Chapter 12: Three Bullets

Maggie froze, her thoughts lost in a whirlwind of confusion and terror. Mark Bearer kept one callused hand firmly clamped on her mouth and leaned over her, using his forearm to hold her shoulders down. His grin was wicked and desperate. The pressure of his weight on her upper body amplified the burning pain in her chest, and for a moment the sickening sensation of helplessness washed over her… but just for a moment.

She was not a child any longer, and she'd be damned before she let anyone make her feel that way again. Terror overtaken by fury, she steeled her nerves and forced her pain the back of her mind. In her current state, she was going to have to be very smart. With all the strength she could muster she brought her knee up, hard, and managed to hit him solidly in the ribs. It was not enough to do damage, but it did take him by surprise and he loosened his grip. Taking advantage of that, she sunk her teeth fiercely down into his hand. The taste of blood filled her mouth.

Immediately he yanked his hand back and cursed, and she took the opportunity to scream as loudly as she could. The effort of using her lungs like that made her vision darken for an instant, but she pushed through the pain. Powered solely by adrenaline, she pulled one of her arms free and hit him as hard as she could in the face, sending him staggering back a step. Dimly she registered that the action had yanked the IV needle from her arm, which immediately began spurting blood.

Unfortunately her wild strike barely fazed him. He laughed, putting his bleeding hand to his face and regarding her with contempt. Knowing she had precious little time before the pain overwhelmed her and she could no longer fight back she scrambled backward on the bed and kicked out at him to try and create some more distance. In an action so fast it was almost a blur he caught her leg and grinned. He yanked her by her ankle out of the bed and she tumbled to the floor. The back of her head bounced off the linoleum and she saw stars, her muscles going instantly limp.

Her vision was foggy and so she felt, rather than saw, as he lifted her easily from the floor and held her in front of him, her back pressed firmly against him as he wrapped his arm around and tucked it under her chin. The other arm reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he pressed firmly against her temple. He was so much taller than her that his hold left her standing on her tip toes. Just like that, the fight was over. She became aware of the warmth of fresh blood soaking her bandages and she knew that her stitches had torn.

"Nice try, Detective. I appreciate the struggle." He spoke lowly into her ear, his stubble scraping against her cheek. "I knew you'd make this fun." She shivered as he stuck his tongue out and licked her jawline.

Suddenly the door to the room opened and a nurse stepped inside. Her expression changed rapidly from concern to horror when she saw what was going on. She made a tiny whimper of shock as Mark raised his gun and aimed it at her. He tightened his hold on Maggie, compressing her windpipe just enough to keep her immobile.

Terrified, the nurse froze in place as the door swung softly shut behind her.

"I'm going to need you to be very fucking quiet and sit your ass in the corner, now." Mark hissed. Tears were falling freely down the nurse's face as she rapidly obeyed. "Good. Anybody else coming to investigate? And tell me the truth, because if one more nurse pokes her head in through that door I'm going to shoot you in the fucking face."

The nurse whimpered again and shook her head fervently from side to side.

Mark nodded, appearing to accept her answer. He left his gun trained on the nurse but turned his face back to Maggie, "This is what your scream bought you, bitch. If I have to kill Nurse Nosey over there it will be all your fault."

The nurse began sobbing raggedly, but quietened up at a swift glare from Mark.

"Now," he spoke again to the nurse, his voice casual, "here's what's going to happen. In a few minutes Detective Ambrose is going to walk through that door, and if you've been nice and quiet I'm going to let you go."

She nodded, her eyes wide with hope.

Maggie groaned as pain throbbed in her head and her chest. Her right arm hung uselessly at her side, dripping blood from the crook of her elbow where the IV had been torn out. She raised her left hand to pull feebly at his arm, trying to create a little more room to breathe. He chuckled at her before turning back to the nurse. "I've got a job for you, honey. Since my hands are rather occupied at the moment-" he waved the gun menacingly, "-I need you to pull the roll of duct tape from my coat pocket."

Slowly she rose, her legs wobbling underneath her as she hesitantly stepped forward. As she reached for his coat pocket her tears began pouring with renewed vigor. It seemed to take forever before she withdrew her shaking hand, clutching the roll of duct tape he had requested. All the while he kept his gun pointed between her eyes.

"Very good," his voice was low and seductive, his lips stretched into a manic smile, "If you wouldn't mind wrapping some around her arm, I don't particularly want my prey to bleed out before I get to enjoy our time together."

The nurse let out another hoarse sob but she did as he asked, wrapping the duct tape several times around Maggie's gory elbow.

