6

The Pure Thoughts Belonging to Father Daniel Green. (or Danny if you wish.)

Why now? Why today of all the days he could have chosen to turn up on my doorstep demanding from me that which I cannot possibly give him.

I cannot.

I will not.

Yet here I stand in this church I am meant to minister over and I look down at the faces of the people and they are begging me to give them the answer to all and I no longer have that answer. I never did have that answer. Let them rummage through the good book themselves if it's that urgent. I cannot stand here and pretend. I know I keep glancing towards the small door at the other end of the church; the small door which opens into a bare corridor with two doors. One goes to the public lavatories and the other opens into my lounge. Dear Lord God save me from what I left in there.

Why don't you listen to me? Why don't you hear my words? If you wont listen to me and give me a sign that you understand and that you are forgiving how can I tell Mrs Arnold that the pain she is going through over the disappearance of her son is for a reason? How can I tell her that prayer will help her! It wont! I know it wont! How can I listen to sins and offer forgiveness? What place do I have to offer such? It's a sham! The people leave and think they are again pure – that their souls are clean and they're not! I cannot forgive when my own soul and heart are as dirty as they are. Who is going to forgive me?

Why today? Why did Sam have to return today? Now I know I should be saying something… my mouth is open and my tongue is licking my lips and the pale faces are all staring at me and I have no idea at what point we have arrived at.

My body is aching.

My whole body – every tiny muscle is screaming. Every nerve ending is crying out. I have to go to the demon child who is washing his pale sweet body in my home… who is going to sleep on my couch with that ebony hair and eyes which reflect the night sky. That boy who I should never have let into my home and should never have invited him back.

If indeed I actually did.

I carry on with mass. It's empty. It's meaningless. It's disgusting. I am nothing better than someone cheating at a game. I'm reading the rules yet I'm not even trying to follow them.

I'm talking too fast. I know I am. I'm rattling through this faster than I ever have. There is no feeling of love to them. They're nothing… Oh please end! Get out of my church! Leave me to what I have to suffer… suffer is maybe not the right word, but leave me to the demon who has eaten my soul and taken from me my life as I once knew it.

Back when things weren't complex.

When the answers to everything could be found in the book I'm staring down at.

Long ago before this heat filled my body.

This disgusting lust filled wanton heat.

The Gentle Art of Persuasion.

Spencer washed dishes wearing rubber gloves. Floyd stood behind him and rubbed against him and nibbled on his ear and licked the back of his neck. He asked Spencer to keep the gloves on for later – partially because it seemed a bit kinky and partially (mainly) so Spencer wouldn't be actually touching him.

Floyd had no idea why this was becoming a problem and he had no clue why sometimes he didn't mind and other times it repulsed him.

'Do you think I'm going crazy?' A whisper in Spencer's ear.

Reid turned around slowly with bubbles on the gloves he still had on his hands. He said nothing. Reid just looked at the psychopath standing in front of him and wondered how he could possibly answer such a question. His face twisted into all sorts of patterns before he gave up and shrugged.

'You must know. You can read people. If I was in an interview room… had I been picked up for something and you were talking to me – asking me shit – what would you think?'

Reid sucked in his lips and then licked them. He blinked and sighed and raised an eyebrow and when all of this was done and it still didn't seem to have given Floyd the answer he wanted Spencer sighed. 'I think I would have to suggest that you spoke to a professional. A therapist of some kind. You have issues. But it would depend on which of those issues you displayed. I know you too well. I cant judge anymore. Your oddities are normal to me.'

'Oddities?'

'You display strange behaviour patterns which are not normal.'

'How so?'

'Anger? Jealousy. You fail to see that what you are saying or doing is actually hurting someone.'

'How so?'

'Floyd! You had a tantrum in the restaurant. You were the only one who did. Does that not make you think it was odd?'

He shrugged and stepped back from Spencer. 'Maybe the other diners didn't have to put up with your miserable fucking face.'

'Maybe that's what it is. It's my fault.' Spencer turned back to the bowl of bubbles.

Floyd backed away and sat down on a kitchen stool. 'Well yeah, so if that's the case it's you who's going crazy and not me.'

'Likely.' Spencer muttered.

'So why say it's me?' Floyd lit a smoke.

'I didn't. You asked.'

'You need to learn when to keep your fucking mouth shut.'

