Chapter 20

Home

I can feel a hand on mine.

My head is thumping and as I lick my lips I feel they are dry and I feel so thirsty.

I take in a shuddering breath and pain shoots over my chest.

The hand on mine grabs hold and squeezes….

"Easy Spencer…"

Hotch's voice.

I open my eyes carefully and look up at a bright white ceiling. Hospital…I can smell that smell. And something blowing softly against my face, so I turn and look at Hotch who looks as though he hasn't taken any sleep in months but he still manages a twitch of a smile.

"What happened?" My voice is croaky and doesn't sound much like me and I follow my question with a request. "Water?" And I see Hotch nod and reach over out where I cannot see and he gently…always so gentle that it brings tears to my eyes – he gently puts a straw to my lips and I suck in some of the cool liquid.

"Not too much…you will be sick." And he takes it away from me and now he is holding up a small round tin of lip balm. "Do you mind?"

So I lick my lips again… "It would be lovely." My voice sounds a bit more normal now.

"You were bleeding internally Spencer. It effected you lungs…you stopped breathing, and then your heart stopped. I though I'd lost you." And it is my turn for the tight smile.

But I don't want to talk to him. I feel too confused. I'm happy…so happy that Aaron is here…but I don't want this to be wrong. Then again this might be my only chance to be loved properly…without the underlying threats and pain.

I need a drink….damn I need a drink to get my head in order so I can think properly…I need to work out what to do…I don't want to lead this man on….but then I already have. It's too late now. Thinking about what got me here and the things which happened beforehand and I feel I need to tell all…But what happened between Derek and I? How can I tell that little story and ever be believed?

So he gently wipes balm over my lips and I take in a deep breath at the feel of his hands on me…hands which I don't have to flinch away from and in a strange way I miss that – that sudden surge when his hands touch me…and I don't know…I really don't know…however much I might want or need this love he is offering me…I don't know if it is what I want. I just feel confused. I need things back how they were….I need to be back at the BAU and I need Floyd at home when I get there…and I need my Friday night shower and game in the locker room…but this is the whole thing…my stupid locker room games are what has brought me here now.

"Hotch – thank you."

And he is looking at me with those dark deep eyes and I am trying to work out what he is thinking…but his expression is blank…there for me to add my own meaning to it.

"You will be here for a few days. Then I'm taking you back to my place and I don't want you to argue with me about it. I will collect some of your clothes later… and we can discuss what to do with your apartment. You are on sick leave pending and investigation – Strauss wanted you suspended without pay, but Rossi had a word with her."

Live with Hotch? I don't know if I can…If I want to…I don't know…

"I don't know…Is that such a good idea?" He knows I will never return to the BAU or he wouldn't be saying this and that is painful…my life…all I had ever been prepared for will be gone. Is gone…and when it was there it wasn't what people thought. I've lied and cheated my way through many a day at the BAU. I've come into work hung over and desperate for a drink and they never suspected. They saw the darkness under my eyes and always shrugged it off.

"It's the only way Spencer. I'm not going to let you return to you place alone."

And I am a profiler…he is scared …he is scared I will get high or drunk…he is scared and I don't like it.

"Very well…we can try it out. Until I'm better. Until you trust me."

And so he stands back from me and wipes the hair from his face and then moves forward and adjusts the thing blowing air over my face. "This is to help you breathe."

"I know."

And he leans down and kisses me on the forehead. "I need to go…I have to be at work. I will be back later."

"No. Please Aaron…go home and sleep…I am fine here. Just go and get some rest."

He leaves and deep down I am glad he is gone. Floyd will be annoyed. He wont like it…but he's not here. He's gone. He's not even there inside me anymore or slipping around inside my head and I wonder what happened…I wonder if he did just walk away or if something worse happened…and if Garcia cant find him, no one can.

I wipe a tear from my face…This is insanity. I know it is…I know it is a mistake…but Aaron is offering me safety and comfort. In exchange for what? My arse? That was all Floyd ever wanted…that and my mouth. I don't know… I really don't know what Hotch wants back from me.

-o-o-o-

I love storms…they are magnificent. And they earn me money. It does mean going out in them and getting very wet but the photographs are well worth it. Tonight is a good one…and down here at the river I am getting some awesome views.

My camera…digital obviously is taking dozens…no, probably hundreds of snap shots of a stormy evening.

Some I just click click click…others I stop and look at for a while…or I look at a bit later…flicking through the pictures captured on the memory. Seen once…that bolt…only ever seen once but there forever…

So I am at the water's edge and I am taking shots of the foam…the way it reflects in the strange light the storm has produced and sometimes I stop the clicking and look at one which is maybe more outstanding than the others…and it's while I am doing this that I see something…caught a little way from the edge. I'm curious because it's like something…some old rubbish someone has tipped into the water…and it shines and reflects in a greenish mouldering way.

Carefully I step closer and change my angle to get more shots of it…and as the sky suddenly lights up and I am looking through my viewfinder…there it is.

"Shit!"

Jumping back from the edge I look around and look back down at what is a slime covered body floating face down at the edge of the water. I'm no pussy…I've seen dead things before but not during a storm and not so unexpected.

There have been reports in the paper…some gay basher killing off queers in the park and chucking them in the water…and so really I have no sympathy for him…if that is what he is…and I think it pretty darn likely. They all get what they deserve in the end…fucking homo's. So I step in closer and get more shots before I pull my cell phone out and call 911.

"I dunno…police? There's a body floating in the water down here." And so I tell them where I am and wait until the cops and various other people arrive.

I'm taking shots now of the cops and other people milling around and the storm is still raging like the gods are pissed with someone…and I watch them stand looking…he's - I think it's a he, is too far out to reach…they go back and get a pole which they unfold and it has a hook in the end and they start to………………..

