Innocent Son

Chapter Seven

"I swear I was gonna punch that guy square in the nose if he said another word." Morgan huffed as he opened the door to the office Prentiss and I were in. Rossi followed behind him, nodding to his threats of violence toward the officer. I was a bit curious as to what had gone on out in the bullpen while I was with Prentiss. The rest of the team followed closely after, moving to different places in the office. 

"I am not a man known for violence but I wouldn't deny that punch would be deserved." Rossi's comment made Morgan laugh.

"You doing okay, kiddo?" Morgan's comment was for me.

"Me?" I ask, even though the direction of the question was clear. "I'm fine. Still a little sick is all." Back on my bullshit. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as soon as the conversation is brought to me. Hotch and Reid were standing by the cork board, muttering between themselves. My ears burned, I figured they were talking about me.

"Well I hope whatever you had, I don't catch. Wouldn't want to take care of three kids. Man flu, right?" JJ's comment about her family wasn't surprising. We all just nodded and gave a small chuckle. It did remind me of Jack though. I'd met him a couple times, though only introduced as 'Daddy's friend from work'. I'm sure that's how Reid was introduced as well before he became 'Daddy's boyfriend'. I'd never really thought about having a family. I never thought I'd become old enough to have one, and now, with Hotch and Reid and Jack in my life, I wondered if it could become a possibility. Three dads would be even harder to keep track of than two. Hotch was such a great dad to Jack. You could see it with how they talked and played. Jack adored his father, and he loved Reid.

I looked around the room again. Everyone had returned to working. Reid was circling and pinning the map on the board, Hotch was reading a file, Morgan was drinking a cup of coffee while texting who I assume was Garcia. The room was quiet. Calm. Everyone was busy working to catch this unsub. And what was I doing? I couldn't think of what I had contributed besides worrying my team. Guilt riddled my mind. We might've had a better profile or even an idea of where our unsub was if I just applied myself to the case instead of wallowing in fear.

I needed to take a break, the actual opposite of what my brain was yelling at me to do. I sat out of my chair without thinking much of it, leaving the room just as quickly. I muttered something about needing to get some fresh air, knowing my hasty exit would alarm my team. I didn't want them to follow me, but I figured someone would. I continued marching forward to the exit of the police station, regardless if someone would come after me. If it wasn't Hotch or Reid, it would be JJ or Morgan. They always felt a little more protective over Reid and I. Probably because we were the youngest.

As I rounded the corner of the station, I turned my head around for a moment, attempting to catch a glimpse of the person behind me. To my surprise, no one had followed me out. Leaning back against the brick wall, a small sigh of relief left my chest. The cool but slightly damp San Fran breeze washed across my cheeks, pinching them pink. I could feel the chilled air open my lungs, freeing them of the tight grip my anxiety had held them for days. For a moment I let go of everything. The tension in my shoulders, my neck, unclenching my jaw. For a moment I could forget and listen to the sound of the city around me. The sound of boats in the bay. People talking. Someone talking... Talking to me?

"Hello? Could you help me?" I opened my eyes after not realizing I had closed them. A man, about six feet tall with dark, short brown hair stood in front of me. He was wearing a tattered flannel and jeans that looked like they had sat out in the sun too long. His pale skin was contrast against the dimming horizon. He seemed flustered.

"What can I do for you, sir?" I moved away from the wall and closer to the man.

"I need to talk to an FBI agent. I'm looking for Doctor Y/N L/N?" His voice deepened as he said my name, looking directly into my eyes. It made me uncomfortable. He knew exactly who he was talking to. I nervously took my badge out of my back pocket, opening it up to show my credentials.

"That would be me, sir. Can I help you with something?" I take a step back from him, but he followed my step, pushing me closer to the wall of the station. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I silently prayed that Hotch or Rossi or someone would check on me out here. But no one came.

"I have some information about a case that I think would be very important." He continued to walk towards me. His words were pointed and harsh. Something about this guy wasn't right. My mind was racing. Was he the unsub? How did he know my name? Why is he looking for me? I need to get inside. I need to call Reid. Or Hotch. Someone.

"Why don't we go inside? We can talk about this with my colleagues." I tried to keep face. He was taller than me and much larger than me, but I didn't want him to think I was intimidated by him. I gestured to the entrance of the building, hoping he would simply follow me into the station, but I had a feeling that wasn't going to happen. I knew something bad was going to happen. I was around the side of the building, there were no people or windows. Just an alley with a dumpster and some trash bins.

"I have a better idea." He says with a snarl, stepping even closer to me until we're only a few inches apart. The cold breeze wasn't relaxing anymore. It was biting at my exposed skin as the sun finally sat below the horizon. The nausea and panic set in. I knew what was going to happen and I just hoped there were security cameras that someone was watching. But based on this stations lack of interest in actually helping the public, I assumed they didn't even work. My skin felt like it was on fire again. I could barely breathe and the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my chest took over my hearing.

That's when I heard the click of the gun. I felt cold metal press against my stomach. He was looking down at me, an evil grin smeared across his face. I wanted to scream, but my throat was shut. No noise would come out. I wanted to run but I knew my muscles were frozen in fear. Tears streaked my cheeks.

"You're going to get into my car, and you're not going to make a scene, alright?" His voice was hushed now but still angry and wicked. He pressed the gun harder into my gut. "Remember who's got the gun." 

I'm going to die.