Windstar: This is the final (official) chapter of this story. I have contemplated writing an epilogue, but with the way that it ends, I find that an epilogue won't fit into the story itself. I have also considered writing the same story through the BAU's perspective (not first person, though, instead: third person omniscient). Because there's a lot that's left out when you only follow one character, certain details in his fanfiction (this chapter especially) may seem rushed or abrupt. I suppose my basis for that is much like the episode "True Night," where you follow the unsub and just randomly they barge into his apartment while he's having a break down.
I understand that many people don't particularly like Lila as a character, but my reasoning for putting her in the story is sound. Like Gideon said, there's a bond between a hero and their rescued victim. Psychologically, it ties them together in a form of responsibility that turns into a kind of worship on one end and enforcer on the other. Dissociative Fugue states get broken randomly and with no apparent cause, but here I needed at least some form of trigger. Gideon's guidance and the psychological tie between hero and victim formed that starting point. I would have picked another character, but honestly, all of Reid's saved people are unsubs or institutionalized. The people he helped...not really walking around freely. (It would have been so much easier to do this with Gideon, with his wall of saved persons, but honestly I'm still disgruntled he'd left)
I've taken certain liberties, expanded on their relationship, and I hope that it's not too dissatisfying. They're friends, good friends - but friends none the less. They're not dating, and there is no romantic entanglements. I hope that suspends the realm of disbelief just enough to be acceptable.
Thank you very much to all of my reviewers, you've welcomed me into this fandom with huge encouragement and grace. I appreciate it very much.
All the best,
Windstar.
Chapter:
"Spence?" The name left that whore's mouth without her really aware of it. Then terror shot through her. "Oh God." She dove into the water; I couldn't see my boy. I couldn't see my boy! She'd killed him. She'd killed him!
My boy didn't know how to swim!
My boy was going to die!
I was just making it to the edge of the lake, but Gideon was faster. He dove off the dock and into the water, and my knees hit the ground as I stared at the surface in shock. I couldn't breathe. My lungs were burning in my chest.
I had a plan.
I had a plan. Isaiah was going to get us out and everything was going to be alright.
It didn't involve him drowning!
My breath caught in my throat as I saw that fucking whore surface. Gideon came up with her, and between them my boy was floating head down. He wasn't conscious. They were swimming to the shore. Quickly, they pulled him onto the rocky ground, and lay him flat on his back. His eyes were half open, but he wasn't breathing.
Gideon placed his hands on his chest and pushed down hard, even as Lila tilted my boy's head. Water bubbled from his lips, but he wasn't otherwise reacting. That filthy whore pressed her lips to his mouth and breathed air into his lungs, desperately, hopefully.
Gideon pressed down again, and again. I felt terror coursing through me, cursing that bitch again and again for what she had done. How dare she, how dare she.
Then it happened all at once. She went to breathe into his mouth again, but he suddenly lurched. Gideon's hand's pulled away from his chest even as my boy twisted onto his side reflexively. He coughed and sputtered, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he tried to bring air into his lungs. Lila's hand ran along his back, and I wanted to break each and every one of her fingers clear off. Whore, whore!
I moved forwards, eager to push her away. My hand reached out to encircle her scrawny wrist, when a quiet and weak voice froze me in my tracks.
"Marie?" Gideon's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Lila was rigid; her eyes widened just a bit.
"Does that mean something to you?" The ex-fed asked.
"It's…my middle name." She hastened to explain. "His is Matt…we…called each other them. It was an inside joke…" No.
Jason was coughing badly, but he was slowly struggling to sit up.
"Where…" My boy was squinting, looking around. His eyes landed on Gideon, and he stared up at him in stunned shock. "Gideon?"
"Spencer." It was a risky calculation on Gideon's part, but I already knew how he would answer. No.
"What, what are you doing here?" He coughed, one hand going to his chest and rubbing it. Gideon smiled faintly, clapping the boy on the shoulder and then drawing him in for a hug. Jason was still coughing, but his face was riddled with confusion and misunderstanding. His eyes slid around him, focusing on his surroundings the best he could.
"It's good to see you again." Gideon murmured softly, holding my boy, my boy, closely. I thought I could see a tear in his eye, but it wasn't entirely obvious.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No!
"I don't…understand…What's going on?" My boy shivered slightly, and Gideon pulled back slightly, just enough to place a hand on the boy's forearm and pull him upright. Lila took the hint and took his other arm, helping him up to his feet. He was shaking badly, and his cough was persistent. From the chill in the air, he was liable to catch a cold, or worse – pneumonia.
