It was a normal day 4

"If you knew, then why did you hide?" Spencer asked as gently as he could. He sat down in front of her (after locking the door slyly) and tried to make eye contact-which she refused.

She laughed in her odd little wicked way."Well sir, that's a very good question," she rubbed her chin just like a man with a beard might contemplate. She forced a smile onto her face, then saw Spencer's reflection on the sleek black table, and let it slip back into the dark, pensive look she liked to brandish on her face so often (or perhaps, easiest to wear?) She didn't know. Nor, did he. She was the only mystery he had ever known. He was set on finding out her secrets.

"Tell me the story," he commanded, firm but kind.

"You know the story," she growled. She hadn't made eye contact once.

"Tell me your story," he tried again. She slowly-and a little drunkenly-raise her head so that their eyes could meet.

"Do you have all day?" she asked, her voice cracking at the evoked haunting memories that filled her with such despair and terror. She had never been more frightened-or ashamed-of anything as her past. Her horrid life of the Caitlin that once was. O! How she was so sad to watch her die...to watch her life fade into the distance. "Where do I start?" she asked.

Spencer's gaze went unwavering. "The beginning."

Caitlin stared out the window and asked him to close the blinds. He rose and did as she asked, and he smiled to himself at the look of her moon coloured skin in the dark.

"I was...I-I wasn't...happy. As a child. How pitiful, right? Boo-hoo, look at my sad little life. Whoa as me! Yeah, that was me. Wallow in self-pity by day, cry your eyes out at night. Such a ball of sunshine.
    "My parents knew something was wrong. They had to. Or else they just didn't pay any attention....Huh. How much truth lurked in that? I tried to kill myself four times just after I turned eight. I didn't want to live. What was suicide? No idea. I just...had this desire to hurt myself...to die. Is that wrong? A child doesn't know the difference between good and evil. Good is beauty and bad is ugly. Isn't that the stereotypical thing to say? Disgusting. Disgraceful. Why do the good deserve beauty, wealth? Good and evil have been twisted since the dawn of time. Have you any memory to pull up when it was simple? All black and white? Of true reality, not playful children's lore? I thought not.
     "Then...I found Gustave. He saved me. That little ball of...can't say sunshine...can't say bouncing baby boy...Boy, did God break the mold with him!"

"How did you find him?"Spencer asked.

"He was on my door step. Don't cliches just have a way of sneaking up on me? I couldn't let my parents find him. What would they do? Send him off to the government-'cause that's a swell choice-and he go into foster care? No way! So, I snuck him off to my room and kept him....Hidden for five years...."

"Your parents never found him?"

"Did I stutter, Spencer Reid? Stop interrupting me! Goodness! Do you want this story or not?"

He looked down,"C-continue."

"Thank you. Anyway! Then after I raised little Gustave, I found Angel. Her full name's Paulette Angelica Kingsley."

"What do you mean, you 'found her'?" Reid asked.

"Off topic. Anyway, I left-"

"Why?" Spencer interjected again. She shot him a glare.

"Becaaaaauuuuussssssseeeee!" she yelled,"I don't know why I'm telling you anyway! Ugh....Can I just cool off for a minute? Thanks," after this, she was fine and ready to continue with the interrogation of her life.

"Where was I at?" she asked.

"You left town," Reid supplied.

"Thank you. You see? You can cooperate.I knew it. So, I went. I left the sickeningly sweet southerness of my home town for Paris and-"

"Paris?"Reid growled.

"You heard me, Spencer. Goodness. It's really not that hard. A few bus trips and stowaway on a boat and you're home free. But, once in Pari, it was a little harder. No one was hiring and I was hungry. Everything I got I gave to the kids. I knew I shouldn't have brought them here, but what else could we have done? We had to leave, or else-" Reid was on the edge of his seat, but Kingsley caught her slip up and continued, leaving his question blank,"Regardless, one night, we were in a little alley. It was a nice part of town, lovely and lit with the most beautiful lights. It feels closer to you the farther away you are from it all. We were behind the Paris Opera House, and a door opened for us, literally.

"Mme. Renee, a woman, then in her 40's, young and beautiful, opened that door. She saw me and my children and took me in. She was the ballet instructor. I danced for food. Most girls, the way they see performing is,"I need this, I have to work hard or they won't take me!" Honestly, they need a spot filled, they'll fill it with anyone. It's not the performers that matter, but the profit from the audience.

"She had a daughter, Marie, and Renee's husband was long dead. She took care of me, and cared for me as, if not more, her daughter. They children had food, and I a job and we were comfortable in life.

"Eventually, we had to leave, the Paris Opera was no more. But, alas, I can not expand on this topic-"

"Why?" Spencer asked.

She didn't yell at him, but just stared. "It's not mine to tell."

She looked at her feet. Spencer was feeling a respect for her on a level he had never felt before.

