A/N: Wow. That was quite the season finale! I won't mention any spoilers, just in case you haven't seen it yet, but at the moment I'm not planning to go in that direction with this story. I just hope everything gets resolved next season! :(
So here's some kind of a resolution to hold you over until then. And keep the reviews coming! You guys always have the best things to say! Thank you for that. :)
Holy shit.
That was the first thought to pop into Reagan's head. She'd watched the car hit Street almost as if it was in slow motion, and yet, it had happened so fast. He was there beside them, joking about Luca and tacos, and then he was on the ground.
Shots rang out next to her, the sound deafening so close to her ear. She watched Hondo empty his magazine into the back tires of the evasive car. Successful in his attempt, both tires blew out, causing the car to crash into a dumpster at the end of the alleyway. Immediately, the driver's door flew open and their last suspect began to run.
"30-David in pursuit of suspect fleeing on foot. Requesting back up!" Hondo yelled as he took off after the runner.
"Cas, call it in!" Luca said through the ringing in her ears, as he pointed at Street and got up to sprint after Hondo.
"What the hell's going on?" Deacon demanded, obviously concerned about the sudden uproar of activity.
Reagan scurried across the pavement and crouched over Street. Blood. There was so much blood. And he still wasn't moving. Fear lodged in her throat as she ripped off her gloves and pressed two shaking fingers to his neck. His pulse was steady, thank God. She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice as she pressed the button on her vest.
"25-David to command: we have an officer down. Repeat officer down. Code 480. Requesting a bus at..." She rambled off their location and then let off the button. She spoke once more, this time for her team. "26-David is down. He was hit by a car. He's breathing, but unconscious. I need immediate assistance."
Deacon's voice came through and she had never welcomed it more. "We're on our way."
Reagan wanted to take off Street's helmet and vest, but knew he could have a spinal injury, so it was best not to move him. She opted instead to see if she could get him conscious.
"Street. Hey, Jim. Can you hear me? Open your eyes," she said firmly, cradling his cheeks in her hands. "Come on, Jim. Look at me." Warm blood coated her hands, leaving streaky fingerprints on his face. The sharp smell of copper hung in the air. "Jim, please..."
Deacon arrived then, putting his hand on her shoulder as he got down next to them. Chris came around on the other side, her expression grim.
"His pulse is steady, but he hasn't opened his eyes yet," Reagan said, not tearing her gaze away from Street.
"The bus is two minutes out," Deacon said, referring to the ambulance. "Tell me what happened."
Reagan swallowed hard, but the ball of fear stayed put. "We had just walked out, and we didn't drop our guard, I swear... The car was on us before we even knew what to do. We jumped out of the way, but Street..." Tears distorted her vision, but she wouldn't let them fall—she wouldn't show her team how truly scared she was. That didn't stop one from escaping, though, which she quickly swiped away. "He didn't have a chance..."
"It's okay, Cas. You guys did everything you could have done," he said.
She shook her head. "I should've done more. I could've pushed him out of the way, or—"
"Stop," Deacon said, "you did all you could do. Don't beat yourself up over this. If there had been more time, I'm sure you would have done things differently."
She glanced at him, seeing but not hearing. He frowned and reached across the space between them. His left hand moved to her cheek, while his opposite gloved hand rubbed at a spot under her eye. Her heart leapt at his close proximity, but realized he was only doing it to remove a streak of Street's blood from her face. That was all, and then he pulled away.
A minute later, the ambulance howled toward them. Two paramedics exited, retrieved a gurney from the back and hurried over.
"Sergeant Kay, your team called in a hit and run?" one of them asked Deacon.
He nodded. As they got to work checking the injured man's vitals, he said, "Officer James Street. 30 years old. Blood type is A-. No known health issues."
"Thanks, Sergeant. We're going to need you to ride with us, in case we have questions about what happened."
Deacon shook his head. "I didn't see it happen, but Officer Cassidy did. She should go with you. I need to hang back and assist my other officers. Our suspect is still on the loose." When the paramedics agreed, he glanced at Reagan, his brown eyes soft with concern. "You good to go with them?"
"I'll be fine. Just get the bastard who did this."
"Consider it done," Chris said, her hard tone proving how serious she was.
Deacon squeezed Reagan's shoulder as they stepped back from the scene. "We'll meet you at the hospital in a bit, okay?"
"Sounds good," she murmured, on auto-pilot now.
"And take care of our boy," Chris added, before following Deacon out of the alleyway.
"You got it," Reagan called after her.
Once the paramedics had loaded Street into the back of the ambulance, Reagan climbed in after them. They started the swift trip to the hospital, asking her questions about the car's speed and impact location in order to figure out possible injuries.
"Definitely looks like a concussion and a broken nose, but it's too soon to say if there's anything internal," one of them said.
Reagan's stomach twisted at the thought. She rubbed her hands together and watched them prepare Street for his arrival at the hospital. She itched to hold his hand and assure him that everything would be okay—even if he couldn't see her, maybe he could hear her.
When they pulled up to the emergency room, Reagan opened the back door and allowed the paramedics to wheel Street inside. She stayed close until a nurse put a hand out to stop her.
"I'm sorry, Officer, you can't go past this point. We'll take him from here. I promise we'll let you know something soon," the woman said.
Reagan wanted to argue, but knew it would be futile. "Okay…thanks."
