His Darkest Hour

Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Bloods. It belongs to CBS, the writers and the creators -and something about Panda's. Panda Productions maybe? Anyhoo, I am not any of these. ^_^ Oh, but I did come up with the character/name of Sergeant Greg Calito. It's pure coincidence if someone has the same name. ;)

A/N: Okay... so this is really different that what I normally would do. I got this little seed while writing something else. I emphasize the word "seed" because I expected it to grow into a tiny little plant and instead, it blew up into a tree. Fourteen typed pages, six thousand-some words later... it was meant to be a one shot, but I'm going to break it into two chapters (please don't kill me! Begging!). I actually debated on whether I should publish it or not. I've gone over it so many times it's losing it's meaning to me, so I just decided to upload it.

It's dark. It's of sensitive nature. It's rated M. This could go very well or very, very wrong...

Enjoy. :) (I hope...)

Chapter 1

Blurry images flooded his alcohol-soaked brain. His mother's funeral. Joe's funeral. Sydney returning the ring, giving him one last sad look as she walked out of his life forever. He always managed to lose everything. He could hear Danny's cruel taunts as a teenager, Erin berating him for messing up her things. He remembered that agonizing phone call from his father, telling him his beloved brother was dead. He could still hear the disappointment in his father's voice and remember the awkward shock of the rest of his family when he told them he was joining the Police Academy. He could see himself stupidly hesitating to pull his own gun when he didn't know if the subject was armed. He could remember the moment he found out that Joe had been investigating the Blue Templar. He remembered the pain…

He remembered when the FBI had approached him. He wanted so bad to just say yes, to continue where his brother left off. He turned them down. He researched the Blue Templar anyway… he found out what he both desperately wanted and needed to know and, at the same time, what he desperately didn't want to know… his brother had been murdered by those who had sworn to protect….

He remembered the kiss, Laura's soft lips against his… so desperately he wanted to follow through, but he was assigned to protect her, merely a watch dog. He felt the fear as he nearly lost her because he'd messed up, forgot to double check who was coming to replace him, didn't keep a closer eye on her; he remembered pulling his gun, shooting another human being. He remembered the desire he'd felt as he had to turn away from Laura, the desire for companionship, the desire to be with someone, a woman… knowing that as soon as he turned away, she'd leave his life forever, just like Sydney…

Undercover work… the things he had to witness, the things they made him do; he nearly killed for them, just to keep himself safe. He could never get rid of that feeling of disgust, of self-loathing….

He remembered his most recent screw up only a month earlier… it was his fault; he'd walked right into it. Dumb rookie needs saving once again… a well-respected officer died because of him, all because his brain froze as a shotgun was pointed at his face…

He never could do anything right. Always managed to mess up the simplest of things…

It was pitch black outside, the darkness following him inside… he could see nothing, feel nothing except for the ache that encompassed his whole body… his family was avoiding him. Sure, they made attempts, but he was sure they were just playing their societal and familial roles. Why would they want to be around a screw up? They were better off without him and they knew it… he knew it….

His breath hitched, his lungs felt like lead. The dark air was thick around him, pressing down, coiling through his body, laughing at him. He couldn't breathe; the ache was turning into a sharp pain, needles forcing their way through his skin; it felt like it would explode out of him at any given moment. Short, painful breaths tore from his throat as tears rolled down his cheeks…

The cool, curved metal felt right in his hand.

~~BB~~

Danny grumbled to himself and he fished for the keys in his pocket. He jogged up the steps to Jamie's apartment, nodding at the doorman as he entered. He headed towards the elevator, repeating and retracting the words he wanted to say to his brother. Jamie had had a rough time of it. A domestic disturbance call a month ago ended in gunfire and a 10-85 to his location. Officer down. The words "officer down" struck cold fear in every man and woman on the force, no matter their rank. Danny only heard another detective muttering softly to his partner, but managed to catch the words "gunfire" and "Reagan" though he didn't know how they connected. His blood froze. He didn't wait for Jackie to call his name, didn't wait for her to catch up. He tore out of the precinct, preparing for the worst.

Reaching the scene, he felt relief to see Jamie standing there, surrounded by other uniformed officers. Renzulli was there; he hadn't been partnered with him that night, but he was first on scene once the 10-85 went out. He had seen Jamie sitting on the floor in shock, a welt on his forehead where he'd been blindsided entering the small apartment first. His partner that evening, Sergeant Greg Calito, a fifteen year veteran of the force, had been only steps behind him. Jamie had his gun in hand but hadn't thought to raise it, brain frozen and still dazed from the hit to the head, when he found the barrel of a shotgun pointed at his face. His partner tried to talk the man down but the man, brains addled by drugs and alcohol, only continued to shout incoherently, waving the gun. He was only seconds from firing at Jamie when he turned and shot at Calito instead. Calito fired off two rounds, and Jamie got his head together enough to fire off one shot. All three hit their mark… but Calito was dead. Jamie didn't even have to touch him to know that. There was so much blood, and a bullet hole in the neck doesn't usually equal survival. Renzulli entered to that scene; Calito lying in a pool of his own blood, the suspect lying in another… and Jamie sitting on the floor, shock and pain written all over his face, shaking body unnoticed, radio in one hand and gun in the other.

