"Son, listen to me." The man said, crouching to his son's level and putting his hands on his son's shoulders as the sound of the sirens neared the house. "Whatever happens, you must remember that I love you, son. No matter what I say, remember I have to lie to them to get us out of this." The boy nodded, confused. "Now, don't be scared. It's gonna be alright."
The doors to the black SUV slammed and three agents ran out, guns raised towards the house. The father kissed his son's head. The largest, most muscely FBI agent kicked the door in, yelling, "FBI!" The father grabbed his son by the neck and roughly pulled him close, putting a gun to his temple.
"Stay where you are!" He yelled. His son got scared. What was his father doing? But then, he remembered what his father had said. He was doing what needed to be done so that they would get out of there. Don't be scared. "Stay where you are or I'll blow his brains out!" The father had to lift his son up and place him on a chair near him so that the boy would be at his level, acting as a human shield.
"Sir, you do not want to hurt your son." The skinny agent said. The boy looked at him with a glare. He was seeing right through them. His father did not want to hurt his boy. This agent was ruining everything! The boy looked into the agent's eyes. They were huge, hazel brown pools of expression. He looked so innocent. The other two agents had hard looks on their faces. They had seen everything horrible and unimaginable in people, but this agent was not like them. He was a child, just like him. The boy liked this agent. He was nice. He was innocent.
The skinny agent was staring back into the boy's small eyes. "He's not going to hurt you." He turned to the father. "We know how much you love your son. If you just come with us, we will make sure he is safe and you get the help you need. I promise you." The boy believed him. The father didn't.
"You liar!" He yelled, taking the gun away from his son's head to point it at the skinny agent that was turning his son against him. But before he could pull the trigger, three gunshots rang out. One from each gun that belonged to the FBI agents and had made their target without hurting the boy.
The son stared down at his dead father. He had said everything would be alright. He lied! No, it wasn't his father's fault. It was the FBI agent. He had lied. The boy hated these agents. He wanted them all dead, just like his father did.
"Son, come here." The musceley black agent said. He had no right to call him 'son'. The only man who could call him 'son' was lying dead with a gun lying near his hand. A gun.
The boy climbed off the chair and reached down to scoop up the gun. He pointed it shakily at the FBI agent and pulled the trigger.
Reid saw it coming before anyone else did. The bullet zoomed through the air towards Morgan. Reid yelled, "Morgan!" as he pushed his friend out of the way. There was an excruciating pain in the back of his head. Another shot rang out and got Reid in a part that was not covered by the Kevlar vest. Blood was seeping from his head and his chest. As soon as the boy started shooting, Hotch had run forward to grab the gun from the child's hands. He pulled out his handcuffs to restrain the child.
"Hotch, call an ambulance!" Morgan yelled, kneeling down beside Reid. Hotch looked shocked, then pulled out his phone to report UNSUB dead and an agent down, asking for an ambulance.
"Reid," Morgan whispered. "Where were you hit?"
Reid put his hand up to grab at his chest. "Chest. . . and head. Just a graze." He groaned. "Are you alright?" He asked, looking at Morgan with concern.
"I'm fine, kid." Morgan said, putting his hand on the side of Reid's head to get his gaze focused on the older colleague's face.
"I saw it coming. . . I had to get you out of the way." Reid murmured. Morgan smiled sadly. Reid was a true FBI agent, a true team member. He had been willing to sacrifice himself to save his colleague. His brother.
