Bum! Ba da ba da bum bum ba dum! Presenting: The last chapter! T-T sad i know...
Sorry it took so long (how many months?). There were computer restrictions placed upon me in an effort to keep my grades up. Anyway, with Summer around the corner ill have alot more time to write my stories :D
Also, please please please review this last chapter! Idk why but everyone stopped reviewing a few chapters back so i have no idea if anyone even likes this story anymore.
and please dont get mad if theres something about the story that didn't get answered, a) it was a long story, so there was alot to cover and come up with b) explaining every little thing kinda takes away the mystery of it all, and c) who knows what the future holds eh? (im kidding :D)
and lastly, a few thankyous
First, a thank you goes to RogueKrayatDragon, for texting me abuzz everytime i posted a chapter and bugging me endlessly at school to come home and post another chapter, not to mention the tons of reviews you made. Next thank you is for theuntitled, another constant reviewer, some of which made me laugh, third thank you goes to everyone whose read this or who will read this, which i honestly hope is the case, this story was epic! and my fourth thank you goes to Evanescence, the Ring soundtrack, Three days grace, Lady gaga, and anything else i listened to while writing this, oh! and my fifth and final thank you goes to Criminal Minds, without who none of this would have been written! Spencer Reid forever guys! :p :)
Please enjoy!
6 Months later
The bullpen was quiet today.
Everyone clacked away at their computers, typing e-mails, reports, messages, or short stories they hoped to publish somewhere. Reid was almost done with his large stack of files, the outbox tray towering high compared to the inbox tray, which had nothing in it. Reid had picked up the last file and was currently zipping through it, writing out notes on a pad of paper next to him and analyzing every photo. His eye caught every detail, every micro expression. Within minutes he'd finished the file and had dropped it uncerimoniously into the outbox tray with the rest. He looked over his notes, reassuring himself he'd done the file right, and slipped the note pad into his desk before turning to his computer and switching the monitor back on.
He'd just found an interesting article on a news site to read when Garcia burst through the door, carrying an armload of folders and a flyer in one arm, a brown paper package in the other.
"Everyone! I have just been asked by our wonderous media liason to hand these to you three," She divided the fifteen folders into five and handed them out, "And Reid recieved a package." She gave the brown paper package to the boy genius and stepped back. It was awkwardly still for a few moments.
"I'm not opening it here guys." He grinned. Prentiss and Morgan groaned, each picking up a file and pretending to work, silently rooting for Garcia to convince him otherwise.
"Oh please?" Garcia begged.
"No." Reid said flatly, "Remember last time?"
"But that was to the wrong address remember? We all know you wouldn't be recieving a con-"
"Are you quite finsihed?" Reid interrupted, his face going red at the memory of what had been in the envelope.
"Why'd they send it here anyway?" Morgan asked, dropping his facade and scooting his chair closer to Reid's desk.
"Maybe it's a fan?" Reid grinned. Morgan rolled his eyes and Garcia groaned, "You wish!" Prentiss laughed while Reid pretended to look hurt.
"I'm still not opening it." Reid laughed. Garcia hung her head and stalked away while Prentiss and Morgan "awwe'd" and called her back, but the technical analyist just stalked back to her office, she was very behind in her own work anyway. Morgan and Prentiss eventually returned to their own work and left Reid alone after chastising him about being mean to computer nerds. Reid was still grinning as he slid the package into his messenger bag, positive Garcia was cursing him from her office since she could no longer even see the package from the office cameras.
Reid sat alone in his apartment that night. Get togethers between his teammates had been dying off from the every night celebrations six months ago when he'd been cleared to return to work. Everyone who wasn't on his team believed he'd gotten into a terrible car crash and been lying in the local hospital in the ICU for the last year. Reid, personally, had wanted to tell everyone he'd been targeted for his brilliant smarts and statistical knowledge by the mob but a swift smack to the head from Morgan had convinced him otherwise. Reid played the dutiful coma survivor and told everyone the story over and over again, never missing a detail. He told it so much he soon began to believe it himself.
