Criminal Minds 1. Chapter 1

**Mall**

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!! I support the 2007 WGA Strike!!

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Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

_Evil brings men together : __Aristotle_

It had been a long and very tiring day but he was happy. As usual he were one of the last to leave the Mall. He carried bags of things he had picked up from the various book shops around the big mall.

The 'This store is closing.' Message had been called out a few times already, but he knew the guys in the coffee shop and he knew he had three minutes and seventeen seconds before they would say they couldn't serve him. He walked quickly into the shop and asked for 'my usual' and the guys grinned and he grinned back as he removed his wallet.

The first thing that happened was that the power went off and emergency lighting came on. Then the shutters slammed down at the front of the shop as the alarms and claxons went off.

'_Please do not be alarmed. Please stay calm. Please walk to your closest exit.'_

Terrorist alert? Please no.

'_Please do not be alarmed. Please stay calm. Please walk to your closest exit.'_

He flipped open his phone and speed dialled Hotch, but there was only static.

'_Please do not be alarmed. Please stay calm. Please walk to your closest exit.'_

He turned to the guys behind the counter standing there with big scared eyes. "Is there a land line phone here?" One of them handed over a small phone to Reid. No dial tone.

'_Please do not be alarmed. Please stay calm. Please walk to your closest exit.'_

"OK we need to get out of here. Rear exit?" One of the guys with Dave on his badge shook his head.

"When the security doors come down they auto lock all exits. Even if we get out the back door we can't get out of the service passage."

"So we are trapped?" Reid's eyes went big too now.

Dave nodded. "But it's alright. If it was a fire the shop fronts don't close. More likely to be a robbery. We are safe in here. Not the first time. Wont be the last but still scares the shit out of me." And he laughed nervously to himself.

Reid walked over to the security doors. "We need to get this open."

A voice came from behind the counter where the three shop workers had ducked. "No you don't. Just keep down 'til they open again."

'_Please do not be alarmed. Please stay calm. Please walk to your closest exit.'_

'_Please do not be alarmed. Please stay "_

The message suddenly cut off. Reid took a deep breath and walked quickly to the barrier in front of the shop. He slipped his fingers through the bars and tugged upwards, but it was locked tightly in place.

He turned around again frustrated with not being able to do anything. "What's that funny smell?"

The voices from behind the counter. "Cant smell anything."

Reid looked around and found the air conditioning duct. Something was being pumped through the air conditioning. Reid looked up at all the ducts in the ceiling and ran back to the security doors. "Hey! Anyone out there?" But all he could hear was the gentle hiss of something getting pumped into the shop and then the coughing and choking sounds of the guys behind the counter.

Spencer called over to them, "Get over here by the door. There is more air."

"_Please do not be alarmed, but we are gassing you." Sounds of laughter. "We are opening up the gates. Please proceed to the fountain on the first floor and we will provide you with gas masks. You will be needing them." _

………….

They walked in groups. Some from the upper floors, and some from the lower. They walked in coughing and choking clumps of scared looking people towards the fountain. Reid kept to the middle of a small group of people who had appeared from the shop next door. Most of the people here were the shop workers and security and cleaning crew. In total there were probably just over a hundred people there. Not everyone had accepted the invitation to get a mask. It was a trap of some kind, but he was out of the shop now and so more able to see what was going on.

There was a young woman standing in front of Reid. As the warm something sprayed over Spencer's face she jerked and fell at his feet. Some one was screaming. Everyone was trying to run. A voice over everything saying. "keep down keep down lay down Reid get down." inside Reid's head. He started to crouch as the head of the man he had been standing next to exploded in a mass of blood and brains. He felt something catch in his hair and with a whimper he lay down on the floor and put his hands over his head.

The sound of gun fire seemed to go on forever. He could smell the blood and the other vile smells that arrived with death. People screamed and moaned and twitched. Spencer didn't move. He was laying in a puddle of blood coming from the bit of head from the man he had been next to. He could feel the warm liquid pooling under his head and was thinking. "Ok I am going to die. I am going to be a statistic."

As he lay in the bloodbath he listened to the sounds of people groaning and then single gun shots, and then silence. His stomach churned in fear. Killing the survivors? He didn't want to lift his head to find out. He just lay and listened and tried to work out what was going on. There were definite sounds of crying which didn't follow up with a gun shot. What the hell was going on? Why was SWAT not all ready here?

"You get up." The voice was close but strangely muffled. A boot in his ribs made him move his hands away from his head and roll over to his side. "I said get up."

Reid slowly with his hands up and fingers spread squelched out of the blood he was laying in and stood to face a man in a hazmat suit. Not good. Not a good sign at all.

"Hands laced behind your head. Quickly." He did as he was asked not wanting to annoy or do anything which was going to have him end up on the floor with the others. He was checked for a weapon then his hands were pulled behind his back and cuffed. "Against the wall with the others." And he was pushed forward.

He quickly took in who else they had chosen to stand at the wall. There were ten of them. They were lined up in front of a shop selling men's clothing. One at a time they were inspected again. Wallets taken. Phones removed and broken. Jewellery and watches taken. All thrown onto the ground in a pile next toe a big puddle of blood forming next to the fountain. Reid's stomach turned over when they took his ID from his pocket, but they didn't bother to look at it. It ended up on the pile of iPods and cell phones.

One at a time they were told to turn and face the shop front and then kneel. Reid desperately wanted to try to talk to them, to try to dissuade them from doing what he thought they were going to do. He turned when they reached him but didn't kneel.

"You don't have to do this. You can still let us go."

The gun but against the side of his head had him on him knees suddenly, his forehead leaning on the glass. When each was positioned correctly the men in the hazmat suits stood back. They held their guns up and shot the glass out of the window. Suddenly Reid had nothing to lean on and he fell forwards on his face into the glass. He couldn't hear the sounds of the cameras clicking, only the sounds of screaming and crying. Reid lay still where he had fallen. He didn't want to give them any excuse to put a bullet in the back of his head.

Each person was now ordered to stand and follow, and any move to try to escape or do something stupid and they will join the pile of bodies by the fountain. Reid was dragged up out of the glass by his hair and lined up by a woman with very short black hair. They were all walked quickly to a hand rail running along the side of the fountain area.

They pulled Reid forwards first and put a small hand gun to his head.

"I know you don't want to die. I know you want to try to live through this, so this young man here is going to demonstrate how. We will un-cuff him and turn him to face the rail. We will then reattach the cuffs linking him to the rail. Do you all understand?" Some mutterings and whimperings where heard. Reid felt the gun press hard against his head. "Right you first." He felt them undo the cuffs and he moved his hands to the front as they tied him to the long chrome railing. The gun was kept at Spencer's head as the next person was pulled forward and tied to the rail.

"Kneel, I want you all kneeling." Slowly Reid knelt down still feeling the gun pressing on his head. This meant that Spencer's hands where held up at head height as he knelt down, looking along the line of people he was with trying to work out which one would take the lead here. He could see eyes looking back at him. All of them pleading 'what are they going to do to us.'

It was now with renewed horror that Spencer realised what they where doing. Two of the men were searching the bodies, and two of them going through the pile of things take from the group he was in. He watched them pick up his wallet and flip it open. He watched one of them walk over to a man who seemed to be supervising, and pass the wallet over. The man stood and pulled his mask off his face and smiled.

He walked over to the group of people tied to the railing and said whilst raising his gun.

"Which one of you is the Fed?"

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A/N want this continued?….let me know… thank you very much!!

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	2. Chapter 2 The Fed

The Fed

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!!!I support the 2007 WGA Strike!!!

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Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

Reid looked across to the person holding his ID. This really wasn't good. The bloke looked from the ID over to Reid and back again.

"You? This is you? You are a Fed?" And he was walking quickly in Reid's direction. Guns had raised and were pointing at him too.

Spencer saw the man in the hazmat suit walking quickly his way. He saw the fists clench – unclench – clench. He noted how the mask was now hanging around his neck and not covering his face. Good, at least they weren't getting gassed now. The unsub stayed the other side of the railing and grabbed Reid by the hair.

"Name. Give me your name" he was pulling his head up so he could see Reid's face properly. Spencer just stared back at him. The gun in the guys hand moved raised and pointed at the woman with the short black hair he was restrained next to. "Tell me your name or I pull the trigger."

He sighed. "Reid." This was checked against the name on the ID.

"You don't look like a Fed. Why aren't you armed where's your weapon?" And the gun was now pressed against Reid's temple. No reply. "Answer me or I start killing the other hostages. Now."

"I I am not carrying. I was sh shopping."

The woman with the short black hair watched as the young man next to her was pistol whipped across his face, then as he started to slide side ways she watched the kicks to his ribs and punches to his face and she felt the warm spray of his blood fall on her forehead and she whimpered and was so glad she was a shop girl and not a damned FBI agent.

Due to being restrained in the manner he was he ended up half on his side almost swinging from the restraints by his hands. The bloke who was obviously in charge stood and looked at his handy work. "I want him kept away from the others and I want him kept alive. He could become useful later." He indicated a couple of his henchmen who walked over quickly. "Take him away somewhere. Somewhere quiet. Away from natural light, and away from clocks. Keep an eye on that one."

They undid Reid's restraints and watched smiling as he flopped unmoving to the floor. Not even whimper. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away from the others down the west passage and then around the corner. Leaving a smear of blood on the shiny white mall floor.

The woman with the black hair suddenly felt guilty. At least she had safe people around her. God only knew what was going to happen to that poor young man now.

