Criminal Minds ~ DNF

20

The floor that George Davidson found himself lying on was damp and cold. He bought his hand up to relieve the pounding headache that sat in his temple. Or, he would have, had his arms not been bound to his sides. Panicking, he looked down at his gun holster to find it empty. That was going to be a problem. George looked around, searching for an exit, an escape route. The only source of light in the room was a small, rectangular window just under the ceiling. The glass cast an eerie beam of light that landed a few meters left of George. From what he could see in the low light, the baby-blue hoodie he had been wearing had turned a shade of baby-brown in the dirty room. Semi-coherent, he cried out for help. The only sound that emitted from him was a sort of muffled scream. George tried to spit out the thick strip of fabric that obstructed his mouth to no avial; he was trapped. A clap sounded from the other side of the room, then another, then another. The slapping noises were slow, patronizing. George was still a little dizzy from the fentanyl but knew immediately who this was.

"Well, would you look at that!" Dream said, opening his arms and stepping into the light. His mask was sitting atop his head, covering everything but his mouth. He reached up and pulled the chain light, the bulb flickering on and illuminating the bleak room. The walls, floor and ceiling were all stone and it was overall very boring. There was no furniture, but George noticed a mattress laying against the far wall.

"Mmph, mmm mh mmph!" George whimpered desperately. He still couldn't get the bloody gag out of his mouth and he so badly wanted to give Dream a piece of his mind.

"I'm going to take that as if you just swore at me," Clay laughed darkly. "You're actually quite stupid, for all your training."

"Mm!" George protested, writhing against the chains that bound him to the floor. He noticed that there had been hooks installed in the stone, ensuring that there would be a place to tie down captives.

"Yeah, I said it!" Dream countered playfully, guessing what George was thinking. "This conversation would be so much more fulfilling for me if you could talk, but I think I'll let you squirm for a little while longer." George let out a guttural snarl.

"Ooh, feisty! Just how I like them. The ones with more spirit tend to live longer," Dream laughed, taking a step forward. He walked in a semicircle around George, staring at him intently.

"Mmpn."

"You like my little installations? Thank you! It cost a lot of money to find someone who didn't ask questions," Dream carried on the one-sided conversation, motioning at the chain links bolted to the floor. Really, it was a sorry sight to see. An FBI Special Agent, sitting on the floor with his wrists bound. Clay smiled to himself, looking into the brunette's angry brown eyes.

"You think I've forgotten who you are, Agent Davidson? I can't let you go running off to your little friends at the FBI, now, can I?" Dream asked with mock empathy. "Right now, Davidson, I hold all the cards. So, in my presence, you will stand," Dream laughed at the brunette's fruitless struggling. George's eyes widened as he noticed the FBI-standard-issue pistol in Dream's hand, safety off. Honestly, had he expected any less? Slowly, he wrestled with the restraints, leaning on the wall and using it as leverage to get to his feet. He stood.

"Good boy," Dream praised, holding George's chin between his fingers. The killer reached around his head and undid the knot keeping the brunette from speaking. Taking a breath in as he prepared what he would say, George tried to wriggle away from him but was stopped, held by the waist by Dream.

"Hey!-" The blonde touched his lips to George's, catching the brunette's wrist as he tries to push Clay away. Calloused hands brush through brown hair as Clay kissed George.

George found himself kissing back, but only for a second. He was enjoying this!? Why?! It should have been torturous. Somehow it wasn't. It was interesting, new. Like trying a new flavour of something and finding that you like it. Dream gave George that feeling. Fucking hell... He stopped kissing, resuming his weak attempt at separating the two.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dream had finished attacking George's face and shoved him back to the floor. The brunette sat doe-eyed on the dirty concrete, staring after Dream as he double-checked that George's chains were locked.

Take back everything George said about wanting Dream to come back for him.

"Don't look so upset, my love. We can have more fun tomorrow," Clay said softly, ignoring the angry glare he was given. Gagged and unable to speak again, George crossed his arms over his chest in defiance as he watched Dream go toward the exit.

"Oh, don't be childish. I'll come for you in the morning," Dream rolled his eyes. "Just be grateful I'm leaving the light on for you. I know how scared you get." George felt another tear slip down his cheek as the words set in. Clay closed the door and double-locked it, leaving the brunette alone with his thoughts. He ascended the stairs that lead to the first floor with a satisfied smile, feeling very pleased with himself.

George's mind was plagued with escape plans. The ideas ricocheted off each other, sending his brain into a spiral of contradictory thoughts. How would he get out of there if he was tied to the floor? And where was he? Still in Wyoming? He couldn't be, Dream said he spent a lot of money on the chain fittings. He wouldn't spend on something for a place he didn't even own, would he?

George contemplated that for a second. Had he been taken back to a place that Dream did own? His house? No, even Dream wasn't that dense. And how would he have even got him there? As far as George and the FBI knew, Dream didn't have a car, and there was no way that he managed to get on a plane with an unconscious man. There were far too many questions and not nearly enough solutions.

That's when he heard the lock click. George's head shot up, staring at the door. Had Dream forgotten something? The door creaked open and a blonde head of hair peeked around it.

Long hair.