Chapter 28

Questions

"We are not sure of the long term damage Dr. Reid. Although the damage done is not terminal it could well be debilitating – in the long term. The damage to your lungs is quite severe."

And I just stare at him.

"The police need to talk to you…do you feel up to it?"

And I give a small shrug. Then I look up at the doctor. "When they have gone…Can you come back please – I need to ask you something." He nods and rests a hand on my shoulder and leaves…As he goes I can see uniformed police outside my door, but it is a couple of suits that come in to talk to me.

"Are you up to a few questions?"

So I nod. I really don't remember much of what happened though…so I don't know if I will be very helpful.

"We would like to start of by asking you a few questions about Agent Hotchner."

I blink at them. "Agent Hotchner? Is something wrong?"

"That is exactly what we are trying to find out. The doctor says that you have been quite badly attacked…by feet and hands. They also say that not all the marks are new. Some are a few days old."

"Er – yes."

"You have cuts on your arms Dr Reid."

And I'm not sure where all this is leading to.

"Has Agent Hotchner ever hit you?"

And I swallow and just look at them. I can see now where this is going and I don't like it.

"Did Agent Hotchner cuff your wrist to the radiator in the back bedroom?"

"What? NO! You think he did this?" Damn my throat hurts and my head is beginning to spin and I reach out for something to be sick in….and find the floor. I bring up a dark red bile probably a mix of blood and smoke deposits. I quickly wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand and lay back down on the bed.

"Has Agent Hotchner ever hit you?" And I want to say no…I really do because he didn't do this…but if they are talking to him I don't know what he is going to say…and I can't lie. So I try avoidance.

"He didn't do this to me."

"That wasn't the question. Has Agent Hotchner ever hit you?"

"Yes…but that was…" they cut me off.

"That's all I needed to know." And he is standing up..

"No…you don't understand…"

He turns back to look at me. "Can you tell me how you ended up cuffed to a radiator?"

And I don't remember…I really have no memory of anything from opening the front door. So I shake my head. "I don't know."

"Do you know who it was who beat you and broke one of your ribs?"

"It wasn't Agent Hotchner."

"So you do remember who it was?"

I shake my head. "I just know it wasn't him."

"How do you know Dr Reid if you don't remember anything?"

"Because he wouldn't do this to me!" and my shouted words bring on another coughing fit. Again I lean over the side of the bed and spit out muck from deep down inside of me.

"But you told me he hit you. Now you are saying he didn't?"

But now I cant talk…my coughing has increased and I can't draw a breath through the muck blocking my air ways and they are leaving and the hospital staff are laying me back on the bed.

I can't breathe….I flail at them and scratch at my throat and kick out in panic as I see a smudgy greyness creeping around the edges of my vision and they are stuffing a tube down my throat and suddenly….suddenly there is air…They pull it from me again and I lay taking big gulps of wonderful lungfulls of air as they take away the suction tubes and write notes and then take my temperature…I want to talk to them and tell them to bring the police back again…I need to tell them this wasn't Aaron…They know it wasn't…they must do…he would never do that to me…

Hotch would never hurt me.

And I know what I made him do to him must have hurt him a lot more than it did me.

A thing is bring strapped across my face like I had before…giving me oxygen to breathe and making it easier for me.

The damage from the smoke coupled with the damage already there has left me wheezing today…I hope – I hope it will heal…but I can feel fluids already bubbling up and filling my tubes again and I turn to my side and start coughing and spitting up into a small bowl they've given me.

-o-o-o-

The emergency room.

She was right.

The voices in my head are right too.

I need to sort myself out. I need to get back to me…and get my damned feet sorted for a start. So here I am. Standing on said manky feet in the emergency room waiting for someone to ask me what's wrong.

"Can I help you?" A nurse finally asks me.

I give her a little nod… "It's my feet." And she looks down at them.

"What's wrong with them?"

"I can show you." I offer….

You know what?

I hate hospitals…I hate being in them…I hate looking at them…I detest the smiles on the nurses faces…and well…I don't want to be here…but I know I need to find Spencer and I cant do that if I cant walk. So I sit down….

……..and I carefully unlace my boots….and I slide my left foot out…on account that I think that's the worst one right now.

"My god."

How comforting.

I nod.

"I'll get a doctor to look at that for you…You shouldn't be walking around."

"I lost my wings."

She ignores me and goes to get a fucking wheelchair.

"Can you sit in this sir…and I can take you to see a doctor and get your details on the way."

"I can walk. I walked here didn't I? I can walk."