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He didn't know how long it had been when he awoke. He opened his eyes a crack to keep out the light, dull red emergency lights shining around the pale pink tiled lady's washroom. His hands were cuffed to the piping under the washbasins. They had removed his shoes and they had taken his jacket and belt and they had definitely been kicking him. There was blood down the front of his shirt and a taste of blood in his mouth. He started pulling on the cuffs to see if he could loosen the pipe. He briefly considered shouting out then decided that he didn't want them coming in to shut him up so for now he worked on a way to get the cuffs off the pipes.

"No point in trying to get away you know." Someone suddenly spoke from the shadows at the corner of the room. "You can't go anywhere."

Spencer tried to see who it was talking but the person remained hidden in the darkness. He ignored what was said and carried on with a careful pipe inspection.

"Do you not think we have checked everything out? This isn't a spur of the moment thing. It's been well planned."

Reid just frowned into the shadows and rattled on the pipes some more.

"So Spencer Reid, what's your plan? I am sure you must have one."

"I don't like talking to people I can't see properly. Where are the others? Why am I here?" Now his feet against the wall and pushing back trying to pop the pipe joints.

"Don't do that." And Spencer realised that the voice was coming from directly behind him. He stopped pulling and turned slowly to see who his new 'friend' was. "I don't want to have to kill you, 'cos then they will get pissed at me." Reid was happy to see the guy wasn't pointing a gun at him, so he put his feet back to the wall and started to pull again. "I said don't do that."

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When he awoke again he was laying in something sticky on the washroom floor. The room was in pitch darkness and it felt very much like someone had kicked him in the head. The darkness began to get deeper, and he could imagine the things creeping around in the shadows. Logically he knew there was nothing, but why were the emergency lights out.

"Hey, are you still here?" Hoping his captor was still around. At least he could ask for the lights to be back on again but there was no answer. He called louder. "Hey! Anyone there?" Total dark silence. He couldn't wrap his arms around himself but he could pull his knees up tight. He closed his eyes trying to forget he was in total darkness, but he was sure he could hear things, and he was sure something was there. Out there watching. He started to go over the stats for surviving a situation like this, but what was this situation? He had no idea what these people wanted. So he read Chaucer in his head and thought of his mum and what she would say if she knew he was tied up in the lady's room at the mall.

He rested his head on his knees. His face hurt and he could feel the tightness of dried blood around his nose and down the side of his face. He was so closed off from his surroundings and so deep in thought at the didn't realise someone had entered the room. The first he knew was when his head was pulled up off his knees by his hair. It was the guy in the hazmat and no mask only now he had taken the suit of and was in black trousers and long sleeved black shirt. "I have a use for you but if you make things difficult for me I will find someone else for the job. You understand me?"

Reid nodded quickly not wanting to antagonise the man with a mission. "I understand." He said quietly.

"Good. Then we will get on swell." He got one of his men to undo the cuffs then redo them so he hand his hands in front of him. That at least was a start. The gun he now felt pressing into the back of his head didn't feel so good though. "Get up off the floor and follow me and remember I can replace you."

He stood slowly and felt the pressure from the gun move from his head to the middle of his back and a prod made him walk forwards. He noted the smears of blood on the floor as he walked back the way he had been dragged previously and vaguely wondered if it was his blood. He thought it probably was. Straight in front of him was a huge ice rink. The man behind him put a hand on his shoulder and told him to stop. The team leader handed Reid a sheet of paper.

"Read that." Spencer glanced down at it and then up again and looked at the man. "I told you to read it." And a slap across the face.

"I did read it." He muttered looking back down to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

"All of it." And the paper was pushed harder at him.

"I have read it all." Spencer looked up at the man. _"I have in my possession viral agent 137 I will use this on a hostage if you do not meet my demands. I will be contacting you again soon."_ He said without looking back down at the paper. "Viral agent 137 is carcinogenic and highly contagious. It spreads faster then the common cold and kills within two days. If you are lucky enough to be immune from the virus its self it will mutate and form tumours on the brain and kill you anyway. There is an antidote, but its success rate has only been lab tested on rats and the percentage of the 'cure' is not considered fully tested and thus there are no known statistics. Why would you want to do this? Do you have the antidote?"

The man stood and laughed. "Where did you learn all that from?"

Spencer looked back at the man who was smirking at him and said "I read a lot."

He was told to stand in the middle of the rink and to look straight ahead. They wanted his colleagues to know he was here. They wanted to imagine the looks on their faces. This was so funny.

"Right Mr FBI, look over at me."

Reid looked over at the men standing around the edge of the ice rink. His feet were frozen and he could hear in the back ground the sounds of a woman screaming and echo's of someone being hit.

"When you are ready you can make your announcement to the world." They were sniggering but they still had automatic rifles pointing at him. He stood and did nothing. The leader turned to one of his men. "What the hell is going on over there?" He looked in the direction of the screams. He got a shrug in reply. "Well we are missing out on the entertainment. Bring it here. Let the cameras see that too, unless that is Reid over there gets on with it and makes his announcement."

Spencer looked over at the leader again and nodded and then closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. "I have in my possession viral agent 137 I will use this on a hostage if you do not meet my demands. I will be contacting you again soon."

The man stood and looked at him. "Something is missing. Flanders go hit him again. He looks too comfortable there. I want blood flowing. Let them know this is happening now. You over there" looking at someone else, "You going to feed this direct?" Spencer saw a small shake of the head just before the fist contacted with his mouth. The sudden movement made Reid take a step back and put his hands to his mouth, but the slipperiness of the ice caused his feet to go out from under him making him fall backwards onto the ice. His head made a satisfying cracking sound and blood flowed from his mouth and back of his head.

Spencer lay on the ice bleeding looking up at the man who had been talking to him previously in the washroom. The man looked down at him and smirked. "Get blood on the ice kid. Makes for better viewing." He then grabbed Reid by the hair, pulled him to his feet and then walked away back to the edge of the rink.

"Right FBI you had your practice." He smiled happily at the blood dripping from the agent's nose and the mess on the ice by his feet. "Make sure you get the mess on the ice in view. I want them to see that." He looked over at Reid again. "After three then. One Two Three."

"I have in my possession viral agent 137 I will use this on a hostage if you do not meet my demands. I will be contacting you again soon." Reid said clearly through his split lip.

The team leader looked over at his men. "Flanders – a treat for you. Take him back and entertain him for a while."

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!!!I support the 2007 WGA Strike!!!

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	3. Chapter 3 Dark

Dark

_When awful darkness and silence reign: Edward Lear_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He was led back to the dark and cuffed back to the same pipe he was before. His captor didn't talk to him or even really acknowledge he existed. The room was lit only by the wedged open main door, and that only let in dim redness from the passageway leading down to here.

Reid felt a hand on his head as he received a gentle hair ruffling. "Behave and he might not kill you." And Reid could see the man's silhouette as he walked towards the exit.

"Wait!" Reid called out. "The lights." then he added. "Please."

He saw the person walking back towards him. "The dark bother you? Thought you might want to sleep."

Thinking quickly. "No it doesn't – it's not a problem, I just – just – well."

"You scared of the dark?" The voice sounded amused by this, but he couldn't see if he was smiling.

"Scared, no – no I wanted to look – look at my erm injuries."

He saw the man turn again and start to leave. "Your injuries eh? And there I was about to leave you a torch. Can't turn on the lights – but I will be back soon, so don't you be pulling on the pipes now will you?"

Reid watched the small amount on light creeping in the room get smaller and disappear. He tried to keep he eyes locked on that place but now with no light and back in to total silence the old fears snuck back in and made him shiver.

The room was uncomfortably warm but he could feel goose bums rising on the skin of his arms. His head hurt but they way Flanders had cuffed him didn't give him enough movement to feel what damage had been done to the back of his head. His almost white shirt was sticking to his back, but it might have been sweat.

"What the hell was that?" Something had touched his foot. "Get off me!" Kicking out into the darkness and pulling on the cuffs. It felt like things were in his hair and he could feel the familiar tight feeling in his chest as a panic attack started to claw its way down inside him. His breaths came too shallow and too quick and his mouth dried up in fear.

"Let me out of here!" pulling on the pipes and kicking at the walls as the band of fear tightened around his chest to stop him breathing. "Let me – out – of - here!" Shouting and banging on the pipes. He could feel angry tears sliding down his cheeks. "What do you want with me!"

Spencer tried to calm down but the harder he tried to breath the tighter his chest became and the hotter he got. It was so hot! Why was it so hot? He tried to reach the taps in the washroom, but he had been positioned so he could reach them. He tried to sit with this back against something but again he was restrained in just the wrong – right depending on how you wanted to look at it – way. He shouted until his throat hurt, then sat in silence. He imagined them outside in the light listening to his shouts and cries and they would be laughing at him. This would be very amusing.

Reid wanted to close his eyes but every time he tried he could feel real or imagined things crawling over his feet and slithering through his hair. He had no idea how long he had been in here in silence in darkness. Would Hotch know by now that he was here? Was he missed by anyone? Had the tape and photos been released to anyone? Who and where were they intending to deliver the message to? Where the hell was SWAT? And if SWAT did arrive who was going to tell them that the FBI guy was locked in the lady's washroom?

He felt dizzy. He felt sick. He could feel the heavy darkness behind him crawling forwards and holding him in a vice of panic. The short shallow breaths returned and the tightness in his chest as he fought back the fear and tried to think of something to think about. Anything except that black echoing void behind him.

Pulling his knees up as tightly as he could to his chest he rested his head – his hands out in front of him attached to the pipe, and inside he cried, and he screamed, and outside he moaned and made small keening sounds. Trapped like a wounded animal. He could feel his bruised and cut wrists where he had been pulling. He could feel his feet and toes damaged from the frantic kicking, and now he had nothing left to fight with. They didn't even come to check up on him. What was going on out there? If they came he could talk to them and try to do something, but this was hopeless.

