FFF

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Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.


Visualise this.

Small run down dirty motel at the edges of a small dirty run down town.

Imagine the southern accents and the blokes with the sunburned necks driving pickups full of dead things they went hunting for.

See the big Harley pulled up in a parking lot out of sight of the road and hear night insects.

Inside one of the motels room Spencer lay foetal on a bed. His face white and sweaty, his hands shaking, and his breath coming in big sobbing gulps. He was stripped to his dirty bloody splattered cords. One leg was curled up tightly to his chest and the other lay straight and bloodied. His bare feet were dirty, and along his spine he had the what remained of old bruises, now a yellowish green colour, or maybe that was just the poor smoke filled light. He had his hands tucked up tightly under his chin and occasionally he would let out a small keening sound.

Wounded animals all sound the same.

On the other side of the bed, propped up on a pillow and staring out into nothingness was Floyd. He had a tumbler of an amber fluid in one hand and a smoke in the other. A pile of butts were on a small plate which in turn was on the little table next to the bed. Floyd didn't mind when the ash fell. He would just lazily blow it away.

He tipped the rest of the drink down his throat and turned to look at Spencer's back. He put a finger on the nape of his neck and felt him flinch away.

"Spence, don't be like this. How long are you going to ignore me for?"

No answer.

"You know why I can't give you the pain killers babes. They are addictive. I don't want you getting hooked on them like you did that other crap."

Still no answer.

"Do you want me to take you to the hospital? I will if you need. If you think you need, but I can fix it myself if you let me look at it."

"Leave – me – a a alone."

"Just let me look at it." Floyd moved down the bed to look at the mess he had made yet felt no guilt over. "Looks painful Spence, I need to get it stitched."

Flanders got off the bed and moved over to a bag sitting just inside the door. He pulled out a small black zipped up bag and walked down to the end of the bed.

"Roll over onto your back. I need to get good look at it."

"Don't touch m m me." His voice was not much more than a whispered sob.

He left the bag at the foot of the bed and crawled back up the bed so he was laying behind Spencer. He put his arms around him and put his hands over the hands curled up under his chin. "Babes come on. Don't shut me out like this." He slowly moved a hand over to the shoulder Spencer was laying on and gripped it tightly. "On your back. I need to look at your leg."

Spencer didn't resist being man handled by Floyd. There seemed little point now. He kept his good leg bent. Right now the thought of even trying to move his other leg was not on the cards.

Floyd looked at the mess. He opened his bag and pulled out a few bits, but a frown forming across his forehead was saying 'crap'. He looked up as Spencer who had his eyes shut and quickly put the stuff back in his bag. "Why didn't you say it was this bad?" and he saw tears seeping out of the corners of Reid's eyes. He moved to the side of the bed and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "It's going to be alright Spence. Worse than it looks. No – I mean not as bad as it looks. Wait. Don't go anywhere." He quickly collected up all his stuff and put it all in the bag and then pulled out some nylon binders and went back to the bed. "Give me your hand Spence." When Reid didn't move Floyd took Reid's hands and cuffed them together he then pulled Reid's hands up and with a length of cord tied his cuffed hands to the metal bed legs. It gave him some movement, but not enough to move off the bed. He would be safe. "I need to go for a while. I will be back."

"Floyd, no, don't leave me here."

But the door slammed and Reid lay alone in the dirty motel room listening to the sound of the bike revving then leaving.

………………….

He did have every intention of returning to Spence. He just needed to make some calls and get some air into his lungs. He hadn't been gone long when he got the feeling he was being followed. Well really it was more than a feeling. It was pretty damned obvious. They hadn't asked him to stop. But they were there in plain view lights flashing. Floyd decided to go a bit faster and then when another car joined the first he was sure they were going to stop him. No helm. He could pull over and grab a helm from the clip on the side of the bike. But it might not be that.

By the time the fourth car had joined he decided it was time to either go faster and lose them, but he was marked now, small chance, or to just pull over and say sorry for whatever it was he had done.

All thoughts of Spencer had gone. His own hide was at risk here and the road block up a head confirmed that he was in deep shit. Floyd slowed the bike. In his head he had done nothing wrong. Just didn't have his helm on. He could talk his way through that. He could talk his way out of anything. He kept moving slowly until he could hear the voice.

"Flanders. Stop the bike. Get off and put your hands behind your head."

He half complied. He stopped the bike and stuffed his hands in his pockets then sat looking at the cops walking guns up and ready.

"Hands where we can see them."

He took his hands from his pockets and raised them palms forwards. "Happy?"

"Get off the bike and get on the ground."

Raised eyebrow.

"I think you have the wrong person officer." A winning smile.

"You are Flanders?"

A nod.

"Then we don't have the wrong person. Get off the bike."

He leaned forwards and rested his arms on the handlebars. "Can I ask what the problem is?"

"You are the problem. Now get off the bike and get on your face in the dirt before I blow a hole in you."

"I am unarmed. You wouldn't do that."

The taser hit him in the middle of the back. The second one in his side and as his body jerked upwards and he began to twitch and slide from the bike, he received a third hit for luck.

…………………..

He pulled at the bindings for a while but was so weak from blood loss he gave up. Floyd would be even madder if he came back and he had gotten out of the restraint. He couldn't move off the bed, so not much point in wasting energy.

Spencer started to get worried when the light began to fail outside. The light switch was the other side of the room and he could see creeping shadows crawling over the walls heading quickly in his direction.

Floyd come back. It's getting dark.

When the final finger of murky light disappeared and Spencer was in the dark alone he began to pull again at the binding holding him on the bed. For now the pain in his leg was just a dull throbbing. His brain once again refusing to let him feel it in full.

As he pulled his hands away from the bed his ear suddenly roared in pain. He wanted to put his hands to his ear and hold it and stop whatever it was happening but he was now panicking as he felt something ooze from inside his ear.

A popping crackling sound. A hissing screaming noise and a pain like he was being stabbed with an ice pick in the ear. He could feel the blood dripping and he could feel things crawling.

He shouted for help, and pulled harder, but the effort only succeeded in upsetting the balance he had and sent him crashing to the floor, his leg bent up under him and something, somethings crawling around his ear.

Darkness pitch black. And there under the bed red eyes staring at him.

He squeezed his eyes together and peeked again. They had gone. False alarm. Something tickling his face again, and the pain in his ear subsided.

A vile smell. A smell of rotting flesh, and something else he couldn't put his finger on. He tried to get his mind to go through the lists of smells but a sudden explosion of agony sent the thoughts flying.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and again he was seizing. Blood running from the leg and spraying from his ear, and when finally the spasms stopped the little creatures came out and crawled over his face and licked at the tears and bathed in his blood.

…………………

Aaron sat alone in his office. They had found him by mid morning. Derek had come looking for him and he had a good idea where he would have gone.

Hotch kept the abuse to himself. No need to tell. No need for that. He could cope. He was a man, not a child. This sort of thing happened. He saw other people all the time recovering from this sort of thing. Derek himself had. So he could.

No one will know of it. But he would make damned sure Flanders paid.

He got the call to say they had Flanders and no he was alone and no they didn't know where Dr Reid was and no it wasn't possible to talk to Flanders. He is a little bit indisposed right now.

………………….