Live to Tell
A different take on one of the scenes from episode 1x18, "To Tell the Truth." It's Jamie's turn to join the Reagan family's long list of heroes.
Author's Note: The first Blue Bloods episode I ever saw was "To Tell the Truth," and I had a chance to watch it again this morning. To say I have under-appreciated the awesomeness of that episode is to put it mildly. Anyway, inspiration struck and wouldn't quit, so here we are. This is a one-shot (I mean it this time), not beta-read and I think I wrote it in about two hours, so take that for what it's worth. Also, it's true that I have no business writing this given the other two pieces I have going, but such is life. Enjoy!
Linda hadn't made the bed that morning. Normally it was one of the first things she did, but today, there was something comforting about seeing the twisted sheets, and running her hand over the bunched-up comforter. The messiness reminded her that this was their bed, hers and Danny's. It was their bed, and this was their house, and she was coming back. They both were.
She sat cross-legged in the middle of the rumpled covers, her suitcase open before her, allowing herself a moment of self-pity as she stared at the changes of clothes, paperback books and assorted toiletries stuffed inside. Most of her memories associated with packing were happy ones... the bags she'd put together when she was pregnant with Jack and Sean, the weekend getaway trips she would take with her girlfriends, and even Danny sometimes, when she could coax him away from work. But this felt weird. It felt wrong, to be sitting here in the middle of the day on a Wednesday, packing her suitcase.
It almost felt as if she was leaving her husband, even though it had been Danny's idea for her to go.
Impulsively, she stood and walked to the clothes hamper in the corner, plucking out Danny's navy tie from the day before. It was still rumpled from the heap in which he'd let it fall, and she smoothed it before pressing the silk to her nose, inhaling the faint traces of his cologne. It brought a smile to her face, as it always did, and she wound it around her hand before tucking it in with her things, zipping the suitcase closed.
As packing jobs went, this was a light one. She had intentionally only packed enough for a day or two. Heaven help Danny if he was still dealing with this drug dealer nonsense longer than that. Besides, she didn't want to look at the suitcase anymore, and her new NYPD babysitters could always run her back to the house if she'd forgotten anything.
Setting her chin, she didn't look back as she walked into the hallway, and stopped only when her cell phone rang. "You checking up on me, Reagan?" she asked, setting the suitcase down beside her on the top step.
"Hey, babe." He sounded tired; harried.
She sighed, his weary tone taking off the sharpest edge of her frustration. "Let me guess. Now we're going to be under for a week instead of two days?"
"No, no. Everything's going according to plan. There's two detectives at the boys' school; right after dismissal, they'll pick 'em up and bring them over to the place I told you." Linda leaned against the banister as he continued to speak, relaxing in his voice despite herself. "We're gonna proceed with your pickup the same way we did in the '06 case, all right?"
"I got it." She wanted badly to ask him how he was, and whether he was protecting himself the same way he was hovering over her and the boys, but she knew better. She knew this Danny Reagan.
"You got nothing to worry about," he added.
Sure, not a thing. "When do I ever?"
Linda could almost hear his smirk. "Let me talk to my brother."
Honestly, she had almost forgotten he was there. Jamie had come by at Danny's request, and had been moving methodically through the house for the last ten minutes, checking windows and doors, giving her the privacy she needed to finish packing. Now, he stepped into the foyer below her almost on cue, hesitating at the foot of the stairs to peer up at her. He was between shifts and still dressed out in his standard street uniform, and Linda couldn't help but smile at the sight. God, what a uniform did for a man. What Danny had done to her, in the days he dressed in NYPD blue on a daily basis.
Jamie ascended the steps quickly, reaching out a hand for her suitcase. "All set?"
She handed him the suitcase and the phone as well, and he looked at her quizzically as he took the latter. "Danny," she said by way of explanation.
Understanding dawned, and he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey."
Still standing within arm's reach, Linda could hear her husband's distant, tinny voice. "You taking good care of my girl there, kid?"