Spencer pulled off the gloves and walked from the kitchen. He paused at the doorway, again feeling that he needed to ask permission to leave, but then walked down to the lounge and fell with a flomp into his chair. The name tag was still sitting on the arm. The crumpled paper was on the floor. The small box was on his desk on the other side of the room. Spencer sighed and looked at the ring knowing that maybe, just maybe the ring was for him, but the box? No… he was very sure that Floyd had made that for the equally insane freak called Sam.

'What are you doing?' Floyd came over and again knelt down in front of Spencer.

Reid reached over to brush some stray hair out of Floyd's face but pulled his hand back afraid the touching was not allowed. 'I was thinking. I try to do what you want. I try to do what you ask and I never get it right. I just annoy you. Why do you keep coming back to me? I don't get the feeling that you actually like me. You put up with me. I will go on vacation with you. I will go to a cottage in the woods if that's what will make you happy, but why don't you take Sam?'

Floyd sat back on his heels. 'What makes you think I don't like you? I'm here aren't I? But good, I'll sort out the cottage for us. I don't want to take Sam. I would have asked him if I wanted to. It's you I want.' He bounced to his feet. 'I'll get that resignation letter sorted for you.' Floyd started to walk to Spencer's desk.

'How many times do I have to say that I don't want to resign?'

Floyd turned slowly. 'A lot more than you have already I expect. You can decide. It's entirely up to you.' He walked slowly back to Spencer and put his hand out. 'I fancy an early night.'

Reid cautiously took his hand and stood. 'Up to me to decide?'

'Of course. I cant force you. But not now. I want, no – I need you to think carefully before you make that decision because it will be sort of final.' Floyd began to drag Spencer towards the bedroom.

'Final?' Spencer managed to say before Floyd's mouth stopped him from saying much more that made any sense for a while.

The first strange thing which happened was that Floyd removed his boots. Then he un-did his belt and stood in front of Spencer and slowly stripped his own clothes off. Reid wanted to ask what Floyd was doing. Removing his boots was good, but the rest of his clothing? It was unheard of. Floyd stood with his pile of clothing around his feet and smiled. 'Turn around… I want to see you strip from behind.' Another odd thing. Spencer didn't really want to turn his back on a naked Floyd for Oh so many reasons, but he did what he was asked. He wondered if Floyd found this at all erotic because personally Spencer didn't. It scared him. It was abnormal. It was wrong. He was learning how to read Floyd and predict what he was going to do next, but this just threw everything out of the window again. Spencer stripped down as far as his boxers before he felt hands touching his back and hot breath on his shoulders and neck. Floyd completed the job for Spencer. He knelt behind him and slipped thumbs between the remaining fabric and Spencer's skin and licked his way down Reid's spine and over his buttocks and down the back of his legs. He then slowly and carefully licked and nibbled his way back up again. Still though Spencer found this experience more horrific that good. He could feel his skin coming out in goose bumps. The little hairs on the back of his neck and down his arms stood up in alarm.

They crawled to the bed. Spencer had forgotten that initial alarm he'd felt. He'd been silly to worry. Why had he been concerned about Floyd's odd behaviour? This was normal. This was how things should be. Maybe Floyd bit him slightly harder than necessary and maybe the scratching was a bit spiteful and the sweat made his skin tingle and sting but as he lay on his side on the bed shaking and shuddering and wondering if his brains just exploded with pleasure none of that small bit of pain mattered. At least not for now. Not while Floyd was licking his way over Spencer's wet skin and touching him in every possible place he could get his hands to. Spencer thought that his heart was going to burst in his chest. He thought this was going to kill him and what a way to die… feeling Floyd's wet sweaty body sliding over his.

A kiss on the ear.

A lick up the side of his neck.

A probing with fingers.

'Did you like that?' A whisper in Spencer's ear.

'Cant you tell?' He whispered back.

'So have you decided?'

Reid rolled onto his back. 'Decided what?'

Floyd leaned down and planted kisses over Spencer's chin and then licked at his lips. 'It's this or your job. What do you love most?'

Spencer opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut again.

'Well?' A tongue made its way down Spencer's chest and over his sticky stomach. 'Cant be that hard to decide can it? This…'

Reid groaned and writhed.

'Or your stupid job…'

Thoughts Buzzing in Spencer's Head.