Renzulli helped him out of the apartment that night as other officers screeched their cars to a halt, pounding up the steps to the chaos and blood inside the apartment. He recalled that it took all of his strength just to keep Jamie upright; he wasn't sure if Jamie was about to pass out or if he had retreated so far into his own mind that he didn't even realize he was moving. He walked him over to an NYPD car, helping him to lean against it. An EMT did his best to check him over, but Jamie didn't respond to him. He didn't respond to anyone.

That's how Danny found him, leaning against the car, arms crossed, looking pained and lost. Renzulli stood faithfully and protectively by his side, a hand constantly on his shoulder. Danny watched as Renzulli would occasionally lean towards him, asking him something, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Then he'd pull back, concern radiating from him like light from a light bulb. He spotted Danny at once, throwing him a helpless look of despair and fear. His partner and friend appeared to be broken, and he didn't know how to fix him.

Danny hurried over to his side. Renzulli made to leave, but Danny motioned for him to stay. His fellow officer seemed to be the only thing that was keeping his brother upright.

"Jamie…" Danny started, leaning down to try to make eye contact. Jamie's eyes remained firmly on the ground. "Come on, kid, look at me." He touched a gentle finger to Jamie's chin, forcing his head up. Jamie's eyes walked a slow trail to meet his. Danny's heart broke at the pain he could see swimming in the watery depths. His heart shattered when two tears trailed down Jamie's face. Renzulli turned away at this point, unable to watch his friend break into pieces.

"It's not your fault, Jamie. Not your fault!" Danny said forcibly, practically begging his brother to understand.

Jamie suddenly seemed to stand straighter, seemed to snap out of the funk he had been in. He raised his chin.

"I know."

Danny and Renzulli shared surprised looks as Jamie left, walking over to another officer who was waiting to take a statement from him. They watched incredulously as Jamie acted as if it was no big deal. They had no idea what was going on.

As the next few days went by, Jamie continued to act as if nothing was wrong. He still refused to talk about what happened. He wouldn't talk to Danny, just brushed him off if he tried to bring it up. He wouldn't even talk to his father. Frank had tried, of course; he had read the police report, after all, and had talked to both Danny and Renzulli, learned how Renzulli had found his youngest son, how Danny had felt when he saw the broken man that was his brother. Jamie wouldn't have it. He would change the subject, pretend he hadn't heard. He even stormed out once, yelling at his father to leave him alone when Frank persisted in questioning him. Nearly ran down his own niece in his haste to get out of the house. Both Danny and Frank had run after him, Danny pausing only briefly to help Nicki up from where she had tripped over a footstool in her haste to get away from her manic looking uncle. Danny reached his father's side at the edge of the lawn just in time to see Jamie peel away, going much too fast. Frank had turned on him then, demanding an answer as to what was going on with his youngest son. Danny could only shrug and shake his head, the fear eating at them both.

Danny had been relieved when, a few hours later, Jamie answered his cellphone. He had gotten back to his apartment in one piece. He even apologized for his behaviour; it had been a rough day, and he took his anger out on his family. He felt bad the minute he was away from the house. Danny knew that didn't explain why he never came back. If he felt so bad about it, why didn't he apologize face to face? He let his father know that he had been in contact with Jamie, but still couldn't explain what had happened.

They tried over the next few weeks to get Jamie to open up without demanding an answer from him. Erin invited him over to her place for supper one night; Nicki had been dying to test out a new recipe, and wanted her Uncle Jamie to try it first. Erin knew that Nicki had had her feelings hurt when Jamie nearly ran her down, and if the recipe didn't work out… well, it could be considered her own brand of revenge, unfortunately pulling her innocent mother into the mix. Erin would risk it, though. She was just as worried about her younger brother as the rest of the family.

Danny and Linda had invited him over one afternoon. The boys had wanted a "play date" with their uncle. He had been teaching them a few new basketball skills, and they wanted to show them off now that they had practiced. Jamie had agreed, and to the casual observer he was laughing and having fun with his two young nephews. To Danny's trained eye, and Linda's kind, motherly instinct, Jamie was only showing a mask; on the outside he looked normal, but inside he was a mess. They talked quietly in the kitchen, watching the three play a game of basketball; Jamie wasn't just letting them win. He wasn't even trying.

Frank invited him on several nights to come over to help with renovations. They were fixing up the basement. At the moment, the basement was just one gigantic storage room. Frank and his father, Henry, had been discussing what to do when they got the idea that maybe Jamie would like to help. Jamie had agreed the first few times, even started to come out from behind the walls he had put up. Then Henry let it slip that Jamie seemed better… he instantly retreated, then promptly refused to help anymore. He'd figured out that they were trying to get him to talk.

