How Stupid Can I Be? Chapter Two

I don't own Rookie Blue.

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Shot or not, I was a Peck. And that meant, shot or not, you show no weakness.

I've never been a particularly good Peck.

"Fuck," I groaned as I felt myself being tugged back up, out of that hazy, blissfully unconscious state. Nick pressed harder down onto the wounds. I groaned.

"Gail, we have to move. Gail?" He caught my eyes and I nodded. "We have to move behind the squad, okay?" I nodded again. "It's going to hurt."

"Stop fucking talking and just do it already, Collins, or you'll be next," I grunted, already pushing with my good leg to help. He gripped my shoulders and dragged and then we were leaning against the back of our squad. I pressed my hands to my hip and he pushed down onto my leg. I tried not to see the way blood steadily pumped out over my fingers and his. "I hate you so much," I said with hitched breath, letting my head roll back on my neck. Too much red. I looked up at the sky. "This is your fault."

"Sure it is," he agreed easily. "I mean, I might have enjoyed it more if the gun had actually been in my hand and without prints and witness statements you could never prove it," he grinned, eyes tight with worry, "but sure Gail. It's my fault."

Deep breaths. In and out. Ignore the warmth under my hands. "Ambulance?"

"On its way." More gun shots. Nick ducked his head but it sounded like they were smashing against the front of our squad. We were fine for the moment. Nick grabbed his radio. "ETA, Oliver?"

"Three minutes," came Oliver's lovely, worried voice.

"Ambulance?"

"They're another couple of minutes out."

"Okay. We aren't going anywhere." Nick smiled at me. I could practically see his mind racing for some way to distract me. "So," he said and I swear if he mentioned Holly I was going to get out my gun, shoot him, and somehow blame it on the guy who thought it would be a good idea to get on my bad side. "When we get this guy," he said with a nod, "what are you going to do to him?"

I was still ranting about my favourite ideas – torture, mostly, with a little bit of psychological warfare – when the ambulance arrived. They flung open the back doors and scurried over to us, lifting me bodily into the back of the bus.

"We should check for a traumatic head injury," I heard one of the idiots saying over me. He'd probably caught the tail end of my 'what I'd like to do to that asshole' rant.

"Nah," Nick denied, hopping in beside me without letting up the pressure for a moment. "That's just Gail. Let's go."

Everything began to blur a few moments later – sounds, sights, time – and I grabbed Nick's arm. He was already holding onto me but I twisted my hand to grip his sleeve. Those fucking sirens were killing me – oops, no, that would be the bullets actually – with their blaring and I was scared.

"Nick," I gasped through the mask.

"Gail, no, Gail just breathe okay?"

"Nick," I tried again. He leant in, probably realising that I wasn't going to relax. "I'd have been a terrible wife," I laugh/gasped. I stopped laughing immediately because it sent titan waves of pain through my body.

"No. You're going to make an awesome wife with someone Gail." He gripped tight to my hand. "And you're going to be a bitch and they're going to love it."

"Nick," I said then after another moment or maybe it was many moments. I couldn't be sure. "Nick."

"Yeah Gail?"

"Holly."

"I'll tell her. I'll call her as soon as we get there," he said reassuringly. As reassuring as he could be when his hands were covered in my blood and I was terrified and he was terrified, I guess. "Please, just breathe okay?"

"No," I said. This one thought was suddenly clear, the only clear thing in my mind. The rest was fear and flashing colours and sirens that scared me because now it was me inside the box hurtling toward the hospital and I clenched my eyes tight shut against the pain that made me whimper everytime I took in a breath. I clutched at him harder. I was about to go under again. I could feel it. "Don't tell her," I gasped out. "Please, don't tell her, don't tell her Nick. Please don't."

"What? Gail, I have to. You've been shot."