"Excuse me." A cop is talking to me. "Do you mind not taking photos."

"I called it in…." I start.

"And I'm telling to you stop. Have some respect will you."

"Respect for some dead fag?" and a fist lands on my face and knocks me back into the wet grass…and as I lay there the camera is snatched out of my hands and the memory card removed.

"Yes buddy. Respect." And he walks away with my nights work in his fucking pocket. Bastard.

I watch still though. I cant help but watch as they drag the body closer to the bank. They have the medics just standing around and a coroner's van with the back doors open and a body bag being carried down to the river.

Standing up I move in closer again….morbid fascination keeps me there…I might not be able to take photos but I can watch.

(Thinking back…now if I look at it…I think I made a strange noise at this point.)

I watch…

They turn him over and – and I am telling you it's like from some fucking A one horror movie…this slime covered mouldering thing it opens its eyes…it opens its mouth and screams the most horrible bubbling scream I've ever in my fucking life heard!

If all the noise is coming from him…or if some of it is from the young cop who just turned this guy over and from the medical staff on hand ..or from the guy with the body bag…I don't know…I just know that the sound is something I will never forget…how the hell can he be alive?

How the hell?

-o-o-o-

His apartment smells funny…like some old locked up for years library. I can smell the books. I can smell something else too but I'm not sure what it is. I just stand for a while and look down the hallway. I don't understand…I can't understand how someone he spent so much time with can just suddenly not be there…and I think of Haley. I remember how it broke my heart and how I tried to hide it. I know…I know it was gradual. I had time to prepare my mind for it…and yes I have contact with her, because no matter how much I am angry with her there is still love there. She is Jack's mother…of course I still love her. Somewhere deep down inside of me…not on the surface happy and bubbling like it used to be…but yes…I had time to prepare…Spencer… He's had no time…one day all was good…he was loved and cared for and the next – the next something happened. He said he was sexually assaulted and that is something I will have to talk to him about…did this Floyd person do this to him? Or is there something I am missing? Whatever…he had no prep time…his security was whipped out from under his feet…and he fell hard.

Slowly I walk to his bedroom. Last time I found the signs of drug use and someone else's clothing. I assumed the drugs belonged to that other person…but I don't know now. The weird thing though…we looked for alcohol and found none. But maybe he didn't drink in the house…oh god…maybe he just did drugs…this picture is getting worse…I don't like the images forming in my mind.

I push his bedroom door open and look at the mess…There are clothes all over the bed…and as I look at them I see they are not Spencer's…they are definitely not his. Designer labels and vintage. Very odd…and this is where that other smell is coming from. I go and pull some clothes out of Reid's cupboard and push them into a flight bag sitting under the window. I think about packing some of his graphic novels in there too…but I am constantly drawn back to the clothing on the bed.

Sitting now…

Sitting on the edge of the bed I pick up a heavily embroidered brocade waistcoat. I feel the luxurious fabric in my hands and look at the deep red…it looks old…the stitching is by hand…hand made and ancient…I have no idea what sort of person this Floyd is but he is definitely not run of the mill. I can smell that odd musky smell here now I have disturbed the clothing. I hold it to my face and inhale the scent. It is such a strong and strange smell that it makes my head spin and – and – I need to get out of this place. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be touching this stuff. So with a dizzy head I grab the bag and leave the room…I find I have to put my hands on the wall to balance myself on the way to the front door…and as I do I turn and look back down the hallway. I need to take that waistcoat and find out what the hell that smell was…is…but later…yes…not now…later…plenty of time for that. I want to get this stuff home…I want to take it to the house and put some of Spencer's things in it. A smile crawls over my face thinking about it.

"Lap top."

I mutter to myself and a quick dash to his desk and I am picking his lap top and putting it in his messenger bag…I run my fingers over the leather of the bag…something I do 'accidentally' quite often and now I don't have to hide it. I do need to get out though…so quickly I leave. I will talk to Spencer about putting his things in storage. Moving in with me properly…or at least for now…until he is better…if you ever recover from what has happened.

My heart is pounding like I am a sixteen year old school boy waiting to watch the cheerleaders and I don't think have smiled this much in my life ever. The thought of having Spencer so close to me makes my eyes water.

I drive home and I park up outside my – our place. To be able to share again – to have someone to come home to…and for that person to be Spencer. Am I expecting too much? Am I pushing him too hard too fast?

The house is just a house…but soon… Very soon it will be a home. I walk in and take Spencer's things to the spare room and place the bag on the bed…I don't want to make it look like I am taking advantage. I need to sleep…

A nasty case….someone is killing what seems to be gay guys and junkies and dumping them in the river…a few have been found…six in all…and we think there are more missing….but in that river if you go in there at the wrong time you will never been seen again.

-o-o-o-

"I demand you send me back!"

But I don't think they are listening to me.

"You can't do this!"

And they don't answer me.

"I can't be there without him!"

And now I get an answer. "Get out of here…go and do our job."

And I'm gone again…

"I want to start over!"

But that was it…

And now things are being stuck down my throat and holy moly they zap my heart back to life…and people are shouting…and something is being wrapped around me and they take me away and I want to go back…I want to tell them to put me back! Please put me back…I don't want to be here without him! But I have a fucking tube down my throat and I cant talk.

-o-o-o-

The storm is still raging when they take him away…I cant believe the guy is still alive…that is just so not right! I walk over to where they had been working on him…they used the paddles on him a few times…I wouldn't think with all that filthy water in him he will live. Maybe I will follow it up…call the hospital tomorrow….see if he is still alive…

And it is then I see it laying on the ground…a condom…and there is nothing too unusual about that…but there is something in it…some paper folded inside of it….so I pick it up with the tips of my fingers and put it in my jacket pocket. I'll have a closer look when I get home…and have gloves on.