It's not a good time for him to ask such a thing, but obviously that's why he's done this. It will be an act never to be repeated. He'll never do this or pleasure me like this again. I'll never feel his hot wet skin sliding against… oh god… sliding… against mine. How can I decide when I cannot even think straight? I want to beg him. I want to so desperately kneel at his feet as he has been kneeling at mine (another trick I'm sure) and I want to beg him never to leave me. I want him to promise that I will feel this again and no tricks, no double talk… I want to feel this again with him.

He cant leave me. I'll do anything for him. I would… I… I will resign. I will have to! I cant work – I cant go back to work knowing what I've lost! I cant lose this.

I reach out and touch him. He's on his side with his back to me, but I know he's not sleeping. I run my hand over the knobbles of this spine and I move it over the dip at his waist and down to his hips. I love him beyond all else. Certainly I love him more than I love myself. That much is without question.

I don't know what reason I could possibly give to resign. Questions will be asked. So many questions and the only answer I will have is that I want to lay with Floyd and feel his sweaty skin against mine. I want to taste him. I want to feel him. I want to devour him. I don't think Derek will understand.

I know Emily will.

Hotch will know a bit of what I mean but not fully.

Rossi wont have a clue.

Garcia will understand. She will know the same as Emily will know.

Thank goodness I wont have to sit and explain to JJ… though Strauss I will. Dear god… I'm not explaining my sex life to that woman. I'm not going to explain that I need this more than life.

'I would rather die than live without you.'

I say the words but they get no reaction and I wonder if he really is sleeping.

Snatches of Thoughts From the Muddled Mind of Floyd Flanders.

I'll Break his Fucking fingers if he Keeps touching ME! I've got my damned back to Him. Surely that's Hint enough that I don't want… I don't want to be Fucking mauled by him. I'm not a bit of Meat for him to Tenderise with his damned Fingers.

So He'd rather Die than Live Without ME? Well isn't that Big of him. Fucking slag that he is. I know he's going to Expect THIS again. He's going to be fucking Disappointed then isn't he? Touching always fucking Touching me.

I didn't Mean to HIT him quite that Hard. I've said before I don't want him fucking well touching ME. I've said that haven't I? Yes I have.

And who would have known that an Alarm Clock could inflict THAT much Damage?

Maybe I shouldn't have stamped on Him quite As Hard As I Did, but fuck… I've done it now. Cant go Back and Undo it can I? He's breathing. He's curled up on the floor crying Like A Baby and I've no Time for this Shit.

Only a small amount of Blood.

Comparatively only a Small amount anyway. What's all the fucking fuss about? I didn't have my damned Boots on. It was a bare footed stamp on the stomach. He Should Have Known Better. I've pulled my jeans and shirt on again and I'm crouched down next to him, but I don't want to touch Him anymore than I want Him to Touch ME.

'Shut up the fucking noise.' I tell him, but it makes no sodding difference.

I think I should have stayed my hand until After He Resigned, but Damn him… he had to Touch.

'You're lucky I didn't bite your fucking fingers off.' I comfort him with my words of caution. 'Next time I will.'

Some muttering comes forth from Spencer but it's just his usual shit load of fucking babble. He's saying 'Sorry.' And he Knows I HATE that word. I really cannot abide it. It's meaningless. He's not fucking sorry. He'd not have done it if he was. He's no more sorry than I am.

I assure you I'm only a bit peeved that I didn't wait until after he resigned. I might have to persuade him all over again and I hadn't planned on doing that.

'This is why!' I scream at him from the bedroom door and he mutters something between his pathetic sobbing blah blah blah why would I be interested in what he has to say? I wet a flannel in the bathroom and go back. He's still laying on the floor but most of the actual blubbing has stopped and he's just sobbing a bit now. I crouch again and carefully without having to touch his actual skin slap the wet flannel over his face. 'Just be grateful I'm here to help.' I tell him, but he's flinching away from me.

AND SO HE FUCKING WELL SHOULD!

There's no need for me to stay here and watch this and so I get up and leave. I go firstly to the bathroom and scrub at my hands. They're covered in… I don't know… Spencer's sweat. I can almost feel it… no – actually I really can feel it burning at my hands, eating away at my flesh. I have to have the water very hot and I scrub at them with a small nail brush. Who but Spencer would own such a fucking thing? A Nail Brush? Fucking stupid fuck that he is. Cant he clean them with his teeth like every normal fucker on the bloody planet? What Makes Him So Fucking Special?

