Redemption (boyxboy) (18+)

Chapter Twenty

A river of blood pours from the sudden rift in Nate's shoulder, the hot wet soaking into Reid's sleeve.

Oh god, he's shot, Nate is SHOT, I'm going to lose him and I never even told him, I can't believe this, Jesus, he can't die, he can't...

Reid's mind won't stop, horror and shock chasing around in circles, whipping into a tornado of panic that consumes him.

Only one thing can pull him out of it.

"It's just a graze, Reid."

Nate's hands are shaking with pain but he's signing. That means he's breathing, and when Reid can finally process the words he feels a cold shot of relief straight into his heart. He looks down, wide-eyed and desperate, and sees that Nate is right. The bullet tore a half-inch wide ditch through the top of his arm, but that's all.

Reid reaches out, wrapping his hand tightly over the wound to try to staunch the blood flow. Nate feels solid and warm and alive and it's so good that Reid finally begins to breathe again... until something occurs to him that leaves him horrified all over again.

If the bullet isn't lodged in Nate, it had to go somewhere.

Reid flicks his eyes to the back of the passenger's seat, sees a hole ripped through the back.

Holy mother of fuck.

He's almost too afraid to look at Andy but he has to, he has to know-

And then he's flooded with relief yet again when he sees that Andy's no longer sitting there. He's half-standing in the floorboard, hanging out the open side window from his waist up as he fires wildly back in the sniper's direction.

Reid had been so paralyzed with fear that he hadn't even heard Andy's shots.

And that's not good, the panic shouldn't be this bad because he's been trained for this. But it's Nate, and he just can't-

No.

Pull it together, Logan. He's alive. Keep him that way.

But all Reid can see is the blood streaming between his fingers, dripping onto the seat between them and splashing up onto their thighs.

"Jesus, Nate," he breathes, tightening his grip and propping Nate's arm up to try to slow the blood flow. Nate hisses in pain and looks away while Ben screams from the driver's seat, asking again and again if everyone is okay.

Reid doesn't answer. He can't. He's facing his worst fear, the one thing he never wanted to see - a witness' blood on his hands. Literally.

And it's Nate's. Brave, beautiful Nate, who's given Reid the best month of his entire life.

Reid wishes he could slice his own arm open, make some sort of deal with the devil to take Nate's place. He wishes he could tell him how sorry he is, that he should have been better, somehow seen the sniper. Saved Cara. Kept this newest scar from Nate.

But he can't say anything besides, "Fuck."

The car whips around a corner and Andy pulls himself back inside, his clip empty and the building finally disappearing from sight. But he reloads and keeps his gun out, his gaze wary.

Ben's grinding his teeth together as he weaves through the crush of cabbies and pedestrians until he reaches the entrance to the bridge, tearing through the toll plaza so fast that it makes the collector's hut shake. The engine roars beneath him and Ben's terrified. Because Nate can't tell him if he's okay and neither of the other morons in the car will give him a damn answer even though Ben's been screaming questions since the car was hit, and he's going too fast to be able to glance back and check on anyone himself.

"Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on back there? Nate, are you okay?"

Nathaniel, the calmest of the group, pulls the phone from his jacket and types a response with one hand, blood smearing across the glass screen. "Yes, Ben. The last shot grazed my arm, that's all. Reid's got pressure on it, but I do believe it will require stitches in the near future."

Ben nods and swallows, blowing out a relieved breath.

The car seems so quiet suddenly; there's only the ringing in their ears and the tires humming over the bridge. The river flows as lazily as always far beneath them, and it all seems wrong. Too normal. Too slow.

And it just gets slower. They reach the far end of the bridge and work their way over through the traffic, taking the first exit off the NJ Turnpike. Ben forces the speed down to somewhat safe levels, winds haphazardly through side streets and empty alleys.

But it's not easy to let his adrenaline level lower now that Reid has started yelling again, begging for him to just fucking stop already.

Because Reid doesn't feel safe, not when his fingers are clenched so tightly over Nate's arm that he can't feel them anymore and his head is still an erratic mess. He's desperate to get Nate stitched up, debating if they should risk taking him to a hospital, and wondering if he could head back into the city and find the son of a bitch who turned this whole thing sideways and rip his goddamned face off.

But by the time Ben finally pulls over behind an abandoned and boarded-up burger place next to the river, all the fight has drained right out of Reid. He's just horrified and shaking; his hand is coated in Nate's blood, tacky as it begins to dry in places.

Reid notices that it matches a hunk of goop that has stuck to his jacket and he picks at it with his free hand. He stares, vaguely curious, until he realizes what it is.

Gray and gelatinous, stained red at the edges. A bit of Cara's brain, blown onto him when her head burst apart.

And he barely has time to lean away from Nate before puking out the shattered window onto the weeds growing through the cracked pavement.