Fighting

Floyd Flanders once said: - Hey hey…don't. I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you. (This)

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine. Floyd Flanders is.

As the one being challenged Ren was permitted a choice of a few hand to hand weapons. As the challenger Floyd was weaponless.

The arena was large enough for a good show and small enough that everyone – the thousands – could jeer and mock and cheer and whoop.

The knelt side by side looking down at the ground and listened to the rules.

No taking heads without permission. Fight until someone is dead. That was it. Floyd thought he could follow those rules. Not easy to take a head off with your fists. Ren however had an axe and a spear. A bit easier for him.

At the signal they stood and moved apart. Floyd knew that he was not just fighting for himself now, but for Spencer too.

They started off doing what everyone did in this situation and just circled each other taking in the way the other stood and walked. Ren was carrying his spear for now.

He ran at Floyd, who stood his ground and watched the thing he was going to rip apart with his bare hands. The very thought that this creature had touched Spencer riled him into a red hazed fury. The knowledge that he had taken him notched the fury up to a stage with no known name.

The spear was aimed at his heart. He could see the point glinting in the strange reddish light. He could feel the rush of warm air pushing towards him as Ren made his attack.

Floyd timed it perfectly. He swung sideways and as Ren's momentum took him forwards more than he had expected Floyd used his favourite tactic. The sharp hard punch to the side of the head. He might not have a lot of experience fighting in an arena…but he knew how to punch someone hard in the head. Spencer would vouch for that. As the smack to the side of his head took him to his knees the spear embedded itself into the arena floor.

He stood and looked at his opponent for a short while before leaping on him ready to chew out his throat.

-o-o-o-

"I am telling you I saw him move. His hand – his hand moved. Not just his fingers." Emily needed them to know that Spencer was still in there somewhere.

"Emily." Derek put his hand on her arm. "You are tired. You need to go home and rest. Sleep in your own bed for once."

"And if he wakes up and he is alone?"

Derek looked into the stark room full of machinery. Nothing personal there. No flowers. No cards. Nothing. "I will stay with him. Go home. Come back tomorrow."

"It's…"

"Not your fault. Go home Emily."

She sighed and looked at her feet. "You have no idea of the guilt I am feeling Derek."

"All the more reason for you to go home. You will be no help to him when he wakes up if you are not rested. I will call you if there is any change." Though Derek didn't think there would be. Not tonight – or tomorrow.

He went in and sat in the chair next to the bed and reached over to take the hand laying on the white sheets. "Hey kiddo – it's me for a while. Emily needs to go home for a while and sleep." He carried on talking about the weather and the results of the ball game and about anything he could think of. He told him of the trip he took home for his mother's birthday. He chatted about music and television and he knew that none of this would have any interest to Spencer but he didn't know what else to talk to him about. "I need to get a book in to read to you."

And the machines bleeped and flashed numbers and lights and monitored breathing and heart rate and Morgan sat and looked at the face which looked far too young to be the age he was - with the taped closed eyes.

-o-o-o-

He felt the popping of the hard flesh as his teeth embedded in the shoulder of Ren. One hand at the throat and the other at the groin. One hand digging in nails deep into the skin. The other twisting.

Floyd felt skin being ripped from the side of his neck. Claws tearing at his face, ribs snapping under the force of the fist in his ribs. A fist which was trying to push its way through his skin.

Both of them howling in rage – both of them with the blood and flesh of the other in hands and mouths and behind claws and nails.

And as they rolled and screamed and bit and clawed and twisted at each other's bodies the axe was placed in Ren's hand. Floyd saw the glinting of the axe head out of the corner of his eye just as it swung around and caught him in his left side – slicing through the flesh and chopping hard into the ribs. He howled in rage and pain and tried to pull back, but the metal was embedded into his bone. The blow had knocked Floyd onto his right side. Ren now stood above him – one foot on Floyd's shoulder as he wrenched the axe out of Floyd and pulled back for the next strike.

He rolled and kicked at Ren's knees.

Floyd knew he had made a mistake the moment he started the kick, but he couldn't pull back….momentum took over. The axe came down again, this time catching him across the knee. He felt it pass through the cartilage and cut into the bone closely followed by the foot in his groin holding him in place. As the clawed foot pressed in and cut through the bare flesh he heard right in the back of his mind someone crying and someone screaming and the axe sliced through the air.

-o-o-o-

He was drifting off to sleep when he heard it. Derek opened his eyes and looked at Reid. There were tears crawling down the side of his face where they had escaped from his sleeping eyes.

