A/N: Just a random fact for you all that I forgot to mention… The roads into Banff, both ways, really were closed on Christmas Eve. Though, they weren't closed because of an avalanche, they were closed for scheduled avalanche blasts. Which I suppose do cause an avalanche that they then have vehicles waiting, ready to clear the roads, so ok technically they were closed due to avalanches, just for different reasons. I had just wanted to know what would have happened had Floyd gotten there first. Now I know, and so do you.
Cheers!

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Sir Thomas Browne once said; "Though it be in the power of the weakest arm to take away life, it is not in the strongest to deprive us of death."

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Chapter 14: The Price

Sometime through the night Floyd had come back out to check on Reid. He brought with him three blankets from the closet which he covered Reid with, and tucked him in. For his efforts he received a glare, nothing more. Floyd returned the glare, none too pleased with Reid's behaviour. The tear streaks on Reid's face were very obvious in the dim light coming through the one wall of windows. Floyd shook his head and walked back to the bedroom, wishing Reid would stop acting like a child.

Reid's head was swimming with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He curled into a tight ball, and pulled the blankets close. He had full motion back now, but absolutely no motivation to move from this position. His body ached, outside and inside, and he was trembling and shaking from a combination of the cold and the drugs working their way out of his system. Every muscle in his body was screaming in agony now, and he wished silently that he could go back to not feeling anything.

He had been so sure that what Floyd and he shared was love. Now he wasn't sure what it was Floyd thought he felt, but it wasn't love. If Floyd loved him he would have never done that, not in a million years. You simply do not do that to the person you loved. Reid couldn't even bring himself to think the word, let alone say it. It was an ugly word -- rape -- with an even uglier connotation.

His thoughts got even more confusing as time passed. He wondered why he never realised it before; never realised how filthy he truly was. Normally he would say that no one ever deserved to have such an act inflicted upon them, but now he couldn't help but think he deserved it. He was nothing but trash, used and discarded.

Floyd's hateful voice continued to flow through his head, filling him up with despair and hopelessness. He wasn't consciously aware of it, but the verbal abuse he'd suffered over the past few months, and then recently the physical abuse, had finally pushed him to the edge. He didn't realise its severity, and now it was too late.

He rolled over, biting down on his lower lip to fight off the pain he was feeling elsewhere. He glanced at the two bottles of wine and the glasses on the side table. He couldn't wrap his head around why Floyd would have drugged him like that. Why Floyd didn't respect his wishes. Did Reid really mean that little to him?

It hadn't been so bad months ago, when things first started. The occasional snide remark, which had grown to flat out abusive words, and then, in the last couple of weeks, physical pain had been introduced, and now he was being drugged and raped. It seemed the closer Spencer grew to Floyd, the more in love with him he became, then the more distant and hateful Floyd became in return. Something had to change; he had to stop this from happening to him again.

He still cared for Floyd, a part of him always would, but this was not how he was meant to live. A switched flipped inside him, as this new resolve came over him. He could only see one way to ensure that this would never happen to him again. He had to eliminate the cause. There were probably easier ways that the first that jumped to mind, but it was the first one he would stick with. If he stayed here, Floyd could do it again. If he went back home, there was nothing stopping Floyd from breaking into his apartment and doing it again. Reid simply couldn't allow Floyd to have that luxury. A price had to be paid, and Reid was going to make sure Floyd was perfectly clear on what the cost was.

Reid briefly thought about his job, his friends, his mom. If he went through with this there wouldn't be any going back. He'd loose all of that, but in his clouded mind there wasn't any other way. He couldn't rest until he eliminated the cause. That phrase -- eliminate the cause -- rolled through his head over and over, until he nodded to himself and agreed it was what he had to do.

First, though, there were things he had to do. He moved from the couch and touched his feet hesitantly onto the cold floor. He was still in pain and shaking but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He swallowed hard and stood, holding his arms out to the sides and closing his eyes to fight off the dizzy spell. He took deep breaths and found the clothes he'd been wearing. He slipped into the sweatpants, fighting off the tears that came when he moved anything below the waist. Next he found the hoody, which was a lot easier to slip into.

He looked back at the couch, and then down to the mess on the floor. Floyd had told him to clean it up. He should do that soon. Floyd would be angry if he didn't, and he didn't want that. Soon, he'd do it soon. There were still other more important things. He looked at the couch again and his eyes drifted to the side table, which carried the offending wine, then back to the couch. Until now he hadn't given any thought to how he was going to do it, but now he knew. It all seemed too perfect. Like everything had been moving towards this moment right from the start.

