Breathe
!!I support the 2007 WGA STRIKE!!
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.
Breathe.
He could hear them talking to him.
Breathe.
But something wouldn't let him.
Breathe
It's not that hard.
Breathe.
I was aiming for his leg.
Breathe.
Make no mistake I will shoot your man right now.
Breathe.
Turn it on or I pull the trigger.
Breathe.
Can I forgive myself?
Breathe.
This ends now.
Breathe.
Six elevator deaths a year.
Breathe. I can't. I am trying. I can't breathe.
And then sudden pain in the back of his head and hands holding his head and tipping it back.
"Breathe damnit Reid breathe."
And he was back in a black place with chains around his ankles and endless darkness spreading around, and he screamed and with the scream came the breath.
Suddenly he could hear again, and he could see again. Hotch was bending over him. He could feel hard calloused hands on his face. Floyd's hands on his face. "It's OK Spence. You had a panic attack. You passed out." The accent and the overwhelming feeling of need and he could smell Aaron and see JJ's face looking worried.
"Can you move away please?" Hotch was looking at the owner of that voice. "Morgan cuff him and take him down the station. I need to know who the hell he is and why he is out here with my agent on the floor."
The comforting hands moved away and he heard the voice, but couldn't see the face. "It's OK, I don't need to be cuffed. I will happily accompany you and chat." But Reid could hear the clicking of cuffs and a sigh.
Spencer tried to look back to see what was going on but Hotch kept his head still. "Keep still Reid. You hit your head. Paramedics are on the way."
"I passed out? Where are you taking him? We were just having coffee. What hit me?" Now he could see flashing lights and hear rushed whispering voices.
"Hello." A new voice. "Can you tell me your name?" Such a stupid question. He moved his hand to his ID. Hands covering his. "It's alright don't move I just need to know your name."
Sudden thoughts. This might not be real. This is a trick. Something had gone wrong. He passed out in the street? Why would he do that? Why wouldn't they let him move? He could feel prying hands touching his face and fingers moving in his hair. This was wrong. Where was Hotch? Why was he still laying in the street. "Your name?"
He must be hallucinating. This can't be happening. He felt someone slip something around his neck. And now the memories of those nightmares came screaming back again.
…………..
Hotch looked down at Reid. Why he was out here when he had been asked to stay in his office was right now a mystery, but he needed to talk to the person he had been with. He could see different expressions pass over Reid's face as the blueness on his lips was covered over by a slightly more natural colour. He saw relief and then he saw confusion. As the paramedics started to ask him questions, ones he didn't answer, there was alarm and now it was abject terror as they tried to put a collar around his neck. He stood back helplessly as the medics tried to avoid the flailing arms and scratching fingers. Reid tried to pull the collar off again making odd whimpering noises at the back of his throat.
"Stop." Aaron stepped forward. "Is that necessary?"
Reid could feel the garrotte tighten around his neck as black blobs of something crept in around the corners of his vision.
The medic removed the collar giving Hotchner a dirty look. "It is protocol to secure the neck sir, but as it seems to be alarming him so much."
"Just look at where he hit his head. I don't want him going to hospital unless really necessary."
"He is incoherent. He doesn't even seem able to give us his name, and it looks like he is not fully awake. We need to check him out properly."
…………..
Reid could feel unfamiliar hands pulling at him. He tried to fight them off. He kicked and fought with them, but he felt them holding him down and strapping his arms in place. Voices in the background. Was that Hotch? Why didn't Hotch stop this?
"Your name please sir? Your date of birth."
Darkness and chains and smells unfamiliar.
…………
Derek sat on the other side of a table in the interview room watching this stranger. "Let's start with a name."
The man shrugged. "Floyd Flanders. Would you like my social security number?"
"Don't get smart just answer the questions."
Shrug.
"It's still Flanders."
"How do you now Reid?" Watching this man closely.
"What business is that of yours?" Staring Morgan in the eyes.
"He's a federal agent. He is my partner and I want to know who you are and how he knows you."
Leaning back in his chair as far as the cuffs attached to the table would permit. "I see him on the train. I asked him out on a date. We went for drinks." A frown. "When you say 'partner' you mean working partner?"