"I eventually left for London. I found out a lot there. But I didn't stay long."

"What did you find out?"

"What I was."

He didn't ask her to expand.

"I left London for Coney Island. Easily the best place. The kids loved it. It was...real. Everything came alive. Reality was in color and everyone and everything was a freak."

"You joined the freak show?"

"Yes. I was called Alieanna. A-LEE-AH-NAH. I was the supposed child of a fallen angel and shunned demon. I was the main event. People came from miles around to see me. I was amazing. Then I left. Another story that was kept hidden and must be kept hidden. I'm really sorry I can't tell you things Spencer. I really want to, Spence. I hope you know that."

"Thanks..."

"I came back. And even you know the story from here."

"Yes, I remember. I won't tell it as well as you though."

"I want to hear your side of the story, Spencer, what was happening in the BAU?"

He sighed,"Fine. It was...a normal day. For us. I was reading...I remember...a great book. Leroux was so colorful in his writing. Teenagers...runaways who had returned were being killed. Hunted for a sport. Or to punish you. A vigilante of sorts, but not quite. I remember I and another black haired girl-Emily was her name, she was in training and after pulling you into custody left-got assigned to find you.

"You were funny looking. I know, not nice, but you were. With those weird clip on hair streaks-black and blue the first day, right?-and that crazy eye make-up. You sure were something. I kinda liked you. I saw your book bag-philosophers of shape and size, Greeks, Balzac, Shakespeare, Rabelais!-It was crazy. You were crazy...just like me.

"I remember you being up there, on that little stage in the green house in your backyard. With your band-Sepulchre by the Sea-right? And that crazy guy up there-the crazy fro and sweat band-you called him Spongebob? He was a funny dude. He liked you too. It kinda ticked me off in a funny way how you kept yelling at him.

"He suggested a song 'tired of the sad crap you wrote' he said. The song was sexist and whilst practising it he ripped of your dress. You were dressed as an alien-Alienana costume no doubt-and had a body-suit underneath. You played you role. Acted like the sexiest seductress I'd ever seen. And when the song was over, you took the axe and chased the boy around with it. Your kids came home, you hugged them and danced in a little circle with them, then told them to get to there homework.

"Then we took you. You were sooo not happy. Hissing the whole way there, demanding to know what you did wrong. Listing your rights left and right like you owned the Constitution. We stuck you in a little room. It was white and had a black out window which we saw through and you didn't. You said we treated you like a criminal, and that we stereotyped and picked on you because you were different. You restrained threats though, in which I was surprised.

"In your room you mumbled little enchantments, some English, others not. I remember the interrogation. All of us in there,you scared us all so bad. But you just had to posses JJ."

"She was the easiest mind to pick," Kingsley whispered,"The idle mind is the devil's playground."

"You told us 'I admit that in the past I've been a nasty, but I'm kidding when I tell you I'm kinda strange. But, you'll find that nowa days, I've mended all my ways, repented seen the light and made a change.' then JJ got this weird look on her face, like she could hear you and you were scaring her."

"I talked to her, I projected my thoughts. It wasn't scary. I wouldn't purposely scare her."

"Then you just stared at her for a while, and JJ asked odd questions aloud, and you moved your head and arms, as if you would normally talking, but your mouth never moved and no sound ever escaped.

"JJ walked out of the room dazed, and we let you go. Of course once we left, we heard you scream."

"My mistress," Kingsley whispered,"I had to obey. She feared I had revealed too much about us by attacking JJ. She grabbed at my throat. It bled. She stopped the bleeding before you came."

"What are you, Caitlin Kingsley?" Reid asked.

Kingsley smirked,"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Anyway," Reid continued grumpily,"we brought you back. And we realized your only weakness in your weird little brain, was your pride."

"You lie!"

"See?" Reid asked,"So, we had Erin Strauss come in, and offer you a little deal."

"I figured it was fake," she grumbled.

"'Oh, darling!'"Reid harked in Strauss's voice,"'What a talented one you are! Why one day you could be working here! Behind the desk and on the field! You'd be able to do most anything my dear! Just look at all this talent here! Oh me or my!"

"She hears you talking like that and she'll kill you," Kingsley said. Reid laughed a genuine laugh.

"And then we caught the guy," Reid continued in monotone.

"You didn't come," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"The whole team...came to my concert after that. I sang Poor Unfortunate Souls in my remix version. I wanted you to come, but you didn't."

"I'm sorry," Reid said. And it wasn't an excuse, and he wasn't sorry he didn't go. But he pitied the little blonde girl.

   When Reid went home that night, he sat curled up in his bed...and fell asleep. He dreamed of Kingsley, up on stage with her ridiculous friends. She in a billowing forest green gown, and black streaks in her blonde hair that fell low. Shouting into the mic, she was beautiful. And her melody flowed through, allowing him to sleep.