"Really? I couldn't tell. I thought it was just," I paused to grit my teeth and suck in a breath, "indigestion." Jokes aside, I tugged and pulled him closer to me. Eyes open, pleading, I tried again. It was the only thing I wanted. The only thing. Aside from getting these bullets out and not dying. "Please Nick." I think I was crying. Of course I was crying. I'd been shot. I was still trying to wrap my head around that. "Please, Nick, don't tell her."

In the distance, or maybe it was very close by, I could hear another voice. "You have to get her to calm down, officer. She's losing too much blood."

"What do I do?"

"Just talk to her, get her to calm down. Otherwise she'll go into shock soon."

"Okay. Okay." That was Nick again. He had nice eyes. He must've been looking at me because I could see his nice eyes. "Gail," he was back with me. Looking at me. Hand on my hand. "Gail, I won't tell. I promise. I won't tell her, okay? Just breathe. Everything is going to be fine. Come on, partner. You and me. It's you and me today and it's going to be fine."

I think I managed squeeze of the hand. And then "we're almost there, officers," and then just the dark and a loud rushing in my ears.


The first time I woke, it was to a steady mumbling stream of no no no no no no no no and bleeding white walls and the taste of copper in my mouth and panic because were my hands strapped down oh god what was that sound where was it coming from I couldn't see anything why couldn't I see anything were those fucking tap shoes fuck he had me again I can't breathe I can't move fuck no no no no no

"Gail! Gail, calm down. Gail!" That wasn't Perrick. "I can't get her to calm down, help me. Gail, you need to stop! You're going to hurt yourself."

That was Nash. Traci. Traci and Jerry. Jerry. Jerry was gone, dead, dead. My fault. Oh god no. Traci. I bucked and twisted and ignored the fire that blossomed in my leg and side because pain wasn't important right now, right now I had to get to Traci. I had to get her out, away, no no I'm not going to let him hurt her she had to be okay she had a kid she'd lost so much already and me that was fine but I had to get up, get up Peck, get up and fight him. Not Traci no please, not Traci, let her go

"Gail, shh. Relax. Everything is fine." But there was beeping, there was loud beeping, and then hurried footsteps and a wailing I could finally hear 'no please not Traci leave her alone, please don't hurt her, don't hurt her, it's me don't hurt her, don't you dare touch her you sick fuck' and was that me? I think that was me. Good. Go to hell, Perrick.

"You need to leave, detective. We need to sedate her or she's going to ruin all the work we did patching her up." And then a needle in my arm oh god inside of me what is it doing and I was slipping under again and I pulled, pulled away but there was no fighting it I couldn't get away and I just hoped Traci got away even if I was useless.


The second time I woke, it was to that same white ceiling and a heaviness in my head and limbs that meant when I turned to look at whose soft, warm hand was in mine, it was an awkward lolling of my head to the side.

"Hey there," came a quiet voice from my right. "You gave us quite a scare, Peck."

I blinked slowly, trying to get my eyes to focus. "I dreamt he had you," I mumbled around an unhelpful tongue. "You okay? Did he get you?"

Traci smiled. Sad smile? Was that sad? She laughed, why did she laugh? If she laughed then maybe she wasn't hurt. Good.

"I'm fine, Gail. I'm laughing because you are something else. Did you know that? You get shot and the first thing you do when you wake up is ask me how I feel?" She chuckled and shook her head. "Thank God for Pecks."

"We are pretty amazing," I agreed, sleepiness and general ego making the statement matter-of-fact. I licked my lips and then, a moment later, felt the lip of a cup touching my mouth. Traci helped me drink. She didn't say a word as I took a mouthful, waited, swallowed, took another, and repeated until the cup was empty. And then her hand was back in mine and I smiled. "Steve?"

"He's getting coffee."

I nodded. My eyes drooped.

"Hey. Don't you dare go to sleep yet. Your brother wants to make sure you're okay too."

"Shouldn't have left then," I said. I could hear and feel a slur returning to my words. "M' leg hurts. Why does m' leg hurt?"

"You got shot," she said gently.

"Oh." I frowned. "Why does my hip hurt?"

"Because you got shot, Gail."