My knuckles are bruised and bleeding. Not sure how that happened.

So tired. I don't want to go to the bedroom until Spence has pulled himself together. Who could sleep with that noise going on? I drink some whiskey. I smoke some stuff. I snort some stuff. I stand at the window looking at rainbows for maybe fifty hours or so maybe longer – perhaps half an hour – time is going all over the fucking place today. I cant keep a hold of it. I put my hands on the glass of the window and try to pull the fucking rainbows in… if I can latch onto one of them I could control the fucking buzzing going on in my head.

It's like I've a cockroach there crawling over my brain. I can see in the reflection that I've a nose bleed. It's dripping down over my lips and down off my chin. In the reflection it looks as though my blood is trying to escape me and get to the rainbows. There are cockroaches in the blood. They grin at me.

Did you know that in Spencer's apartment (which strictly speaking is mine) tiny people reside. Oh so small that you can hardly see them, but they march in single file along the skirting board and some have these tiny little spikes in their shoes and they can climb up the walls. I can sit and watch them for hours. Very hard to catch, but if you can get one (try to get a barefooted one because the spikes can cause damage) they crunch between your teeth. You can only see them if you concentrate really hard and so I am.

Kneeling on the floor watching them. My nose is almost against the wall. Don't EVER get too close. Never… those spikes you know? They can have your Eye Out.

Some Tiny People Have Wings.

Spencer wiped the cold flannel over his face and felt gently at the place on his stomach that Floyd had stamped down on. If he had something ruptured in there he wouldn't know. What he did know what that he was in pain and that the flannel came away bloodied. He licked at his lips but for a change there didn't seem to be damage to his mouth. Most of the pain was across the top of his head and to his right ear. He folded up the flannel and held it with a slight wince over his ear and then pulled on his bathrobe.

For a little while Spencer sat on the end of the bed leaning over slightly as that took some of the ache away from his stomach. He was now glad that he'd not eaten much for his dinner. It would only have annoyed Floyd all the more if he'd puked up turkey all over the bedroom. He did know that there was small point in just sitting on the bed with an ear ache and a sore head and blood running in his eyes. If Floyd was going to come back and check up on him he would have done already. Spencer peered down at his hands. 'I could defend myself.' He muttered. But he knew he wouldn't. He knew he never would. He would just sit of lay there and curl up and do his best to protect him self from the onslaught. Slowly he got up and left the stilted sanctuary of the bedroom. He could see Floyd kneeling on the floor staring closely at the wall. He could also see a small puddle of what seemed to be blood forming on the floor and dripping down the skirting board. 'Oh…' Spencer moaned out. He'd wanted some comfort. He'd be hoping that Floyd would see what he'd done and would skin some grapes and feed up… but it looked to Spencer as though it would be him comforting Floyd. He quickly retreated back to the bedroom and pulled on some old cords and a hoodie and then went to see what Floyd was doing.

Carefully he knelt down next to him. He wanted to wrap an arm around him and see where all the blood was coming from, but he had a painful reminder of what happened if he did the wrong thing.

'What happened?' Spencer asked as he watched the drip of the blood.

Floyd turned his face slightly to look at Spencer and it was with quite a big relief that Spencer saw it was a nosebleed.

'If you don't keep your place clean this is what happens.' Floyd snarled at Spencer. 'Look!'

Reid didn't take his eyes off the running blood but couldn't work out why Floyd's mess in his apartment could have caused a nose bleed. Unless he was talking about something else. 'I don't understand.' Spencer whispered between clenched teeth. It was hurting his ear to talk.

'Well that's maybe because you're looking at me and not at them.' He pointed to Spencer's skirting board. 'When time slips to the side and you cant grab it then this is what happens. You know Spence you've got blood on your face? Anyway… if you care to look out of the window you'll see them.'

Reid had no idea what Floyd was talking about but he looked at the skirting and then at the window. The curtains were pulled open and something was smeared over the glass. Spencer had a good idea that it was one bodily fluid or another and didn't care to give it closer inspection right now. 'Floyd I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about. What am I meant to be seeing.'

