George sat bolt upright in his bed, sweating and panting. Sunlight was streaming through the cracked blinds and the room was empty. He exhaled, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to calm his overworking heart.
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"Sir, I think I might have a visual on the Fire Killer," George told Schlatt. It was 8 AM on a Saturday morning, but the general was already holding a beer bottle. Typical, George thought.
"Spit it out, then!" Schlatt muttered irritably. He was not pleased about being awoken so early in the morning on his day off. His assistant had practically dragged her employer out of bed as per George's urgent request.
"This is only hypothetical, but going by the brief description the Dream Killer gave me, I think the artists have a pretty solid handle on what he looks like," George lied. He had given that statement based on the nightmare he had had that morning, but Schlatt didn't have to know that. George's dreams came to fruition more often than not. This one was probably no exception, which was slightly terrifying. George slid the artist's rendition of the killer across the desk toward Schlatt.
"You're saying this is our guy?" Schlatt sounded skeptical, looking up at George with a raised eyebrow.
"Eighty percent sure, sir."
"Eighty?" Schlatt questioned. "Eighty is not good enough. I need you to be completely certain before we do anything drastic."
"Sir, please. Ask Mr. Minecraft, my intuition has never once been wrong," George replied confidently. This was not a lie. George had killer instincts, no pun intended.
"Fine, I'll forward this to the main office. You better not be fuckin' with me on this, kid," Schlatt grumbled. "Dismissed."
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The next month was uneventful for George. Classes were passed with flying colours and mid-term holidays were fast approaching. Like most of the other boarders from England, George opted to stay in Virginia for the two-week vacation. That meant Maisie would be going back home to California, but Tommy and Toby would be at the Academy with him.
George still hadn't told them about the dream, and probably wouldn't, but it was still weighing on his mind. The ring of fire, Sapnap, the look on his friend's faces. George knew that he ought to get help, to tell someone about this, but couldn't being himself to. He knew the Academy had brilliant counsellors and that they could probably stop everything that was happening, but he also knew that if he wasn't deemed mentally competent, he wouldn't be allowed to go back to Florida...
Fuck it.
George had to make it stop. The visions, the mental images, the violent shaking of his hands. The night terrors, the screaming in his sleep. The memories of his interaction with Clay. And that mentality was how he found in front of an Academy therapist, spilling everything that had happened in the past months. He practically bounced out of the office. The weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. To say the least, George felt better.
"We were not aware of the mental toll that the interaction took on you, George, and for your bravery, you are praised. On the contrary, I have decided that your presence in Florida will no longer be required," Philza told him. George had braced himself for this before even approaching the admin block. He nodded solemnly, a silent sigh of disappointment escaping his lips. While Florida had not left him with well-wishes, it was more than any of the other third-years has done. George was regarded as a sort of idol, and his Facebook friends list had lengthened significantly since his return. George was never popular, and while he refused to pine over other people's affection, he didn't mind the extra attention.
Over the next two months, George studied and trained like he never had before. The highest marks in classes went to him and he was a shoo-in for at least two of the Academy High Honors. Not that he wasn't in the running beforehand, but now he had pretty much secured himself a position on the FBI team. Once again, the time period was uneventful. That was, of course, until Captain Cara Puffy arrived at the Academy.
From the second her heeled military boots stepped onto the vicinity, she had people pretty much laying down in front of her. The first-years stared at her in awe. The second-years offered to get her coffee, take her jacket, etcetera. The third and fourth-years just watched as the woman walked through the admin block toward the Head's office.
She and Philza exited the block a half-hour later, heads turning in search of something. Someone, George realized as their eyes landed on him.
"Hello, George. I assume that you're familiar with Captian Puffy?" Phil asked as the two neared the Brit.
"Yes, sir. Ma'am, my name is-"
"George Davidson, I know," Puffy interrupted, sticking her hand out for George to shake. "You've become rather well-known in the staff room back in Washington."
"You- I... All good things?" George stuttered, taking her hand. Captain Puffy was nice enough, if a little intimidating.
"More or less," she teased, studying the uncertain look on George's face. "George, I need you to see something." George nodded, following Puffy and Phil as they went back into the administrative offices. George lagged behind a little as Puffy pushed her way through pedestrians in the hall, excusing herself as each person shot her a questioning look. The three entered one of the mock-interrogation rooms and Puffy opened her laptop, motioning for George to sit. He obeyed, taking a seat in the chair below him. Puffy pulled up a video file and George immediately recognized where they were from the video's thumbnail. It was Clay's cell back at the asylum. The killer sat on the floor cross-legged in front of two FBI agents. Puffy clicked play on the file and an unfamiliar voice began to play through the computer's speakers.
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"Clay, you're not being very helpful," the voice was deep and monotone. It was Sam, surprisingly. George didn't know he was an agent.
"Please, call me Dream. I only let my favourite agents call me Clay."
"I'll call you whatever I darn-well like," the second agent said. This was undoubtedly Captain Puffy. "You need to get the chip off your shoulder and tell us. Who is Sapnap?"
"I assume George Davidson told you all that his name is Nick, yeah?"
"Yes, he did. That's Agent Davidson to you, though, Clay," Sam chided.
"Alright then," Dream smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, don't just sit there staring at us. What is his surname?" Puffy asked. George could hear the strain in her voice, she was obviously trying very hard not to shout. George didn't blame her, Clay was being very rude to the pair.
"Oh, I'm not telling you."
"Yes, you are," Sam told him. There was an unmistakable threatening undertone behind his words.
"I meant I'm not telling you," Clay amended, emphasizing the vowels. "Get George back here and I'll tell you anything you want." Puffy and Sam exchanged a look.
"Done," Puffy said as she got up, snapping her binder closed. The line skipped as the video file ended.
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"So, what do you say, Davidson? Willing to get back out there?" Puffy asked, extending her hand to George for the second time. He looked into her genuine eyes for only a fraction of a second before gripping her fingers and shaking.
"I'm in."
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Word count: 1280
Luna xx
YOU ARE READING
Criminal Minds ~ DNF
Fanfiction"Why do you stay? After everything I've done, all the people I've killed to get to you, why?" "Because you're not as bad as you make out to be." This is a DNF AU inspired by The Silence Of The Lambs. It follows the storyline till about chapter 8 whe...