"Twice?" She nodded a yes. "Oh. Shit. Did you get him?"

"You bet, little sis," came probably my most favourite voice in the world.

"I love you," I said immediately, turning my stiff neck so it lolled to the other side. I smiled. Then I frowned. "Ugh, gross, who said that?"

"You did," he grinned. I pretended I didn't see a little tear. He must've been scared if he was crying. I wondered how bad it had been. "It was bad." Whoops, must've been talking out aloud. "She's on some good stuff, huh?" he said to Traci as he walked over and I hope they never break up because I like their smiles.

"Aww, thanks Gail. That's really sweet of you."

I groggily scowled up at my friend and brother and resolved not to think anything nice about them every again because apparently they'd gained psychic powers at some point and it wasn't fair.

"Go to sleep, Gail," Steve told me. He took my other hand. I nodded.

"Holly," I murmured. "Don't tell."

"Gail"

"Don't want her to worry. Don't want her to have to care." My words were slurring big time and I struggled against the drugs to get them out. I felt like the weight of them was sitting in my lungs and drowning me, suffocating me, and saying them relieved that a little. "Don't tell."

"Gail." Steve brushed my hair out of my eyes. Thank god. That had been annoying me. "She cares."

"Don't tell." Sleep was back now and I knew, even drugged up and exhausted I knew, that they were going to tell her. Traitors.


Third time's the charm. That's how the saying goes, isn't it? Well, this time it was true.

The third time I woke, she was there. She was asleep in the chair next to me and her hand lay limply on the bed. I wanted to be angry. I really did because most of my memories were fuzzy but I distinctly remembered telling everyone not to tell Holly.

But there she was.

I don't know how long I lay there and just looked at her. Probably a creepily long time. But I liked it because she was there and no matter how much I protested it, there was nothing I wanted more than Holly by my side. But I couldn't ask that of her because she wasn't mine and that wasn't fair to her and it was selfish of me and what was I supposed to do now?

She looked tired, I decided. And uncomfortable. And there was a little crease in her forehead that suggested a bad sleep. Hospitals should really invest in better chairs.

I thought for a moment about touching her hand or saying hello and waking her up but I couldn't. She looked so tired. And I wasn't sure that she had even meant to stay with me long enough to fall asleep. Most likely she hadn't – she had probably popped in to make sure I wasn't dead. Right? She is nice like that. But she's got someone else now so she had probably accidentally fallen asleep. So, instead of reaching out like I wanted to, I cautiously brought my hands up and away, onto my stomach. Mistake. That was a mistake. That hurt. The drugs made my hands feel I let them lie, then, by my side because my hip was aching unpleasantly and I just watched my hands to make sure they weren't too close to hers, that I wasn't bothering her.

A nurse came by at some point and I raised my hand to get her attention. "Could I get a pillow for her?" I asked quietly so Holly wouldn't wake up. The nurse looked about to disagree so I gave her a sweet smile. "I'm sure the officer would appreciate it." The woman's eyes moved to my badge on the table next to me and nodded. She tucked a pillow behind Holly's head and I hoped that would help.

I drifted off slowly this time, slipping beneath the darkness rather than being yanked underneath. My hand crept a tiny bit closer to Holly's but even delirious and almost unconscious as I was, I didn't let it touch.


"Oh come off it, Gail, it's not our fault. We didn't tell her." Steve and Traci were standing at the end of my bed, almost identical crossed arms and stubborn frowns. "She's not exactly stupid," Traci pointed out.

"She's a doctor. Definitely not stupid."

"Officers under fire and officer down were all over the radio when it happened – of course she was going to hear about it. And all of your friends were missing from the station when she came by."

"Plus, she's nice so she's friends with a lot of people. Of course she was going to come by and see who it was." Steve shook his head slowly. "You should have seen it, Gail. She walked into that waiting room and we were all sitting there quietly freaking out because you'd been in surgery for ages by then. Half of fifteen was there."

"Everyone stood up when she came in."

"There were a few guilty looks."