And I can see that… 'but what if his toes fall off before we get there look' So I put my foot back into my boot.

"I can walk." I repeat. "This is way beyond painful…Walking on them really wont hurt anymore than they do already."

She frowns and nods. "This way." And marches me down to a cubical.

I am then put through a number of tests and asked a lot of questions. "Name?"

"Flanders."

"Address?" I give them the address of the apartment.

"Age?"

"Thirty one."

"Are you on drugs Mr Flanders."

"Yes Dr Levin – you might say that I am."

He sighs and looks at me. "What do you take?"

"Anything Dr Levin…anything I can get my hands on. But they price of a blow job has dropped drastically in the past six months of so…I have to work damned hard to get to money for a good fix."

And he stops prodding my feet and just looks at me. "What do you mean by that Mr Flanders?"

"I mean I fuck for money De Levin. Can you fix my feet?"

Still not prodding he puts his things down. "Do you have medical insurance Mr Flanders."

"Well you see…I was thinking…You get my feet better for me and I will let you have my arse for free."

He stands with his arms crossed and just looks at me in a very serious silence.

"Yes…yes I have medical insurance. No it's not under the name of Flanders…no cant prove it…yes I will leave." And I reach over for my boots.

"I cant let you leave in this condition…I need you down in surgery. All this black dead flesh has to be removed Mr Flanders or you will get gangrene and you will die – if left untreated."

So there you go….I have to have bits cut off me and I am really not happy about this outcome…

"I think I am syphilitic." I inform him.

He nods at me. "Wouldn't surprise me. You need to get properly treated young man or this is going to cripple you and I can assure you, that pretty face which is earning you money right now wont be pretty for long."

"Well…I sort of know that…just fix me."

So I have a drip set up and drugs pumped into my system to try to kill off the bastards in my blood making me feel so sodding ill and unable to keep my head straight but I just don't want to be here. I think of all the things I could be doing which are more important and can think of nothing really…except look for Hotchner and I cant do that if my feet are rotting. They took loads of bloods and skin and hair samples and it crosses my mind somewhere in the fog of the drugs that they might find out that I am not some poor down on his luck rent boy…but a psychopathic cannibalistic monster called Franks.

I cant let that bother me…if they come for me…then I will just kill them…end of it all …they cant kill me…they can hack bits off me though…and that thought isn't a pleasant one….I don't want that fucking or not so fucking chemical castration…

Do you know what I really want…what makes me feel like I might smile…

I want Spencer and me and I want us together someone…just the two of us and no one else. We did it before and had a blast. I want to do that again…But some bastard killed him…and I don't even get the bloody satisfaction of payback…cos he died too…I have nothing…and it's so bloody frustrating. I need to tell him…I need those damned words said to him.

-o-o-o-

"No I've never hit him!" and as I say it I realise what I have said….

"That's not what Dr Reid told us."

And now I don't know what Spencer has said or what they are accusing me of here. "Are you charging me with something?"

"How does false imprisonment and endangering the life of another sound to start off with?"

"I need a lawyer."

And I sit and listen to them asking me more questions.

"How often do you take your fists to him Agent Hotchner? Have you not just been through a messy divorce? Do you think that is why you did this to your former colleague? You were aware of his physical condition? The hospital said he was with you to convalesce."

But I wont talk to them now…I just listen and wonder how this became such a damned mess. I would never – but I did…I can't say I would never hurt him…he proved that to me….he showed me….I am capable of hurting him.

And I can feel it…pulling…I can feel I am getting pulled down…and I wont allow it to happen. I wouldn't let Haley do it…and I was married to her…I certainly wont allow Reid to do it to me. And I definitely wont be sharing my home with him. He should never have come home with me….I should have let him go to the convalescence home where he would have been safe.

"You are free to go Agent Hotchner."

"Pardon?"

"You are free to go. But be advised that it will look very bad for you if you try to visit Dr Reid."

I nod and stand up.

I need a beer…I need beer and pizza and I need to watch a ball game…and forget all this.

And as it is Dave who I see first as I leave the precinct feeling like I have done something wrong when it is the man I love I am being accused of imprisoning and it is g my home which is a burned out wreck and I need to find out why.

"There is a reason for his Dave…Someone is picking on Spencer to get to me. The gay killings…its all part of that." And if I wasn't so wrapped up in my little world of loving Spencer I would have realised that straight away…but it was distracting me. So all the more reason to stop it now.

"You were right…About Spencer."

And he nods but doesn't say anything.

-o-o-o-

I don't feel like I am getting any better and it's not helped by the constant questions by the police.