"Actually, I think she's doing just fine on her own." Jamie's clear eyes found hers, and his smile broadened. Linda couldn't help but smile back. Jamie had been only seven years old when she met him for the first time. It was hard to believe he was actually a shield-wearing, gun-toting member of the NYPD now. He still looked young enough to be in high school as far as she was concerned.
"Well, thanks for coming by to see her off. Feel free to help yourself to a beer."
"Except I'm back on in two hours."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that nice rookie schedule. You need anything?"
"Nah. I'll hitch a ride back to the 12th after Linda gets settled. You doing okay?"
"If she's okay, I'm okay. Let me talk to her again."
Jamie passed the phone back without prelude, reaching up to turn down the volume on his shoulder radio before lifting Linda's suitcase easily and carrying it down the stairs.
She put the cell phone back to her own ear. "Hey," she said, and paused, a hundred thoughts colliding in her mind. She finally settled on just one. "...I love you."
"I love you too. I'll check in later, all right?"
"Yeah." She hung up and descended the stairs slowly, staring at the phone in her hand. God, the things she wanted to say to that man.
Jamie was waiting just inside the living room. "You okay?"
She nodded, slipping the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. "Yeah. Just hard to believe we have to do this."
"Danny's just looking out for you. You know nothing's more important to him than making sure you and the boys are all right."
"I know." She suppressed a sigh. "It's surreal, though, you know?"
"I know."
She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since he had come edging through her front door fifteen minutes earlier. Jamie was practically standing at parade rest in her living room now, his posture ramrod straight, as though awaiting further instruction. She frowned. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He shrugged off her concern, and some of the tension seemed to drain from his shoulders. "Like you said... a little surreal. This kind of thing makes it hard to separate work from home." He glanced down at himself, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. "I don't think I've ever been over here in uniform. Certainly not on business."
She smirked and stepped closer to him, reaching up to straighten the brass on his collar. "It looks good on you."
"Doesn't everybody look good in a uniform?"
"Well, maybe they do," she admitted, sizing him up. "But on you, it looks... I don't know. Right."
He ducked his head, and she laughed. "I'm not embarrassing you, am I?"
He grinned, despite the sudden flush of color in his cheeks. "Nah," he said. "I just think I have a ways to go before I'm anywhere near filling this thing out."
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "You're a Reagan. You'll be amazed at how fast it happens." She turned, stepping into the kitchen. "Everything going okay with the job?"
"Oh, yeah," he replied. "Renzulli's great. He's teaching me a lot. It's hard to believe how much there is to learn, though."
"With a Harvard law degree, I'd think the streets would be cake."
"It's a whole different kind of learning. School was intellectual, but this... it's almost about being physically smart." He hesitated. "I guess I'm getting there."
She nodded, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge. "I'm sure you are," she said, casting him a smile over her shoulder. "Thanks for coming over, by the way."
"Sure," he replied. "But Linda, really... how are you?"
She hesitated, tangling her fingers in the dish towel on the counter. "Okay, I guess. Not great, but I don't see where there's much I can do. I'll be fine once Danny gets this testimony behind him."
Jamie's brow furrowed in empathy. "You and the boys will be safe."
"Oh, I know that." She dropped the towel, unscrewing the top of her water bottle instead. "It's only your brother who's worrying me."
"Nothing new there, right?"
A firm knock sounded at the front door, and Jamie turned his head at the sound. "I'll get it."
She nodded and swallowed down her resignation with a final swig of water. Time to get this show on the road.
)()()()()()()()()()(
The moment Jamie opened the door, he knew something was wrong.
Not that the guy standing on his brother's porch didn't look like a cop. He looked like every other detective the NYPD spit out, from his tan trench coat and pressed dress shirt to the shield glinting from his belt and his comfortable, borderline cocky posture. It was his demeanor that was off. Jamie had barely been on the force six months and he could see that immediately, and something in his gut was twisting, warning him that this was wrong, wrong, wrong.