"I told you not to get smart with me. Your accent."
"Yes what of it?"
"I assume you have a passport and visa etcetera?"
"Yes sir, I keep them safely in my sock." Moving forwards again. "I am not here illegally if that is what you are asking."
"I need your home address." Morgan was making notes in a pad.
"So you can harass me there as well?"
"You think I am harassing you? I haven't started yet. Address. Employment details. Now."
"So you will be needing my social security number then? It's tattooed on my arse if you care to look." He reeled off his address to a raised eyebrow. "I am sort of self employed. Check my tax records. All up to date."
Derek was still making notes whilst watching this Flanders. "Self employed doing what?"
"I am a collector. I collect old things. Unusual things, I sell them to other collectors."
"Be more specific. Old things?"
"Dolls, books, coins, collectables. I collect and trade and I make a very good living from it, as you can tell from my address. Nothing illegal. You are more than welcome to have a look around. Just don't break anything or you will have to buy it."
"What were you doing with Reid? I need every detail. Why was he there with you?"
"I don't like where this is going. If you are accusing me of something I think I need a lawyer. Otherwise you can remove these cuffs and we will talk about our mutual friend – who by the way I am more than a bit concerned about and so can we please get this over and done with like gentlemen and not like thugs?"
"You lawyering up?" Derek frowned. "Yes or no?"
"Are you going to remove these? I have nothing further to say until you do."
Derek got up and moved to the cuffs, unlocking them and putting them on the table. "Now talk."
"He phoned me. I was in the area, so I suggested coffee at the stall. We met up, he seemed nervous. We sat and talked, but something happened. Not sure what. He just freaked out and had a panic attack. I thought he was going to die. Really nothing I could have done. I wasn't like anything I have seen before. I thought he was hallucinating or something. It looked like he was hearing or seeing things. Then he just tipped forwards onto the floor. You arrived about then, so you know the rest."
"Seeing things?" Puzzled.
"Like he was having a nightmare or night terrors only he was awake. Is he mentally unstable or something? It looked like some sort of mental breakdown or similar from my untrained eye."
Morgan nodded. "You don't mind waiting while we check out these details do you?"
"I feel I have little choice, but I would like to find out how Spence is. If you could update me on his condition it would be appreciated."
"Wait here." And Morgan got up and left the room. It was locked behind him.
…………
Derek gave Garcia all the information he had and asked his baby girl to check it out for him. "Will do sugar – OK Flanders Floyd: He's been in the country for about five years. He is originally from Italy but travels and lived for a long while in England. The address – wow – nice! He has a small business buying and selling collectable antiques, he specialises in dolls and books, though there seems to be some art he has sold, and a few coins. Mainly dolls though. Strange. They are very specific. Hand crafted European. Very valuable. Seems he has spent some time in rehab for drug dependency. Heroin. He had a cocaine problem for a while too it seems, and was in trouble for driving under the influence of alcohol. He is Thirty-two and unmarried, no dependants and rather gorgeous. Looks like he had a name change when he was in Europe. Just checking it." Derek could hear he fingers clattering on the keys. "OK yes not a name change as such, he dropped his last name so Flanders must have been a strange middle name. Floyd Flanders Franks. But the Franks bit hasn't been used since he was about ten by the looks of it." A pause. "There seem to be chunks of information missing. I cant find his family or his schooling. Unless he has none."
"Thank you sweetness." And pressed speed dial again to get Hotch.
……………….
Hotch sat with Reid who was now sitting up with a big dressing on his forehead.
"Sorry Aaron."
"Do you know what happened? Did someone attack you?" Worried eyes.
"No – I think it was just lack of sleep. I can't really explain it. I guess it was just a panic attack. Those crime scene photo's Hotch. They brought back memories I was hoping were buried."
"Flanders had nothing to do with this?" Moving a hand to rest on top or Reid's.
"No." Small shake of the head. "He had nothing to do with it. I think it was the sudden fresh air and, I don't know – I can't explain it. A panic attack? I couldn't breathe."
Reid didn't feel it was the time to tell Aaron he had been hallucinating visually and aurally. Now wasn't the time to talk to Aaron about his fears of schizophrenia.
……………
!!I support the 2007 WGA STRIKE!!