Story: A Shot to the Head and Memory Lane

Author: RoboTitaness

Words: 524

Status: Complete

Summary: Sebastian's point of view when Tommy was shot in The Team Part 1 (Penultimate episode in season 2)

"Tommy's shot."

You whip your head around to the remark, eyes widening in horror. It can't be true, you think. Tommy, bare-fist fighting, protective, Irish Tommy? He was shot by a sniper?

It wasn't that you were too shocked that someone got hurt. You're a police officer. It's in the job description. You've been shot at, shot at others, watched people bleed, bled yourself. Injuries were nothing new.

But Tommy was shot at his head and you don't know how bad it is; if it merely grazed him and Arabella was just worrying about the amount of blood or whether the shot went through his skull and he's already –

Hickman breaks, and you slam forward. You hadn't realized how fast the car was going. You jump out of the car, not noticing when you leave your computer behind. Louis and Hickman were right behind you, talking quickly, their French and American accents mixing together in your mind. Your face is set towards Arabella, who was arguing with a medic. She seemed to slump a little when you reach them.

"Arabella, what happened?" Louis demanded. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no, major. I'm fine. It was Tommy – there was a sniper in the jewelry store. Tommy had just ended his call, neither of noticed. There was a shot and then Tommy –" she broke off, and you stare, swallowing reflexively. Louis says something and Hickman and Arabella continue to talk, but you're looking as the medics load up a gurney into the ambulance. The still, silent body. You find it hard to believe that the sharp shooter was on that gurney.

"One of us should go in the ambulance with him," Hickman's voice floats back to you. Arabella volunteers but just as quickly is denied by Louis.

"I'll go," you announce, turning back to the rest of your team. Hickman looks at you before nodding.

"Okay, Sebastian will go in the ambulance and we'll follow in the car. Let's go." You climb on, and the medics close the doors behind you. You can hear the sirens and the cars and the machines inside the ambulance, but you focus on Tommy who was laying still on the cot in front of you.

Scheisse Tommy.

As you stare at his slack face, memories flash.

"Low tech, but effective."

"I'm going to go where people know how to be quiet."

"But when the Irish are rude, we do it with a little twinkle in the eye."

"Yeah, like leprechauns."

"That's still not funny, man."

"Can I give them his number?"

"Aye, and I'll give them yours."

"Where'd you get my number from?"

"You really don't want to know, man."

"Why should he do anything for the ICC?"

"Because it's his job."

"Do you not know what's going on here, man?"

"I know that he's being investigated, yeah."

"They're trying to screw him is what they're doing."

"That's a gun! I'm going in."

"Sebastian! Sebastian! Sebastian!"

"You got him, mate. You got him."

"He's done. He's done."

"Are you okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. We got them. You did great, man. It's over now."

When you hear that he was only grazed, you sigh relieved. You look at his prone form and laugh quietly. The luck of Irish indeed. A damn leprechaun.