Sheep's Clothing
"Your ex is working with Lachlan McDermott." Doyle looked up at the intruder of his secluded silence. If he had been anyone else, he would've shrugged his shoulders. This twist was not unexpected, after all. He decided to respond by shaking his head in mock despair.
"How would he leave the country?" The baby-faced agent demanded.
Doyle contemplated the thought and shook his head again. "I don't know." he responded honestly. "He's got endless funds, you'll never stop him." He looked up to observe the agent's expression response.
But Reid refused to be intimidated. "He hates you, doesn't he." A statement, not a rhetorical question.
"More than you do." Doyle was quick to respond, half sighing as he uttered his comment. What could the FBI do about the situation?
"Then I think we should give him what he really wants." Reid murmured in a quiet, even voice. A voice not accustomed to making threats. "You."
Doyle had to blink up at the doctor in surprise. This was a turn up. Who knew SSA Spencer Reid could show such aggression? It was subtle and subdued, yes, but it was there. Ian Doyle was a meticulous man, he had done his homework on Lauren's new team. He knew the details of their lives, their characters.
He knew of Agent, no, Doctor Reid's shy, meek, intelligent personality. A man, no older than a child, with a lifetime of self-doubt, always looking for ways to prove himself. Although Doyle knew that that wasn't needed.
He had read the doctor's file once over and had tossed it aside, no real interest in it. The boy was gifted, but he wouldn't be much of a threat to him. Or so he thought.
"Now look at him." Doyle thought to himself, almost proudly. "This is a man who knows exactly the weight of something precious lost. This is a man who will fight tooth and nail to keep Lauren and Declan safe. Safe from me, safe from the evil of the world. How delightfully naive. But he is desperate, motivated to break the obvious rules the government has barred around them. And just like a cornered animal, he will fight back."
Doyle felt something like pride blossom in his chest. Doctor Reid had shed his sheep skin, barred his fangs, and Doyle was to fault. The thought thrilled him. This docile lamb, turned wolf, was just as much his creation as Declan, his little angel. Made by his own actions. Doyle was a man who deeply cherished his creations.
He watched in slight fascination as the young agent argued with Lauren, who, everybody knew, had much more experience with Doyle. Who knew the dangers of letting the criminal out of his cell. Doctor Reid, who had only known Doyle through case files, had come out of the debate victorious.
And now here Doyle was, arms gripped tight by Lauren, by Agent Prentiss (a slight hiss of distain stressing the last syllable) and Doctor Reid. He could feel the doctor's long, spindly fingers clutching his sleeve in stark contrast to Lauren's firm grip. But Lauren's hand on his arm trembled slightly, Doctor Reid's didn't.
Doyle had to wonder, why hadn't Doctor Reid fallen behind to cover his comrades, isn't that what he usually did on cases? He stole a glance at the young agent.
Reid noted the action but dutifully ignored it in favor of watching McDermott exit the plane with Doyle's son. Now Doyle's attention was fixed on the flaxen-haired boy. This was no time for impromptu psychology lessons.
And then everything happened in a flash. Doyle barely registered the sound of Agent Morgan shouting 'gun!' before pain ripped through his flesh.
Lauren threw herself forward, covering Declan, whimpering slightly when she scraped her elbow. And then she was hugging Declan to her chest tight, whispering comfortingly in his ears.
Doctor Reid's eyes widened and he unholstered his gun, discharging it in the direction of the airplane. The first bullet shot wide, Doyle could tell by the sound of the bullet ricocheting off the plane, but it was followed in quick succession with several more that hit home. Doyle just lay silently on the ground, staring up at the agent through glassy eyes. Why? Why had Doctor Reid looked so determined, so confident in that moment? Doyle had seen his marksmanship scores. There was no way anyone with a score like that would stand his ground and shoot back under fire. If Doctor Reid was as intelligent as Doyle had read, he would be busy cutting his losses. Grabbing his fellow agent and Declan, dragging them to safety, trusting his comrades to cover them. Why was he shooting back?
And then there was silence. Doctor Reid holstered his gun and rushed to Chloe's side, two fingers on her neck. Then he looked up at Lauren and Declan, almost guiltily. Like it pained him to kill the sorry excuse of a mother in front of her child. Pain... Doyle finally remembered his own pain pierce through the numbness. He lowered his gaze to his hands. Blood. Doyle had to take a moment to appreciate the irony. His hands were covered in blood.
He refused to look at Lauren, he knew she would look shocked, mouth hanging open in a moment of weakness, and her eyes... she would be looking at him with the most heart-breaking look of, what was it? Regret? Pain? Pity? Despair? Doyle looked to Declan.
The boy didn't yet understand the severity of this moment. But he would, one day. Doyle enveloped his small hand in his large, bloody one. And then they said goodbye. Doyle relaxed in death's cold embrace as he laid his head on the asphalt, too weak for words now. "My son... Declan. Watch over me, my little angel."
And then he had a curious thought just as he closed his eyes. What would the future of this world be like? Held fragilely in the hands of his two creations. Would Declan grow to live out the life Doyle had planned for him? Would Doctor Reid then hunt him down? How would his death affect the two? Doyle let out his last breath, tinged with a hint of bitterness. That was a future he wasn't priviledged to behold. "I don't want to die yet..."
The End