The moment the lights went out all four busted into the house. No one spoke, swiftly moving through the house. Barba aimed his weapon toward the top as he walked up the stairs. Movement could be heard as the guards barked out orders. Reaching the top of the stairs, Hotch motioned Billy to take the left. He took the right, pulling down his night vision goggles. Turning the corner, he froze at seeing someone coming his way. Sidestepping into an open room, he leaned against the side and waited for the individual to walk by. Coming out from behind the man, he wrapped his arms around him pulling him into the room. Hotch's hand was over the man's mouth, preventing him from calling out for help. He needed to react quickly. Moving his arms into a lock around the man's neck, he efficiently caused him to pass out. Laying him on his stomach, Hotch grabbed his zip ties and tied his hands. Running towards the door, he peeked out before continuing his sweep.

'One down. No sight of the boy.' Frank stated. 'First floor has been swept; we're joining you.'

"One down in the first room to your right." Barba glanced back making sure he truly was down for the count.

'Three down on the life side. One alive. No sighting of the boy.' Billy said.

Barba pushed open the door to a bedroom, finding it empty he checked the next and the next. The more he searched the more frantic he was becoming. Coming to another turn, he peeked over around the corner. Moving on he pushed open a door only to find it vacant once more. Before he had time to turn around, something or someone tackled him into the room. With a loud crash, he was thrown against a dresser. Obstructing the incoming blow, he countered with a punch to the attacker's ribs. Not letting him recover, he followed the punch with another to the face. Just when he was about to take a breath, someone else slammed into him.

"What the fuck!" Barba growled gasping for the air knocked out of him.

The new attacker pulled out a blade, twirling it around in his hand. "Who the hell are you?"

"No point in formalities." Jumping to his feet cursing at not having his knife on him. He must have dropped it in one of the tackles. 'Shit, now what?' Shrugging off his shirt, he wrapped it around his arm. There was a saying that if your opponent was holding the knife wrong you have a chance. If he was holding it correctly, run. To his rotten luck, the man was holding it correctly. When it came to knife fights, Billy was the expert. Barba jumped back at the swing of the knife. Using his covered arm, he blocked the incoming stab. Punching him twice in the stomach, he stepped back.

Tackling the man to the ground, he maneuvered them to the point Barba had him in a death hold. The man fought and squirmed to break out of the hold. Barba clenched his jaw to stop himself from yelling when he felt the knife go into his side. Adding pressure to the hold, he kept squeezing only this time he didn't stop at the sign of him just passing out. Feeling the body go limp, he rolled him aside. Barba laid there for a few moments trying to catch his breath. It's been ages since he has taken on two at a time.

"Rafa?" Billy peeked into the room, letting out a sigh of relief at finding him alive and breathing. Although he was doubting the alive part. "Where the hell is your earpiece?"

Barba's hand flew to his ear, scowling at not finding it. "Must have dropped it in the struggle." Jumping to his feet, he hissed at the pain shooting up his side. "Shit."

Billy was at his side in a flash, pushing him into a chair. Using his flashlight, he growled at seeing the injury. "You're hurt." Grabbing the shirt wrapped around Barba's arm, he pressed it against the wound. "What was it?"

"Knife."

The man scoffed. "Did you not learn anything I taught you about knife fights."

"I never remember everything you say." Barba gripped the armrests, nearly cracking the wood. "I usually just tune you out."

"May I remind you I am currently holding a shirt against your wound." Billy grumbled. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No!"

"Rafa." Billy sighed. "You are losing too much blood. I can't stop the bleeding and you need stitches." The blood didn't gush in a constant flow, but in time with the beating of Barba's heart. At first, it came thick and strong, flowing through Billy's fingers as he clasped the ripped flesh. He felt the blood move over his hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than his own skin. After a few moments more the blood was still leaving Barba rapidly paling flesh, but the pulses were slower, weaker. "I need go get you to-"

The man shook his head. "We need to keep looking for Noah?"

"Frank has him." Billy tried not to laugh at the look plastered on Barba's face. "We caught Wheatley as well, he was attempting to escape with the kid. We called it over the mic."

Moments Earlier

Billy lowered the lifeless body quietly to the ground. Raising his weapon, he stepped over the other two ignoring the muffled cries of the third. As much as his unhinged sanity wanted to fuck with them, he had more pressing matters. Peeking out into the corridor, he checked the last room and found nothing. Letting his gun rest against his chest, he clicked the mic when something caught his eye. Looking out the window of the bedroom facing the backyard, he spotted a man dragging a boy along with him.