He stood up and grabbed a tissue from the night stand. "Reid?" No response. He dabbed gently at the tears but now he could hear the shuddering sobbing breaths. Derek backed off. "Staff! Nurse! Anyone! Quick." He dashed to the door and then back to Reid's side where he held tightly onto his hand.

The duty nurse rushed in and stood and looked. "I am sorry."

"Sorry? He is waking up!" Derek held tighter onto the non responsive hand.

"He is dreaming. I am just sorry that it's not a happier dream for him."

Morgan sat back down again and looked at the pale thin face and the hands and he was sure he saw the fingers move. Just a tiny bit. Just a small twitch. But they had been told that happened as the muscles tightened after not being used. Derek closed his eyes again and silently prayed that Floyd's head was ripped from his body.

-o-o-o-

It made a strange whistling sound as it cut through the air. Floyd used his uninjured leg to push sideways and for a little while he thought it had missed him. For a few seconds he was sure it had hit the floor and then he felt the coldness of the metal in his shoulder. He could feel the stickiness of the blood under him as he bled steadily from the place he had been chopped in his side. Again a foot was placed on him to get the leverage to pull the weapon head out of his bone. As the axe was ripped from his bone, muscle and flesh he moved a hand out and touched the shaft of the spear.

The crowed screamed and howled and flew and whooped.

There was going to be a kill.

And it was going to be messy.

And the name being yowled was the same over and over 'REN REN REN'.

"You fucking bastards." He muttered with his teeth clenched knowing he probably had one chance left. If that axe hit his head he was dead. They would take his head and deliver it back to the original owners. Fair enough if that was all that was at stake here, but he wasn't going to let this shit Ren take Reid and his head all in the same week. He rolled to his side – crying out in anger. Again the axe came down – this time somewhere familiar. He had been hit here by an axe once before – right between the shoulder blades. When it happened the first time it didn't hurt, but this time it felt like his body had been split in two.

His fingers gripped the spear shaft and pulled. It made a strange popping sucking sound as it was pulled from the floor. Floyd noted that the chant from the crowd had changed to 'KILL KILL KILL' the pounding of feet and clapping of hands in time to the cries of the spectators demanding his death. They were going to be disappointed. He wasn't going to let Reid down. Not now - not here. Maybe later….but for now he was going to fight for him. Floyd had one chance. He had to make it good. He spun the spear in his hand and stabbed blindly back with it. He felt it hit something. He felt the resistance of flesh, muscle and then the bone just as he felt something crashing down into his shoulder again. He rolled onto his side with the axe still there and looked behind him. Ren stood looking at him with the spear stuck though his chest. The blood pumped out from around the edges of the spear and his eyes looked back at Floyd with pure hatred.

"Ooops I think I need to use that 'sorry' word again. You sonofabitch whore dog." Floyd reached his hand behind him and pulled the axe out of his back and pushed himself to a half kneeling position.

Ren slid forwards onto his side and the crowd went totally wild.

Floyd pulled himself forwards and looked up at the command to see if he should take the head. A small shake of the head was his answer.

Being denied his right to take the head meant that Floyd was being told that he as good as cheated. That – yes – he won, but he had still failed.

-o-o-o-

He knelt in the darkness and looked at the floor which didn't seem to be there.

"You are a liar and a cheat. You are a failure, which is why you are here. You are being observed. If you do not carry out you duties as you have been instructed you will be replaced and there will be no challenge. Go earn you place amongst us. Get out of here."

And the floor sucked him down into a darkness and spat him out the other end.

-o-o-o-

Hotch had just got out of the shower and was in his bathrobe when the hammering at the door started. His first thoughts went to Reid. Something had happened. He had lost his fight. Aaron wanted to be sick. He stood ridged with fear as the hammering on his door persisted. Pulling his gown tightly around himself he walked to the door. He could see his hand was shaking as he pulled back the latch. Aaron pulled open the door as far as the chain would permit and looked at the thing standing on his door step.

"Hey."

Hotch slammed the door and pulled the chain off then pulled it open again. The light from the hallway lit up the bloodied naked person standing on his step.

"My god – what happened?" Hotch stepped out and took hold of one of Floyd's hands. "Come in."

"Not sure I can walk actually. A little help?" Floyd's voice was not much over a whisper.

Hotch stepped out and put an arm around Floyd who in turn slipped his arm over Aaron's shoulder. "Cheers."

Aaron helped Floyd into his small but safe home. He took him to the lounge and helped him to lay on the couch. "I don't understand you Flanders. Why did you do it?"