No, no distractions. He couldn't afford to get distracted. He just had to take everything one step at a time. He walked to the far side of the suite and coked his head at one of the doors. He couldn't remember being shown that room when Floyd gave him a tour, and the door was pulled closed. He stepped closer and opened the door a crack. Shelves, books, and what looked like the edge of a desk, greeted him. He opened the door further and stepped into the office. It was just as elegant and roomy as the rest of the suite. The desk was a rich mahogany, and the chair behind it looked like it would be easy to sleep in.

Reid took a seat, running his fingers over every surface. He glanced at the phone on one corner of the desk and smiled weakly to himself. This was just what he needed. He picked up the receiver and dialled out to the first number that came to mind. It rang three times before a groggy sounding voice answered, "Hello?"

Reid swallowed hard and looked at the small desk clock; it was just after two, which meant it was 4am back home. Making the call had been easy; finding the words to say proved a harder task. Reid could feel his eyes start to water, and his throat close up.

"Hello?" the voice said again. Some of the grogginess had left it, being replaced with confusion and concern.

Reid took a deep shuddering breath and pushed his words out. "H-Hotch." his voice cracked as he suppressed more tears. It amazed him that he still had tears left to shed. He heard Hotch shift on the other end of the line, probably sitting up in bed.

"Reid? Is that you? Are you okay?" his voice was hushed, whispering. When he didn't get an immediate answer he spoke again, "Reid, talk to me. What's going on?"

Reid swallowed again and sighed, he could hear a child crying on the other end and realised he's probably woken Jack. "I-I'm sorry, Hotch, I shouldn't have called s-s-so late. I'm… I'm fine, I just… never mind. I didn't mean to wake Jack."

"Its okay, Reid. Haley's gone to take care of him, just tell me what's wrong."

Great, now he'd forced Haley to get out of bed. He was sure she wouldn't be pleased with him. "It's nothing. I'm s-sorry." he chewed on his lower lip for a second, and then sighed, "Never mind."

"Reid, you're on vacation with your boyfriend," his voice hushed more as he spoke the words, "Morgan told me." he added as an afterthought to alleviate the confusion. "It's the middle of the night, and," there was a pause while Hotch looked over at a clock, "it's officially Christmas morning. I know you, you wouldn't have called if it wasn't important."

"Please, don't profile me, Hotch." Reid said in a pleading whisper.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't, and then tell me why you called." Though Hotch was still whispering, his tone was the same as when giving orders at work. It made Reid feel safe and secure.

"Because you won't like what you find, Aaron." Reid took in a breath and closed his eyes. There was no reply, so he assumed Hotch accepted that answer and wanted him to continue. He let the breath out hard, and with it the tears he was suppressing. They ran in silent streaks down his face, the only sign for Hotch that they were there was when Reid's voice cracked again. "H-Hotch… I'm so sorry." there was a faint click and they both went silent for a moment. Reid finally spoke again, "P-please, forgive me."

"Forgive you for what? What happened, Spencer? You need to talk to me." Hotch was doing his best to remain level headed, and to figure out what was going on, but he didn't like any of the scenarios jumping to mind.

"I can't tell you what happened. I don't want… I don't want you to think of me any different. I just need to know you'll forgive me."

Hotch sighed worriedly, he didn't like the sound of this at all. "Reid, nothing you say or do will ever change my opinion of you. Now please, tell me what happened."

Reid smiled to himself, "T-thank you, Aaron. That's all I n-needed to hear." He hung up the phone quickly and sat for a few minutes in silence. There was still one more call he wanted to make, and with this one it might be harder to dodge questions. He picked up the receiver again and dialled out to the next number in mind.

It only rang twice this time, and the voice that answered didn't sound nearly as tired, "Hello?"

"M-M-Morgan?" Reid said, tripping over his words again.

"Reid, man? What's wrong?" Morgan asked, getting straight to the point.

"N-nothing's wrong, Morgan. I just wanted to… to wish you a Merry Christmas." Reid was quickly realising he shouldn't have made this call.

"Bullshit, Reid. Don't lie to me. What happened? What did he do to you?" Morgan's mind was doing the same as Hotch's had, coming up with different scenarios.

"What? W-w-why would you think h-he did any…anything?" Reid was finding it harder to form words as Morgan made it clear he wouldn't accept anything but the truth.

"Because, Reid, I only spent I few minutes with him and I know he's bad news. I have no idea why you can't see that, but I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. I was just hoping it would be later, rather than sooner" he paused, and sighed, "So tell me what it was."

"Don't judge him on one encounter, Morgan. He's not all bad." Reid said without thinking. It took him a couple second to realise he'd just defended the man who had caused him so much pain. "Besides, he didn't want to hurt me, he just… he got…" Reid trailed off and fell silent; knowing that if he didn't his tears would be heard in his voice.

