Healing Wounds.

I have more memories than if I were a thousand years old: - Charles Baudelaire

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.


Reid looked at the food but didn't eat it. He didn't touch it. It looked like a cheese sandwich but his stomach was not going to be accepting food for a while yet he didn't think.

Different clothes to wear would be nice. His own clothes would be magnificent but that wasn't going to happen. Right now it didn't feel like it would ever happen again but what he had on was unacceptable even in his confused mind.

He looked at the note again and at the sloping handwriting. It looked honest. Nothing to worry about there and so he quietly walked to the white painted door and turned the handle.

He was faced looking at a set of steep stairs going downwards with another door at the bottom. For a while he just stood and looked, wrapping his arms around his chest for comfort. Protecting him from he unknown, though this Alb didn't seem harmful or unkind, just a tad odd. The steps creaked slightly as he walked carefully to the bottom of the wooden stairs. The walls were painted a very pale yellow. The door at the bottom was white and glossy. Spencer stood looking at the door handle for a while still convinced it was a trick and that the door would be locked. He gave a quick glance around to see if he could pick up hidden cameras watching his confusion, but there were either non, or they were well hidden and so he put his fingers lightly on the brass door handle and gently twisted. The door opened easily towards him and he now looked out onto a small passageway with a couple of doors on each side. Everything was painted the same pale yellow. The floor was polished wood and the over head lights had cheap paper shades over them.

Spencer walked to the end of the passage running his fingers along the walls as he went. The next flight of stairs led down to a brightly lit hallway.

"Hello?" He called down the stairs. He felt foolish walking around dressed like this and didn't really want anyone but Alb to see him. As so far as he knew Alb was the only one who had seen this strange get up he was in.

"Oh heya."

The voice behind him made him jump. Albert was standing there in the same get up Reid had seen him in earlier.

"You feeling better boy? You don't look too good."

Reid swallowed. "It hasn't been the best week." He tried to smile.

"Spose you will be wanting something else to wear. Come with me." Albert turned around and walked very quietly for someone in such big boots to one of he doors.

Spencer followed, afraid of what he might be walking into. It turned out to be what looked like a spare room. It was not tidy and empty like the one he had been sleeping in. This one was crammed full of packing boxes.

"Clothes – take your pick." He indicated to a pile of things over in the corner. "I'll go brew up some coffee. You feel up to that?"

Spencer turned and nodded. "Yes thank you, that'll be nice."

"Great, I'll leave you to get changed. I put ya other stuff in the wash, but it's a bit torn up."

Reid smiled at him a tight smile. A nervous smile but still a smile. "Thank you."

For most people this would have been the clothing pile from hell, but it amused Spencer. They all seemed second hand and well worn, but nothing modern. He found some dark trousers which seemed long enough for him and so quickly swapped over the bottom half of his clothes. It wasn't until he removed the girly bottoms that he realised he had on a pair of plain white boxers. Not his, so he frowned, but limited choises. Trousers on he now rummaged for a shirt. The one he chose was collarless and white. Maybe slightly too big but he didn't mind. It had deep cuffs with a small row of buttons. He tucked it in and looked to see if there was anything else.

The suspenders to hold up the trousers he pulled over his shoulders as he smiled. The belt he slipped through the loops on the trousers and he even found some woollen socks and a pair of boots to fit.

He let out a little laugh as he turned and saw his reflection in a mirror behind him. He tucked his hair behind his ears and went out to look for the coffee he could smell.

…………………………

By the time Derek and Pen arrived at the scene they were about to get Hotch out. A flash of badges got them close enough to see what was happening and Morgan was able to get some quick questions answered.

"The driver of the milk lorry it seem had a heart attack at the wheel. He was dead before we arrived. Agent Hotchner is a very lucky man – by all rights that accident should have killed him. Someone was looking after him tonight." They were told by a young medic. "He has cuts and bruises and some broken bones but apart from that he will be fine."

Morgan walked over to the car which didn't look much like a car anymore. A medic was half in what was left of the vehicle with him talking softly to him.

"Your friends are here now Aaron. Derek and Pen. They are here now. I will let them talk to you for a while. They will be pleased to see you are alright." She squeezed his good hand gently and clambered down. She locked eyes with Derek.

"You are Morgan?"

He nodded.