"Just a few," Traci agreed. Then she sighed. "We all know what she means to you and I guess when she saw us doing that and she couldn't see you, I guess she just knew then. She's strong though. And scary. She found Oliver and demanded he tell her everything."

"You should've heard her, little sis. Why hadn't she been told straight away? Eight goddamn hours and she was only finding out now? Let me into that room right now. She wasn't happy when she found out that you told Nick and me and Trace not to say anything. She was really not happy."

I frowned at the ceiling. It was taking too much energy to tilt my head up that little bit to glare at my friend and brother. "Is she still here?"

"Probably. Somewhere. She saw you were waking up and she came and got me."

"She left me?" I asked and I cringed a little at how little my voice was and how obviously upset. Damn those drugs.

"You didn't want her here to start with," Steve reminded me.

I laughed at that, immediately regretting it when it sent shockwaves of pain through my abdomen. "Always want her here," I mumbled through pain-stiff lips. "Always."

"Then why'd you tell us to leave her out? That wasn't a great thing to do." Traci frowned slowly, carefully, as if sympathetic and ready to listen. It was her 'I'm here for you' mom look. "Are you angry with her because you guys broke up?"

"No." I wasn't. I really wasn't. I totally understood that – me an asshole, her awesome. We didn't go together. Steve's phone rang and he held it up apologetically. I waved him away. Then it was just me and Traci and I sighed very carefully, trying not to move my abdomen. "I just didn't want her to be upset. She shouldn't have to be here, be near me, just because I was stupid enough to get shot."

"Someone attacked you. That's not you being stupid. And she's your friend, of course she's going to want to know that you're okay when you're hurt."

"She's the most wonderful person, Trace," I said. I blinked up at the ceiling. The moisture that leaked from my eyes – just a tiny bit – were because my eyes were reacting weirdly to the drugs. Maybe I was allergic. They weren't tears.

"I know. You've told me that."

"Oh. I'm not."

"Gail-"

"I'm not. I'm mean and cold and stupid and scared. She can't be here."

"Do you want me to get her to leave?"

"No. No, I have to do that bit right. I'll thank her and tell her it's okay to leave. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You should know then that I think you're being stupid. She loves you. But fine. Figure it out, Peck."

"Traci?"

"Yeah Gail?"

"You're one of my best friends. You know that?"

"Yes Gail," she said, smirking. "But you usually don't say nice things like that so you must be on some really nice drugs, huh?"

"The best."

"Okay. I'll find her. Sit tight."

"Yes ma'am." And then, when Traci was almost out of the room, a thought occurred to me and I called out to her, panicked. "Traci! How do I sit tight?"

She sighed. "Just stay there, okay? And try not to move. You'll hurt yourself."

"Oh. Okay."

Some time later – a few minutes? Longer? – I was staring at the blank ceiling, feeling oddly content with that view even though I knew I should be bored out of my mind.

Then she said "Hey" and I tensed at the unexpected intrusion and groaned. I tried to cover my wince but I obviously didn't do a good job of it because Holly was by my side in a second, hands hovering by my side carefully but not touching.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I should have knocked or something. Do you need a doctor? Should I call the nurse? Do you think you popped your stiches? How bad does it feel, one to ten? Is it bleeding? Did you feel a pull at all in the area?" I let her ramble, just smiling.

"I'm fine," I said when she took a breath. "Plus, you're a doctor aren't you? You could totally deal with it if something went wrong."

"I work on dead people. It's not the same thing." She took a step back. Those hands that had just been fluttering over and around me, worried, cautious, tucked themselves into her pockets.

"Meh. A doctor is a doctor." I shrugged and then winced/sighed because that was a stupid thing to do when even breathing was painful. "I'm okay, you know," I offered quietly. "Really. I'm all patched up and it barely hurts and I'll be back on the streets in no time."

She laughed. But her eyes were sad. "That's not reassuring, Gail. You got shot on the streets, remember?"