"How often did Hotchner hit you?"

"He didn't!" But he did….. "Not like that…He wouldn't. It wasn't him."

There wasn't really anything they could do…I am definitely not going to press charges and they can't prove anything and so finally the questions stop.

Day three and I am laying staring at the ceiling and I hear footsteps by the bed…I close my eyes and then turn to look and open them slowly and prey it will be Hotch. But it's a nurse.

"Just need to do your obs Spencer." She's ok. I don't mind her…but it would have been nice to get a visit from a friend…but no one. I don't want to see Derek…and I don't expect JJ to come in…or Emily for that matter…Garcia though…and Hotch? I would have thought a visit would have happened by now.

"We are thinking tomorrow if you have a good sleep tonight that we can move you." And my stomach twists in panic.

"Move me?"

"To somewhere where they can look after you whilst you recover fully."

I sigh and turn my head away from her. "I can go home."

"We the doctors are worried – they want you to……"

"I know what they want and I know what they are going to say and I just want to go home – and I need to talk to the doctor about something."

I hear her sigh now and the squeak of her shoes as she walks off. "He will be doing his rounds in about an hour. You can talk to him then."

And I roll onto my side and pull my knees up and close my eyes….And I wonder what I did so wrong that no one will visit me.

-o-o-o-

I'm allowed to go on the forth day of confinement. Feels like I'm some sodding princess about to have a baby the fuss they made over me.

The nurses liked to come in and 'check for sores' RIGHT! Any excuse to look at my arse and cock…and I'm not shy…it's only my body…only flesh…and their 'inspections' are the closest I'm going to get to a rim job in quite a while.

The doctors are amazed at the speedy way I heal…which I do…my toes look scabrous and bad….but they are still attached to me…which was the important thing…the rest will heal…I just didn't think I could re-grow a toe right now.

I have made an executive decision. I am going to find out which is Hotchner…and I'm going to ask him…tell him to tell me where Spencer is…then I can rest….I will go home…to the apartment and get my stuff and be able to move on. But I need to be in control and stay calm when I do it. I need to – I need to be less me and more – someone else…Play a part…make believe I am a good guy…the polar opposite of Frankie boy.

So I leave and walk…and I've been told not to…but what the hell I like walking and I've got a pocket full on pills and my blood is full of crap and I need to walk it off….but my hands aren't shaking…my hair is clean….and so are my clothes.

And here I am in the foyer of the FBI building again and I'm talking to security. "I need to get a message to Agent Emily Prentiss." I smile nicely and keep my hands in my pockets. So they pat me down and put the paddle detector thing over me and then ask me to wait in a small room…maybe the same as last time…I don't know. I sit and wait…I'm not allowed to smoke so I fiddle with the buttons on the coat I nicked…then I cross my legs so my ankles is resting my the other leg's knee and I pick at my boot laces…and I don't know how long I'm there for….but eventually she arrives. With a little guard at the door and she smiles at me and sits at the table the other side.

"Floyd." She says. "Nice of you to drop by."

But I can tell she's none to pleased. "

"I'm going to ask you something…and I need you to think carefully before you answer."

Her eyebrows do a little flick and she stays silent.

"I need to know where Hotchner lives."

She smiles at me. "See this gentleman out please." And she is on her feet.

"Emily…wait…we can talk about it – over coffee."

"No – I'm sorry…I'm very sorry Floyd but if you were thinking of getting information out of me you came to the wrong person. He's gone…you need to be gone too…please don't waste my time comeing back…next time I will not be coming down to tell you that I don't want to see you or your shadow again."

This isn't going well.

"Just…."

"No!"

the bitch cut me off.

And without really thinking I am calculating my chances here…and they are low.

"And if he shows up again call security and get him arrested…I don't want him here again."

So as you can see that didn't go too well…which is why I spend the next four days sitting on a lifted motorcycle with a full helmet and all the leathers to go with - luckily the blood washed off easily – and I follow each and every fucking vehicle that comes out of that parking lot…well not all at the same time…but if an SUV with tinted windows leaves…then I follow…and so on day four I follow it and it pulls up into a parking lot outside a motel…and I pull up in the same lot but down a bit and I watch as I mess with the nothing in my panniers…I watch a tall dark bloke…and I know it's him…I know it's the right one this time. I can tell…the suit…the way he walks…everything…its Hotchner.

I give him five minutes…long enough for his welcome home piss and to put the coffee machine on…and then I pull off the helm and clip it to the bike and with a deep breath I walk…and I feel damned good in this kit….I walk over to the room he entered and I knock on the door.