He sat and started reciting Shakespeare in his head. It kept his mind off that terror lurking behind him, but it didn't stop the feeling of dread in his stomach. He didn't see the door open and someone walk in, but somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that there was light creeping around the corners of his vision. Then the voice.

"You need to come with me. They want you again." A vaguely familiar smell - unwashed dirty sweaty smell of the man who they called Flanders.

He wanted to tell his person to go away and leave him alone, but he also needed to get out of the dark. He needed to get out of the dark and never come back to it. Hands pulled at him so that the cuffs could be undone. "You have made a mess of your wrists. That was silly." But Reid didn't respond. He stayed sitting on the floor awaiting orders. He really didn't want to antagonise this man. "Get up then. You cant come with me if you don't get up. Or I can drag you." And a hand twisted in Reid's hair.

"I I I'm getting up." And slowly with his muscles screaming and his joints popping he stood and leaned on the washbasin. There just seemed to be so little air. His shirt was sticking to him with sweat and he could feel it running down the sides of his face. He needed to drink. He was dehydrated and the taps were there in front of him. He slowly moved his right hand over to the handle. All he would need to do is just push it to the side and he would have water, but before he could do it he was being dragged out of the washrooms and down the corridor again.

He took the chance to get a better look at this man. Longish straggly dark hair and deep dark eyes. He glanced over at Reid and Spencer saw that his captor had a bruise forming under his eye and a split lip.

"I need a drink." Hardly more than a whisper as the two of them walked slowly. Reid's hands cuffed in front of him again. They walked past the ice rink and he could see the red smears and stains still in the ice. He wanted to lay on that ice and pull the coolness down into his body. He wanted – no he needed – water. "Please, I need a drink." He said again.

Flanders looked over at him and shook his head. "Don't make demands of me boy, or I will start making some of you." And he dragged him away from the wonderful sight of ice and down towards the fountain. Oh dear god the fountain. He tried to walk faster but his feet hurt, looking down he could see blood had seeped through his socks. He must've done something to his toes when he was kicking.

As they got closer to the fountain the smell of death got stronger. He could see they had piled the bodies up in a heap but he couldn't see any of the other hostages.

He was told to go and stand in front of the pile of dead people in front of him then to turn and get ready to make another announcement.

The leader came over and stood in front of Reid.

"Dr Reid. Nice you could join us again. I am Raithe – the leader of this small group of people. I would like you to act as spokesman for us. I will tell you what to say and you will say it to that camera over there. It's not a live feed, so you can't try to send out messages to your FBI buddies out there. Do you understand?"

Reid nodded. "They don't give in to terrorist threats. You can't win."

"Win? Well if this was a game I would be worried by your smart mouth Dr, but as this is no game – no winners – no losers, then I don't need to win. I need to demonstrate something and this dear friend is where you fit in so nicely." He handed Reid a bit of paper.

Spencer took the bit of paper and scanned with his eyes and recorded it with his brain and handed the bit of paper back.

"Read it."

"I read fast."

"You will need to read it for the camera."

"I remember what it says. I don't need your bit of paper." His voice still a whisper.

"I will need you to talk louder than that Dr, or I will have to start hurting a hostage or two."

Spencer turned his head slightly to one side and sighed. "I understand."

Raithe stood back to look at the agent. He was bloodied and red eyed. He had blood on his feet. "Remove his socks. I want the camera to pick up on that damage." Flanders moved forward and removed the yellow and then the green sock and threw them to one side. "I think we need a more interesting way to display him this time. Bring him over here."

Raithe moved away from the dead shop workers towards the big elevators which stood at the side of the corridor. The doors were open and the car was standing empty. He pushed Flanders out of the way and called two more of his people over to him.

"Cover me. I am going to adjust his restraints. Bring me my bag." He pushed Reid into the darkness of the elevator and undid his cuffs. "Don't even think of trying to get away."

He took a big leather strap out of his bag and turning Reid around tied it tightly around his chest as high as he could under his arms. He put a separate pair of cuffs on each wrist and got Reid to cross his wrists in front of him against his chest. The cuffs were twisted and clipped back until his wrists were held tightly in place. Then a wire going from the cuffs and over both shoulders. He could feel the wire being attached to the back of the belt around his chest.

"That will hold you for long enough." He stood back to look at his victim. Bloody bruised feet and hands –his lips cracked and bleeding. Dried blood under his nose and down the side of his face, and sweat running down his face. Big eyes. This man had such big eyes. "You still remember what to say?"

Reid just stared back at him.

"Good, good, when you are ready then. Remember the audience would really like to hear what you have to say, so a nice big voice please."

Spencer looked slightly away from the camera. He couldn't stand the thought that Hotch and Morgan would see him like this.

"We have in our possession Viral Agent 137 – we intend to use this on one of the hostages. We will record the results and then we will let you see the results. We have in our possession Viral Agent 137 antidote 775. This is the most recently tested antidote to 137. We really hope that the antidote works. We will be recording and we will let you see the results. Please keep watching this channel for updates on this situation. Thank you."

He spoke clearly. It wasn't something he wanted to have to repeat.

"Nice Dr Reid. Very nice."

Raithe stood forwards and undid the belt and cuffs and put them back in his bag. Spencer stood in the gloom of the elevator and watched Raithe talking to Flanders who shrugged and stood in the elevator facing Reid. Spencer saw the door slide shut behind him, and now he was in darkness again. This time an elevator car with Flanders. Reid pulled back to the corner and slid down the wall to sit and hug his knees in the pitch blackness. At least this time he wasn't restrained.

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	4. Chapter 4 Bang

Bang

_If you must play, decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time – Chinese proverb._

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

Then the banging started. Something banging against the doors from the outside. He could hear someone scream and the banging continued. Reid stood up in the corner of the square car and put his hands on the small ledge that ran all along the three walls at hand height. He swallowed and tried to say something to the other person in here but although he knew there was someone here, he couldn't hear of see him.

Bang.

"Flanders."

"Call me Floyd."

Bang

"Floyd?"

"Yes Spence?

Bang

"What's that noise?"

Bang

"Sounds somewhat like a bang to me."

Bang

And now more screaming and some gun fire and the elevator car started to rattle and vibrate.

"F f floyd?"

No answer.

And then something dripped on Reid's head from above. He put his hand on his head and felt something warm and sticky and around his fingers gripping hold of the side of the car he could feel something pooling. He quickly turned around and put his finger tips on the wall of the elevator. Something was dripping down the walls. He couldn't see what it was – but he could smell the coppery tinge and he could taste it in the back of his swollen throat.

He took deep breaths.

Bang drip.

And made his way to the door and started to hammer on them.

Bang drip.

"Let me out." His voice barely above a horse whisper.

Bang drip.

Bang drip.

His fists pounding the door and still no more reaction from this Floyd person who was there somewhere waiting – but waiting for what?

The vibrations in the car stopped suddenly but the continuous bang and the dripping of something from above continued. He tried to wrench his fingers in the gap between the doors, but he was not strong enough to do anything so he slid down to his knees and carried on in vain hammering back on the doors and muttering. "Please let me out."

Bang drip.

And now there was no screaming. No gun fire. No noise except for the banging over and over on and on, hammering through his head in this tight hot space. He was sweating again. His eyes were sore, his head was pounding in pain, he had pains in his side, and he needed water. He sat on the floor again with his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth in time to the banging on the doors of the car thinking of the fountain just outside and all the water going to waste.

Spencer could feel a hand on his shoulder. He was laying on his side in the dark with the coppery smell around him still, but finally the banging had stopped. He had no idea how long he had been here for. He had no idea how long ago he got trapped in the mall. He just knew that it felt like a lifetime.

"Spence wake up."

He tried to answer but when he moved his mouth he felt the skin on his lips crack and start to bleed so he just made a low moan.

"They will be coming back soon. You need to be awake."

Another moan and he tried to move to get up off the floor.

"Let me help you." And he walked around so he was behind Spencer and hauled him to his feet. "I am sorry. I am not permitted to give you water or I would let you have some of mine."

Reid heard the sound of a water bottle. The sploshing wet sound of water. He was too hot, much too hot, and he needed that water. He could hear the sound of Floyd drinking. He could imagine the feel of the water dripping down the back of his swollen throat. Why wouldn't they just give him water? Why were they keeping him locked in the dark with this strange man watching him? He wanted to lay down again. The muscles in his legs hurt, but Floyd just pulled him tighter to him.

"It's ok Spence, I am here to look after you." And the doors in front of them slid open and Reid felt the arms around him suddenly go, and he stood swaying looking out to the comfort of the red light outside. He slowly started to walk forwards. Raithe took his arm and pulled him away from Floyd. He looked at Reid carefully. He looked into his eyes and walked around him in a tight circle.

"Flanders you are a constant disappointment to me. Why can you not follow simple orders? I thought you were the clever one out of this bunch."

"Sir," and Floyd was stepping forwards. "We need him fit enough for the test to work properly. I don't want to risk the condition getting any worse. He needs fluids. He has lost blood and had no water since this started."

"And your point?" Raithe pushed Reid towards two of the terrorists.

"My point sir is that if we kill him now we will have to re-shoot all the footage with someone else, and I was of the understanding that we chose this subject for a reason."

"I don't much like your smart mouth Flanders." He looked over at the men supporting Reid. "Take him and get him water. No – leave him; you go get him one of those fitness drinks." He turned his back on Floyd. "Let's go and get him ready for the next session."

"Sir, I don't think he is fit enough for the next session. He needs to drink first. Let him recover slightly or it will kill him – well obviously it will kill him, I mean it will kill him too quickly. I thought we were going to do this slowly."

Reid watched Raithe walk over to Flanders and upper cut him under his chin. He noticed that Floyd didn't even attempt to defend himself and now watched him fly backwards cracking his head on the wall and slide down to the floor silently. "Never argue with me Flanders. Never tell me what to do."