"Can I just try to sleep some of this shit off first? – I think I might chuck up on your rug."

"Why? I need to you to explain why you did that – think of an answer. I will get you a bucket."

Floyd lay and tried to think of how he was going to explain this to Hotch. When the bucket was placed on the floor next to him Hotch sat on the coffee table and looked at him. "Well?"

"Aaron – I know you won't believe a word I say so there is little point in trying to explain."

"He is dying and you can't explain?"

"It wasn't me."

"Who did this to you? What have you been hit with? I need to get you to the hospital. I need you arrested. You need to tell me why you tried to kill Spencer. Why you beat him."

"I expect he deserved it. Arrest me if you want Aaron, but then he will die and I will be taken back and that will be the end. Probably a good end – you can start to heal again and I can start over."

"And Spencer?"

"Well yes he will be dead, but we can't all be winners Hotchner. Somewhere along the line someone is going to lose and it's not going to be me." He moved onto his side and started to vomit thick yellow and green slime into the bucket. "Just leave me Aaron. Tomorrow I will fix Spencer. I can't help him right now."

-o-o-o-

Hotch made a couple of phone calls as Floyd lay on his couch doing what Floyd did when he tried to heal himself. This didn't seem to be going very well for him. Aaron noticed how he seemed to actually be in pain. He didn't know if he had seen Flanders incapacitated like this before.

He talked to Derek first. He told him that he knew where Floyd was and he was going to bring him into the hospital. He told him that Floyd seemed badly injured and he told Derek that on no account was he to remove Floyd's head from his shoulders. They needed him and he wasn't going anywhere fast in the condition he was in.

He then called Emily. Could she come over? She seemed to get on well with Floyd and this seemed like a good time for her to get under his defences while she nursed him. Yes he knew she wasn't a nurse but he had a feeling Floyd might tell her things whilst in this weakened state. She agreed to come over.

-o-o-o-

Spencer watched the fight through a fuzzy scratched screen. He saw Floyd fight. He saw the sprays of blood and heard the howling of the crowd. He could feel the pain as each hit sliced through it sliced through his dreams and felt real. He wanted to scream but all he could do was cry. He wanted Floyd to stop and just let it happen. He wanted him to accept this was over but he wasn't able to call out to him. His one voice would never have been heard above the blast of sounds from the screaming jeering crowd. He wanted to be there with him and tell him it was all going to be OK…that he knew what had happened but all he could do was lay and watch and taste the blood in his mouth and feel the cold metal scrape against his bone over and over again as the weapon swung and found its mark.

He could smell cinnamon and honey – a sickly cloying smell and he could see sitting in the crowd a small wide eyed dark haired child crying and screaming. He wanted to reach out to her and hold her and kiss her on the forehead, but he couldn't move.

Then it went dark. Everything suddenly ended. Floyd was gone. Rosa was gone. The smells and the pain was gone. All that was left was a dark nothing and the distant fading sound of wings.

-o-o-o-

This could go one of two ways at this point.

Everything could turn out really well and they would both recover and be happy, or it would all go wrong and Floyd was the lying bastard he had always thought he was.

He told them how he had been taken a few weeks ago. How they had been sent by someone (he suspected it was a paid hit) and he told them how he was tortured for information. Actually he thought it might have something to do with what happened on the island a while back. He told how he had managed to escape but in the process had taken a fuck load of damage.

"The only thing they didn't prod and stick things in was my arse."

Emily and Aaron looked at the way he had been hacked at. Wounds he could reach he sewed together him self. The others he asked Emily to do.

And now he stood in the doorway at the hospital in sweatpants and a Tshirt borrowed from Hotch and looked at the person he had fought for. The person he was willing to die for and wondered why the hell he had. He could have had a nice rest. Had time with Rosa - but he had chosen this. With help from Emily he walked – or hobbled to the bed and stood looking down at Reid.

"Babes – I'm here now." He leaned over and gave him a small light kiss on the nose and then pulled the tape off his eyes.

Slowly and painfully he climbed up onto the bed. They didn't stop him. When he started to pull the drips out of his arm and the things monitoring his heart off his chest they took a step forward and then stopped. He pushed Reid over so he was on his side and then curled into him from behind. One hand he placed on the back of Spencer's head and the other he wrapped around him and placed on his chest over his heart.

Spencer could feel Floyd and could at last smell the heavy musky smell. He pushed himself back tight against Floyd and smiled.

"Hey." A voice not much more than a sigh.