"Reid, man…" Morgan's stomach was tying itself into knots as his mind slowly formed a clearer picture of what happened. It wasn't hard for him to guess. "You better not have been thinking that 'he just got carried away' because you know that's not what happened. Believe me, I've been there."

"I know you have, Morgan, that's why I called you. I-I knew you'd understand. I knew you'd be able to forgive me." Reid clenched his free hand into a fist, and then unclenched it. He repeated the action while he spoke, taking in shuddering breaths.

"You don't need to be forgiven for anything, Reid. None of it was your fault. It's not your fault he's a monster."

"Morgan, that's not helping. Quit insulting him, please. It won't change what happened, and there had to have been a reason for it." his voice was small, and tired, seemingly hopeless.

"Reid, listen to me. You are not to blame yourself for this. It won't get you anywhere." Morgan's jaw was set tight, and he was ready to strangle Floyd with his bare hands if he had to.

Reid sighed, "I'm sorry, Morgan. You understand don't you? I can't let him get away with this. I won't allow him to do this to me again. H-he needs to know what the price he has to pay is."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Reid, what are you getting at? Slow down and explain." Morgan furrowed his brow at Reid's words.

"There's a price that needs to be paid, don't you agree?" Reid asked.

"Well, yes, of course, but there's proper ways of going about getting justice served, Reid. Don't do anything rash. Believe me, I'd be over there in a heartbeat to pound him into mulch or worse if I knew it would do any good."

"Thanks, Morgan. You won't have to do that, though. It'll get taken care of."

Morgan frowned, "Reid, be careful. I don't want you doing anything you're going to regret."

"Don't worry, I won't." Reid was completely certain he wouldn't regret anything he did. He may have past regrets, but he was going to be certain that from this point forward there would be no regrets. "Morgan, just tell me you understand."

"I do understand, but Reid--"

"Thanks, Morgan. M-merry Christmas."

"Reid, hold up! Wait! I understand, but you can't take matters into your own hands."

Reid listened but didn't reply. A price. There had to be a price. He hung up the receiver without another word. Morgan's word had stuck with him though. He was sure this was the way it had to be done, but now there was doubt. And with doubt came hesitation. He couldn't afford for there to be any hesitation.

He started pulling open some of the desk drawers looking for anything he could write with, and write on. In the second drawer he tried there was a little black notebook. It was closed with a simple clasp, and was bound in leather. He pulled it out carefully, and looked at it. It wasn't too spectacular, but it was custom made, with Floyd's name engraved in silver lettering on the front. Curiosity was gnawing at Reid, and he pulled open the clasp before something screamed at him to stop. He didn't know what it was, but he knew he couldn't snoop. Floyd would be so angry with him if he did. He didn't want to make Floyd angry. He did up the clasp again and set it on the desk, going back to the drawer and finding a large notepad, and an envelope.

He set them down on the desk and returned the little black book to the drawer. Next he found some pencils in a drawer on the other side. He sat looking at the blank sheet with the pencil hovering just above the page. He took a deep breath as he thought of what he was going to write. Finally he focused on the page and started forming words.

'Mom,

I wanted to make sure you heard it from me first, and not on the news, or from the Bureau. I don't want you to think of me as a bad person…'

He continued to write, using up the whole page, before he signed it and tore the page from the pad. He placed it carefully in the envelope and then sealed it, writing the name and address on the front. He sat, looking at the letter, for several minutes before standing and putting the letter in his hoody pocket. For a moment he'd thought about leaving it somewhere where it could be found and delivered for him, but then decided that keeping it on him would be the best way to ensure it got to where it needed to go.

Reid stood and walked back out to living room. He cast a dark glance at the closed bedroom door, then at the couch, which made him close his eyes and shudder, and finally he looked to the side table. Floyd needed to learn that his actions had consequences. That there would always be a cost. It all came down to the price. He took two steps over to the table, and slid the drawer open, removing the revolver from inside, and closing it again.

Once more he looked at the bedroom door. He wanted nothing more than to storm in there and do this very dramatically, but he knew he wouldn't have the guts to in that case, and Floyd would probably overpower him. This had to be done right, or it wouldn't work. In a closed space like the bedroom, there was a chance of something going wrong, and him not having time to correct it. He needed to think, and plan out the details. He looked out the large wall of windows to the balcony. It was still dark out, and it looked cold, but he could see the lights of the town calling him.

