fair/unfair

17.

unedited, read at ur own risk

       Your dad took the shot.

       Reid flinched back violently as if Mal had pulled his knife out on him. "You're lying."

       Mal just sighed, rolled his head back against the log. "Unfair."

       The fox shut his eyes and Reid took that moment of brief privacy to gather his thoughts, to come to grip with the fact that his dad ... no. His dad didn't kill people. That's not what he did. No — he didn't —

       Before he even knew what was happening, he was gasping for breath and his heart was racing so quick and furiously in his chest he could barely hear it over the hard swallows he tried to take, but his mouth was dry, and his lungs were achingly empty, and—

       "Reid." Mal was there, suddenly in front of him, a fierce look on his face. "Hey, Reid. Look at me."

       God, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Reid squeezed his eyes shut, breath shuddering uselessly in his chest, but a hand grabbed his chin and his eyes flew open.

       "Look at me," Mal commanded. Reid started to jerk out of his hold but Mal hold firm. "Breathe, Reid. Breathe with me, okay? Inhale."

       Mal took a deep breath, stomach caving in as he did so. A few seconds past before he exhaled, repeating the corresponding word. "Now exhale."

       Reid tried to tug away again, but it was useless when both his body and Mal were actively working against him. His hand encircled Mal's wrist, gripping it tight as if he was going to shove the hand off of him, but instead he tried to take a stuttered breath. He did this a couple more times before Reid's lungs stopped being useless pieces of shit and caught the air he'd been gasping for. When he finally caught his breath and had come down from his attack, Mal finally let his hands fall from Reid's face. He didn't move though, just kept kneeling there in the dirt between Reid's leg and his bent knee.

       Reid didn't let go of his wrist. Mal's pulse was there under his thumb, thudding soft and steady; Reid used it as a reference point as his own heart rate slowed.

       It was silent for a good five minutes as he tried to come to terms with this new information. It wasn't that easy with Mal so close, staring at him with such a hard gaze. As if Reid was the one who needed comforting. As if Mal shouldn't just fucking hate Reid.

       "He was your dad," Reid finally said, voice small and pathetic.

       Mal's response was instantaneous. "He was a piece of shit."

       "Yeah," he replied, throat hoarse, "but he was still your dad."

       Mal didn't respond this time, but he pulled away from Reid now that he knew he was okay and his breathing was steady. Instead of returning to his spot, he got to his feet and Reid was forced to drop his hold. He retreated a couple of feet away, keeping his back to Reid. Putting distance between them. That much was obvious.

       "What happened next?" Reid couldn't help but ask, pulling Mal's attention from the stick he was using to poke around in the fire pit.

       "Your dad took me to the station." Mal's voice was tight now. "A couple of officers took my statement. You were there."

       That caught Reid's attention. "I was?"

       Mal nodded. "You were this fucking hyperactive little asshole; they had you handcuffed to a chair and you were so smug about it. I asked the lady at the front desk what you were in for and she said you were the sheriff's son. You stole the cuffs from another officer and put yourself there so people would walk in and think you were a criminal."