"Let's go inside, we'll explain everything." He nodded ever so slightly, his eyes drooping ever so slightly as they gently led him into the cabin. My face was drained of all blood, I could feel it sinking out and into my toes. My heart was hammering in my head. As I walked, I felt my mind going numb around the edges.
No.
No.
No.
He's mine! He's mine!
Black spots crossed across my eyes as a wave of nausea and dizziness overcame me. My heart was thundering in my head. That bitch was talking to my boy, and he was leaning slightly – listening and humming responses where appropriate. After a time, the confusion would settle and he'd work out his own thoughts. From how he was standing, I could tell quite clearly that he was different from Jason. His back was stooped slightly; neck curved just a little. Despite his obvious need of assistance, he seemed to shy slightly from their touch.
No!
No!
They led him inside, and wrapped a blanket around his shuddering shoulders. All the while, someone kept him talking. They'd brought Jason….Spencer…to his room, and Gideon gave us both a look that meant no funny business. "Go change," He urged Lila. "I got this." Gideon urged Lila; she bit her lip for a moment, before nodding and quickly leaving. I heard her rummaging for something down the hall, but it was only a vague awareness.
"Spencer, I need you to focus on me for a moment, can you do that?" Gideon was asking gently, softly. His hand stayed on my boy's shoulder, shaking it just enough to make him look up and stare owlishly at him.
"What are you doing here? When did you come back?"
"A few weeks ago." Gideon replied honestly. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Remember?" The word was softly spoken, Jas-Spencer's eyes pinched together, his lips pursed, and his brows furrowed. He reached a shivering hand to his head and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He rubbed at his eyes slightly, and I wondered if his contacts were bothering him.
"There's a pair of glasses in the desk." Gideon offered, and almost at once Ja-Spencer tore the clear devices from his eyes and blinked at the blurry world around him. I heard Lila returning, and I glanced back to look at her. She was breathless in her rush, and she shouldered passed me and into the room.
"Matt?" I blinked, Gideon blinked, Spencer turned his head.
"Weren't you in England?" He asked, trying to piece together what was happening.
"I hadn't heard from you in months, and so I called Nathan, and he hadn't heard from you either. Your mom was frantic as well, so I came to D.C."
"Months?" he echoed the word, and one hand rubbed anxiously at his head. "Mom? What are you talking about?"
"You've been gone for over two years." Gideon replied evenly.
"Gone?"
"Gideon, you should change too." I spoke up suddenly, my voice finding itself at the worst moment. They all looked at me, but I didn't care. "And J-Spencer should change out of that before he becomes ill."
My boy was staring at me, his face was coated in confusion. He looked uncertain, and bemused. Gideon sighed though, and nodded. "I'll be back." He said simply, giving Dr. Reid's shoulder a squeeze before quickly moving out of the room and into his own.
Lila moved towards my boy's drawers and began to find something that would work well. Reid just sat still on the bed, head in hands and confusion on his face. He was still trying to piece everything together, and it was clear the answers weren't coming to him as fast as they could have been.
I knew I had to move quickly though, and so I did the only thing I could think of. I rushed that skanky blonde bitch, and struck her in the back of the head as hard as I could with the first thing my free hand could grab – a paperweight off of his desk. Lila fell to the ground in a heap. Turning slightly, I watched my boy jump badly.
He moved as if he planned to stand, but I struck him across the face. His knees gave out and he collapsed backwards on the bed, silent and unmoving. My heart thundered in my chest, my lungs squeezed painfully. I turned, and quickly made my way towards Gideon's room, and I knew what I had to do.
I slowly pushed the door open; ever careful that the man inside didn't know I was coming in. Gideon had removed his gun from his hip, only glancing at it once in dissatisfaction – it was soaking wet. He'd placed it on the table beside the couch, before shrugging out of his jacket and throwing that on the bed. His movements were quick and hasty, but it wouldn't matter.
I picked up the discarded weapon, aimed it in front of me, and shot the man in the back. He fell to the ground with a moan of pain, but he was successfully incapacitated. He didn't move to get up, and I quickly turned and hurried back to my boy's room. I stopped only once on the way back, grabbing a kitchen knife in a spur of the moment action that made me breathless.
Lila was still unconscious, but I had had enough with her. It didn't feel right to shoot her. It didn't feel right at all. This was personal; this was entirely personal. I wanted her to feel my rage, my pain, my hate. I wanted her to understand what it felt like to have your heart ripped out of your chest and crushed.
Kneeling over her, I raised the knife high and then brought it down as hard as I could. It stabbed into her upper chest, and struck bone. The action should have done something, made her make some kind of noise, but it didn't. I was filled with a fury I couldn't understand and so I stabbed her again, and again.