He was quiet at Sunday dinners. Often reacting mechanically, he did what he had to do, but there was never any enthusiasm to it. He'd respond when spoken to, but it seemed like his own opinions had disappeared entirely. He never started a conversation. He stopped saying Grace at the dinner table.

He had gone back on the job only a week after the incident. At first things seemed okay, but around the time he pulled away from his family, he pulled away from Renzulli, who couldn't even get him to laugh at his lame jokes anymore. He'd even tried dancing once, much to his humiliation. Jamie didn't even crack a smile. He just turned away, softly telling him to stop making a fool of himself. The fear Renzulli felt the night he'd found him returned full force. He kept a close eye on his friend, but his friend never faltered on the job. If anything, he was more aware, more alert, more focused than before. It was like he was doing everything he could to not screw up. He acted like he didn't want to make a single mistake.

Now, standing in front of his brothers apartment door, Danny felt the familiar anger start to rise, followed closely by despair. That afternoon, he had stopped by Jamie's division to invite him for dinner at his favourite restaurant, just the two of them. He hadn't seen his brother in a while and wanted to catch up. Two hours after they were supposed to meet up, Danny was furious. Worried too, but at the moment anger was at the forefront. He hated being stood up! He paid the waitress for the meal he ended up eating alone then stormed out to his car. He muttered furiously to himself the whole drive over to Jamie's apartment, something about "ungrateful brat." He was determined to give his brother a piece of his mind, force him to tell him what was going on. He had turned into a completely different person and Danny was tired of it.

He knocked on the door. No answer. Danny frowned. He had definitely seen Jamie's car in the parking lot. He knocked again.

"Jamie? Come on, kid, open the door. I know you're in there!"

Still no answer. Danny's heart rate sped up. "Damn it, Jamie. What are you doing in there?" He pulled out his keys, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Jamie, you know I don't like being stood up, buddy. Where are you?" he called as he stepped through the small entryway into the living room. He paused, his breath catching. The usually spotless living room, illuminated by a single lamp, was a mess. Papers everywhere, dishes littering the surfaces. They looked like they had been there for days. Danny stared at the coffee table, the one place that worried him the most. It was littered with beer bottles, and bottles of much harder liquids. It looked like an alcohol factory. He hoped that Jamie had had company recently, but knew in his heart that this was not the case. Danny forced his lungs to work again as he scanned the room. No Jamie. He took a quick glance into the kitchen, just as messy as the living room. No Jamie. He peered down the empty hallway. The bathroom door was open as was the spare room. Jamie's door was closed.

Danny's heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he pulled out his cellphone, dialing his father.

"Danny, what's up?" his father answered after two rings. He must have looked at the caller ID. "Did Jamie meet you at the restaurant?"

"No… no, he stood me up."

Frank must have caught the tone in Danny's voice. "What's wrong?"

"Dad, I'm at Jamie's apartment… it's a disaster. He's a neat freak, he's usually spotless… it looks like a homeless person lives here! Dad..." Danny paused, voice catching. "There are alcohol bottles everywhere. Most are empty. None are more than half full."

There was a pained pause from the other end of the line. "Where's Jamie?"

"He must be in his room, dad. The door is closed."

There was another pause. "I'm coming over."

"No! Dad, no… not now. I…. I don't know what I'm going to find…" Danny choked off, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine." Frank replied, his voice wavering dangerously. "When you find him… you get back to me. Then you are not going to stop me from seeing my son." Frank's voice cracked on the last few words, but his tone left no room for argument.

"I promise." Danny half whispered, his own voice husky. "I'll call as soon as I can." He disconnected the call, his heart in his throat. How did things get so bad? He had seen that something was wrong with his brother, but how could he have not seen just how bad things had gotten? Why hadn't he dropped by sooner? Why hadn't he forced him to talk?

Danny shook off his self-loathing and turned to the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he started walking. Walking just a few feet down the hall felt like an eternity. Everything moved in slow motion. He stopped in front of Jamie's door. He thought about knocking but decided to just walk in, feeling that Jamie likely wouldn't answer him. He placed his hand on the door handle and took another deep breath. He closed his eyes, praying for strength, not knowing what he would find on the other side of the door. He turned the handle, swinging the door open.

Lamp light filtered down the hall from the living room, softly illuminating the darkened bedroom.

Danny froze in the doorway, eyes wide. His heart stuttered to a halt.

~~BB~~

He could hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing except the pain. Agony tore from every bone, joint, and fibre in his body. Needles tore at his skin. His breath came in gasps, his face was wet.

The curved metal was still in his hand.

He just wanted it all to end. He wanted the pain to go away.

Then out of nowhere, a small pin-prick of light in front of him, reaching towards him, getting brighter, larger. Warmth touched his face. He leaned into it gratefully.

The pain lessened.

~~To Be Continued~~