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Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

Reid pulled his shirt up off the floor and dragged it back on. His hands shaking too much to do the buttons back up again.

"I'm going out." He tried to push by Jason who put a hand out and took Reid by the right arm. This time he reacted the way Gideon had expected before and he flinched away from him. "Don't touch me!"

"Spencer, you need to stay here. You are bleeding. Let me sort that out for you. Please." He put a hand out again this time to take Reid's hand.

"I said don't touch me Jason. Leave me alone. I am going out." He won't be treated like a child. He was a man who had seen more in his life than most people will see in a decade of lifetimes. He will deal with this. He won't accept help from this man who treats him like a child.

…………

Gideon watched this broken person as he limped on his broken leg and foot and grabbed at his crutches. "Don't follow me Jason. I know you are trying to help but I need space. Just give me space."

"Take a cell phone." Jason offered over a phone.

"Stop it! I don't need a phone. I won't be calling anyone." He snatched his jacket off the hook in the hall and limped out of the door.

…………

Reid wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew he had seriously upset the one person he thought he needed to keep himself sane. The only person who seemed to understand.

He half hopped and half limped down the road until he reached a bar. It was nearly empty so it was easy to find a booth out of the way and order his drink in peace and quiet. He knew he shouldn't be drinking alcohol with the meds he was taking, but right now he really didn't care.

He downed the first glass quickly and ordered a double. There was some strange music playing in the background and the sound of a group of blokes playing pool and the chatter of friends as the bar slowly began to fill. He hoped no one would join him in the booth. Tonight he just wanted to be alone and try to work out what had gone wrong. Last thing he could remember he was trying to save Floyd's life, and now he was calling him filth.

This was because that is what he was.

He was filth.

He was beginning to lose his posture and was sliding forwards when he felt the arm go around his shoulder.

"Shouldn't be drinking you know." That strange accent. Iolanda and the squeeze around his shoulders got harder. "How's the back?"

Someone slid in the booth on the other side of him and put a hand on his thigh. "We have been asked to bring you in. They want to talk to you. What's left of us."

Iolanda spoke again. "You have caused us a lot of pain Spencer, firstly through Floyd and now through your other friends. You will now stand up as best you can and come with us."

"I'm not g g g going – I'm not going – w w with you. Why cant people just leave me alone? I just want to be left alone, and you have to interfere and make problems."

"You killed someone very important to him, and yes he is a murdering bastard and yes he killed my children, and yes he has done bad things to our family, but he is ours. You are not, and when an outsider comes in and kills a child then we get pissed. You must understand that."

"What?"

"Get up and come with us." Iolanda was pulling him from his seat whilst the other person was pushing.

"No – I am staying here. Go away." But he seemed to be sliding towards the edge of the bench at an alarming speed.

"She was ten." Iolanda hissed in his ear. "And you shot her between the eyes. Proud are you? Thought that clever?" He pulled Spencer to his feet before he fell off the edge. "And remember Floyd learned his trade from me. What he knows, I know, only I know it better."

"Get your hands off me!" a low whisper. "I am not going anywhere. Leave me to think!"

"Yes, you are right Spence. We will leave you to think about things. I will be contacting you and I won't be as – loving – as your freak pervert friend Floyd."

He was pushed back onto the bench.

"Filth." The two men left.

Floyd?

Filth – get out of my head.

Floyd!

Nothing.

He sat back down. Not really sure if what happened did happen or if it was all in his mind. He was beginning to feel confused. He rubbed at his eyes and ordered some more drink.

He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep, but he knew when he slept it would be full of nightmares. His brain wouldn't slow down, wouldn't stop spinning. He rested his head on the coldness of the wooden table in front of him and closed his eyes trying to find just a bit of peace from the horrors.

…………

He awoke somewhere cold, somewhere damp, and somewhere smelly. Screaming – so much screaming going on in his head. People screaming – children screaming. The smells of decomposition and death, the smells of fire and oil mixed with smells of fresh blood and gun powder. He could see the shadows of people running past him but not looking. He looked up at them and saw the faces of people long dead.

A nightmare, it must be a nightmare – the sounds were becoming distorted and distant. The people becoming deeper shadows. Reid struggled to his feet. His crutches were gone. Obviously they were gone. Why would he have them in a dream? He won't need them in this nightmare.

He smelt of the filth he had been laying in. Fine that is fine. He was filth. He could show them. Slowly he removed his jacket and shirt, and then started to stumble his way down the dark side road with the other dead filth.

So this was a nightmare, or he was dead? Maybe he had died in the bar. This is why he could walk on a broken leg and smashed ankle.

Are you suffering?

The sudden voice screaming through his head made Reid put his hands up to his ears and yelp.

"Get out of my head!" he shouted. Some of the shadows stopped moving – some of them seemed to jump out of the way but they seemed to stop closing in on him. Reid stumbled forward again. He could hear the distant screaming of dead people 'You didn't get to me in time – why did you let me die – did you enjoy looking at my dead body your pervert freak – filth.' Spinning around in his brain. 'You let me burn – you let me die – you didn't try hard enough – you are sick.' And suddenly the lights were too bright and the noises too loud, he was in pain, and he was standing in the middle of the road being shouted at.

"Get out of the road!"

Suddenly his leg would no longer support him, and he could feel himself tipping forwards onto his hands and knees.

Wonderful.

Yes you are great.

Murderer.

You killed a child.

Scum

Lower than filth.

Filth

Lower.

……………..

Gideon got the phone call he had been half expecting at three in the morning.

"We have a friend of yours down at the precinct. He is very drunk and very confused. Come and get him, or we can let him sober up in the cells, but his leg looks a bit iffy."

Jason could see immediately that this wasn't just drink. His eyes were somewhere else. His mind was somewhere else. He was shirtless and was sitting leaning forwards, looking at the cuts on his arms. Another officer spoke to Jason. "It's more than drink Mr. That guy is in serious trouble up there." Tapping his head. "He's been jabbering on to himself for ages."

Jason looked over to the police officer "How did you know to call me?"

Well there's the thing. We didn't. Someone phoned in. Told us they knew we had the bloke with the erm – burns – with us and gave us a number to call."

"I see, and did this person give a name?"

The officer looked in his note book." Yes sir a Mr Iolanda."

………………

All Reid could hear were the screams of the dead and dying. All he could see was the face of the dead child.