Reid was grabbed by the arms and half dragged down towards to fountain. He could hear the water and the cramps in this stomach just seemed to emphasise the terrible thirst he was feeling.

He was taken to the front of a shop with the grill pulled down and pushed to stand with his back to it. Both hands were cuffed above his head. He stood and looked at the fountain and the water and his body screamed.

"Drink." A voice from next to him. A straw was put between his dry cracked lips and he started to suck slowly on the sweet liquid. _'Take it slowly or you will be sick.' _ He could feel his stomach going into cramps as the liquid hit it. He knew he needed to stop drinking, but it just felt so good against his throat and tongue. He was able to wet his dry chapped lips.

Spencer needed to curl up on the floor and nurse his pains. He wanted to sleep in the light. He wanted to know what they were going to do to him. They seemed to be going to a lot of effort to keep him away from the others and to keep him disorientated. Reid now looked as the other hostages were brought forwards. There were six of them now. Three men and three women. He tried to work out who was missing but he couldn't think straight. They were lined up about fifty feet away from where he was and told to kneel.

He watched them carefully as they looked up at him. Scared bruised faces. Had they all had this done to them too? He had no idea. Spencer figured that if he just did as he was told they would get through this.

Flanders walked up to Raithe. He had another bruise coming up on his face. He glanced over at Reid and then to Raithe. "This isn't going to work."

Raithe spun on him. "Why not? This was the plan, why are you telling me now it won't work?"

"He's not fit enough to undergo a proper trial now. It won't be a fair result. He needs to be fully re-hydrated first."

"Get out of my face Flanders. You bug me." Then he turned to the team. "Suit up, and get masks for that lot." He turned to look at Reid in the eyes. "Time to start. As you predicted, they are refusing to listen to us."

"Start what?" Though deep down he had a nasty feeling he knew what. The question was ignored as Raithe turned his back on Reid to look at the progress being made with the other hostages and then he walked off the get a hazmat suit on with mask.

A semi circle of men in white suits and masks formed around Reid. One of them stepped forwards. He could see through the face mask the dark eyes of Flanders and then looked down at the auto injector in his hand.

"No – please – please don't." He tried to look Floyd in the eyes but he wasn't looking. Reid felt his head being pushed to one side exposing the left side of his neck and he panicked. He kicked and writhed and tried to keep Flanders away from him, but they just held him still and pulled his head into position to help Floyd. "Please don't do this."

"Camera is running. Ready to go Floyd."

And Reid felt the sting of the injector in the side of his neck.

…………………….


	5. Chapter 5 Relax

Relax

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds in is not mine.

Floyd moved back away from Reid who turned his head and stared at him. Had they just done to him what he thought they had? If so he probably had about thirty-six hours left. He watched puzzled as the guys in white walked up behind Floyd and took the injector from his hand. He watched them pull the mask off his face, and he looked at the shocked expression on his face as the others held onto him and pulled off his hazmat gear.

"What the hell are you doing? You stupid sons of bitches!" He was trying to grab the mask back and put it over his face. Reid watched the look of horror on his face when Raithe walked over and laughed at him gun held pointing at his face.

"Get over there and stand next to him." The gun was pressed against his head.

"What? No!" But Reid watched him slowly walk backwards in his direction.

A bit of paper was placed in Floyd's hand. "You can make this announcement."

"I'm not making your sodding announcements! That's what he is for." Gesturing towards Reid.

"You are failing to comprehend this situation Flanders."

"I fully understand the situation."

Reid stood and watched this turn of events. Then looked at the camera, and then back at what was happening. This Flanders was not happy. Which meant this was real. His stomach was still complaining about the liquid he had been given and he was thirsty and sweaty again. Reid tried desperately not to look directly at the camera. He didn't want Hotch to see the desperation on his face. He needed to stay with it. He needed to stay strong. He had to stay in control of this.

He felt Floyd getting pushed down to his knees on the floor next him and looked down to watch as they roughly removed his shoes and a ring from his finger. The others returned to their semi circle and stood watching. Raithe called over. "Read the message."

Flanders looked down at the message and then over to Raithe. "Screw you."

They hit him with their gun buts and they kicked him with their boots and when he stopped making noises and was laying still at Reid's feet they looked up at him and he felt a fist contacting with his mouth and he tasted blood again in his mouth and the punch to the side of his head opened the wound from earlier and he could feel the fresh blood dripping down the side of his face.

Raithe picked up the blood smeared bit of paper and held it up for Read to see. "Read it?"

He nodded slowly.

"Good. Now tell the world."

Reid looked down at Floyd on the floor and at Raithe and then in the general direction of the camera.

"Please be warned that Viral Agent 137 has been used on a test subject. A secondary test subject has been introduced to check the infection rate." Reid turned his head away from the camera again.

Everyone moved back. The hostages where moved away. Most of the men in white hazmat left and the terrible thirst was back. Reid tried to remember what the fist signs of infection would be. He already had a sore throat. He already had stomach cramps, and he already wanted to vomit. He was way ahead before the virus had a chance to do its thing. He needed another drink and was about to ask when the lights went out.

"No!" he cried out before he could stop himself. He could feel Floyd's warm body by his feet and he kicked him gently. "Get up. Get up off the floor. Wake up!"

"Stop kicking me." Floyd muttered.

The tightening in his stomach increased and he could feel the small amount of fluid in his stomach creeping back up again. "I'm going to be sick. Move."

Flanders dragged himself further into the darkness as Reid's stomach emptied its precious fluids onto the floor in front of him. He retched and heaved until there was nothing left. He could taste blood again in his mouth and his head was spinning. Spencer could feel his legs giving way under him and all he could see was pitch blackness with the blinking off and on, off and on, of the camera's red light and he thought he was going to pass out.

"Sore throat – followed by headache and stomach cramps, but I think you had that already. I told them you needed to be properly hydrated first. They didn't listen. You will then start shaking."

"Please Floyd. I need a drink."

"I don't have one to offer you Spence."

"The fountain."

"There is a row of very dangerous armed men between me and the fountain, and they have night vision goggles, I have bare feet and I don't even have the back light off my watch to guide me."

A sigh.

"Pains in the neck as the glands become infected, but it's unlikely that they will swell. You will get pains in your armpits and groin too I am afraid. The virus attacks the lungs causing irregular breathing and hypotension as the nervous system is attacked. Death normally occurs between thirty-six and fourty-eight hours. Usually cause of death is heart failure or in some rare cases a brain haemorrhage. Drinking more water won't stop it. It will just make you vomit more and cause more problems."

Another sigh. He already knew all of that but he needed water. His throat was swelling and his tongue had a sticky coat over it.

A sudden noise somewhere. A long drawn out scream and a thumping splatting sound made Spencer jump. His feet slipped on the liquid in front of him as he let out an alarmed yelp and for about a minute he let his arms take the weight of his body until he felt the blood trickling down his arms from where the cuffs where cutting into his wrists.

Something touched his leg and he squeaked again.

"You OK?" Floyd was pulling himself up on the grill Reid was attached to. He didn't get an answer. "Spence are you OK."

Spencer felt a hand touch his shoulder and he couldn't keep it inside him anymore. Reid freaked. He tried to scream but all that came out was a sound like an animal caught in a trap. He pulled at the cuffs more making the blood flow harder, he pulled and writhed and whimpered and tried to kick and bite and he would have cried if he had enough fluids in him to make some.

He could hear someone talking to him. "Calm down. You will make it worse. Try to keep still." And he could feel Flanders was in front of him now pressing him tight against the grill. He had his hands under Reid's arms to support his weight, and was holding onto the grill he was pushing Reid against.

"You infected me." a horse whisper.

"I am sorry. I didn't want to do that." A hand now behind Spencer's head.

"I am going to die and you are sorry?" And he started to struggle again. "Get off me. Get away from me. I will infect you."

"Yes I know but if I don't do this they will force me to do something else and although I would dearly love to do that something else, I don't want to add sexual assault to my list of murders."

Reid stood still and let Flanders take his weight for a while. "You were meant to entertain me."

"I didn't. Listen we still have the antidote. They will give you that tomorrow but for now we need them to see us swapping bodily fluids."

"You will get the antidote too?" Reid could feel Flanders hot breath on his ear.

"We only have one dose."

Reid could feel a mouth on his and he tried to pull back. "No."

"Please Spence. I don't want to do to you what they have planned."

"But I don't want to infect you. Leave me alone." His voice quiet. His lips receiving long needed moisture. A wetness over Spencer's lips accepted nervously and then with greed. Needing more. Held in place by Flanders pushing him against the grill Reid felt hands moving down to his hips. "This could be your last night Spence. Come on relax. Enjoy it."

They didn't hear the footsteps quietly approaching in the dark. Reid felt Flanders suddenly being ripped away from him and heard a thump as he hit the floor and then hands on his as the cuffs were removed and he was falling onto his hand and knees into the mess he had not so long ago vomited onto the floor.

Reid made little whimpering sounds expecting to feel a boot or fist again, but nothing. The footsteps left again.

Complete darkness. This is why he had been afraid of the dark. His whole life preparing him for today.

He felt a hand on his. "Spence." And he pulled him closer until they lay on the floor curled up together Flanders behind Spencer. Reid was shivering as the arms wrapped around his.

"Relax."

………………


	6. Chapter 6 Care

Care

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

_What do you want? You wanna kill me? Why don't you just do it? Just kill me: Mort_

Floyd's POV

He lay on the floor holding this young FBI agent in his arms. The man was going to die. He was going to die because firstly he was being deprived of fluids and secondly he had a deadly virus running through his blood. One that he himself had helped develop and then injected into that sweet neck. He could almost feel it rushing its way through Spencer's blood towards his heart. He held him tighter when the shakes began. He said comforting things to the back of his neck, but he didn't think he could hear.

