Chapter 20

A Place In-between

God is cruel. Sometimes he makes you live: - Stephen King

A/N: I have had a VERY bad day today….for this reason this chapter might in places seem a tad odd…very sorry if it is confusing. I had to get it out of my system. SLIGHT SLASH WARNING

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

They rushed him back down the surgery. All the work they had done which had seemed so straight forwards the first time was now far more complicated. They couldn't understand how the micro surgery had just disintegrated the way it had – almost like the first time round the injury was trying to heal its self as they stitched. This time was different. They clamped and sucked up blood and filled him with fluids to try to keep enough blood in his system which as hard as they attempted to fix seemed to be collapsing.

They thought to amputate rather than lose the patient, but the surgeons battled on trying as Flanders body went into spasms and fits as it tried to cope with what was happening to it. Not that which should. The anaesthetist was having problems keeping things stable his end.

The doctors shouted orders at each other and stuck more needles in his arm as once again his heart stopped.

-o-o-o-

There again – closer to the river this time. Not the same people walking around him. From here he could hear the river. From here he could smell the damp earth around its edges. From here he could see fish jumping in colours too bright to be real. Everything too bright to be real. Laying again on the damp grass with no boots and his fingers playing with the grass which was a bit too long. He could see someone had stopped and was looking down at him. He looked back and blinked.

"Decisions to be made?"

He sighed and sat up. She sat on the grass next to him. A woman in her late ages. Long grey hair hanging down her back and a flowing yellow dress.

"Want to talk about it?"

He licked him lips and looked at her pale blue eyes. "Not really."

"I might be able to help you decide."

"There is no decision to be made really. Either way – whatever I do now I fucked up."

She smiled at him. "Well yes you are a fuck up Floyd, but you can attempt to fix it." She put a hand on his knee as he sat cross legged looking down at the river.

"I can't fix it. It's gone too far to fix." His eyes flitted back to the river. "Where are they all going?"

"You need to pull yourself out of this self pitying state Floyd and think what has to be done. You need to get your Spencer away from that place and you need to take the Agents to him."

"I know that." His voice was a bit snappy. "But I can't fix the damage to myself and keep him safe at the same time."

"Have you ever thought that the surgeons can fix the damage? You don't need what you have given to Spencer. Not really." Her hand squeezed on his knee.

"I'm dying."

"Well Floyd that really isn't an option for you is it? What is the point in your pathetic self sacrifice if it doesn't help Spencer? When you go, once you cross that river, and you will if you don't start fighting this then he will lose what you gave him anyway. If you die so does he – so where is the point Floyd?"

"Then I would have failed anyway. I will be back where I started."

She removed her hand an nodded. "So what are you going to do? Sit here on the grass and watch them cross over the river, or are you going to get up off your dirty perverted arse as walk back up the hill?"

He looked at her for a minute. Tried to reach in and look into her soul. But there didn't seem to be anything there. He looked behind him at the direction the people were coming from. He looked up at the hill.

"Why me? Why pick on me?"

"Because Floyd, you aren't like these are you?" She gestured at the people walking by. "They will walk over and they will be home. Floyd – you will walk over and be home too, for the shortest of whiles, until you are pitched back down again. You might have a chance to stop that happening, but it's getting late. It's getting dark and once it is dark your options are closed. Make up your mind Floyd. Save him and yourself now by fighting, or cross over and hope that they don't notice that your pathetic stinking vile form has entered their peaceful territories."

"Fighting." He moved onto his knees watching the slowing stream of people walking towards him.

"I know things generally come easy to you – but you started this – go back up there and put a stop to it. Fix it."

He ran his fingers through his hair and tucked it behind his ears.

"You did good though." A hand on his shoulder. "Go now before it's too dark."

Floyd stood up and turned back to look at the river and the deep dark forest on the other side. He sighed and closed his eyes taking in the sweet scent of the water and listening to the splashing of the too bright – too large – fish.

