Dark Places

!!I support the 2007 WGA STRIKE!!

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine: Flanders is.

It was too hot. The cooling systems weren't working correctly and he sat sweating reading a book and occasionally looking out of the window at the dry Texan country side. He had decided to take the train this time. It was a long trip and he fancied reading up on some of the things he was missing out on being the driver all the time.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and wished he had caught the later train, then at least he would have been doing this part of the journey out of the mid day sun. He was tired. He was more relaxed than he had been in years but the past months were still with him. He put in a book mark and closed his book. He decided he would try to have a small sleep. At least rest his eyes.

Jason had just put his head back and closed his eyes when the train slammed to a stop. Some inbuilt radar told him something bad had happened. He looked out of the windows and saw small bushes and sand. He stood up and looked down the aisle of the carriage and tried to work out which way to go to see what was going on. He left his book – he would be back for it – and walked towards to middle carriage.

He opened the door and saw that something was wrong immediately. The carriage was empty – all except for someone laying backwards across the seats, his legs in the aisle. It was like he had been sitting side on and had fallen backwards. Dark trousers. Brown shoes. On the floor in front of him was what looked to be a flak jacket. Gideon walked slowly forwards. He looked over the back of the seat to see what was there. A young man. Wavy brown hair. He had on light coloured striped shirt with a brown tie and white disposable gloves. On the seat next to him was a discarded sim card a scalpel and a dollar coin. The man had been shot in the chest once and in the face. He stood and looked at the scene and flipped open his phone. Stepping back quickly.

………………..

He went back to his empty house. He had been given options. The cells at the local PD or go home. He was brought home in a black and white and escorted to his door. He was told not to leave town they still had things to ask. Things to talk about – he wasn't happy about it. He just wanted Reid – was that so much to ask?

He stood in the foyer of his over large house and looked at the pile of broken picture frames pushed over against the wall. He should sort it out and see how much money he had potentially lost, but he really didn't care anymore. Walking past the stairs and around the dark corner he entered the kitchen. He walked over to the coffee machine and looked blankly at it. It wasn't coffee he wanted.

Flanders left the kitchen at a virtual run. He took the stairs two at a time and went into his bed room. The window was fixed and the room had been almost tidied up. He pulled fresh clothes out of the walk in dressing room. Black cords and a black shirt. He pulled on a pair of black cowboy boots, and snatched up another pair of glasses. Then picked up a bottle of whiskey and left the room to go up another flight of stairs to the top of the house. He walked down an L shaped corridor. There was a door to his right and one straight ahead. It was this one he went towards. He picked out a key from a collection on top of the door frame and unlocked the door. He was in a big oblong room. There were double door going out to a balcony. A big leather chair against a wall, and wall lamps. He turned on a lamp next to his chair and flopped down. He opened his bottle and took a long swig back. If he was going to get plastered and killed by some demonic creature and chucked out of the window this is where he wanted to be. Up here in his secret room surrounded by his pictures of Spence.

………………..

Aaron sat on a chair next to Spence. He held his hand and talked softly to him. There still had been no real response to any stimuli. They told Hotch that Reid was awake. He was definitely conscious, he was just not responsive. Shock. PTSD – he had been through an horrific ordeal, they can't expect him to just bounce back. He talked to Reid of anything he could think of. He read to him from books, he picked up the X-man comic and read that too. But got nothing back.

……………….

He could feel the wet earth covering his limbs. He could feel the coldness and wet seeping through to his skin. He wiggled his fingers to try to keep them warm. He tried to wiggle his toes too but they were too cold and too painful so he let them lay in the wet. Reid could feel the way Pepe had jumped down into the ditch and jumped up and down to compact the earth down hard. He could feel his body sinking into its final resting place. Then fingers on his face and a voice. 'Pretty boy – such a pretty boy – I will come back to see you again later." And he could hear the heavy breathing as he tried to close his mind down and just look at the water running down the side.

A smell. He could smell Hotch. That safe comfortable smell. The one he could snuggle with and all those silly problems just drifted away. He turned his empty eyes in the direction the smell of security was coming from.

"Aaron." His voice hardly above a whisper.

Hotch moved slowly but gripped Reid's hand a bit tighter. "I'm here Spencer."

"Hotch?"

"You are safe Spencer. I am here now."

"He was here Hotch. He was here." and a single tear.

"Who was?" He was thinking of either Morgan or Flanders. The reply was not what he expected.

"Daja."

Hotch let go of Reid's hand quickly and looked down at the white face with the bruises. "What do you mean Daja?"

"It wasn't Derek. Tell Flanders it wasn't Derek. It was Daja." Aaron could see Reid was shaking. "I thought it was Morgan. I really did at first, but it wasn't. Hotch – Floyd is in danger. You have to protect him too."

Aaron was pacing the small hospital room. "Reid what has a creature from a nightmare have to do with what just happened to you, and what does it have to do with Flanders?"

"Please Aaron. Send someone to Floyd. They will kill him." Reid started to get out of bed, wincing in pain.

Hotch moved over to him. "You can't go anywhere yet. Tell me what you need; I will see if I can do it for you."

"I need a phone. Quickly Hotch – please. Give me your cell."

Aaron shook his head and started to walk towards the door.

"No!" Reid shouted in panic. "Don't leave me, please don't leave me alone."

"I need to get you a phone Spencer. I won't be far." But he turned to see the terrified look on Reid's face.

"OK use my cell. You're not meant to."

"I know. I remember Des Plaines."

He flipped open the phone and punching in a familiar number.

…………………..

Flanders was having another of his drunken nightmares. Someone was tormenting him. Talking in voices he didn't understand. Telling him things he didn't want to know. Reminding him of things he didn't want to be reminded of. The man stood and talked to Floyd.

"You are one of us. This is temporary – you are not doing your job. You are meant to be with him by now. You need him back here with you."

Flanders muttered something about Hotch being in the way and he would try harder.

"You are weak. You are grounded until you sort this mess out."

"I can't do it. I don't want to do it."

"You have no choice. You will do as you are told."

A slow nod.

"You understand."

A slow nod. "I understand, but it doesn't mean I will do it."

A sudden loud bleeping pulled Flanders out of his dream as he reached over for his cell phone.

"Flanders collector or the fine and unusual. How can I help?"

"It's me. It's Spence." Flanders opened his eyes and looked around the room and shuddered.

"Spence? You are awake. I thought we had lost you." He smiled.

"Daja is back."

…………………..

!!I support the 2007 WGA STRIKE!!