It didn't help, either, that when the detective's eyes met his own, the man looked absolutely taken aback by seeing a uniformed NYPD cop at the door. The man blinked in surprise, and when Jamie caught a glimpse of thinly veiled panic in his eyes, he instinctively braced one arm against the doorframe and filled the gap of space with his own body. He heard Linda moving up behind him, and he used his free arm to motion her away, keeping the gesture hidden behind his back. He heard, rather than saw, her stop abruptly; his eyes never left the man before him, who looked suddenly composed. "Hey," the guy said. "Sorry. You scared me there for a minute."
"I scared you?"
"Didn't expect there to be anybody here with Mrs. Reagan." The guy straightened his suit jacket, his eyes skimming across Jamie and his undecorated shield somewhat skeptically. "High-profile case, you know? We weren't advised she already had a rookie for company."
Jamie stayed right where he was, nodding, hoping his expression came across as friendly. "Right," he said.
The man lifted his eyebrows. "Well? Are you going to let me in, officer?"
Jamie motioned Linda back with his right hand again. "You won't mind if I ask to see some identification?"
A second guy was climbing out of the car that idled at the curb. The one standing in front of Jamie frowned. "The shield isn't good enough for you, Officer...?" His eyes went to Jamie's name plate, and Jamie saw it again. A flash of surprise; a startle.
He narrowed his eyes. "Humor me," he said dryly.
Jamie felt Linda's hand rest lightly against his back. "Jamie?"
And that slight distraction was all they needed.
The man on the porch slammed into Jamie, driving his shoulder into Jamie's chest and knocking him backwards into the house. Linda leapt back with a scream, barely missing getting knocked to the ground herself. Jamie managed to grab hold of the man who'd struck him, locking his arms around the man's shoulders and bringing him down with him. He snatched for the man's right wrist immediately, automatically, and felt the cold metal of a gun clenched in his hand.
His mind blanked out. There was no room for coherent thought, and there certainly was no room for fear. There was only instinct. Instinct, and adrenaline.
But Linda. God, Linda.
He jerked his head to the side, catching her panicked eyes. She was at the foot of the stairs, clutching desperately at the banister. "Linda!" he snapped, locking both of his hands around the man's wrist. "Up! Now!"
She raced for the stairs, and he thanked God she'd had the presence of mind to listen and not bolt for the door. His thoughts were snapped back abruptly to the present when the man above him twisted one wrist free and drove a blinding punch into Jamie's eye. His vision exploded into a firework of colors; he saw swimming stars against blackness, but he fought past the flaring pain and dizziness. He gripped the man's suit coat in his hands and brought up a knee, hard, into the guy's groin. The Danny Reagan special, fighting dirty in close quarters. No qualms about it when your life's on the line, kid. There's no honor in the dirt.
Jamie managed to flip the gasping man off him and struggled to his feet, eyes on the gun, when he caught a fleeting glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. The second guy, the sleazy-looking driver, was barreling up the front steps, and Jamie snatched the front door shut with a crash, turning the deadbolt just as the man thudded into it. Jamie scrabbled for his shoulder radio as he heard the second man slam open hands against the wood from outside. "Central, I need additional units," he said, and spat his call sign and Danny's street address. "I'm at a 10-49 in progress. I need backup, forthwith!"
The lock on the front door exploded inward as a bullet punched through, the sound searing Jamie's ears. He leapt back, snatching his own weapon from his hip, as the door blew open with a second, punishing gunshot. The driver stepped through the door with his gun at the ready, and Jamie met him weapon for weapon. "Drop it and get on the ground!" he snapped, staring the man down over the barrel.
A strong forearm closed across his throat, yanking him off-balance, and Jamie staggered back in surprise as the first man latched onto his back. He was yanked flush against the other man's body as his attacker tried desperately to strip the gun from Jamie's hand.