"Right. Well, anyway, my point is thank you for, ah, coming to check on me but I'm fine."

"Oh." Her eyes widened a little and curse these drugs because I couldn't decipher her expression or her tone when she said, "You want me to go". Was it a question? A statement? How the hell was I supposed to answer her?

Yes? That would be a lie but it would give her an out so maybe that was the right thing to do.

No? That would be selfish and I didn't want to put her on the spot, knowing that I wanted her, wanted her to stay, and her having to and wanting to leave.

So I picked a slightly painful middle ground. I shrugged again, not letting any pain show on my face – that showed her that I being casual and grownup about everything and also that I was physically fine, that it was practically painless. "I don't mind," I said. It might be the cowards' way out, making her choose. But I certainly couldn't make that decision even though I knew I should make her leave. So I just looked down at my blankets and plucked at them as if they were the most interesting things I had ever seen. Or at the very least, as if they were more interesting than Holly.

She settled into the chair again. I tried not to be too happy about it. That failed. I at least tried not to show it. "Your brother is getting coffee," she said. "And I think he's sneaking you in some pudding."

"You're staying until he gets back then?" I said, super casual tone activated. "You don't have to."

"I will, it's okay."

"Okay."

"Okay then."

We sat in silence, me never looking up from the blankets and trying not to breathe too loudly in case it made her leave, and Holly doing whatever it is that Holly did. Steve stepped into the room and cleared his throat, clearly awkward.

"Hey."

"Hey," I answered him.

Holly just nodded as she grabbed her bag and sped out of my room. Steve barely stepped aside in time. Her shoulder still brushed against him as she practically ran away.

"You're pouting," he told me, sitting down.

"You could have walked slower, you know."

"Well sorry," he said with a huff. "How was I supposed to know that your Holly was here and that she would leave the second I got in?"

I turned to look wistfully out the doorway. "That was probably the last time I ever see Holly and now she's gone." I grabbed one of the pudding cups that he offered. I ate it with melancholic slurps. "My life sucks. I got shot and Holly's gone forever."

"I doubt it. She'll be back."

"No she won't."

"Yes she will."

"No she won't."

"Yes she will."

"No she won't." When he opened his mouth to respond again, I groaned. "I'm on drugs, Steve, and I'm so bored that I really will say no she won't seven million billion times just to beat you. Just shut up."

"Okay." He sipped his coffee. "Yes she will," he whispered very quietly. I pretended I didn't hear him but left it hanging out there because hey, maybe it would bring me some good luck and she actually would come back, just because my brother told me she would. I could always hope.

"So tell me more about my most recent battle wounds. What happened?"

Steve's face fell into seriousness and he ran his hand through his hair. "What do you remember?"

"Umm…stepping out of the car. Two shots. Then Nick dragged me around the back of the car and," I frowned. "Nothing. That's it." Not quite. There was a hazy memory of yelling and sirens and a jolting ride on a gurney through white halls.

"Okay. Well, turns out some guy had holed himself up in the warehouse you went to check out. Made it into some kind of lair."

"Creepy." I shifted in my bed and held my breath, not wanting to gasp or groan or do anything that meant Steve would be hovering like a worried older brother for a good ten minutes. Successful, I glowered at the ceiling. "And he shot me?"

"Yeah."

"Surgery?"

"Ten hours. You crashed twice."

"Okay." I looked down at the crisp white bandages. "How bad?"

"The one to your leg was a through and through. Not too bad. The second one they're watching to make sure it doesn't go septic. It was pretty deep in your bone so it's going to be painful. You'll need some PT."

"Joy. I'm so looking forward to it."

Steve just smiled at my sarcasm. "You'll also need someone to look after you," he said.

"Not Mom. Please, anyone but Mom."

His grin, when it finished its slow spread across his lips, was pure evil. "I thought you might say that." He pressed a button on his phone. "Because Traci and I had an idea."

There you go. Sorry for any mistakes, I am very tired. You guys have been amazing. Please continue to let me know what you thought. Happy reading, readers :)