Now he sat alone in his apartment, forcing himself to remember every detail of what really happened so he could write it down in a black leather journal he'd been keeping since his return. He knew Hotch wouldn't be happy, he didn't want Reid keeping any record of what happened, Hotch wanted to forget the horrors he'd taken part of. He wanted everyone to forget.
But Reid didn't want to forget, he wanted to remember that he'd done something insanely impossible, and lived. He was silently amazed he'd literally touched the surface waters of death and then climbed back to the land of the living. So he sat there, madly, but neatly, scribbling his story and what he remembered down. He wrote down with a blue pen what his friends had told him, their side of the story, and his own in a black one. Then he scribbled in purple any notes he'd picked up, small things like imagery and scents, from the spirit world he wanted to remember. He even tried his hand at sketching the faces of Lyssa and Orbus, but couldn't bring himself to sketch Malifeciis. Of all the things, she was something he did want to forget. He only bothered to write her name whenever it came up, instead he used the titles of 'Old Witch', 'Hag', and what he'd heard Orbus call her, 'The Black Witch'. He still woke up in a cold sweat some nights, like she was there, hovering over him. Thirsting for revenge.
He hoped that might go away, now that he was almost done with his story. No, not story, he'd think to himself, memories. They were his memories, memories he was going to record and forget, and never have to deal with again.
The only other option for him was to fear everything; being alone, circuses, mystics, even a field might give him bad memories after what he'd been through...
No, he was going to forget them and move on. Atleast until they were distant enough that he could deal with them easier.
Reid wrote on the last line of the page and turned it, placing the bookmark inside and setting it down, taking a deep breath and getting up. As he poured himself a third cup of coffee, he began remembering what happened next, what exactly he could pick out, hoping to not forget a single detail as he sat back down and finished the insane story.
It was around midnight when Reid finished everything. The small black leather journal was filled, cover to cover. The insides of the covers scribbled on with purple notes. Nothing was forgotten, atleast Reid hoped nothing was forgotten, and Reid could feel sleep pulling at his eyes. He yawned and walked to the other side of his living room, pulling a shelf of books out, and reaching to the back of the shelf. He felt for a small groove in the back, it was always hard for him to find since it was etched into the wood like a crack, and there were many cracks surrounding it. The one he wanted made a complete circle, and it could be confusing with the other scratches running every which way around it. Finally, he found it and pushed hard in the center. A small circle of wood popped out and Reid pulled the false back out of the shelf. The small hideaway was not on the apartment blueprints. Reid had made it himself, after a month of reading how-to books and screaming at his little project when it didn't go the way he wanted it to. But finally, he had a place to hide things away from prying eyes, accidental discovery, and himself.
Newspaper clippings detailing particularly brutal cases he'd been on, obituaries of past family and friends, a letter from his mother, asking desperatly for him to save her from the hospital, how she wanted to be with him, and another black leather notebook containing other memories he found hard to deal with were all placed delicatly in the hideaway. His last, small bottle of dillaudid, half empty, sat towards the back, covered in an inch of dust. He stared at the drug for a moment, before remembering himself and reaching behind him, were the notebook containing his latest adventure sat ontop of the books he'd removed from the bookshelf. Reid placed it towards the back, next to the small bottle. With a last look, Reid grabbed the false back and replaced the small cut out before replacing the back and books into the shelf. Then he turned and walked out of the room, intent on a shower to wash today away.
Reid exited the shower and got dressed for bed. The t-shirt and pajama pants he'd worn for the last year had been cleaned and patched up, and were the only souvenier Reid cared to keep from his adventures. He quickly pulled them on and walked through the house, locking it up for the night. When he got to the main hall he spied his messenger bag, with the brown paper package spying at him from under the bag's flap.
Reid had completely forgotten about it, he'd been so intent on finishing the notebook he'd done nothing else since coming home. His stomach growled in rebellion, and Reid remembered he'd forgotten dinner too.