You'll know what you need to do, College Boy. Was it Danny's voice or Renzulli's, now, echoing inside his head? Instinct takes over, you know? You won't have to think about it like you did before.
Jamie twisted himself loose, driving an elbow into the man's ribs with enough force to crack bone, then ducked as the driver squeezed off another shot that narrowly missed his head.
He spun, moving on pure adrenaline, and punched the first man in the face with the hardest left hook he'd ever thrown in his life. He heard something crack when he connected and had no idea if it was the guy's nose or the bones in his own hand.
Jamie turned just in time to see the driver bolting for the stairs. He brought his weapon to bear. "Stop!"
But the man was still going. Three more steps and he would be out of range.
Jamie fired.
The bullet struck true, biting into muscle and bone in the man's shoulder, and his body snapped against the wall with a vicious ricochet. A gruesome splatter of blood burst against the white paint, and the man dropped with a scream, thrashing on the steps as he reached for the bloody wound.
Jamie lowered his gun, staring first at the man on the stairs, then glancing back at the man unconscious on the ground behind him, his bleeding nose leaving a puddle on the wood. The front door hung askew on its hinges, the wood still smoking from the heat of the the bullets that had torn through it. It looked like a war zone.
"Oh, my God," he muttered. "Danny's gonna kill me."
)()()()()()()()()()(
Linda had never gone up a flight of stairs so fast in her life. She slammed into the small hall bathroom, pausing only to lock the door behind her before climbing into the tub, curling herself into a ball. She could still hear the sounds of a struggle downstairs, and she fumbled in her back pocket, pulling out her cell phone. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely grip it; barely call up the number she knew by heart.
His voice filled her ear. "Babe?"
"Danny," she gasped. She had no idea what to say, but she clutched at the phone and at his voice. Fear squeezed her heart, almost stilling it.
"Linda? What's wrong?"
"Somebody's in the house," she managed.
"What are you talking about?"
"Somebody's in the house," she said again, and jumped when she heard another crash below her. "Danny. He has a gun."
"Where's Jamie?"
"Downstairs. He- he told me to run." She pulled her knees up tight against her chest, pressing the small of her back against the edge of the tub. What would she do if that man came after her next? What would she do if he burst through the door?
Danny's voice had risen a full octave. "Is it Salazar?"
"I don't know-"
"Where are you?" Danny sounded like he was moving very fast, now. "Linda, tell me where you are!"
"Bathroom, upstairs. I locked the door. Danny-" A gunshot, then two, and she screamed, burying her face in her knees.
"Linda!" Danny shouted. He sounded desperate. "Don't hang up the phone. Hang on; we're on the way."
"Danny," she gasped. "I love you."
His voice was choked. "I love you, babe. Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me. We're coming."
Another gunshot shattered the air. It was from downstairs like the others, and she jumped violently, curling up as tightly as she could. Danny's voice was still in her ear. "Linda, it's gonna be okay. Just hang on, babe, please."
And another gunshot. How many, now? She squeezed her eyes shut and slapped her free hand over her mouth, feeling the dampness of tears on her cheeks. She waited for the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs, for a jiggling handle, for a foot to kick in the door.
"Linda? Tell me what's happening."
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, pushing down the panic, and forced herself to listen.
Quiet. It was quiet. She heard nothing.
Danny spoke again, and she heard sirens wailing behind his voice. He was coming, thank God. He was coming for her. "Linda, do you hear Jamie?"
"No," she whispered. "I- I don't hear anything. Should I-?"
"Stay where you are," Danny warned. His voice was raw with fear, pain. "Don't call out, Linda. Stay quiet. Stay where you are."
She did, gripping the lifeline to her husband and shaking against the cold porcelain. Danny's breaths were quick in her ear, and she clung to them.
Jackie spoke, somewhere in the space behind Danny's voice. "Dispatch just received a call - all clear at your address, two suspects in custody."
