupied. This seems to the be the best way to get him out of the habit of having one hand constantly on his groin. It was after his third attempt to escape from Johnson that we decided to tag him. I wasn't sure it would work, but he's not set off any fire alarms since. It seemed that his behaviour at school had calmed down too now that Agent Johnson was there constantly. I don't know what tricks the man is using on him, but I am very aware of the occasional flinches Sam gives if the Agent moves too suddenly or too closely. Sam's not complained to me and I am sure he would. Sam complains about everything. If there is something to moan about he will do it. It is an almost constant barrage of complaints about one thing or the next. The food, the smell of the washing powder, the way morning light reflects off the walls, the temperature, the shampoo, the television shows. Anything and everything possible. He spends time now in the evening watching shows which I don't want to see but I watch just to show Sam I am on his side on some things. I let him smoke in the house. There didn't seem to be an option, he would do it anyway, so I have an extractor running constantly and a bowl of scented stones to try to disguise the vile smell. He drinks too. Not often and not much, but I let that go too now. All the time there is a feeling of control from him I am happy. This latest stunt though, it's not surprised me so much as disappointed me. I really don't know what he thought he was playing at, but the school wont have him back now. This was the final act and though it looks like the other students already punished him for what he did I have to show him that this sort of thing just doesn't happen. Boot Camp wasn't my first choice. I've been calling around places for a while now so I would be prepared for when things go wrong again, because though it looked like it was going so well, I know who he is. I know what he is and I have a responsibility for him.

Now I am sitting in the school first aid room and he looks beaten down. He looks small and pathetic and maybe more than a bit worried, but I'm not letting this go.

'I didn't start it.'

He suddenly says to me.

'There were a lot of witnesses Sam. They are all telling the same story.'

'I see. So you take their word against mine. He offered me some blow if I sucked him off.'

'And we have not talked about that sort of thing Sam? Have we not had long discussions about how you can't do that? Did you not agree with me that it isn't what you should be doing?'

'You weren't there! You didn't see them. They were all over me Aaron. Touching me. Pushing me. It's not that easy and anyway I cant do Boot Camp cos of my neck.'

'I'm sure they will go easy on them Sam. You just need to do as you are told.' But I know and hope it wont be easy. I hope this will finally force him to realise what he needs to do. I cant deal with everything on my own. My work, Sam, Flanders and obviously we are still looking for Reid. He took my car nearly three weeks ago, and I am having to juggle all of this and not forget Jack.

It is while I am sitting here thinking all of this and hearing Sam's voice moan in the background about how they touched him…teased him…offered him something in return, that my phone vibrates in my pocket and when I take the call it is the one to tell me that Flanders is awake.

'Sam, I have to go.' I stand up and walk over to him and take his hand. I don't know what it is, some kind of weird love maybe, but there is something binding me to the boy.

'I'll see you later then?'

And the doubt and panic is on his face again.

'Johnson will take you straight to where you are going.'

'But we have pizza tonight! Aaron!'

I drop his hand and move from the room quickly. I'm not sure. Have I failed, or am I still battling with him. I will soon find out I suppose. I just know he's not going to enjoy his new home.

-o-o-o-

I've got a jacket now, which is good, and I've taken up smoking, which is not so good, but keeps me occupied. I spend a lot of daylight hours sleeping. It's a strange arrangement we have. None of them trustworthy in any manner. Most of them probably diseased ridden, but it's still an arrangement. By day we hunt, or stand around waiting to be hunted and during the day we go to the dirty basement room at the back of the warehouses and curl up together preserving warmth. I know not one of these guys will steal from me. I know not one of them will harm me. I know that when someone does hurt one of us there is hell to pay. It's a strange comfort but they sort I am used to really. The fake Reid, the one who was in the FBI I don't think he ever really existed. Not really. Not as a real person.

Yet

Some nights when I am sitting in a car with a stranger and he is handing me some cash for a job done I think maybe this is the fake and the real Reid is still back there in my apartment catching the UnSub and being watched over by his comrades. Always watched over. Always protected until now, except I'm still watched over and protected even by the kids. There is just something about me which seems to shout out to people to keep an eye on me. Sometimes a car will pull up and I'll walk to it and Tommy or Si will run over and push me to the side and tell the guy to drive on.

'Not safe with him Kid.' They will tell me. 'He just wants someone to beat up on.'

They call me Kid. I've never told them my name. They have never asked. Even though I'm sure I am the oldest here, they still call me Kid.

Not sure what to make of that.

Another black car. Another slightly over weight greying guy. There seems to be an endless supply of them. Which is fine. They are keeping me fed and watered. And in smokes.

I take a deep drag and drop it to the floor and walk over to the car. The window slides open and a few words later I am in the car.