Knightmares
by Mystic's Oblivion
DISCLAIMER: Criminal Minds and its characters are in no way mine, and, assuming you don't count my borderline obsession with it, I have absolutely notta to do with the show or CBS or anything else related.
Ashlyn is my creation.
Chapt 1: Cry in the Night
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It was dark, darker than a place like this should be. She turned a full 180 trying to get her bearings. That's when she saw him, saw the look in his eyes- a look she knew all too well, a look that brought out her most primal fears.
Her breathing was ragged, she was beginning to hyperventilate but fought for control of her mind and body. She pushed her way through the crowds of people, finding gaps and openings by instinct and luck as much as intention. She knew there was a place she could stop and breath, if she could only get to it.
She heard it before she saw it. The music of a pipe organ was growing clearer as she drew closer to the final obstacle between herself and salvation. Daring a look behind her, her heart jumped, those eyes were still upon her, following her, taking advantage of every opening and every path she'd made in her attempt to escape.
With blind fear she charged forward, pushing her way through the gridlock of people.
There it was- the carousel, she saw it and almost froze, terror building on terror. It meant she was almost there, one final push and she could reach her goal. Her mind raced; she didn't have time for this, not now. There was one way she knew she could get past this. It was a course that held certain pain and overwhelming sorrow, but to get away, to escape, was worth it. She stopped fighting and allowed her fear to turn to anger, letting adrenaline carry her ignoring everything else.
Finally she made it, she was safe. He couldn't possibly have caught up with her. Forcing herself to breath once more, she leaned against the wall- snuggling into the safety of a nook made where a bank of phones almost met the intersection of two walls.
As predicted, the pain and self-loathing of releasing her anger began to take over, tears trickled from her closed eyes. When she opened them she saw him in front of her and she tried to scream. She felt the air rush from her lungs and her vocal-cords ache with the effort, but she couldn't hear the sound. Ducking under the phone stalls she attempted another scream, and another. Her throat burned painfully, but as the fists began to pound against her, she let out one last terrified scream…
…it echoed through the building, rattling off walls and piercing sleepers' dreams. The bloodcurdling terror-filled scream could have easily awoken the dead, as it was it did wake Dr. Spencer Reid.
He listened intently as he rolled out of bed and reached for his cell phone. As he threw on clothes he dialed 911 and waited for an operator to answer.
"911 What's the nature of your emergency?"
"Unknown. I know it's rather cliché but there was literally a bloodcurdling scream. I believe it came from the apartment below me."
"Your location, sir?"
Reid obligingly gave the operator his name, address, et cetera- he was pleasantly surprised at the change of the operator's tone when she discovered he was with the FBI. Of course the operator promised someone would be there shortly, but, however you looked at it, this was still a Friday night in metropolitan D.C. so shortly could mean anytime before noon Saturday.
While he had been on the phone Reid kept alert for any other tell-tale sounds that could possibly indicate what had happened. There were none. No footsteps, hushed voices, crashes, nothing. His quick mind examined probable scenarios while his body was already heading out the door. The scream that woke him could've come from one of his own vivid nightmares- the thought that it had even floated past his mind for an instant, but just as quickly as he had woke he knew it hadn't. Whoever had released that scream needed help- even if it was only someone telling them they weren't alone.