How is this a fair test? Why do this to someone just because of a badge he had in his pocket? It was too late now though. The virus had taken a hold of this weakened form and was having a party. There was an outside chance that the antidote would work, but such a slim chance he might was well have helped create a new type of candy. It would have just as much effect. That was the whole point of developing things like this wasn't it? So that they can't be cured.

He slowly pulled away from the shaking form on the floor and called out into the darkness. "He needs water. Why are you doing this? How is this going to help the cause?" Slowly he began to crawl towards the sound of the fountain.

"One more step Flanders, and I will test my new bazooka out on your ass."

He stopped. "You are killing him. He needs fluids. We need to do this right or the test results will be wrong." Floyd could hear whisperings out in the dark then something rolled across the floor and touched his fingers. Sitting on the floor he unscrewed the cap and dipped his finger into the liquid. It was a sports drink again. He quickly put the lid back on and crawled back to were he could hear small moaning sounds.

Floyd sat cross legged on the floor and pulled Spencer over so his head was resting on his lap and gently tipped his head back. Reid moaned and tried to push him away.

………….

Reid's POV

Hands in the dark pulled him close and gave his head somewhere to rest. He could vaguely feel someone tilting his head back. Something in the dark. He tried to get it away from him. Some creature from his nightmares, but he seemed to have no strength left. A tiny drop of something touched his parched lips. He wasn't sure but he thought he might have made a whimpering sound as he slowly licked the sweetness off. Another drop and then another, and Reid was reaching out like a baby for its bottle demanding a drink.

Flanders was being careful though. He must do this slowly, if it wasn't too late already and he had a nasty feeling it was. This man should be in hospital but it no longer really mattered. Reid could feel careful slow hands touching the sides of his neck. He thought it would kill him. The pain so intense. It had started. He licked his lips and opened his mouth for drops of blue revitalising liquid to be slowly dropped in. He felt hands touching him around the shoulders and then moving carefully and almost in slow motion to the screaming glands under his arms and a calm voice talking to him in whispers. "It's alright Spence. Just drink. Everything will be alright." But he knew that was a lie.

Bright light. Sudden and blinding. A spotlight shining down on the two of them and someone walking over towards them. Reid squinted and tried to get away, but Floyd held him down. "Stay still. You need your strength. Keep drinking." And more drops in his dry mouth.

"Another announcement – can he talk?"

Flanders looked up at the white clad leader and frowned. "What hell do you think? Does it look like he can talk?"

Reid could see the silhouette of someone against the bright light. The person bent down to look at his face carefully. "He needs the antidote before it is too late. I need the announcement made by him."

Flanders put his hand on Reid's forehead. "I think it was too late even before he had the virus. I will make the announcement. Leave him be."

Spencer vaguely saw the boot coming up and he cringed back into Floyd's lap, but it wasn't him it was aimed at. He heard a cracking noise as boot met face and the hands holding him slipped away.

"Get up." Reid lay on the floor and looked up at the guy in white. "Now, not next week or your little buddy here will feel a whole lot more pain."

He slowly shook his head but even his slow careful movements sent waves of pain shooting through him. This was nothing compared to the unearthly pain he felt as he was dragged to his feet. Two more white hazmat guys held onto Reid as he was shown what he needed to read.

"Can you read it?"

"Yes." His voice a low rough hiss.

"When you are ready then."

Reid looked in the general direction of the camera, yet not directly at it.

"This test subject will now be given the antidote." It didn't sound like his voice. Low and rough and slow. "He won't however give in to these terrorists. The antidote won't work. It's too late. It's not airborne. You will be safe to enter in twelve hours. Just don't come near me or Flanders."

He was going to say more. This was a live feed. He hoped this was a live feed. But the hands in his hair pulling down to the ground and the boot to the side of his head shut him up before he could finish. The leader in his white hazmat suit looked at the camera.

"You want to risk its not airborne? I don't."

He then leaned down over Reid and pushed his head to one side. The auto-injector was placed on his neck just below the red mark from the previous site. Raithe could see in the bright light how red Reid was around his neck, where his glands were fighting off the infection. He looked over at Flanders who was groaning and crawling slowly away.

"Flanders, don't run away. Get over here and care for the Fed. Check his glands. I need regular reports. I need to know if the infection gets worse."

Reid could hear the voices and could feel the feet pushing at his ribs until he turned to lay on his back. He was dying. He knew that. He just didn't know how long it was going to take. He was not as pathetic as they thought he was though. He wasn't going to let them break him. Not anymore than they already had. He lay in the spotlight. The heat so intense he thought he could feel his skin burning.

He felt a hand moving slowly over his body. "It's me Spence. I need to check some stuff. So we know if the antidote is working. Sorry." Spencer lay and stared up at the bright light. He wondered how long he could look at it before it destroyed his sight. He blocked out what Flanders was doing and where he was touching. It hurt too much to worry about if his hands should be there or not.

The bodies were rotting in the heat of the unventilated mall. A thick cloying smell and he thought how he will join them soon. Thrown on the pile like a bag of rubbish.

The hands stopped checking him and just rested for a while on his chest. "Spence can you hear me?" He had the bottle of drink again. "I need you to drink this. I have a plan but you will have to help me a bit here." He started to drip the liquid onto Reid's lips again.

"Leave me."

"I can't. They will kill you."

"You already killed me."

"I am trying to help you."

"Why?" Spencer's voice was getting quieter and the roughness increasing.

"Drink some of this. Slowly." And some of the sweet liquid was squirted into his mouth.

Spencer licked his lips and made a grab for the bottle. "How long do you think I have?"

He felt a hand pushing hair off his face. "You don't need to ask questions like that. You have taken the antidote."

"What about you?"

"Listen to me." He ignored Reid's question. "They will turn the light off again soon. It's just to disorientate us. Then we can move. You need to drink this though. Get some strength back. The antidote will take a good few hours to start working."

"It's too late." Sipping carefully through his parched split lips.

"Too late for what?" He started to pull Spencer back so he could rest his head on his lap.

"Too late for me."

……………………..


	7. Chapter 7 Cough

Cough

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

Flanders made sure that Spencer wasn't looking directly at the bright light above them and slowly dripped the drink into his slightly open mouth. The shaking had returned. Reid could feel his teeth chattering together as the drink dripped slowly into his dry mouth. He turned his head to the side.

"You need to drink."

"I need to ask you to do something."

"What's wrong?" Reid could feel fingers gently moving his hair off his face.

"You have blueprints of this place? You know your way around?" Floyd could hardly hear him.

Flanders bent down lower over Reid and checked the temperature on his neck. "I know my way around. You are still too hot. How is your stomach?"

"This isn't airborne is it?"

"No, no it's not. It can't live outside the body."

Reid pulled the drink to his mouth and sucked down some of the luke warm drink. "I need you to get out and tell Hotchner – tell him I am sorry and I hope he understands."

"I can't leave you here."

Spencer lay on the floor of the mall surrounded by the stink of decay and the sound of flies and other things feasting on the bodies and felt those comforting arms around his shaking body again. He pressed his body back against Floyd and felt his arms tighten around him as the first of the coughs started from deep inside is lungs and he could feel the warm dampness of Floyds breath on his neck.

He closed his eyes and coughed again and this time he could taste blood in his mouth.

And the smell was getting worse.

Far away in the distance he could hear shouts and someone screaming, and just to add to the fun the spotlight went out. Spencer lay on the warm floor and listened to the screams and then to the laughter as the shouts of pain suddenly stopped.

Spencer coughed.

He could feel his lungs weren't working at full capacity. It hurt too much to breathe deeply and his head had started to pound again now that it was dark and now the shakes were back with renewed vigour. So he closed his eyes and just let his mind drift and dream of those arms wrapped around him. He was almost aware of he movement of the hands moving to his neck and then to his upper chest and underarms and then he closed his eyes and squirmed slightly as he felt his belt being undone.

Spencer coughed:

And he felt a hand on his back and a hand on his stomach as he vomited and coughed and whimpered in pain.

He curled up on the floor and cried out in distress when he realised the arms and the comfort were gone.

……………..

Floyd pulled himself along on his stomach into the shadows. He knew they had night vision goggles so he had to be quick and careful. He took the southern arm of the crossroads the fountain stood in and keeping to the edges and shop doors and still staying on his stomach he slowly made his way down to a service exit.

He had just reached the corner when he heard shouting and screaming and some gunshots. He stood still for half a second and looked back "I am so sorry Spence." Then ran around the corner towards some big metal doors with a single tear running down his cheek.

The doors were sealed. The whole place was but the small janitor's door to the side was not locked. He pushed the door open and quickly slid inside. Total blackness. He took a deep breath. He had to do this. He had to do this for Spence and for the other dead hostage's. Roughly wiping the wet away from his eyes he felt out in the dark until he reached a ladder. Careful, careful Floyd – you can't make a sound now. He put the ladder to the wall – they are looking for you. Oh god they will find you. He climbed in the dark until his fingertips could reach the ceiling. Service ducts. He moved his hand around until he found a grill in the upper wall.

He pulled a pen knife out of his pocket and after wobbling then stabilising himself again he used his fingers to work out how to unscrew them. Listening to shouting voices. Quickly. He had to be quick. One screw was out, and another shout and another gun shot, and he dropped the knife. Quickly he jumped down again almost knocking over a wooden chair to the side of the ladder. He held to the back of it and took a deep breath. Picking up the chair he took it to the door and jammed it under the handle. Some of them are so stupid they will assume it locked.

Back to the foot of the ladder on his hands and knees fingers feeling for the small knife.

