Title – Chaos In Motion
Fandom – Ironside
Rating – G
Summary – Some situations are harder and more dangerous to deal with when you're confined to a wheelchair.
A/N - Originally written for the LJ comm Smallfandomflsh - prompt - Chaos. And just to prove I've not forgotten about the fandom!
Chaos In Motion
Ironside was tense. But though he knew it would be counter-productive, he found it impossible to make himself relax. His instincts were telling him that somehow this was all going to go wrong.
The hotel lobby was full of people coming and going. There were so many people, in such a confined space; it was a death-trap. Too many things could go wrong. Why had he let himself be talked into this? Why had he let the Commissioner badger him this time? He knew the answer: there was no one else.
With all the activity it was going to be difficult to spot their man. Frankly, from Ironside's seated position, it was going to be difficult for him to spot anybody. How was he supposed to help his staff if he couldn't see what was going on?
Sergeant Ed Brown was in the middle of the whirlpool of people, and was probably milling around trying not to look conspicuous and get in anyone's way. Officer Eve Whitfield was close by, at the desk working as a receptionist. She was probably the only one with a view more crowded than Ironside had.
The Chief scowled round the room again, thinking of the report he'd read, brooding over the details.
There were too many exits; there were too many people, there was not enough time to get this place properly covered. This was not going to work. Innocent people were going to get hurt, not to mention his own staff.
He muttered something about the Commissioner, cursing him for landing this job on him and his department with next to no warning. Mark was standing right behind him holding tightly on to the handles of the wheelchair, but if he heard what Ironside said, he didn't comment.
Thanks to the Commissioner's sudden reassignment of the case, this high-risk strategy was the only option open to him. And Ironside hated only having one option.
He hated being out like this as well, a sitting target stuck in his chair. It was stupid. It was dangerous for everybody. People weaved about him, avoiding contact as best they could.
The big brass clock in the centre of the lobby showed that the suspect was already late. And the later it got, the busier it was going to become and the more people there were to get in the way. But it was far too late to call it off. Eve and Ed; himself and Mark, they were all in too deep.
Suddenly there was the sharp bark of a gun, three times in rapid succession. Bang. Bang, bang.
And everyone ran. Some screamed, some shouted as they went. But everyone ran; everyone but Ironside, that was.
He had seen panic before; he'd worked in the police long enough to see almost everything. Fighting his way through a panicked crowd in a wheelchair was next to impossible, even with Mark helping out behind.
As he moved forward, he caught a glimpse of a man on the floor, a gun close to his hand, blood curling round his dark hair and dark clothes; dark clothes that were similar to the ones Ed had been wearing.
His breath caught in his throat. But he couldn't afford to panic himself. Not now.
The man disappeared amid a sea of people, and Ironside kept pushing forward. He could hear other voices, he recognised the sound of some of the other policemen that had been station outside. He though he could hear Eve as well.
The throng suddenly thinned.
He saw Ed, gun in hand, kneeling on the floor near the dead man, blood pooling on the white marble of the lobby floor in long, snaking, crimson lines.
The Sergeant looked up towards his boss, a shocked expression on his face.
He had taken a terrible risk, with so many vulnerable people there; if Ed had been wrong this could have been a bloodbath. But Ironside knew that the man would have to have been close to the edge for Ed to pull his gun and shoot in public.
Slowly, the sergeant stood, and Eve reached out to touch him on the arm, her own gun vanishing back into her handbag.
No one said a word, though there was an almost deafening babble of noise from the people behind him. But Ironside wanted to know. He wanted the details that he hadn't seen, he wanted to have been there to help, not suck in his lifeless chair, waiting to be wheeled out from under cover when all the danger was over. He hated that. He hated that part every single day, when his colleagues and friends were risking their lives and all he could do was sit there and wait.
His anger was almost a physical thing, that press down on his chest, hurting as much as the ache where his legs had once been.
The scene in front of him pulled back into focus. Ed knew how close a call he'd just had, so did Eve. They were two of the Chief's closest friends and he knew them better than they knew themselves. He could predict what they would do in a certain set of circumstance almost every time. But he had rarely seen either officer look so shaken.
The Chief took a long, slow breath in.
This had been a difficult, nearly impossible situation, but they had done what they were paid to do. The suspect was down and the public was safe.
Now it was the aftermath, and they needed him. They needed him to be the Chief and help them get on with the job at hand, and to help them understand they had done the right thing.
His own insecurities would have to wait, set aside in the darkest parts of his mind until he was able to deal with them.
So, with a firm push, he wheeled himself forward.