With a shrug, Reid pulled the package from his bag and walked into the kitchen, snapping the light on. Everything was the way he'd left it, sans a few pots and pans moved during the police search he guessed. He placed the package onto the breakfast bar and wrenched open his fridge. He found it almost empty. When he'd come home it'd been completely empty, as someone had been kind enough to remove everything so he didn't walk into a waiting stink bomb. Everything in their, and their wasn't much, had accumualted from nights out with the team and visits with Ivona, who'd explained everything he couldn't answer, which was alot, and why. She didn't stay long, on account of something about Reid's place put her off. Reid was fine with that, she put him off to.
He made his selection from what he had; half a chocolate cake, leftover steak and potatoes, ice cream, and a small plate of sandwhiches. Reid grabbed the cake and walked over to the breakfast bar, a fork in hand.
He set the cake down next to him and picked up the package, opening it with a quick, wrenching tear. He peered inside to find...
a half-burnt rabbit doll dressed as a ring master, seven rabbit circus medallions, a few photo albums, and a half-burned photo that stained the inside of the package with black soot.
Then Reid noticed the inside of the package itself. Red lines shot out and around the material in different directions, like a weird design. Out of curiosity, Reid carefully removed the contents of the package and gripped the edge of one side of the opening and ripped it open, ripping the bottom to so he could lay it out flat. It appeared to be some sort of demonic symbol, painted in red across the brown packaging. The lines gave the impression demon eyes were staring up from the painting, many many demon eyes. Reid had to look away after a few minutes. The insane swirling gave him a headache.
He instead turned to the contents of the package. He picked up the burned rabbit doll, turning it over. The coat was burned black near the coat tails, and the feet were deteriorating to ash. The whole thing was covered in several layers of soot. The doll left black marks on Reid's hands. He put it down, wiping his hands on the sweats leg and picked up a rabbit medallion. It was dressed like a clown, juggling red and yellow balls with it's ears while holding a pie in its forepaws and riding a unicycle. Reid smiled at the image. It was cute, he had to admit it.
The photo album was heavy in his hands, and left faint traces of soot in his hands. He opened it...
and nearly dropped it! It was a mourning album; pictures of dead people filled every plastic sleeve. All the subjects were wearing some sort of circus themed costume. The begining of the album showed the people in the pictures burned, obviously dying in some kind of fire. The farther back Reid whent it showed the subjects having just died. Painfully by the looks on their faces, and still wearing circus themed outfits, but not burned black like the people near the front. Reid, thouroghly disgusted, threw the album over his shoulder, deciding to worry about it some other time. He turned back to the other objects, not seeing the photo album land, or what page it turned to upon impact.
He slid the rest, which looked alot older by comparison of the other photo album, into the trash. They left black lines as they slid down the bag. Reid groaned in disdain and slammed the trash can lid on, turning back to the other, more pleasant objects.
He finally noticed the picture that had been seperated from the rest of the photos. It was half burned, the bottom right corner gone completely, and the rest close to following suit. Reid had to stare at it long and hard before he could make out what the photo was:
A portrait black and white photo of a white haired old woman with a small raven in a cage behind her. She was dressed in all black and she held another portrait of a small girl with pigtails. The little girl's details were to small to make out in the photo Reid held. The old woman was creepy enough, the black and white colors of the photo only added to that.
Reid shuddered and placed the photo back on the counter, like he was afraid the woman might start cursing him should he try to throw it away. He finished his slice of cake and threw his fork in the sink, sliding the cake back into the fridge. Then he gathered the doll, torn package, and burned photo in his arms, leaving the medallions on the counter.
And the phot album on the floor, forgotten.
He walked out of the kitchen into the living room and placed his items on the coffee table next to a laptop he pulled open and took off hibernate. Then he started searching.
After he typed in "Circus Themed Rabbit" the searches came up with information and pictures of a small girl holding a rabbit doll exactly like the one he had, a wikepedia page on the Circus of Dreams, and a news article on the fire that destroyed the circus in one of the newspaper archives. Reid shook his head, why now? Why couldn't things leave him alone? He groaned, throwing himself back into the cushions, wondering if he should tell someone.
Maybe it was Ivona's idea of a joke. He could tell she wasn't to fond of her.