She waited for the gurney to disappear and then lifted her hands to rub them over her face, but stopped when she saw how red they were. She found the closest bathroom and scrubbed for a good five minutes, watching crimson swirl around the drain until it turned clear. She removed her helmet and quickly brushed back the sweaty locks of hair on her forehead. She splashed cool water on her face and then patted it dry with a paper towel.
After finding her way to the waiting room, she plopped down in a vacant chair and cradled her weary head in her hands.
Deacon, along with his remaining team members, observed the back of their suspect as he was loaded into an awaiting cruiser. Once it had driven away and out of sight, they piled into Black Betty. Silence enveloped the truck. There was none of the usual joking or snarky comments. They simply retreated to their own thoughts until Luca parked outside of the hospital.
Being team leader, Deacon took point, which probably seemed normal to his colleagues, but deep down he knew he needed to be the first to see Reagan. They had been busy taking down the asshole who'd hurt Street, but she had been stuck here, left to wallow alone. Seeing her covered in blood earlier, she'd looked so fragile; a reminder that underneath her tough exterior, she was a caring and vulnerable person. He hated that she blamed herself for what happened. It was natural for a cop to do that after an incident, even when they had no control over the outcome. He'd asked the others about it—they really couldn't have done anything differently, beyond having eyes in the back of their head.
Deacon zeroed in on Reagan, her hunched form appearing even more defeated than he'd imagined. Her eyes were closed, but her head snapped up when Luca stepped past them and opened his arms to give her a hug.
Reagan stood and allowed herself to be swallowed by Luca's embrace. She returned it and then stepped back, regarding the rest of the group with tired eyes.
As Chris moved forward to hug her next, Hondo asked, "Have you heard anything?"
"They know he's got a concussion, and obviously a ton of bruises, but he didn't appear to have any internal bleeding or broken bones, besides a couple ribs and a busted nose. He's conscious now, so we'll be able to go in soon... We got lucky."
"And we got the guy," Chris said after everyone expressed their relief.
"Good," Reagan said as she accepted a hug from Hondo. "Thanks, guys."
Deacon hesitated, unsure if she would want to hug him after the way he'd left things this morning. The note said he still wanted to be friends. She'd hugged everyone else and they were just friends. The problem was he didn't trust himself around her. He could swear her off all he wanted, but the moment he got around her, she drew him in like a fly to honey.
But now everyone was staring at them, and probably wondering why he hadn't hugged her yet. Deacon bit the bullet and reached for her, allowing his arms to hold her tightly. Reagan's hands clutched the back of his vest as her hair brushed against his face. He smelled her shampoo and was instantly transported to the night before. He pictured her naked body straining for a climax as he pounded into her, the scent of her shampoo and sex filling his nostrils.
He quickly stepped away from her and tried to hide the image in his mind's eye, but knew that she was picturing it too. The red in her cheeks gave her away and she refused to meet his dark gaze.
Luckily, the doctor chose that moment to interrupt. "Officer Street is awake, but he needs to rest. You can all come in for few minutes, but that's it."
They seized the opportunity. With Luca leading the pack, they strode down the corridor, a force to be reckoned with, and yet, it hadn't helped Street escape his current predicament. They were only human, not superheroes.
"Heeey," the team said collectively as they entered the sterile hospital room.
Street smiled back weakly, his eyes hooded. He put out a hand to do his traditional 'bro' handshake with Luca. The latter grinned, and said, "Dude, I got scared for a minute there. I think you've got more blood in that big head of yours than brains."
Everyone scoffed, while Chris said, "Luca, that's just gross."
Street laughed, but followed it with a wince. "Ugh, don't make me laugh."
"Sorry, man."
Deacon took a step closer. "Seriously, though, we're really glad you're okay. You'll be happy to know we got the guy."
Street's expression sobered. "Thanks. That does help."
A few minutes later, the doctor from earlier peeked her head into the room and said, "Time to wrap it up. One person is welcome to stay, but he needs his rest now."
Luca tried to volunteer, but Hondo chuckled, saying, "He'll never get any rest if you stay. My vote's for Cassie…" He looked at Street. "She called it in, stayed with you the whole time."
Deacon's gut clenched at the thought of Reagan and Street alone together, but knew he was being irrational. She had helped a fellow officer in need and deserved this moment more than anyone else. Besides, they were in a hospital—not a bar.
"I suppose I can put up with you a little while longer," Reagan said with a teasing smile, which Street returned.
When the rest of the team cleared out, Reagan sat in the chair by Street's bed. She reached out and took his hand within her own, noticing the blood caked under her fingernails that she'd been unable to remove. She looked back up at his face, where a bandage covered the bridge of his nose and deep purple branched out under his eyes.
"We're even now," Street mumbled suddenly.
"What? How so?" she asked, holding back a chuckle.
"I got you out of Taco Tuesday."
This time she laughed. "I think I would have preferred that over this." Her features smoothed out as she became serious once more. "I'm so sorry—"
"Ah stop it."
"No, Jim, I heard it coming and didn't do anything to protect you."
"Enough of that. I'm glad it's me in this bed and not you."
Reagan frowned at him.
"Stop looking at me like that. You're gonna get wrinkles on that pretty face."
She shook her head, attempting to hide a flattered smirk. Even though he looked exhausted, his eyes still held their usual sparkling charm. She gave his hand a squeeze and said, "All right, I'll stop talking now. I'm not supposed to be distracting you from your rest."
"You can distract me all you want," Street said, even as he closed his eyes.
Apparently, he needed it though, because he was out within seconds.