He made his way over to the sliding glass door and stepped outside, closing it behind him. It was absolutely freezing on his bare skin, but he didn't really care. He unconsciously curled his toes in to keep them warm. Though he welcomed the cold into the rest of his body. It stopped the pain, and made him numb. He looked to his right, to the bedroom balcony then the smaller wall of windows, it was dark inside the bedroom, and there wasn't quite enough light here for him to see inside. He knew Floyd was there however, from the faint red glow he could make out. This told him Floyd was awake, and that he was smoking again. Reid wasn't surprised; Floyd always seemed to think the rules didn't apply to him. He sighed, and wondered if he could do 'it' here and now, but doubted it would have the same effect.

He stood in the cold and just looked down at the lights, holding the gun in both hands, until he could no longer feel anything. The snow drifting slowly to the ground caused the lights to look like they were twinkling. Frozen to the bone, he went back inside and sat down in a chair near the fireplace. He thought about starting one up, but it seemed like too much work. He simply sat, and let himself thaw out, and let the pain return, and clutched the gun in both hands. He was sure he'd fallen asleep at some point, because the next time he looked at the clock hours had passed and he was warmed up.

Reid went outside again and repeated the process of looking at the lights and making himself numb. It was oddly poetic to him, and he wondered if this was how many unsub victims felt. He pondered this, letting his mind try to sort it out until he couldn't take the cold anymore and went back inside.

He looked at the Christmas tree off to his right, and walked over to it. He sat down on the floor and looked at the piles of presents under it, all for him. Putting the gun in his hoody pocket, he picked up one of the smaller ones and shook it. Nothing, no sound at all, and it was extremely light. It was technically Christmas morning so he couldn't see why he couldn't open at least one. He quietly pulled the tape off and then threw the wrap aside. A plain white box, no writing or designs. He opened the box and pulled out the packing fluff; again nothing, absolutely nothing. The box was empty.

Reid frowned, knowing that wasn't right, and grabbed another box. No weight, no sound. He tore into it, and again found nothing. He tried one of the bigger boxes; still nothing. He opened every single last present, and was given a whole pile of nothing in return. Reid was seriously confused. Why make a big display, and give him nothing? Didn't Floyd know he'd want to open the gifts in the morning? What was the point?

He sat for a long while in complete silence before regaining his determination. He took the gun out and held it in his hands again. This wouldn't stop him from going through with his plan. In fact, he didn't want to even ask Floyd why. He was certain he wouldn't want to know.

He stood and walked over to the bedroom door, knocking twice. "F-Floyd? C-can you come out here a minute?" he stuttered a bit, and decided to blame it on the cold and not his nerves. He didn't wait for an answer before he walked back out onto the balcony, leaving the sliding door open, and looked at the town, and the sun beginning to rise behind the mountains. It was a perfect view, and he sighed with contentment. He turned his back on the view and watched straight ahead for Floyd to emerge from the bedroom. He didn't blink; he just waited and watched, holding the gun ready.

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Floyd sighed as Reid's voice reached him. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and frowned. It was later than he thought. He didn't think it would have taken this long. Reid was stronger than he'd thought. Or perhaps too much of a coward to go through with it right away. Either way, Floyd was sure he didn't want to keep Reid waiting.

He rolled onto his side, swung his feet to the floor, and sat up in one fluid movement. Next he stood and walked to the bedroom door. He smirked as he opened it, and then hid the smirk as he walked out into the living room.

The first thing he noticed was that Reid hadn't cleaned up his mess on the floor. The second was a movement out of the corner of his eye. And the third, nearly at the exact same time as the second, was a gunshot. He turned his head towards the balcony in time to see Reid tumble backwards over the railing. His stomach tied itself into knots for a short moment, feeling something akin to heartache and grief, but that soon disappeared and he smirked, and then he grinned. 'Perfect.'

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In the split second after Reid pulled the trigger, but before the bullet made contact with his skull, and then his genius brain, it all became perfectly clear. He knew exactly why there weren't actually presents under that sparkling Christmas tree. He was never meant to open them. He was never supposed to have lived that long. And Floyd knew it. Floyd had planned it. And now that it was far too late he wished he could have proven Floyd wrong, just once.

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-fin-

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"The timing of death, like the ending of a story, gives a changed meaning to what preceded it."

-Mary Catherine BatesonWith a Daughter's Eye, 1984.

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A/N… Ummm I warned you!! No hate mail ok! Hope you "enjoyed". Good chance I'll put up one more chapter with additional scenes, a continued ending, and a few alternate endings… but this is the end for all intents and purposes. This is the ending I had in mind from pretty much the start, so anything else I do is purely because it came to me while writing, but I didn't want to change what I was doing, or didn't add it in because it ruined the flow… and it would be a shame not to write it when it's a perfectly good idea.

Cheers, all.