Then the horrible idea that maybe it wasn't Ivona... maybe it was someone else, came to mind. Reid fought to keep the fear trapped in the pit of his stomach. He was terrified that he'd get dragged back into that again. He had the sneaking suspicion tonight was going to set him back by maybe a week in the recovery process. Just seeing those objects, the pictures of dead bodies, the rabbit doll, the medallions, they reminded him of his time trapped inside that circus. The woman in the picture looked like that awful witch...
Wait a minute, he thought.
He shot up, snatching the photo from the coffee table and peering closely.
It looked like she'd actually bathed before she'd sat for the photo. He still had no idea who the child in the photo she held was, and he wasn't particularly interested to find out. He shuddered as he looked her in the eye again, those evil, beady eyes. Like she was going to eat you, or slit your throat, or steal your soul. All ideas worked when it came to her in Reid's opinion. He carefully set the photo down and got up slowly. He then walked over to the living room fire place and turned the knob on the tile in the floor that started the gas. He ran to grab a match, wich he struck and threw on the logs he always kept in there. Then he walked over to the coffee table, sneaking up on the photograph. He grabbed it by the burned, slowly crumbling corner and held it out, careful not to let the face of the photo see him as he walked it over to the fireplace.
The moment the photo made contact with the flames, Reid's ears filled with the sound of screaming. A sharp, high pitched, desperate wail that rang through Reid's ear canal, giving him an instant head ache.
"Aggh!" He cried, falling to his knees and then the floor, banging his shoulder as he covered his ears. He writhed their, listening to the pained screams crying desperatly for help. His throat began to hurt, and he realized he was screaming too. He felt the fear he'd been keeping prisoner in his stomach escape in a mad and wild prison break, all of it just escaping out his throat in a desperate scream to accompany the screams coming from the photo that was slowly burning to ash.
And then, as suddenely as it had started, it stopped. The room was deathly quiet. Reid got up, shaking like mad and breathing hard. The lights had gone out too. He was in instant darkness.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! His door screamed. He jumped up, switching a light on, which was weird he thought, how did they all get switched off?
His elderly neighbor, Mrs. Hammond, was on the other side. She was in a nightgown and slippers and she looked cross yet slightly worried. Like a worried grandmother Reid decided.
"Spencer dear," She said when she saw him, taking in his pale face and startled eyes, "What was all that racket for?"
"R-racket?" Reid asked shakily, trying to play innocent. When Mrs. Hammond raised a questioning eyebrow, Reid let realization play out on his face as he said, "Oh! I was watching a movie and fell asleep. I guess I rolled over on the remote 'cause when the woman screamed it woke me up. Sorry about that."
"It sounded like a man, like you!" she protested.
"It was an ugly girl." Reid shrugged, "It's a weird movie Mrs. Hammond, I just turned it off. Sorry about that."
Mrs. Hammond gave him a weary look before turning to leave. Then she walked quietly down the hall and into her apartment. Reid sighed in relief and closed his door, deadbolting the lock.
He turned to look at the fireplace, which had an explosion of black soot reaching up the tile of the hearth. The picture was no more.
Reid poked at the logs with the poker, trying to find anything left of it.
Finding nothing, he turned back to his coffee table, where everything had mysteriously fallen off the coffee table and spread out among the room. He spent a good ten minutes trying to find the medallions, then fished the doll out from under the couch. The packaging with the weird symbols drawn on it had turned a nasty red, looking more like dried blood than ink. Reid wondered for a moment if it really was dried blood. He walked through the whole kitchen and living areas, making sure he'd reclaimed everything. Then he remembered the photo album he'd thrown and ran back to the kitchen. He scooped it off the tile and was about to head back to the living room when he noticed the picture it had opened to upon landing.
It was a black and white picture of Reid. He was staring back at the real Reid, like he was in a mirror. Only it was a picture, so Reid could move with out being followed.
But the picture Reid looked horrified at what he was seeing. He was holding a camera up to himself, and staring fearfully into the lens. He looked like he'd gone days without sleep, and there was something dark on the corner of his forehead that the real Reid couldn't make out do to the lack of color.