"He's making a run for it!" Billy scrambled out of the room, and into the hallways, down the stairs before jumping off the side of the rails. "Backyard. Do not engage, he has Noah." Bursting through the back door, Billy scoped the area for any sign of Noah. "Anyone got eyes on them?"

'Negative.' Frank replied.

'No joy.' Clay muttered.

"Fuck." His breathing was heavy. Breath came in white clouds in front of him against the bitter night. "Come on kid. Let me know you're out there." His eyes survey the darkness in front of him. The backyard had a few sheds and containers they hadn't contemplated. Turning at the sound of footsteps running towards him, he relaxed at seeing Frank. "Anything?"

Frank shook his head. "He's got to be in one of those containers."

"Alright, you take the shed." Billy instructed. "I got the container." Raising his gun, he moved stealthily towards the large box. The door was ajar. Using his gun to pull it open, he turned his flashlight on.

The first thing he sees is Wheatley kneeling in the far end of the container, using Noah as a shield. 'Fucken coward.' The man had a kukri knife pressed against the boy's neck. Billy cringed; he was familiar with that weapon all to well. A 10.5" blade, a thickness of 3/8", and a sharp edge made to cut through skin like butter.

'Sheds clear.' Franks's voice broke through the mic.

Keeping his gun trained in the direction of Wheatley, he clicked the mic. "I got eyes on the boy."

'Wheatley?' Clay asked.

"Using Noah as a shield." Billy said in an undertone.

'No shot?'

"No shot." He breathed out.

Wheatley peeped over the boy's shoulder, uttering profanity at the man in front of them. "Who the hell are you?"

"I don't think names are of importance here." Billy retorted. "All you should know is, you have something I want."

"And what's that?"

"The boy." Glimpsing at his wrist he made sure he had remembered to wear his retractable blade. "All I want is Noah. I couldn't care less about you."

'Billy?'

"What?"

'We can't get ahold of Barba.' Frank uttered.

Billy gritted his teeth. "I'm running out of patience." He speculated about firing on the side of the container with the intention it'd bounce off the and hit Wheatley. But that would go horrible in so many ways. Instead, he opted in giving the idiot a chance to live. Withdrawing the strap of his gun, he lowered the weapon to the ground. Kicking it to the side. Raising his hands, he stepped back. "All I want is the boy." He waited for the one mistake Wheatley would commit.

Believe him.

The moment the bastard stood up, Billy pulled a knife from his back, hitting him on the shoulder. "Noah!" The boy ran into his arms nearly tumbling Billy to the ground. Kneeling in front of Noah, he inspected for any injuries. Besides a scrape on the cheek, he was intact. "Do not move." Strolling over to the groaning man, he squatted beside him. Yanking the dagger out and wiping it clean on Wheatley's shirt. "Should have just given me the boy."

Present

He shook his head at feeling the blood flow between his fingers. "We need to stop this bleeding."

Barba nodded for once able to breathe. His son was safe. "You can fix it. Wouldn't be the first time."

Huffing at the hardheadedness of his friend, he got to work. Pulling out a gauge from his kit, Billy placed it against the wound. It wasn't much, but it will help keep some blood in him instead of the floor. Clicking the mic, he glared at Barba. "Let's get the hell out of here. Jeff, I need your help with Barba."

'Copy that.'

Barba hissed at having to be moved, but he sucked it up. "Where is Noah?" He asked as Jeff walked into the room.

Jeff grabbed his arm, draping it over his shoulder. "He's in one of the vehicles with Alina and Frank. We didn't think it is wise if he saw you or us covered in blood."

Glancing at Billy and Jeff for the first time since they started, he found their uniform painted with blood. Even against the black tactical shirt and vest, the blood seemed to be intensified. Biting back a cry as they rushed down the stairs and out the back, Barba felt consolation at seeing the car waiting.

Derek did a double-take at seeing the man coming in bloodier than the others. "What the fuck happen to you?!"

"Slipped and fell on the pointy end of a knife." Barba bit his tongue at slipping into the seat.

"You always were clumsy." Billy tried joking it off but seeing the amount of blood was making him nervous. "Let's get to the safe house. Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Floor it."