Floyd held up his hands which Spencer flinched away from. He held up his two little fingers a little apart and looked through the gap he'd made. 'They'll have your eyes out babes. See what happens?' One hand reached out and touched Spencer on the tip of his nose. 'They infest… they fucking infest the place and I cant eat them all. Help me.' Floyd's hands now grabbed Spencer's shoulders. 'Did I hit you babes?'

'Go sit on the couch. I'll get you a drink of water.' Reid still didn't touch Floyd and didn't think that telling him that YES he'd hit him was going to do any good at this stage. Floyd was out of his brains on something.

'Babes I don't think I can move from here.' He slapped a hand on the wall and slowly removed it. Floyd inspected the palm of his hand carefully. 'My feet have been nailed to the floor.'

Reid glanced down at Floyd's feet which didn't appear to be nailed down to him. 'Who did that?' He asked though. 'Will you let me help you?'

'No point babes… no point at all. They'll just do it again.' Floyd sighed and rested his head on the wall. 'Don't let them take my eyes will you?' He muttered.

Spencer sat back on his heels and chewed on his bottom lip for a while. 'Floyd… would you let me call someone who can help you properly?' Floyd didn't react so Spencer carried on. 'He's someone I go to sometimes. Really nice man. Very professional. He might be able to suggest something for you.'

'I just wanted to take you on a fucking holiday Spence.'

'I know. You can still do that, but not if your feet are nailed to the floor. We have to sort that out first, so will you let me call someone.' Spencer stood. He so desperately wanted to reach out and touch Floyd, stroke his hair… The matter that not half an hour ago Floyd had been stamping him into the floor and screaming at him whilst flailing at him with his alarm clock like it was a morning star flail didn't seem to matter. Reid was far more worried that his man who was possibly the most violent bloke he'd ever come across even in the job he has – was losing his mind.

Floyd rocked back so he was away from the wall. 'I don't think that your friend will be able to help me Spence and anyway it's Christmas day night. Who's going to come out and un-nail me tonight. Get me a blanket and a cushion.'

'Or you can let me pull the nails out.'

'Get me a blanket and a cushion Spence and stop being such a fucking idiot. Of course you cant pull them out do you think I'm fucking stupid? Do you really think I'd let you get that close to me?'

Reid stepped back quickly. 'I don't want to deal with this Floyd. Get up off the floor and stop messing with my head. I've had enough. Get up or I'm going out. I'll spend the night with Derek.'

Floyd's head turned so fast that Spencer heard his neck crack. 'Fuck you! Go and fucking spend time with that… that… fucking… that… nnnnn… arsehole! Go on. Go and explain what's wrong and why you've got bits of some fucking Disney fucking shit plastic alarm clock stuck in your head! I'd love to be there when you tell him. Fuck yes… but don't you fucking bring him back here! This is my damned place. I fucking pay for it and if I want… and I do want to say he cant come round to play tiddly winks with you then he fucking well cant! I don't want to smell him! Fuck him. Fuck your fucking fuck friends!'

Spencer dropped the bloodied flannel to the floor. 'I'll invite around who I please and if you want to still be hunkered down there thinking you're nailed to the floor then that's your problem.'

'Thinking! I'm not thinking! I know. I can fucking well feel it! Are you saying I'm stupid or are you telling me I'm crazy again? You better not be! You fucking better not be Spencer!'

Reid grabbed his coat and wallet. 'Or what Floyd? You'll hit me? You'll un-nail your feet and come after me?' He turned his back and walked to the door.

'And you'd leave me?' Floyd screamed at him.

'Get up off the floor and stop me or I'm going.'

Floyd slapped at the wall and wiped his hand on the leg of his jeans. 'You bring a fuck home and I'll rip my feet off to get to you.'

Spencer shrugged. 'Then I'll not bring him home.' He opened the door… 'Get up Floyd.' He hissed back at him.

'I cant you motherfucker! I told you I cant!'

Floyd saw the door close just as something leapt off the wall flapped tiny transparent wings and landed on Floyd's face.

Spencer stood outside his apartment door listening to Floyd screaming. He shuddered slightly. He didn't think it was him that Floyd was shouting at now. He wanted so much to go back in and help him, but he took a deep breath which shot a pain down to his stomach and another spike through his ear and he walked slowly to the elevator.