"I'm sorry Spence." he muttered to himself again as his fingers touched the little knife. Careful to listen to what was going on, and just as careful not to drop his knife he located the next screw and with a struggle he removed it.

Someone was screaming again. In some ways at first he hoped it was Spencer, at least he was still alive but when the sounds suddenly stopped he took a deep breath and hoped the first shot had been for Spencer. The third screw dropped to the floor and the grill fell downwards at an angle still held in place by the final forth screw.

He leaned across from the ladder and hauled himself up into service duct. His heart was pounding and the blood thumping in his ears as he slowly pulled himself along the small metal tunnel. Small space. Very small space. Too small. Not enough air. No air. Oh god no air. He lay still. Deep breaths he knew he must take deep breaths.

Floyd could still hear the shouting and smashing and screaming sounds. He had no idea who was shooting who or what they were doing. What he did know what that he had to keep moving or Spencer would have died alone out there for nothing.

The tunnel he was crawling down was slanting gradually downwards and as the screams and bangs fading into the background. The downwards slant suddenly became very steep. Too steep. He began at first to slide slowly and he gripped hold of the sides of the metal tunnel, but he got faster as the tunnel dropped alarmingly. He had to stay silent. He needed to find the other end of this and get out and then find this Hotchner person and when he realised he was hurtling at breakneck speed towards an exit grill he put his arms over his face and just went with the flow of the situation.

He felt the grill smash into his arms and with a dreadful screech the grill gave way and Flanders unable to stop himself left the side of the building thirty foot above a car park. He saw the big black SUV coming towards him. He felt in slow motion his body smash onto the windshield and then bounce off, rolling and falling still trying to keep his head protected and knowing he was going to either die or at least break something as he smacked headfirst onto the tarmac.

………………..

Spencer coughed and spat blood out onto the floor he was laying on.

He felt something probably a boot prodding his stomach. "Where is he?"

No answer.

He was dragged off the floor under the arms and he screamed in agony. He could see people running around with flashlights in the darkness and he could see the woman with the short dark hair and green eyes standing with a gun to her head.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know." A small whisper

A cough. A deep hacking cough and blood in his mouth.

He felt the hand go around his throat and he let out a small whimper. "Tell me or she dies."

"I don't know." He repeated.

The men in the hazmat suits pulled the woman with the green eyes and the short dark hair so she was standing in front of Reid.

"Tell me or I shoot her brains out now."

He looked at the woman in the eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know." Reid put a hand out and grasped hers in his and when the gun fired and he felt a soft splattering over his face he made strange keening noises like an animal in distress.

……………….


	8. Chapter 8 Contagious

Contagious 

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He curled up on the tarmac with his hands still wrapped around his head. Looking carefully he could see the dark ground he had ended up on and the tyres of the cars around him.

Silence: everything was so quiet.

He took deep breaths and felt something sharp digging in his side. Maybe a broken rib?

He blinked and carefully moved his head to the side. His neck felt good to go.

He wiggled his toes. Yes he could do that too, but still the deathly silence and something crawling down the side of his face and a strange warmth growing under his head.

Floyd could see across the heat haze of the parking lot figures running towards him in slow motion. They were white. All dressed in white hazmat suits and carrying guns. They rippled and wavered in the heat and he wondered if they were the angels of bio-chemical experimentation coming to drag him down to the hell he deserved to be in.

He moved his hands so he could see them. Lots of blood and then suddenly a face in a mask and goggles looking down at him, and hands rolling him over on to his back. It looked like they were communicating with each other but he couldn't tell. Still perfect wonderful silence, and a smell. A smell that wasn't of decay. He looked at arms waving around although he couldn't see their faces he could see the panic in their body language.

Someone was bent down now looking closely at him, then turning back and calling over to someone else. He tried to work out what was going on but he was getting confused. A hand on his face and he looked up into dark worried eyes behind the goggles. He tried to ask to talk to Hotchner, but he his brain wouldn't let him work out how to do it, so he put his hands back to his head and stared at the sky.

'_Sorry Spence.'_

As the world started to dim he thought he heard something. A small noise and he thought it was probably the sound of his tears creeping out of his eyes.

…………………..

Reid was crying out and sobbing as bits slid down his face and the sound of guns firing in excitement of a new death. The flashlights strobed across the walls and ceiling. He wanted to put his hands to his face but they were grabbed and held and cuffed in front of him. Someone kicked the back of his knees and someone else grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to the ground.

"Give him water." Raithe said. "Don't take your eyes off him, and Monty, check his glands." He heard the squelching slithering sound of the woman's body being dragged away.

They held him down and forced open his mouth. Then with a bottle of mineral water they poured.

At first he tried to drink, but this throat was so sore and closed that he could only get tiny bits down. He could feel the bottle being rammed into his mouth as he began to choke and cough and the bottle was in the back of his throat now making him gag and now he was being sick and vomiting up the water being forced down and he bucked and writhed now as unknown hands began to feel his neck and underarms and then down further pulling at his belt.

He could hear laughing, as he tried to kick and get the prying hand off him and in a strange way, the only good thing about all of this was they were in hazmat suits and so it wasn't flesh he could feel touching him where they shouldn't be. When the bottle of water was empty they left him to roll over onto his side and empty those precious fluids again onto the floor where he knew it would mix with part of the woman he had killed through his own inaction.

Spencer coughed and gagged and curled up on the floor awaiting the next thing they decided to do to him. This was if he wasn't already dead by then. His neck was in agony and his shoulders and upper chest felt like they had been crushed. He tried to pull his clothing back up to where it should be and wondered very briefly if the team had seen this last humiliation and if Floyd had got away. He was sure if they had found him by now he would know about it.

The flashlights were gone now and again all he had was the blinking or the camera light, so yes they were still watching. He had to do something. He needed them to know Floyd was trying to help. He needed to get a message to Hotch. He remained curled up in the darkness until the sounds of running footsteps had past. Then slowly very slowly, inch by painful inch he moved closer to the camera. He coughed and gagged and spat out blood onto the floor, but no one told him to be quiet or to keep still, so he kept going.

Breathing was coming harder now. Shallow breaths taking in the fetid fouled air from around him. The sounds of things slowly rotting and vile poppings and buzzings. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he was too hot and his neck was burning. Any liquids they had given him his body had rejected but he was getting closer. He had to think what to do when he got there.

He could see it. So close – so close, and he reached his hand out to touch it. Maybe just maybe Hotch was watching and would know. Maybe Hotch will realise and come to get him? Maybe the team will see him now? In his confused state he tried to stand up and grab at the camera and call out to his friends – "It's ok you can come and get me now' but the hard object. 'a baseball bat?' caught him across the shoulders, and then someone was pulling him away from the camera by his feet, and he reached out and pleaded with his eyes for help as the bat cracked him across the back of the skull and it all went black.

………………..

"Can you hear me?"

A voice. Floyd could hear a voice. Slowly he opened his eyes to see someone standing there suited up. For a minute he forgot where he was. He was going to roll off the bed he had been laid on but it caused instant unbearable pain. He bit on his bottom lip to stop himself crying out in pain.

"Are you Flanders?"

A whispered "Yes." Was his reply. "I need to talk to Hotchner. I have a message."

"Are you the second test subject from the recording we have?"

"I need to talk to Hotchner." And now pulling back the pain to deep inside he tried again to get off the bed. A hand moved down and rested on his chest to stop him.

"You are talking to Hotchner. What is the message?"

"I need to see your face." He moved his hand up towards the man's mask but he stepped back out of the way.

"That is not likely to happen. I need you to tell me everything you know. From the information we have been able to gather you are the one who injected my agent with a deadly virus, and you have also been exposed to it. I will be keeping my mask on and you will stay laying there and you will answer my questions."

Floyd closed his eyes against the barrage of words.

"Spence wanted me to tell you he was sorry and he hoped you understood." He looked up at the still form standing there looking down at him. "I am not contagious. I am immune to the virus. I made sure of that when I helped develop it. I am safe." But his head hurt and now he felt a huge wave of guilt.

He watched as the man in front of him removed his mask and goggles and then sat down on the bed next to Flanders. "Reid trusted you. I am going too."

"It's safe to go in there. The virus is not airborne. It can't live outside the body. Spence is the only one who was infected."

………….

He was very vaguely aware of being dragged across the floor and down the corridor. He was on his stomach his hands still cuffed being dragged by his ankles. Spencer felt the strange sliding feel of being dragged around a corner and then someone was lifting him up off the floor. He was carried over a shoulder for a short distance bringing on more coughing and attempts to vomit but he had nothing left inside him now. He wanted to protest, but the pain in his neck and chest kept him quiet and the pain in his head and back kept him still.

Spencer hit the floor hard and watched with blurry eyes in the strange red light as the men in white protective suits pulled open a service trash hatch and pulled over one of the bins. One of them held the hatch door open, the other removed his cuffs and then picked him up off the floor again and threw him in a big commercial bin and without ceremony threw Spencer away with the other rubbish from the dumper bins in the area.

……………


	9. Chapter 9 Trash

Trash

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He wasn't fully aware of where he was going or what was happening. He was rolling and banging down a chute with trash from the garbage bins. Something sharp caught him in the leg and he would have yelped in pain ordinarily but now there was no point in anything. Even if Floyd had got out they would never find him now, not before it was too late.

It was already too late.

Relatively speaking it was a soft landing. Trash from the stores and bins on the mall, mainly cardboard boxes, old coat hangers, packing crates, and just general rubbish left behind. Food wrappers and old drink cans. He lay on his stomach coughing and spitting up blood from the lungs labouring to keep going. How long since the antidote was given to him? He put a shaking hand to his neck and felt the skin burning and the swelling around the two injection sites. Spencer still wasn't sure why Flanders had done this and right now his brain just wasn't going to let him work it out.