"Marie?" The knife slipped from my hands, and I tilted my head up. Spencer, bastard replication of my boy, was starting to wake up. His eyes were blurry. He was still only somewhat there. He wasn't even a real person. He wasn't fully conscious. I wanted my boy back. I wanted my boy back!
Moving forwards, I took him by the arm – his still wet arm – and dragged him to his feet. "We're leaving." I told him, pulling him roughly towards the door. I shoved him outside, and he followed blindly. One of his hands still gripped his head, he wasn't fully aware of what was happening around him. He didn't understand, and without his contacts; couldn't really see, what was happening.
I pushed him into my truck, and buckled my seatbelt. I needed to think, but most importantly, I needed to leave.
I peeled out of the driveway, my boy gripped his head the whole while. He was nauseas and threatened to puke a few times. I didn't care. I just needed to go as fast as I could. I needed to reach my destination – the warehouse – as soon as possible.
My phone was ringing, but I didn't dare pick it up. I couldn't. Not right now. I needed to leave. I needed to leave!
I drove as fast as I dared, not crossing the speed limit once, and always used my directionals. I forced my self to breathe. I forced myself to be calm.
"What's going on?" Spencer asked, his hands rubbing at his eyes. I hadn't given him time to get his glasses. I doubted he could see anything.
"We're going home." I told him.
"Who are you?" He asked me, desperation in his voice. I felt my heart constrict. I felt my blood pressure rise. Anger filled me.
"Melissa, I'm Melissa, don't you remember me?" I knew at once that he did. Suddenly awareness was filtering across his face.
"Melissa Ryan." He murmured. "You're a doctor at a sanitarium, you were trying to convince me I didn't exist." His tone was scathing, angry. I felt my head spinning.
"You don't!" I cried out, panic in my voice as I pressed forwards down the roads. The warehouse was just up ahead. "Your name is Jason Masters, your father is Isaiah Masters, you're a boy! You're my boy!"
"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm a federal agent. Pull over." I gripped the wheel harder. "Pull over right now, Melissa." My mind was spinning too violently. I struck out, knocking him in the head once more.
He gripped it painfully, and I could see a trickle of blood sliding down the side of his face. He was shivering from the cold, the pain, the confusion. His world was tipping. I wondered if this would be enough to send him back into the world I'd created, the world where he belonged to me and everything was going to be fine.
I pulled into the warehouse, and threw the car in park. Gun in hand, I wrenched my boy from the truck. He was stumbling slightly, unsteady. He probably had a concussion. I didn't care though; I couldn't care. I just needed Jason back. I just needed that control back.
"Isaiah!" I screamed into the building. Reid gripped his head harder, he whimpered slightly. "Isaiah, come out here." I threw Reid onto the bed he'd slept on a few days earlier. My body was shaking; the adrenaline was fading. I couldn't see the man.
Quickly I hurried towards the closed off section. I needed to find him. I needed his help.
Throwing back the curtain, everything slowed down into a deafening halt, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.
For there, all over the walls and the table the curtain had hidden, were pictures of me.
There were other women too, other men as well. Some were children, some were adults. Every one of them was named and dated. I recognized some of them too. They were the names of the victims that were involved in the case against Isaiah Masters. These were the people that he had kidnapped, and irreversibly changed.
I stared at the names, the faces, and every time I was brought back to my own.
At some point, I realized I was shivering.
"I told you not to look back behind the curtain." I whipped around. Isaiah Masters was crouching by my boy. His hand was running through Reid's hair. The doctor was flinching away from him, but he didn't seem coordinated enough or conscious enough to fight back to any degree.
"Don't touch him." I told him, but my voice was weak – broken. I kept turning to look at my face.
There were child photos, adult photos, graduation pictures. My life was on this wall. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. I didn't understand.
My father was there too. My father was there in one very large picture that had twelve different cops in it. All of the other policemen had large 'x' signs drawn on their faces. My father was the last one without an 'x.'
"What is this?" I asked, panic in my chest.
"You knew better then everyone else what I was capable of. What I'd done."
"Reid. Reid was your target." I pointed to my boy, my boy who was still having his hair molested by the man.
"Reid's not the child of a cop." He pointed out instead, a small smile on his face. "And honestly, someone like him? He'll get better. He's already proven that. He's already become the same person he was before."
"No."
"He's the same, too. Concussed, confused, but the same. He really does need a doctor." He was smiling now, laughing. He stood up. My boy shifted slightly, his back pressing against the wall. He was blinking up at us both, trying to understand what was happening. He didn't have all the information though, and even he couldn't make sense of this without help.