"Did Jamie call it in?"
"They don't know. It's still on emergency with full response."
Somewhere in the part of her brain that was still processing rational thought, Linda understood that. There had been a case in Pittsburgh a few years ago where drug dealers killed a cop, then used his radio to signal an all-clear before laying a trap for the unsuspecting officers who followed. If Jamie had been overwhelmed...
"Danny," she whispered.
"Stay where you are, babe."
A knock sounded against the bathroom door, and she nearly dropped the phone with a shriek.
"Linda!" Danny shouted.
And then a voice called out to her from the other side of the door, a familiar voice. "Linda?"
"It's Jamie," she gasped. Danny shouted for her again but the phone was already falling from her nerveless fingers, and she scrambled out of the tub, almost slipping on the rug in front of the vanity. It was Jamie. He was all right and she would be, too.
Good sense kicked in just as her hand closed around the doorknob lock. She sank to her knees. "Jamie?"
"Linda," he said again from the other side of the door, panting. "Are you all right?"
"I'm okay. Are you?"
"Yeah. Backup's here. They're both in custody. "
She pressed her forehead against the door, choking back tears. What if one of those men was with Jamie now, standing behind him with a gun to the back of his head, telling him what to say to lure her out? She couldn't know. Could she remember what came next? "Sean... he wants a puppy for his birthday, Jamie."
Jamie sounded breathless, but relieved. "Yeah? You'd better go with a mutt."
Choking on a sob, she twisted the lock and wrenched the door open, falling into her young brother-in-law's arms. Her legs couldn't hold her, and Jamie followed her down to the ground, hugging her tightly to his chest. "Are you all right?" she heard him ask above her.
She kept her face buried in the front of his uniform for just a moment, shuddering in the safety of his grasp, before forcing herself to pull away. She didn't loosen the death grip she had on the material of his shirt. "I'm fine... fine," she managed, but blinked sharply when she looked up and saw the red and violet swelling along his cheekbone and around his eye. "Jamie?"
"Okay," he reassured her.
"Danny," she said aloud, and pulled away from Jamie, crawling back into the bathroom and grabbing her cell phone from the bottom of the tub. "Danny?"
"Linda." His voice broke on the single word.
"It's okay. Jamie's here."
"Tell me you're all right."
"Yeah," she managed, trying to hold back the tears. "Yeah, I am."
Danny let out a long, shuddering breath. "Let me talk to Jamie."
She handed the phone over, then slipped back down at Jamie's side, pulling his free arm around her shoulders and snaking an arm around his back to hold onto him tightly. Jamie squeezed her shoulders briefly before putting the phone to his ear between them. She stared at his bloody knuckles, blurry through her tears. "Hey."
Her husband's voice, desperate. She had never heard him so frightened. "Kid, you okay?"
"Yeah. It was Salazar's guys, Danny. They forced their way into the house."
"How many?"
"Two."
"Are you hurt?"
"Nah, I'm okay."
"You sure?"
"Sure."
"How's Linda?"
"She's fine. We're both good, I promise."
There was a pause, a long one. Linda looked up at Jamie's bruised face, and wasn't surprised to see the faint smile lingering there. "Danny," Jamie said. "It's okay."
"Kid," she heard her husband reply, so soft she had trouble making out the words. "I... I don't know how I'm gonna pay you back for this one."
"Well, actually, we might be even," Jamie hedged. "I shot one of the guys in the shoulder on your staircase. He was trying to get to Linda, and... anyway, you may have a couple months' worth of weekend projects to fix the damage. And your front door's a goner-"
"Jamie."
Jamie didn't reply to his older brother's quiet admonishment, but swallowed hard instead and smiled over at Linda. "Yeah. We're okay."
"And you're doing a pretty good job of filling out that uniform," Linda added. Jamie smiled gratefully at her, and she closed her eyes and rested her head against his strong shoulder, counting the breaths until she was in her husband's arms again.