Spencer started to slowly crawl forwards. Pitch black again, but hey cant get worse than it already is. He just didn't want to die here. He needed to find somewhere to curl up and feel safe. The pain in his leg hand died down now, but when he put his hand to his leg he could feel a lump of rusty metal sticking out of it and the wetness around the wound. More blood loss.

Crawling forwards things stabbing into his hands in the darkness. The sound of glass cracking under his knees and the occasional sharp pain in his arms but this was minor. The pains coming from his glands working over time to keep him alive was excruciating. The sound of blood and panic pounding in his ears drowned out everything else. He thought he was maybe whimpering and if he could he knew he would be crying. Keep going Spencer. Keep going. Don't die on a pile of trash. Don't die here like a poisoned rat.

Moving on the flat surface of the concrete basement floor was easier. He stopped to cough again and spit something from deep inside him onto the floor, and he realised he stopped breathing.

Breathe Spencer. Breathe. He managed to take in short sharp breath, and then exhale again, but then he had to force himself to do it again.

Not long now. Not long. This was going to be painful. He just wanted a corner to curl up in now and close his eyes and slowly go.

His fingers found the wall. Good – come on Spencer; find somewhere to lay down now.

And so with his back to the wall Spencer curled up with his arms wrapped around his knees and closed his eyes. He coughed and he coughed again then was silent.

…………………….

They sat in front of the monitor and looked at different clips. Flanders tried to point out different people and their position in this cockeyed organisation. He told them what weaponry was being used and what was favoured by whom. He told them what he knew about Raithe, which was not much really and they watched together as Spencer crawled slowly towards the camera. They watched him reach out, and they watched as he was hit with the baseball bat. They watched the brief surprised look on his face as they dragged him away and then hit him again. And then again. Flanders got up and left the room and stood outside wiping the tears roughly from his face. He could hear the sounds of Reid's team's distress. Someone was crying. Someone was shouting and hitting things and someone was sobbing loudly.

Floyd was leaning on the side of the building with his head down when the sudden noise made him look up just in time for the fist to meet his mouth.

"You left him there to them!" And he was swinging again for Floyd who tried to duck and put his hands over his head. "You give him some damned virus then leave him there for those hounds to tear him apart?!"

The next fist didn't make contact. He was shouting at someone to let go of him "I am going to kill the bastard" He was shouting.

Floyd frowned and slowly looked up at the dark skinned agent and a muscle behind his eye twitched. "Listen to me you son of a bitch, he told me to leave. He is the sodding FBI agent not me. I did as I was told. I always do as I am bloody well told, and this is where it gets me. A bloody headache, and you wanting to kill me. Well get your bloody agent out on your own. Good luck with that! Do you think I really give a fiddlers fart what happens to your boy." And angry tears were falling. "He is nothing. He was just a bit of meat to experiment with. I am just pissed that the antidote didn't work!" He was spitting in anger at Morgan, who Floyd could now see was being held back by the Hotchner bloke.

"We need to all calm down here. There are still hostages in the mall. We still need to get Reid out of there and you are going to help us do that. You said you know this place inside out. You will get us in there and you will show us were to go. I will provide you with a flack jacket and a helm. So now we will all stop fighting and we will go and get Reid."

Prentiss noted with a deep sadness that Hotch had changed his previous 'rescue Reid' to 'get Reid' somehow it didn't sound as hopeful. Somewhere along the line they had begun to believe there was no hope for him.

………………..

He thought he felt someone pick him up off the floor and carry him out away from the darkness.

Someone was dripping water into his mouth and wiping his face with a cold wet cloth. He could then feel his shirt being unbuttoned and pulled open at the front and the cold wetness moved slowly over his chest and stomach. Reid didn't think he had ever felt anything so wonderful in his life. Again drips of water and the cloth over his face and brow and then to his neck. Gentle movements – careful movements. Even over his closed eyes the cold damp cloth travelled.

Reid moaned when he felt again hands going to his trousers and the damp cold cloth cooling him down.

"I won't hurt you." A voice "I've been watching. You are the FBI man they injected with something, aren't you?"

He responded with a small noise.

"They gassed the upper floors you know." More water in the mouth. "A lot of people stayed up there. We knew it was a trap. They all died. Those who went to get mask, and those who stayed behind. All dead – except for ten, and now just you. There is no one left for your people to rescue." Reid could feel his shirt being pulled around him again. "I came down here."

Spencer coughed and spat and he had to remember to take a breath again as his blood pounded in his ears and his heart raced to keep him alive.

"Leave me." a rasping whisper. "I need to be alone."

He felt the man pull an old sheet up over him, and he put something in Reid's hand – the wet cloth and he moved it up towards Spencer's mouth. "It will ease some of the pain." Reid made a soft noise almost like a sigh. "I will tell your friends where to find you."

Spencer put the cloth on his lips and it felt wonderful. He heard the sounds of the man leaving and a door closing, and he reminded his body to keep breathing, just for a little bit longer. He slowly rolled over onto his side so he was facing the wall. The bit of metal was still sticking out of his leg. He thought that pulling it out would make him bleed out, and end this quicker. Bleed to death or suffocate as his lungs gave up. Not much of a choice, but it was his. So he pulled his knees up tight to his chest and wrapped one arm around him and pulled the length of rusty something out of his leg with the other. It didn't hurt, but he could feel the warmness spreading over his leg as he pulled his knees in tight, and for the first time in what seemed to Reid to be forever a tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

………………….


	10. Chapter 10 Windchimes

Windchimes.

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

_The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears: - John Vance Chene._

Floyd stood with Hotch and looked as the doors had the seals removed. He put a hand to his nose knowing full well what the smell was going to be like. There were hundreds of rotting corpses in that sealed up building in the heat and with the un-circulated air. SWAT were going in first. He was glad of that. He didn't want to be in line of fire for those mad men still inside, and somewhere deep inside he felt it would be fun to see the looks on their faces as they entered the tomb.

He was right about the smell. It hit them like a wall. Floyd knew what to expect. The others had no idea. They wouldn't even be able to begin to comprehend the carnage until they saw it, and then maybe replayed it through their brains. Flanders was a part of this. And he knew they would string him up for his part in it even if it was not his choice.

Flanders watched them recoil. He watched the hands fly to noses, and he watched someone chuck up. He raised an eyebrow. If they thought the smell was bad here, how would they react when they reached the cross roads with the fountain? He made a small grunt of amusement imagining SWAT's reactions but got a hard look from Agents Hotchner and Morgan. They didn't understand that the only way he was going to get through this was to laugh.

It escaped in a sort of snigger.

"What the hell is so amusing?" Morgan had grabbed his arm.

Floyd looked down at the hand but didn't touch it. "Let go of me."

"What are you laughing at you son of a bitch? You find this funny?" His face was right there in Floyds. He could feel Morgan's hot breath on his face.

He stared in Morgan's angry eyes. "It was a nervous escape of air. Now get your damned hands off me before I break your fingers."

Derek swung Floyd around so he was facing him properly and pulled his helm off. "What's going to happen when we go in there? He might trust you, but I sure as hell don't."

Flanders made a grab to get the helm out of Derek's hands. "What is it with everyone wanting me dead? What did I ever do to you except deliver a message from your agent?"

The helm was thrown to one side. "Move your ass Flanders. You first I think."

He walked slowly. He knew they would have no reason not to open fire when SWAT arrived. "I need the helm."

A slap around his hurting head. "You get nothing."

Flanders looked over at Hotch who was walking forwards into the gloom ahead.

"They will try to kill us all. You know that don't you? You saw what they have done. What they are capable of?"

Morgan grabbed his arm again and pulled him to face. "You – what you are capable of. Yes we saw – we saw what you did."

Flanders looked down at the hand. "You are touching me again. And you saw nothing. You didn't see it all. You only saw selected high-lights. You didn't see it. You just have no idea do you!" He pulled away from Morgan and started to follow Hotch.

………………….

He could feel hands on him again. Why can't they just leave him alone? Spencer could hear a panicked voice and something being held on his leg. He tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but the effort was too much. He lay on his back not able to resist as he felt his clothing being cut off him. He heard collective gasps. More than one person. Hotch?

"Hotch?" He moved his hands out to try to touch the person with him. He heard people talking to each other but couldn't work out in his confused mind what they were saying.

Spencer felt them remove his dirty bloodied cords and his blood encrusted shirt, and one part of his brain was telling him to wrap his arms around his chest and protect himself, and the other part of his brain needed it to be Hotch. His hands flailed in front of him again until finally he touched something. He was expecting a suit jacket or maybe a flak vest; but his brain wasn't processing information correctly anymore.

He grasped the clothing and knew this was Hotch. He had come to keep him company and lay with him while he struggled to keep breathing.

Spencer coughed - deep phlegmy hard cough and rolled over onto his side as his head span with lack of oxygen. He wanted to ask to be held but he had no energy left. There were no comforting words or hands. Just rough hard painful hands pulling and touching him.

……………….

Silence. No sudden firing of weapons. Just the heavy breathing of the men around him. Buzzing of flies. Moans and the splattering of hardened men emptying their stomachs.

Flashlights lit up the area like a crazy psychopaths laser light show. Hanging from ropes along the balconies and stairs where men in white hazmat suits swaying slowly in the slight breeze the open doors had created. If this was some sort of political message it was lost on Morgan who was now grabbing at Floyds arm again.

"Where did you leave him?"

Floyd's eyes were already looking in the direction they needed to go. "Touch me again and I will rip your face off." He walked off to where he had left Spencer to get beaten to death with a baseball bat.

He shone his flashlight at the ground where they had been laying together. Floyd crouched down and ran his fingers over the red smears left behind on the floor.