"You're our unsub." Or not. "The one we were hunting." His voice was quiet, but there was a slight slur there.
"Very good, Doctor, I'm surprised you didn't remember sooner." Isaiah congratulated.
"We thought you were going to go after Henry or Jack."
"No…No…those boys were never my targets. They didn't need to be."
"Why?" Reid asked, his eyes squeezing shut and opening. I wondered if the light bothered him. He was shaking; he was still wet. He was going to get sick. All of this was in the background though, to me, all I could do was stare, stare and feel as though everything was falling apart.
"Twenty-one years ago, my son was taken away from me."
"You didn't have a job, and he was truant."
"When I finally had him back, do you know what they did? Do you know what happened?"
"In the eight foster homes he was sent to over four different years, he was beaten and abused; mentally, sexually, physically. He became the one in eight abused persons who became an abuser later in life. He reciprocated on the public, and raped and murdered twelve women before he was caught and thrown in jail." Reid said the words, but I wondered if he understood the ramifications.
"He committed suicide."
"I'm sorry."
"Those bastards…those bastards, they deserved to pay!"
"By changing their children? By making them different? What happened to your son was unfortunate, but he-"
"Unfortunate? Unfortunate? I was a good parent! I was a good parent! None of this would have happened if those bastards had just left him with me!"
"You couldn't care for your son, there was nothing you could have done. He had the tendencies to do what he did before he was taken from you, he was sick-"
"No. No he wasn't."
"Why me?" Both of them turned to look at me. I felt my heart hammer in my chest. "Why is my photo on that wall?"
"Your bastard father, he's the one who arrested my son. He's the one who took him away and put him in jail. Because of him, my boy was killed himself!" I flinched at the words. I looked at the wall.
I felt my world spin around me.
"But…but I wasn't kidnapped. I wasn't changed."
"Wasn't changed?" Isaiah laughed. Reid didn't even look surprised. I couldn't piece together what they both seemed to know. "Wasn't changed? You took a man who was perfectly sane, and sent him into a dissociative state. You turned him into my son. You quit your job, lied to everyone around you, and came to D.C. to ensure that he never became himself again. You had sex with a man you knew was responsible for kidnapping and delivering him into your sanitarium. From the blood on your hands and clothes, you probably killed that FBI agent that was staying with you. You still believe you haven't changed?"
I stared at him. My mind went numb. I couldn't breathe.
His words from so many months ago, came back.
My finest work.
And an address. My address. Whenever he takes someone, he leads the police straight to them. He gives them back.
He took me. He took my very existence, and he shattered it. I had yelled at my father. Killed an FBI Agent (admittedly a former FBI Agent) and an actress. I had kidnapped a man and tried to turn him into someone else.
"Bastard." The word left my mouth, I felt empty. I felt totally soulless. I felt like nothing mattered. My body went numb, my mind quieted.
Nothing else mattered.
I raised my hand, Gideon's gun still in it, and without even blinking – I fired. Isaiah staggered. His mouth fell open in shock. Reid scrambled slightly where he was sitting.
I fired again. Isaiah fell to the ground. Reid was staring at the sight with wide eyes and mouth dropped.
I fired again. Isaiah Masters was dead, and I was out of bullets.
I dropped the gun. Turning my head slightly, I looked at my boy. He was shivering badly, horror crossed over his face. Innocent, pure, not like me. Not like me.
Tears were forming in my eyes.
Nothing was right anymore, nothing was right anymore.
I walked towards him. He looked up at me. His eyes were unfocussed, the horror and pain was still very much there, but I doubted his mind was firing properly anyway. I needed to push him a little more.
I didn't care. I didn't care about what Isaiah did to me, but I needed Jason. I needed him there. I never had a friend before, and Jason was the only one who would be there for me. He was the only one who would stay with me and do what I asked. I never had anyone before that was like him.
So even if it was wrong, even if I knew I was twisted and warped, I needed him back. I desperately needed him back.
I needed to tear down the last resolves that Spencer Reid had, and I needed to bring my boy back to me.
My hand reached out, and I took hold of his throat. His hands quickly took hold of mine, and grasped at it, trying desperately to keep me from squeezing as hard as I was, but I couldn't help it. When he'd fallen into the water, he'd stopped breathing. When he came to again, he was Spencer Reid.
I struck him again when he started to fight against me, and eventually I just watched as his breath left his lungs. I held on a moment longer, and then released his throat. I watched as his eyes slowly opened and air thrust into his chest. I watched as he coughed, and gasped, weakly shivering against my touch.
"What is your name?" I asked him.