-o-o-o-

He had calmed down. Whatever it was he had taken had left their star a sweaty drooling mess. The shaking and the fitting had stopped and now they had to decide what to do with him. There was talk of returning him to Ardal. See how things worked out, but now they were worried that the drugs had done this, though strangely their own doctors had found no traces of anything in his blood.

Reid just felt confused. Nothing was making any sense anymore.

He could hear Floyd's voice still in his head saying 'sorry' for something he couldn't understand. He was tempted to ask – to open himself up and call him and ask what happened and what he had done to deserve what he was so sorry about. Was all of this his fault?

They dragged him off the bed to see if he could stand. The room swam around his head and he could see funny swirling colours out of the corners of his eyes. He tried to reach out and touch them but they were just out of reach. Slowly they walked him out of the small room and down a corridor. Rooms on each side of him. So many rooms with small window's in the doors. So many people locked up and used and hurt by these people. He was just one of the many.

His room was empty when he arrived back. They pushed him into the room and closed the door behind him. He walked to the bed and flopped down on his back and pulled his knees up tightly towards him. All this time he had wanted to die and when it had finally come to it and he thought he was he realised that wasn't what it was he wanted. He wanted – no needed to get out of here. He wanted to be able to remember what it was like before he was here but it seemed like such a long time ago and in such a different world and lifetime that he couldn't quite get a fix on it anymore.

Spencer closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What had Floyd done to him? and why was he suddenly sorry?

He thought again for a moment that he could feel grass under his fingers and smell damp earth, but as he drifted off into a deep dark sleep that was quickly replaced by a void with the sound of wings beating in the back ground.

-o-o-o-

He walked up the hill not in any great hurry to discover what was going to be at the top. The slope got steeper the further he walked. Firstly causing his feet to slide and occasionally having to put his hands down. Then it became necessary to hold on with his hands as the grass turned to earth and stones which slid away under him feet and forced him to his knees. He could see blood where he was cutting into his fingers on the sharp shards of shiny black stone and as the earth gave way to solid rock his feet grazed and cut on the too sharp rocks he was pulling himself up.

Floyd glanced back down the way he had come and could see nothing. A deep dark blackness had devoured everything. All that there was now was him alone hauling his scrawny arse up a near vertical cliff face – which was feeling cold. It was very cold and this once again was something that Floyd wasn't too used to. Pain and temperature changes were just not in his book of things to endure. Until now.

In some ways this deep coldness was good. It covered over the pain he was feeling in his feet and hands as the skin tore away on the rocks. He was sure he was leaving icy globules of blood and flesh behind him. And now the light was gone. There was nothing. He wasn't even able to see his hand in front of his face. A deep sigh. Was I worth it in the end? If he let go what would happen? He can't die more than once can he?

The next time he reached his hand up he felt a ledge. Was he nearly there? His arms ached and his breath felt like it was freezing in his lungs and as he pulled himself up scraping at the skin on his chest and abdomen as his waistcoat tore and ripped open – he realised that he wasn't actually breathing anymore.

Kneeling on the ledge he peered in front of him. A vast empty nothingness spread before him. Again he tried to take a breath, but there seemed to be no air up here. He tired to put his hands down in front of him but discovered there was nothing there either. Climbed all this way for nothing? Was that the message? There was nothing? It felt as though the ledge he hand climbed up to was getting narrower. He could feel it sliding away backwards across his shins.

'What now? What am I meant to do now?'

He knew that he couldn't go back the way he had come, and forwards was looking grim, and he wasn't going to be able to stay were he was. Options were slim and the pressure of needing to take a breath were increasing and he could feel a strange pain pulling across his chest as his heart pounded a few times and then stopped.

Floyd knew she had told him to go forwards and so carefully standing on his bleeding feet on the ledge which had become about three inches wide now he walked forwards into the void.

-o-o-o-

"OK he's back."

A sigh of relief over theatre and the surgeon started again on trying to reattach his hand back properly onto his wrist.

