Stay with me

Chapter 17

Hospital:

"What does Clyde want, Emily?" Rossi asked softly.

She looked to the ghostly figure for a moment and returned back to face the group, who were all now stood by the door.

"To piss me off essentially," she said with a huff- that made them each chuckle, pleased that she still had a bit of humour deep within her. "I 'clearly didn't do a very good job of killing Doyle'" she mimicked with air quotes and a salty tone.

She started shuffling with her head down, biting her nails, mumbling "I wasn't the one who fired the gun. I didn't even try to kill him... well I did but that was a separate thing. I didn't really want him dead." She paused abruptly after saying that, regretting the words that spilled from her cold, chapped lips. She quickly glanced in Derek's direction and instead saw Ian grinning slyly back at her.

"Don't give me that look, you couldn't do it either," she challenged.

The other three agents were starting to learn a lot more about their relationship, and they (especially Derek) were very unsure about the direction this was going.

They secretly wanted to probe her to take advantage of the rare opportunity of Emily opening up about personal things, but they could see she was still struggling to stand without wavering, and her breathing was becoming hoarser and shallower.

Alex approached her cautiously and took hold of her hand, guiding her slowly back to her bed.

"Please can you make him leave, I can't talk to him right now," Emily pleaded quietly, nodding in Derek's direction.

"Of course, sweetie," Alex cooed, "you just get some rest and he'll be gone by the time you wake up."

It may have been a lie, may have been the truth. There was no telling what tricks Emily's mind would play on her in an hour or so's time. They just had to hope that the team found an antidote or something in time.

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Mayfield barn:

"Mayfield," the man opposite him held an old revolver, similar to Reid's at his side, "drop the gun."

"That's not gonna happen. From where I'm standing, I hold all the cards" he grinned; Hotch stayed silent waiting for him to elaborate. "I hear dear Agent Prentiss isn't doing so good" Hotch said nothing- they hadn't released any information to the press regarding Emily's situation. "I'm an intelligent man Aaron, I have my ways," Mayfield bragged in response to Hotch's wordless questioning.

"So, you have an antidote then?" Hotch assumed, becoming impatient with Mayfield's arrogance.

"Well that depends on what you can offer me in return'' he smirked cockily.

"Well you've killed 6 people, 9 more are in the hospital as well as 4 of my agents. That doesn't paint a very good picture in front of a jury," Hotch explained. Lifting his gun higher, he marched forward, so his gun sat mere inches away from Mayfield's chest "and certainly not in front of me!" he belted.

"But that's the whole point isn't it. I've drawn attention to the incompetence of our government. If more people knew about the existence of these poisonous gasses, a lot of those people would've been saved. The blood is on their hands not mine."

"So you have no remorse for the innocent people you killed?" asked Hotch, tapping into Mayfield's semblance of humanity, hoping it wasn't completely non-existent.

"They're hardly innocent, Agent Hotchner. Those lobbyists have probably committed more crimes this week than most of the people sat in prison right now, the world's better off without them." He spat.

"And what about my agents? Do they deserve to die?"

"Well they were just a means to an end, the more valuable the people the more attention they draw in, and that's what I needed," he reasoned, confirming the teams theory that they had been targeted on purpose. 

Mayfield had a serious God complex, Hotch could already see that there was no way of getting through to him, he truly believed what he did was justified and he didn't care about the collateral damage. He wasn't going to go quietly, he needed a spectacle, which probably meant he had a final showdown planned and he was stalling.

Mayfield was stood staring at him with a cocky grin and power-hungry eyes, he clearly believed he had all the control in this stalemate- he was so confident in himself that his gun wasn't even pointed in front of him, it just hung pretentiously at his side, more as a symbol of endowment and intimidation rather than as a tool of protection. So Hotch needed to flip the situation on its head and take back his authority.

He holstered his gun.

"Had a change of heart?" Mayfield questioned brashly.

Less than a second later, Mayfield was plummeting backwards onto the concrete floor from a punch to the nose. His gun clattered from his grip so Hotch swiftly kicked it out of his reach, and proceeded to grab the bloody-faced man by the shirt and lift him up to throw him against the cinder blocked wall.

"Now that you're listening, you're going to give me the antidotes to the gasses you used at Alden Law Firm and the gas you used on my agents. Then, you will tell me what you have planned next because I know you have something" it was clear Hotch wasn't playing around anymore as he put his hand on Mayfield's throat and pulled out his gun once again and held it at his chest.

"I know you're not going to kill me Agent Hotchner, you need me to save your friend," he laughed, spitting the blood that was now dripping into his mouth.

Hotch had had enough of his hubris, he lifted his gun to Mayfield's head and paused, finger hovering over the trigger, hoping for any sort of waver or fear in his eyes. Nothing.

With that, Hotch did the only thing he felt he could do in that moment...