Criminal Minds ~ DNF

4

"Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. Pass him nothing but soft paper, no pencils or pens. No staples or paperclips in his paper. Use the sliding food carrier, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. Do you understand me?"

"I understand, sir." This was the type of person George liked. Straight to the point, no procrastination. Sam nodded before unlocking the first gate.

"I set out a chair for you. He's at the end of the hall," he pointed, shutting and locking the first gate down. "Just reiterating, do not under any circumstances approach the glass, and be cautious. Don't tell him anything personal. You don't want Dream inside your head." George nodded, swallowing hard. He could hear his own heart pounding against his ribcage. Sam pushed a button on the keypad and the second gate swung open.

"You'll be fine so long as you do what we've said. We'll be watching from the control room. Should you need help, just say the word. We'll hear," the warden smiled encouragingly. George gathered himself enough to step forward. He could see the little blue chair at the end of the corridor. It was a long way to walk to get to such a harmful individual.

George forced himself to take another step, and then another, and then another. He could see the other cells in the corridor, all empty. All of them had doors of steel bars. The only one that seemed occupied was the one at the very end. The one that he was told housed the Dream Killer.

As George neared, he could see the man inside. He had his back to the glass and all George could see was his green hoodie. He had the hood up and donned a pair of black pants to go with it.

"They told me someone was coming to visit me. I never thought it could actually be true, though," the hooded man said from behind the glass as George neared the chair. His voice was deep and husked.

"So, you're the Dream Killer, huh?" George stated, holding the bottom of his jacket to stop his hands from shaking.

"Is that what they're calling me? Ha, interesting."

"Well, what do you prefer?" George could feel his heartbeat regulating again. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. The Dream Killer was just another human being, if an evil one.

"Some call me Dream. Some call me The Masked Man. Some call me The Teletubby-Looking Motherfucker That Killed My Daughter," he chuckled.

"You, on the other hand," he started, turning on his heel to face George. "May call me Clay."

"W- Well, hello there, Clay," George stammered, slightly shocked at the man's appearance. He had dirty blonde hair that peeked over the top of a large, white, circular mask that covered majority of his face. The only visible part of it was the smirk that he wore.

"Hello to you too, Agent Davidson. Or should I call you George?" Clay's smile widened as George's heart began to jump in his chest again.

"I am Agent Davidson to you, Clay. You know my name, how?" George tried to raise his voice.

"Darling, it's written all over you. That little FBI card, for instance. Show it to me?" George tried not be affected by the pet name as unclipped the laminated identity card from its lanyard.

"I can't see from there," Clay chided. "You'll have to bring it a little closer than that." George looked to the security camera above the cell. He could almost see Niki and Fundy fervently shaking their heads in the reflection. Not daring to step forward, George extended his arm a little further.

"Ahh. That's very interesting. I didn't know that Philza sent students out anymore."

"You're familiar with him?" George prompted.

"He's only the bastard that put me in here, the son of a bitch. No, really, his mother looks like she belongs in a zoo," Dream laughed. You needn't worry, I'm well over my old beefs. I have new problems to face, new people to see, new places to be."

"Good luck with that," George smirked. "The only new place you'll be going is a prison."

"Not exactly, love. All I have to do is prove to those fucks watching me all day that I'm insane. It shouldn't be too hard, considering that I am."

"Alright then," George replied, sitting down in the little blue chair and crossing one leg casually over the other. Dream let loose a low, angry growl at this.

"I did not say that you could sit," he snarled. George scooted backwards a little further away from the glass.

"And I was not aware that you were the one in charge here." He said, working tirelessly to keep his voice level and calm.

"Well, I am, so in my presence, you will stand."

"I'm sure that you're not. Last time I checked, I'm the one that the fucking FBI sent to speak to you. You're not in charge of anything," George sneered defiantly, a burst of courage burning inside his chest.

"I am if I say I am!" Dream roared, smacking his hand against the glass. George flinched hard, gripping the seat with white knuckles. He swallowed audibly, staring down the man in front of him.

"Clay, step away from the glass or I will not hesitate to call for help."

"Oh, fuck up. I'm not listening to you, you're not the boss of me!" Dream cried, sending another clenched fist at the comparably thin glass. This man was easily angered, and very dangerous. George had to tread very carefully.

"I think you'll find that I am. I hold all of the cards here, Dream. I could snuff you out right now if I wanted to," George told him. The confidence was not wearing off.

"You're British, what's the worst a softie like you could do?" Dream spat venomously. Apparently, he did not take as kindly to George as hoped.

"I can call Niki or Sam in here to sedate you and get my answers that way," George threatened. "Although it would be easier to have you awake and coherent, it'd be enough to tie you down and force it out of you. I'm used to being in the same room as the people I'm interviewing, so really you'd just be making my job less stressful."

"Go on, then! Fucking do it, asshole!" Dream yelled, throwing yet another punch at the divider.

"Have it your way. Niki?" George called out for his new friend. George knew that what he was threatening had been done before, but he didn't know how receptive Niki would be to the idea. Clay's eyes widened behind the mask.

"Wait, wait!" He cried, pressing his hands to the glass in a panic. George smiled inwardly, satisfied.

"Yes, Clay?"

"Please don't..." He trailed off, hanging his head in both submission and frustration.

"Step away from the glass, Clay." When the masked individual took a half-step backwards, George nodded.

"Never mind, Niki, I've got it under control!"

"Thank you..." Clay whispered.

"My generosity does not come for free. You're going to tell me what I need to know and I don't want any more trouble, you hear me?" Clay nodded dejectedly.

"Good," George liked being dominant! It was undeniably fun.

"What do you want?"

"Why don't you take off that little mask of yours? It's much easier when I can read your facial expressions," George tried.

"Are you going to make more empty threats if I don't?" Dream's tone was almost bored.

"Believe me, Dream. My threats are anything but empty."

"Fine, then." Clay hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching around the back of his head and unclipped the mask. He held it to his face for a second, debating whether or not it was worth it.

The while half-sphere hit the floor with a dull thud.

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Word count: 1337

Luna xx