Things were just not going right with this person. He was twitching for a start. There had been horrified gasps as he started trying to make fists out of his hands and pull his knees up close when he was meant to be fully anesthetised. They were sure he would have started shouting and talking to them if he didn't have a tube stuffed down his throat. The whole time he was there he was bucking and twisting and making odd noises at them. Like some animal trying to escape somewhere from inside of him. They had never seen anyone react like this to anaesthetic before and a note was made on his medical records of his strange reaction.

"I'm done." Finally the words they were all waiting to hear. The three members of staff trying to hold the writing Flanders down onto the operation table finally let go. "I think we need to get him up to ICU and keep him strapped down. I don't like the look of this. I don't like the amount of blood loss here or the way his heart kept stopping. We might have a problem."

They answered silently knowing what the doctor in charge was talking about and how badly Flanders brain could have been damaged through all of this. It seemed to be the only logical explanation for what was going on. They re-strapped his arm and hand and then double checked that the foot was still strapped and held in place properly from the previous operation on the tendon. As it all seemed fine now they removed all his drips and tubes and took him quickly away and gave the charge of this peculiar person to the ward staff. Obviously the surgeon would be back to check later. Especially as it seemed to have gone so wrong before.

They left him sleeping and strapped to the bed.

-o-o-o-

He heard the door open and close gently and then nothing but the sound of quick breaths. He wanted to open his eyes and say 'hello' but he felt the pressure of someone sitting on the bed and touching his leg gently.

"Spencer?" Ardal's voice. "Are you alright? I have been worried sick."

Reid placed a hand over Ardal's and squeezed it slightly. "I've felt better." Now he felt his friend lay down behind him and run his hand down his back.

"Shit Spencer I thought I'd never seen you again. I've been out of my fucking mind!"

Spencer rolled onto his back and then his other side so that he was facing his friend. "I'm sorry. I really am sorry." He ran a thumb over Ardal's lips "I don't know what happened. Some sort of nightmare. I can't really remember except for seeing so much blood."

Ardal licked at Spencer's thumb. "There was no blood. Just you screaming the most god-awful noises I have ever heard. I thought you'd gone psycho on me." he pushed some or Reid's hair off his face so he could see him better. "You look so ill. Did they say what was going to happen?"

"They didn't say much at all. I'm ok. A bad dream is all." Reid ran a finger down the side of Ardal's face. "I'm sorry I scarred you. I would never hurt you, you know that don't you?"

As he said the words – words he had heard so many times himself in reality and in his nightmares he wanted to scream and cry and laugh at the same time.

"Let me make it up to you." Reid tried to keep his voice steady. "Roll over." A small hitch in his voice. Hopefully it went un-noticed. He kept his hand in contact with Ardal as he moved and rolled over. As he was wearing a pair of boxers Reid whilst kissing at the back of the sweaty neck of the man he loved pulled their garments down and out of the way. He placed one hand on the top of Ardal's head and pulled it back slightly and the other he place on his side slowly moving it down until he met the equally bony hip. Spencer ran his fingers around the hip bone in lazy circles as his kisses turned to nibbles and suckings and gentle and maybe not quite so gentle bites on Ardal's neck and shoulder.

For a brief moment Spencer had a strange urge to bite in and taste the juices running under that skin which smelt of old sex and other men. It made Reid's stomach knot tightly and his heart thump harder and his teeth to bit maybe a bit deeper.

Ardal moaned and pushed back seeking what he needed from Reid and Spencer gave it too him….unprepared he ripped his way into Ardal who howled and cried out and demanded more as Reid found that special place and moved his hand from his hip around to the front to give Ardal a hand with what he was already doing.

Having satisfied himself before Ardal he moved him onto his back.

Spencer had learned many tricks from Floyd. He had now a multitude of new tricks and techniques he could use to bring Ardal to a point of no return with the minimal of effort on his part but the ultimate in pleasure for the person he was working his mouth on.

When he moved back up the sweaty body of the man under him and their mouths joined Reid was sure had just given Ardal the best fuck and blow he had ever had.

He looked down at Ardal and smirked.