Reid removed the photo from it's sleeve to get a better look at it, holding it up to the light even for no reason at all. He'd always seen people do it in movies, maybe there was somehting to be gained from doing it?
Nothing. Reid was simply staring at a strange photograph of himself he didn't even remember taking. Reid set the photo down, wondering what to do next about it. He didn't want to take it in to work, he didn't want to freak the team out. He didn't want anyone to see this picture. Under any circumstances.
Instead he simply picked the picture and the album up. When he grabbed the back of the photo, he felt something rub against his finger. He flipped it over to see something written in dried... something. Reid wasn't really sure.
But the message made his skin crawl.
Family Will Be Together Forever
Reid raced into the living room, threw the books from the shelf onto the floor, jammed his finger into the hole and wrenched the false back open, throwing it ontop of the books. Reid thew the album inside, the photo drifted harmlessly to the lip of the hideaway.
Then he ran over the books, tripped, fell, and got back up, grabbing the items on the coffee table as he went and threw them in, upsetting everything in there and breaking the bottle of dilaudid. Reid didn't notice, nor did he care as he remembered the medallions and threw them in as well, making clinking noises as they hit the back and fell over everything.
Then he jammed the false back on and only slowed down long enough to carefully nudge the small circular cutout into place then threw the books back onto the shelf higglde-pigglde, not bothering to make them look the least bit organized. Then he slowly backed out of the room and towards his bedroom, flipping on every light switch as he went.
He decided to sleep with the lights on that night, the door barricaded with a chair he'd dragged into the room and propped against it, waking every two hours to make sure he was still there. He threw all mirrors and items with a reflective surface into his closet and tied the handles closed with a belt. Every sound caused him to whimper.
Fortunantly, eventually he would be able to calm himself as the days passed, nothing happened, and he let the outside world take over. Sometimes he'd forget all together, until he noticed his still messed up shelf where hid... those things. Then he'd simply glide past it, trying hard not to think to much about it.
Eventually, the whole thing just seemed like a faded memory to him. Far from a pleasant one, but faded and out of the way none the less.
That isn't to say he never thought twice before volunteering for anything magic related, or when people tried to drag him to carnivals or circuses or magic shows, and you could forget asking him to look after your senile grandmother. He was very cautious around old, cranky women.
But it was a faded memory none the less.
Ivona removed her hands from her temples and stood up, smiling at her customer. The old woman was crying tears of joy, wiping them away furiously with a handkerchief. She hugged Ivona and let herself be ushered out the door as she extracted the bills from her purse. Then she got in her car and drove away.
The moment Ivona saw her turn the corner she dashed back inside, locking the door, shutting the blinds, and turning the open sign to closed. Then she quickly crossed the room to her chair and small table. She took the box that was underneath it and placed it ontop of the table, rooting through it looking for something.
She finally pulled it out: a long brown paper with bright red lines and designs painted on it. She placed her hands on it and exhaled slowly, a smile crawling across her face. She felt a cold, yet pleasing sensation run down her arms and up her spine, making her shudder as she began this odd ritual.
She started chanting random words that popped into her head, meanwhile the paper's designs began to squiggle and snake around the paper, creating odd runes on the paper. It left odd burn marks across Ivona's fingertips, but she didn't care. She forced herself to continue. She began to see images in her mind. A tall young man wearing coatails, then dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, crawling backward from something infront of him Ivona couldn't see. Then she saw him sink into the glass. The images were out of order, she knew, but they all had one recurring thing: a young man, tall, dark hair, and very vulnerable. She smiled, well, sneered really.
"He was a good puppet." She giggled. She felt something move in the back of her head, a thing growling, agreeing with her.
"You know, I thought you were downright evil at first." She said to herself, "But now I get it. I must say though, you are quite the negotiator." Ivona laughed. The thing in the back of her mind purred and she leaned back, removing her fingers from the paper. She raised a hand and inspected the burn marks, rubbing them with her palms.
"Afterall, your right." She smiled, feeling one of the blisters from the burns break and begin to bleed, blood running down her fingers, "Family should be together, forever."