"SSA…Doctor…Spencer Reid." He murmured softly, and I felt a burst of anger and desperation.
My hands flew out, both of them encircled his throat and I squeezed down once more. Panic was flooding through me, but I kept concentrating. I needed to keep focused, one false move and I could kill him. I didn't want to kill him. I needed him.
I needed him unlike anything else I'd ever needed. He was special. He was mine. He was my complete other half. Without Jason, I was a failure. I had let a madman destroy my life. Without Jason, I would be nothing. With Jason, I could at least say that I had done something, I could at least say that I had a friend – a real one.
"What's your name?" I asked him, as I let him up for air. His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was a mere whisper. The coughs and heaves of pain echoed around me. He couldn't get the words out right to start with, but eventually he managed to speak.
"S…S…A…Doctor….Spencer…Reid." I slapped him across the face, and he recoiled slightly, and I grabbed at his throat. I squeezed, put pressure on, and even twisted as much as I dared. I waited far longer then before, far longer then I'd ever considered.
My hair was in my face, my clothes were bloodstained, my hands were wrapped prominently around my boy's neck, and I knew that my eyes were wide and crazed. That is exactly what I looked like when they found me.
The door was burst open, and SSA Derek Morgan approached, gun drawn and walking speedily towards me. He spared half a glance at Isaiah, before ordering me to get off of my boy. I didn't move. I couldn't move. It wasn't fair. I wasn't done. I wasn't done.
He wasn't breathing under my grasp, I knew I should have let go, but I couldn't. I couldn't do it. He wasn't Jason yet. I needed Jason…Spencer Reid was a failure. My failure. I needed something to hold on to. I needed something to prove that everything was worth while.
Arms grabbed me, and tore me off of my boy, and I recall fighting as hard as I could to get away from them. I needed to get to my boy. I needed to touch his perfect hands. I needed to caress his face. I needed to apologize for hurting him. I needed him. I needed him!
Morgan pressed his fingers against Reid's neck and then immediately started CPR. I watched, desperately hopeful. After a few agonizing moments, I rejoiced when I saw my boy take a shuddering breath. His eyes fluttered open, they were tired and dragged down. He looked awful in every sense of the word.
He stared up at Morgan, and I held my breath. I begged and prayed to whatever deity was out there. I needed to know that I had succeeded, that Jason Masters was once again alive and well.
"Morgan…" his voice was breathy, a whisper. I could barely hear him. Morgan's hands were holding onto my boy's face, and I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.
"Yeah kid, I'm right here. You're all right. We're gonna take care of you all right?" My boy tilted his head slightly, and hummed something. "I need to check that big head of your, okay kid? Can you answer a few questions?" Another hum, and I watched his dark eyes blink hazily up at the older agent who handled him with such care, such love. "What's your name kid?" I held my breath.
"My…name…" He mumbled the words, and I could feel the tension in the air as the agents who held me gripped my arms tighter. "My name….is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid…." He whispered.
"Yeah, kid…yeah, it is." The relief pouring off of Morgan was obvious. He held my boy up, holding him to him in a hug that was both fraternal and desperate. My boy…no…the Doctor…reached a shaking hand up and gripped the back of Morgan's shirt.
"Tired." He murmured.
"I know, we have to go to the hospital. Then you can rest, okay?" Spencer nodded, but didn't make any motion to move. Morgan didn't seem to mind, and held him up like any brother would do for their injured sibling. I felt my heart break.
I had failed.
I was in the FBI headquarters at Quantico when I heard that Gideon was the one who called the Feds and told them to track down my truck and cell. He phoned in an ambulance, and somehow managed to keep Lila Archer stable until they could get there and take care of them. I'd blown out his shoulder, but he was going to live. Lila was in the ICU, and wasn't awake yet. The doctors say she's lucky, and I'd have to agree with them. Isaiah Masters was dead, and I was happy for that. No one would tell me about Reid. Every time I asked, they glared at me. I should probably have stopped calling him Jason, but I couldn't help myself. It was his name.
SSA Aaron Hotchner came in, handed me a pad and paper, and had me write down my confession. It was here, that I wrote down everything as accurately as I could, everything that I could think of that was important and pertinent to this case and my involvement in it.
I freely admit to murdering Isaiah Masters. I don't deny that, and I won't. He deserved to die. I admit to assaulting Lila Archer and Jason Gideon with the intention to kill.
As for Spencer Reid…I admit to trying to make him Jason. To me, he will always be Jason, and I will never be able to think of him as anything less.
This is my signed and full confession, and I accept any punishment and expect the full weight of the law to bear down on me. It is what I deserve…and it is what my father deserves.
Dr. Melissa Ryan