"What are you doing?" That Morgan's voice again.

Why can't he shut up? Why cant he just leave me be? Why does he have to ask such stupid questions? "He was here." And he stood up again. "He was here when they – well this is where it happened." And he noticed Hotch was standing looking at the mess on the floor too.

"Flanders, go with SWAT and show them who is who please. We will find Reid." Hotch shone his flashlight around.

He stood and looked over at SWAT who had detached the swinging terrorists and were looking down at the bodies. "I need to find Spence." He stood and looked at the direction the blood was leading them.

Morgan's voice again. "What is your great need to find him? Tell me what is going on or get over there out of my damned way."

Now Flanders was cross. He had been calm for a long time now, and his pissed off and angry barrier was now breached. "I need to find him and no it's not guilt. I don't feel bad about what I did because I did what I needed to do to stay alive at the time. I am sorry it was Spence it happened to, but there was nothing I could do to prevent it."

Morgan in his face again. "You could have said no."

"Yes you are right I could have said no. Silly me, why didn't I think of that at the time? I am a scientist, not a terrorist, not a trained marksman, not someone who has gone through FBI or SWAT training, I work in a lab. What do you think they would have done to me had I refused? They had gone beyond the point where I was of use. That's why they removed my protective suit. They didn't know I was immune and I wasn't about to let them know. Now can we go and find him?" he paused. "Oh and Morgan, don't touch me. I don't like being touched."

Hotch walked closer to Flanders. "It would help us if you could go and identify the people in hazmat. We need to know if the leader is amongst them. I don't want to take a civilian out there especially not knowing if there are more armed terrorists here."

"I'm coming with you." And he started to walk off following the blood trail down the passage way with Morgan running behind him. A hand on his shoulder.

"We don't need your help here. Go and do what you were asked to do."

Ignored. Flanders kept walking looking at the marks on the floor and seeing how they suddenly stopped. He stood and turned a circle.

……………….

In the back of his mind he could hear laughing and when he felt his lungs failing he tried to take a breath as a hand wrapped itself around his nose and mouth. His head was pulled back straining on his swollen throat preventing even the smallest amount of air from creeping down and he didn't struggle when he heard Hotch because now it was over and he lay and let it happen and listened to the wind chimes

……………….


	11. Chapter 11 Recycled

Recycled.

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

_Tin Het once said: Crap, I think we all just died._

They stood in a huddle and looked at how the marks on the floor suddenly stopped.

"They picked him up." Morgan was walking further long. "But there is no blood trail. So he was either not bleeding, which seems unlikely, or he was put in or on something."

Flanders eyes caught a glimpse of one of the big bins and started to run towards it.

Aaron turned to see the medics running in their direction, but they received a shake of the head. "Stay with us. He's not far." And he joined Flanders who was frantically pulling open the bin lids.

Morgan was still inspecting the floor and looking for any signs of blood which would lead them in the right direction.

"Spence where the hell are you?" Flanders was muttering to himself. Morgan looked over curiously at the man who actually did look and sound like he did care after all.

A hand on his shoulder which he pulled away from, and rough wiping of the wetness appearing on his face. "They are all empty. They are empty. Someone emptied the bins." And he was looking around and then running deeper down into the corridor. Hotch, Morgan and the medical team followed as he ran to the end. He pulled down a large metal door and looked down into the darkness. "Garbage chute." He muttered and started to climb. Again a hand on his shoulder! Always with the hands! "Let go of me!" He elbowed quickly back and made contact with something hard then threw himself head first down the chute.

He fell and twisted and rolled down the chute to the sounds of shouting coming from the opening he had foolhardily leapt probably to his death to. If this went directly to the furnace it would definitely be a just end. He wanted to laugh at the thought of it, but the smacking pain on the back of his head let him know he had reached the bottom. Floyd lay on the floor for a while trying to get his breath back and getting his eyes to adjust to the darkness he was surrounded by. He was laying on concrete. No soft landing for him. Not that lucky. He was rolling out of the way groaning when Morgan hit the bottom foot first and did a quick roll and jumped up. He shone his flashlight around the room. There were other chutes, some with piles of trash in front of them. If Reid had been thrown down with the rubbish, then he would be there somewhere.

Hotch joined them after a minute and stood next to Floyd.

"Do you know your way around down here?"

He shook his head but was trying to grab the flashlight from Aaron's hands. "Over there by the wall." And he was off again at a run.

Morgan stood and looked at the pile of rubbish then looked back at Flanders. "What is it?"

"Oh god - oh god - oh god." Flanders was beginning to panic and trying to get Aaron's flashlight again. "He was here. There is blood. Where is he?! Spence!" And Floyd was shouting.

And again it was Derek there touching him, and now it was one touch too many. "Get your hands off me you son of a whore!" and he spat at Morgan's face. He watched with satisfaction as Morgan blinked and dropped his hand. "You are wasting my time. I need to find him!"

Hotch stood forwards between the two men. "You need to calm down Flanders. Reid needs us to stay calm. We will never find him if we are shouting at each other. There is an exit passage that way. We will go and check it out calmly."

But Flanders was already at a run, and as he raced down the dark unlit passage he suddenly stopped.

Hotch and Morgan saw Floyd run then fall silently backwards into the shadows. Flashlights and guns raised into the darkness. A long passage with a door at the end and Flanders laying on his back on the floor about half way down.

"Now what the hell?" muttered Morgan.

……………..

The pain was across his face. It felt like that hit had broken his jaw. Slowly he rolled onto his side and spat a tooth out. He wanted to get up and kill whatever had just done this to him. Why were they stopping him from finding Spence? Someone was pulling him back out of the way by holding him under the arms and as he looked up Derek was there again looking down at him shining the light on his face and wiping blood off his fingertips. Floyd looked up at him. He didn't realise it was possible to fee this angry.

"I just want to find him! I need to hold him!" he said through his battered mouth.

Hotch let go of his shoulders. "This is why we need to take it slowly Floyd. There might be scared people hiding down here. We don't know. Take it slowly, let us take the lead. Calm down and follow."

He made a desperate sobbing sound and tried to get to his feet. Derek was staring at him. "Walk behind me." Derek said to him. Blood was dripping down his chin. He wiped it away roughly with the back of his hand and nodded.

They walked slower. Laying on the floor near a small side passage was a crow bar. They each looked down at it but didn't comment or move it. Carefully they made their way to the door.

Hotch carefully placed his finger tips on it, and checked to see which way it would open. He put his hand carefully on the door handle and twisted it. Slowly the door opened. He room was in total darkness. He shone his flashlight slowly around the room and took a step inside. It looked like a store room. Packing crates over to one side, and a pile of rubbish in the corner. There seemed to be nothing else. He walked further into the room with Morgan behind him and stepping past Derek, Flanders stood and looked around following Hotch's light and it was there. A pile of dirty tarpaulins in the corner and a foot. A battered bloodied foot.

Someone was calling for the medics as Floyd walked in slow motion – impossibly slow over to the foot sticking out from the filth and dirty tarps. Hands, not just his were pulling the covers off who they knew was going to be underneath. Floyd could hear strange whimpering noises, and he wasn't sure if it was him or Hotch making them.

"Oh god no."

Someone said. It didn't matter who voiced it. They were all thinking the same thing.

Spencer lay on his right side facing the wall with his knees bent up tight to his chest. His right hand was resting next to his head; his left arm was bent behind him. He had been stripped out of his own clothes and an old sheet was wrapped around him almost like a shroud.

Someone put a slow shaking hand on Spencer's shoulder and pulled him so he was on his back.

Screaming for the medics as his eyes stared back accusingly at them.

"He's not breathing!"

"I can't find a pulse!"

"We are too late, no no no we are too late!"

…………………..

Hotch, Morgan, and Flanders stood back as the medics dived into action.

They watched them touch the paddles to Spencer's chest and the saw his body arch. They watched them try to intubate him, and watched the paddles touch his skin again as his chest bucked and fell still on the rubbish he lay on.

They saw shaking heads and panicked movements through eyes clouded with tears. There was a lot of shouting and orders given but it all seemed to Floyd to be silent.

Floyd saw the small sharp blade going to Spencer's throat and he wanted to run forwards and rip it from their hands and slice them with it, but Aaron's hand was holding his arm in a grip like a vice and saying something to him his ears wouldn't hear because all he could hear was his own strange keening noises. They saw the Tracheotomy and the tube being inserted and the air being pumped into his lungs and they saw again his body buck.

More people were arriving. People with a gurney and drips and portable monitors and they surrounded Spencer and lifted him carefully. A medic looked over at the three men and gave a small shrug, and then they were gone. Running down a dark passageway towards the waiting ambulance.

………………

……………...

………………

Floyd sat by the bed holding Spencer's hand tightly. He was awake. He spent his days just staring at the ceiling. He wasn't very responsive. The cut on his neck was healing, but would scar. They were still unsure about how much brain damage had been caused. They needed to do more tests.

Flanders had told Hotch he would stay with him. They kept a constant eye on him though. Someone watched. They didn't trust him.

They maybe had good reason not to trust him. But it wouldn't be for much longer. He guessed a few more days, judging by the infection rates and the ease of contamination. Air born virus' were nasty. Almost impossible to stop, and in this case completely impossible to survive. Unless you had been given the antidote. Unless you were immune. Unless you were your very own typhoid Mary.

……………..

Derek didn't feel well. His eyes felt sore and his neck hurt. It felt like he was getting the flu, or at least some nasty cold bug. He stood in the queue in the chemists and coughed into his fist.

The young cashier gave Derek his meds for the bad throat and took the money from his hand and stuck it in the cash register. He turned to leave and coughed again. The cashier yawned and put her hand to her mouth.

……...

* * *

END

* * *


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