Criminal Minds ~ DNF

10

"Dream, Clay, step away from George with your hands up," Captain Puffy shouted down the hall. There were three others behind her, each with their own gun. George recognized them as shoot-to-wound guns. His, on the other hand, was not.

"And I would do that, why?" Clay asked, reaching for the small black pistol that George once held.

"We aren't asking, Clay. Get away from George. "

"No, thank you," Dream laughed. "I don't think that's going to happen." He held the gun to George's temple, threatening the officers. Was George scared? Fuck yes. Despite the killer's sincere-sounding words, he was a powerful manipulator. He just didn't let it show, besides. It was Clay who had said those things, not Dream.

"Dream, get away from him," Puffy repeated. She took a tentative step toward the two, cautioning the killer. Dream knew that it was in his best interest to surrender. He was cornered. There was only one exit, and there were three armed police officers and one curb-stomping Captain Puffy standing in front of it. This was it, unless...

"Alright, you win," Dream sighed dejectedly. He took two steps away from George in the direction of the door, the gun never leaving his hand. The brunette dared not move. For one thing, Clay hadn't put away the weapon and for a second, there was glass everywhere.

"Put George's gun down, please," Puffy's sentence was not a request.

"Nah," Dream said defiantly. He had this insane glint in his eye, like at any moment he could snap.

"Put the gun down!" Puffy cried, her voice breaking slightly in fear for the student. Distraction, distraction... Dream smiled, looking her directly in the eyes as he clicked the trigger.

The first bullet missed George entirely, clattering against the stone wall behind him. The second one also missed, though it came scarily close to him. The third, however, was a direct hit. While George shielded his head with his arms, he had left one vital area uncovered.

Multiple gasps and a scream of terror echoed through the concrete corridor as the third bullet embedded itself in George's abdomen. He went completely limp as Captain Puffy and two of the officers ran to his side, frantically pressing their hands to the entry wound to keep him from bleeding out. The bullet hole was already spewing blood like a gruesome fountain of death.

"Get Dream, Haywood!" Puffy shouted at the third officer, who was facing off against the killer. Another shot rang out, and then two more. The first officer turned and looked to see Dream standing over the crumpled body of Officer Haywood. The killer's leg was bleeding, but otherwise, no injuries were sustained. He stamped on the officer's neck before making a break for the door, completely disregarding the stabbing pain in his thigh.

The officers paid little to no attention to the killer's half-arsed escape attempt. He wouldn't get far, not if Sam had anything to say about it. The doors would stop him anywa-

Security was overridden. The officers had needed to get into the cell block as quickly as possible, so Mr Kensington had authorized the doors to be digitally unlocked. If he could get away from Sam and Niki, there was literally nothing there to stop him from leaving.

That was not Puffy's most pressing concern though. George was quickly dispensing a pool of blood and his eyes were barely open. The second officer was speaking rapidly to her cell phone, trying to get two ambulances dispatched and spitting instructions at Puffy and the other policeman.

"Two victims, no exit wound on either," she sped. "Puffy, you need to put more pressure on that wound, get it to stop spilling blood. Check for a pulse, Harv! Okay, one of the victims isn't breathing, what do we do now?" The poor officer was frantically running from casualty to casualty, trying to help them both.

"Chest compressions, Harvey! Thirty and then che-"

"I know how to resuscitate someone, Stacey! Christ almighty!" The other officer, Harvey, spat at his friend. The air was thick and stuffy with emotion and pain. Meanwhile on the other side of the hall, Puffy was trying to keep the FBI Academy student alive.

"George, please. Stay awake for me, okay? It's me, Captain Puffy, you remember?" She asked when met with George's terrified, confused stare.

"Ah, I... Ow..." he mumbled. The Brit's throat was coated in a mixture of bile, vomit and blood, making it extremely uncomfortable to speak.

"I know it hurts, just keep your eyes on me, love. Okay?" When George nodded weakly, Puffy gave him a small, encouraging smile. The Captain was not English nor had she ever been to England but using the nickname 'love' was almost instinctual.

"What's the ETA on those ambulances, Stacey?" Puffy yelled over her shoulder at the policewoman, assuming her name.

"About five minutes. The dispatcher says to keep him awake if you can," Stacey shouted back, speaking at almost triple the speed she usually would. "If he's awake, it signals to the paramedics that he might live."

"Working on it," Puffy cried as she turned back to George. The brunette's puddle of blood was not diminishing and he looked horribly pale. Thirty seconds passed with no changes, then another thirty. Each minute felt like an hour, dragging painstakingly while Puffy was forced to watch the twenty-five-year-old slowly die in front of her. That's what George was doing, no point sugar-coating it. And boy, was it obvious. It looked like someone had thrown a bucket of red paint all over George and the ground underneath him.

Three minutes later and the Brit was barely hanging on. Keeping one hand on the entry wound, Puffy stroked the hair out of George's face with her fingertip soothingly. The officer that Dream shot was long dead and the other two were by his side, silently mourning the loss of their friend. Puffy felt bad for them, but if she wasn't careful, she would be doing the same. While she had only met the boy three days ago, after travelling and staying with him Puffy had developed an almost maternal relationship with the brunette. If George died now, God knew what she would do. She didn't want to go back to Virginia or  Washington DC without George, for that would mean that she lost him. She lost the boy in the field, and while there was no consequence for that action, she knew that his death wouldn't be justified.

"Puffy, would you please stop looking at me like that? I'm not dead yet," George murmured tiredly, rolling his eyes at the captain. Puffy laughed in relief.

"Sorry, kid, I'll try. Just keep your eyes on me, kay?"

When help finally arrived two and a half minutes later, George was smiling weakly despite the obvious pain he was in. The paramedics appraised the condition he was in before carrying the Brit out of the asylum. One of them spoke directly to Puffy, commenting on George's coherence and how he hadn't seen a gunshot victim as lucid as the brunette in years. Puffy sighed, letting the tear she had built up escape her eye.

"He's a fighter, George. If he has any say in the matter, he'll live," she laughed, wiping the water away.

Meanwhile, without Puffy's caring touch and endless murmuring, George was dying. Not just physically, but mentally too. Though his body was kept still, internally George was writhing in pain. No amount of screaming would convey how badly he was hurting. The bullet wasn't even the worst part. Why did Clay know about the duck-shooting incident? Why did Clay say that he loved him?

Scariest of all, why did George feel the same?

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Word count: 1303

Luna xx