Chapter 5
Another day
"It is not because other people are dead that our affection for them grows faint, it is because we ourselves are dying." Marcel Proust
Aaron lay against the side of the box whimpering and moaning in the darkness. It had got very cold, and he shivered and he felt ice on the sides of the box where his breath had frozen, and patches of blood were thick and cold where it had settled around his chest. His breathing was light, and he couldn't feel his heart beating any more.
The voices were shouting at him all at once and he couldn't hear what they were saying. He couldn't block them out, and they wouldn't stop. He begged and pleaded, but they ignored him, making fun of his terror. He kicked at the side of his prison, tearing the skin of his feet and knees. He forced his elbows back against the wood, splinters embedding themselves into his arms and hands. He gripped handfuls of hair and pulled it and tore at his scalp. He could control that. It was his to do, and his to control. He pulled hair out at the roots and felt blood run down his face.
He cried out at the voices that only seemed to be there to torment him, but instead of words, he made distressed sounds through clenched teeth, rolling his head and hitting it against the walls. Speech was no longer possible, his tongue swollen and stuck to his palate. His limbs shook and he had no control, and Aaron forgot everything except the world in the box and nothing else existed except the misery and suffering and there were no other sounds except the voices and Aaron cried and his body twitched and shuddered and his mind screamed and his throat made a keening sound in rhythm with the banging of his head.
Six feet above him the sun was going down on the second day, reflecting honey gold and blood red off the atmosphere, and white clouds outlined in purple drifted aimlessly and the sounds of fear and distress were lost in the space between.
-0-0-0-
"When you have been checked out, you can come back to work, and not before." Rossi was adamant that Reid see a doctor. "I'll drive you. Come on now."
Reid and Rossi left in an SUV. Morgan, Emily and JJ stayed at the BAU with Garcia. Again and again they read through the information they had gathered, but there didn't seem to be anything that would help them find Hotch. When Rossi and Reid returned two hours later, they hadn't moved any further forward.
"Hey, Kid, what they say?" Morgan asked with concern. Although all the team was involved in this, Spence was carrying the heaviest load. In little over ten hours, Spence was going to have to give his evidence.
"Mild concussion, bruised ribs," He held up his hand. "Stitches. Nothing really."
Rossi put his hand on his shoulder. "I need to talk to you privately, Reid."
Spencer followed him into his office, and sat down opposite him.
"I can't imagine what you are going through Reid." Rossi looked straight into Reid's eyes. "I understand that Aaron is far more than a colleague to you. I need to know what you are going to say in court tomorrow."
Spencer felt tears in his eyes as he took the first step towards betraying the man he loved above everything. He had always known this was likely going to happen, but hearing his own voice say it was like pulling the trigger against Aaron's head. He felt sick saying it.
"I will be under oath, Rossi. I will tell the truth."
There. He'd said it. Condemned Aaron to death by his own words.
Aaron, forgive me...
Tears streamed down his face. Rossi passed him a tissue, and said, "Join us when you are ready, Reid." and left him to recover himself.
Spencer sat alone in Rossi's office with his hands pressed into his eyes. He wanted to cry and wail and mourn, but he was working. There was still time to find him.
He went over the evidence in his mind. Whoever had Aaron was keeping him somewhere sealed, where they could control his air. He tried to think what that could be.
An air tight room. A food storage place? A refrigeration room? A medical facility? Research labs? Somewhere underground?
Thinking was difficult, when all he could think of was Aaron being held somewhere and his own words would free or condemn him.
He wiped his tears off his face, and left the office. He needed to join with the others to work with them. He opened the door of the conference room, and his friend looked up at him, concern and love in their eyes. He sat down and told the team his idea.
"Garcia," Rossi said, "Find any information you can on that." She was on her feet and leaving the room, so glad she had something constructive.
Rossi turned to Reid. "You need to go and have a sleep, Reid."
"I'm ok, I..."
"You need to sleep, Reid. You are in court in a few hours."
Spencer looked at Rossi, clearly upset. He stood and left the room without looking back, and went to the lounge. He sat on one of the couches and lay down. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but he closed his eyes, and went through the evidence again. The next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by Morgan.
"Hey kid, time to wake up. You're in court in an hour and a half."
"Have you got anything else, Derek?"
"Garcia has come up with a few leads. The others are following them up. I'm staying with you."
Spencer got to his feet shakily. He knew what he had to do. Joshua Scarson was an unrepentant murderer. If he was back on the streets, more people would die.
"Derek, I am about to condemn Aaron to death. I can't even ask his forgiveness. How am I going to do this? Where am I going to get the strength?"
Morgan felt a deep empathy for Spencer. He knew the depth of love that Spencer and Aaron had, and he wasn't sure if he could do the right thing if he was in that position. He put his arms around Spencer and hugged him tightly.
"I know you will do the right thing, Kid. I'll be here for you every step of the way. You are not alone here."
Spencer pressed his face into Morgan's chest, wondering if he would ever be close like this to Aaron again.
Oh god, Aaron. Please forgive me. I am so sorry...Please, I am so very sorry, Aaron...
-0-0-0-
The voices had stopped, and Aaron suddenly felt alone.
He cried out to them, for them to come back, but they had left him. Aaron's head was hurting. Each time it hit the side of the box, he wanted to scream, but his mouth and throat were too dry to make coherent sounds, so he made sounds of distress and fear through his teeth, pulling at his hair, scratching at his face. His finger nails were torn, several ripped out as he had tried to claw his way out of the box. His muscles suddenly went into spasms, and his body seized. As the convulsion controlled his body, scraping his back against the rough wood of the box, and his limbs tried to straighten in the small space, his head was flung back, and the wound on the back of his head began to bleed again. Bands around his chest tightened, and his breathing became painful and shallow. The seizure abated, but his limbs continued to twitch and they went into spasms, his hot dry skin tearing on the rough surface.
Aaron's eyes felt dry and gritty and rolling upward. He wanted to cry out, scream for help, but the sound he made was a heard breaking soft mewling. He vomited and retched from and empty stomach. He no longer had any awareness of self as he threw his head back against the side of the box and passed out.