"He is in a lot of pain and is obviously distressed. Try to keep him calm. He keeps asking about Spencer, I don't know who Spencer is so I can't answer his question. Maybe you can help." She stepped back but kept close enough to leap back in and protect the handsome man broken and in pain in the wreck of his car. Garcia came and stood next to her.

"He is going to be alright?"

"Yes – I think so."

………………………..

There was a small clearing at the edge of the river. Floyd stood and looked at the clouds for a while and then lay on his stomach on the grass with his head over the edge of the river bank – he ran the cool water through his fingers. Memories long gone and faded trickled their way across his memory. He ran one of his fingers over a dark pebble and sighed as the dried blood slowly washed off the bullet wound.

Floyd pulled away from the water and lay on the grass under the ancient trees. For a short while he watched the clouds and then he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. The desperate need to get some strength back engulfed him, as thoughts from the long gone past filled his head.

………………………

Hotch watched Ella pull away and then he heard Morgan's voice.

"Hey Hotch, you OK man?" Stupid question under the circumstances and he gave Morgan a sideways glance in response.

"Find Spencer." He reached out and touched Morgan's arm. "I need you to find him Morgan. Please…."

Derek moved his hand to gently touch Hotch's hand. "We need to get you to hospital first Hotch. Then I will see what Reid is up to."

Hotch wanted to say more but the grey haze of pain stopped him. He just needed Reid found – where had he gone and where was he heading in this car? His stomach suddenly twisted uncomfortably as he thought of Reid being crushed in the car and not himself. He thanked whoever it was out there that he had been the one and then instantly wished in a way that it had been. At least then they would know where he was.

…………………………..

He followed his little nose and found the source of the coffee smell in not time. Albert was sitting at a big scrubbed kitchen table smoking on something foul looking. Spencer smiled and walked in.

"Thank you." He looked at Alb giving him a once over and then he walked to the table and pulled out a wheel backed pine chair.

Alb got up and poured Reid a coffee. "Sugar?"

"Six please." Random number, but it sounded right. "So do you live here alone Albert?" He watched the sugar going into the mug.

"No. Goodness no. I wouldn't invite a stranger into my home, however sick or wanted he was if I was on me own."

"Sick and wanted?" He started to feel uncomfortable and twisted his hands in his lap.

Alb passed the mug to Reid with a spoon still sitting in it. Spencer took the end of the spoon and started stirring.

"Aye, sick. You keep having fits and talking to your self. Then there's the cop you killed. So yeah…sick and wanted. Anyways, theres three of us here. They're out right now. But they met you yesterday. I don't think you remember too much about yesterday though. Drink up, caffeine is good for the brain."

"Oh – so who are the other two then?"

"My sisters."

"Oh." Sipping at the sweet drink.

…………………….

Floyd saw the feet standing next to his face before he heard anything. Black boots. He knew those boots. From somewhere deep down inside he remembered them. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the face looking down at him.

"Anthony?" And the face from the past came closer as the tousled haired young man with big deep dark eyes knelt on the grass next to Floyd.

"Why?" The face suddenly looked sad and hurt. "Why did you do that?"

"Anthony." Floyd reached out a hand to touch his face. He could feel the soft pale skin under his fingers and he could see the wetness around his eyes. "You know I had no choice."

And now he could feel Anthony's fingers brushing against his skin. "There are always choices Floyd. You could have just walked away."

Floyd ran his fingers through the young man's hair and laced fingers behind his head pulling him in closer. "I couldn't – I would have been drawn back again."

"I loved you."

"I know you did." Floyd could feel hot lips brushing against his own and he could feel the weight of Anthony as he lay on top of him touching his face and kissing at his nose and chin and cheeks. He could feel hot sad tears falling from the eyes of the young man and dropping onto his own. Floyd squeezed his eyes tight. "Please don't do this. Leave me."

"Then you know what you have to do Floyd. It's the cycle. You have reached that point again. Go find him and finish it." The voice was sounding petulant.

Flanders pushed Anthony off him and rolled over onto his side. He could still feel the tears which had dropped onto his skin. "I can't. I can't do it."

When he opened his eyes the beautiful young man hand gone. Floyd could feel the tightness in his chest as his breathing hitched and he wiped the wetness off his face.

"I won't do it." He muttered to himself.


Time is not a great healer. It is an indifferent and perfunctory one. Sometimes it does not heal at all. And sometimes when it seems to, no healing has been necessary: - Ivy Compton-Burnett