"Police! Stop!"

Adam Ruzek was running after the suspect to their current murder case, making himself known to the guy multiple times. Starting as a witness, having his alibi repealed, becoming a suspect in the process, the dead girl's junkie boyfriend figured that the only way out was through running for his life and finding a spot to hide. He had underestimated the fitness of the officer behind him, though, and slowly his legs started to betray him.

"I said, stop!", Ruzek called again, but the other man didn't stop, but turned a corner.

Adam did the same, running into an alley which held about a dozen big dumpsters on each side. The alarm bells in his head began to ring and he drew his firearm. The young officer cautiously started to make his way through the alley, his index finger on the trigger, ready to shoot when it was neccessary.

With each step he tool he neared the first dumpster and his heart started beating fast, the adrenaline shooting through his body. If he wasn't careful enough, he was an easy target.

"Ruzek, what's your 20?", his radio crackled and his hand shot there immediately.

Voight.

Great, the other guy must've definitely heard it and knew that Adam on his trail.

"North, two blocks away in an alley in pursuit of the suspect. Requesting radio-silence."

"Copy that. On our way."

Adam turned his radio off and continued on his way through the alley. He stopped close to the dumpster next to him, breathed in heavily twice before turning quickly to see what was behind the dumpster, his gun leading the way. Nothing. He huffed and continued to the next dumpster, mirorring his previous moves. Again, nothing. Only about 10 more to go.

Just then he heard a gunshot, that missed him by several feet. Adam took cover behind the dumpster closest to him and waited for another shot. When it didn't come, he peeked his head up, only to fall back down again when another bullet hit the top of his hiding spot. This time the impact was just inches away.

"Chicago Police! Drop the gun!", Ruzek called out.

He knew it wouldn't help any, but procedure was procedure and he would be damned if this guy would get free because Ruzek alledgedly forgot to identify himself as CPD.

The only answer he got was another shot, hitting way too close. He instinctively touched his kevlar vest and felt a little more safe. Of course, he remembered that he had put it on prior to the raid, but feeling it underneath his fingers once again gave him a certain feeling of reassurance and safety. He would get out of this. Alive.

Then his mind drifted briefly. He thought of Burgess, how she'd wait for him at the precinct and how she'd give him a lecture about pulling a stunt again and wanting to get the job done by himself instead of waiting for back-up. After all, she was an officer herself and she knew the drill. And she knew the team. The team that would never let him do anything stupid by himself.

A bullet fired from the suspect brought him back into reality.

"Alright, alright, you got my attention", Adam mumbled and tightened the grip on his gun.

Judging by the amount of bullets that had been fired by the other guy, there shouldn't be many left in the magazine. But the guy was a junkie with ties to guys with enough guns and ammo. Who knew what he was packing. Ruzek just hoped that his opponent's luck would run out. Soon.

Turning away from the dumpster and taking a step into the open, Adam fired two bullets from his own gun and went back into the safety of his hiding spot. There were two more shots and then nothing. The other guy must've used up his entire magazine.

Ruzek smiled and saw himself bringing the guy in hand cuffs to the rest of his team, but before he knew it, he heard steps right next to him and a gun pressed to his temple.

"Drop the gun." Adam did as he was told.

"Now get up", the junkie demanded.

As ordered, the young officer got up from his kneeling position and looked at him. The glassy eyes and the red circles under his eyes told Ruzek that it had been quite some time since he got his last fix. Still, his aim was pretty good and his hands weren't shaking at all. His lips twitched on the right side, though, and, oh my god, what was that smell? But Ruzek wouldn't be Ruzek and a part of the Intelligence unit if he couldn't handle a junkie – in the early stages of withdrawal, he added in his head.

"You don't know what you're doin', man", Ruzek said in a lazy drawl.

"Shut up, asshole!"

The officer whinced. That wasn't a good choice of words right there. It only made him punch the other guy in the face even more.

"What did you just say?"

He took a step forward, which made the junkie even more nervous, causing him to take two steps backwards and lowering the gun at Adam's chest.

"I said, shut the fuck up, asshole!"

Now his hands were shaking. Ruzek was trained for situations like these. Taking this junkie's gun while he was in withdrawal should be a piece of cake. Like taking candy from a five year old. Another step forward, a single jump towards the other man, his right arm pushing down the hand that held the gun, taking it into his grip, disarming him, pinning him to the ground, getting him booked and – boom – case closed. Easy, right?

But now his hands were shaking like leaves in the wind and Adam couldn't stop thinking about how trigger-happy his fingers seemed, uncontrollably trigger-happy. If he was going to do something about it, he should do it fast. He couldn't wait for the rest of the team to arrive.

"Aw man, put that down, will ya?", Ruzek said and tilted his head to the side.

For one split second, the suspect seemed confused in what the other man wanted from him, a fragment of a second in which he was unfocused, giving the officer the chance to jump him. And that he did, just like he had planned it out in his head. But it didn't quite go as planned, because the junkie fought back with all his strength, making it impossible for Adam to disarm him.

Then there was a shot. The air was taken out of Ruzek's lungs by a massive blow. His body was hitting the ground. Pain was shooting up from his chest, stretching out into his arms, legs and his head. His sight was turning blurry and then into complete blackness. Then another shot rang in his ears and he waited for the pain and – as much as it was a cliché – the light at the end of the tunnel. He waited for his death.

Seconds passed and none of it happened, instead, he saw the dead body of the junkie lying on the ground next to him when he opened his eyes. Adam still wasn't able to breathe and coughed.

"It's alright, buddy", he heard Alvin say, "we gotcha."

Ruzek could feel someone ripping off his vest and checking for injuries.

"You're good, Adam. There's no wound."

It still hurt like hell. And having the vest off his chest only helped in small portions. Slowly, he could feel the ability to breathe coming back, but every breath still hurt like someone was stabbing him with a knife.

"Let me help you sit up."

Coughing again, he felt way better and his sight wasn't too blurry anymore.

Looking at the former suspect - former everything to be exact -, he frowned. "Is he...?"

"Yeah..."

"What happened?", the raspy voice of Hank Voight got to his ears. Coughing in between words, he answered,

"I...I tried...tried to arrest him...didn't work out well."

"No kidding", the older man answered, "you should've waited for us."

"Sorry", Ruzek said and it was the only thing he could think of right now.

"We're gonna talk at the precinct. Get yourself checked out at a hospital. Olinsky, take him there and see that he gets seen to as soon as possible. We'll meet back at the office."

Said officer extended out a hand to help his younger colleague up. As soon as he was standing, Alvin slapped him on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being so stupid."

"I just got shot!"

"Don't act like a little girl, Ruzek. Let's go. I bet Burgess wants to kick your ass for your behaviour."

Damnit, he totally forgot about that. Not about her, he never would. Just that she would be utterly mad at him for this. She'd make his life a living hell. Now he wished that bullet would've graced his arm or went into his leg, some minor injury, that would give him only minor pain, but the compassion from his colleagues. And maybe a medal.