"Again," Mark spoke, "This time wrap it around her pretty mouth." He tightened his hold, constricting her windpipe completely for a few moments when she attempted to struggle. The nurse's eyes were full of fright and sympathy as she complied, wrapping tape completely around Maggie's head, over her mouth and around the back of her hair. "Much better." He said with satisfaction. Then he gestured with his gun for the nurse to return to her corner. She dropped the duct tape and scurried backward, shrinking fearfully against the wall.

Maggie was dizzy from blood loss, but she fought to remain alert. If she could just gather her strength again… Her stomach twisted painfully at the thought that Dean was going to walk right into a trap. If Mark got his way, none of them would be walking out of this room. Somehow, she had to stop that from happening.

Suddenly the gun was pressed against her temple again and the arm that had been clenched around her throat was withdrawn. Maggie shivered, her skin crawling with revulsion as Mark's hand first stroked almost tenderly across her neck, then tightened into a chokehold. His thumb dug painfully into her windpipe, bruising the flesh that was still sore from surgery. She was close to losing consciousness when he finally relaxed his grip. Hungrily she gulped in air, trying not to focus on the pain in her lungs. It was beginning to hurt less, and she wondered if she was going into shock from blood loss.

Oh so slowly he moved his hand again, brushing it over her collarbones before dipping down inside her hospital gown to fondle her chest. She froze and couldn't help but whimper, her mind racing to think of a way out of this situation. If only she were taller, she would smash her skull into his nose. If only she were faster, she would attempt to disarm him. But standing here, bloodied and weak with a gun held against her head, she was nearly worthless. A tear of frustration slipped slowly down her face.

There was only one thing she could think of to do. It might result in her immediate death, but perhaps the sacrifice would at least save Dean. She would have to take her captor by surprise and make a run for it. Undoubtedly he would shoot her before she could reach the door, but the gunshot would immediately alarm everyone outside and the police would be called. If she was very lucky, perhaps she would survive the bullet. She was in a hospital, after all.

Maggie took a deep breath through her nose, pain blooming in her lungs. The room was spinning but it didn't matter. All she had to do was run forward as fast as she could. She tensed her muscles and prepared herself for the likelihood that these would be her last moments.

Unfortunately she took too long. Before she could bolt from Mark's grasp, she watched in horror as the handle on the door twisted. She renewed her struggles with vigor, wishing she could cry out a warning, wishing she could do anything to prevent the door from opening.

Mark laughed at her and withdrew his hand from her gown, wrapping his arm again around her neck and lifting her until her toes no longer touched the ground. She hung there limply as the door opened, every last nerve in her body hoping that somehow, miraculously, it wouldn't be Dean. Of course it was.


Dean had raced straight to the hospital, still feeling high from taking down Glen Bearer. He couldn't wait to share the triumph with Maggie. She had just as much claim to the victory as he did. Confidently he walked through the hospital doors, waving dismissively at the receptionist because he knew where he was going. He had spent the entire night in her room and wouldn't have left her at all if it hadn't been for the urgency of their case.

He took the stairs two at a time, and before he knew it his long strides had taken him all the way to her room. Dean paused just a moment to push his hair out of his eyes before opening the door. He could never have been prepared for what was going on inside.

Maggie, pale and splattered with blood like the star of her own horror film, held at gunpoint in the tight grip of Mark Bearer. Immediately he felt the blood drain from his face and he hovered in the doorway. Protocol would say make a run for it, call for backup, get the hospital in lockdown. Without a doubt, following protocol would mean Maggie's death. It took him half a second to decide protocol could go fuck itself, and he walked into the room. His brain picked up and filed away details about the situation automatically. There was a nurse cowering in the corner of the room, glancing rapidly between him and Mark. A roll of duct tape lay on the floor, having been used to cover Maggie's mouth and bind a wound on her elbow. The safety was off on the gun already, and it was held flush against her temple. As he walked into the room Mark grinned.

"Can I go?" It was just a squeaky whisper, but Mark's gaze shifted to the nurse when she spoke. He spared her barely a flicker of a glance before his eyes were back on Dean.

"Get out." He grumbled, "And tell everyone outside that if that door opens again, if anyone so much as touches the handle, I will shoot both detectives."

Without wasting an instant the nurse nodded and fled, and when the door shut behind her the room was utterly silent. Maggie's face was turning purple from lack of oxygen, and Dean's hands twitched with restraint. His blue eyes were dark with fury, but he had to be careful. All it would take was one misstep and Mark would pull the trigger.

"Put her down." His voice was a low growl as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

To his great surprise, Mark lowered Maggie until she could stand on her own feet. Immediately her eyes closed in relief and she was breathing rapidly through her nose. "There. I've done something for you, Detective. Now you can do something for me." His cold gaze lingered almost lovingly on Maggie's tortured face before he snapped his eyes back to Dean. "Put your gun on the ground – slower than you've ever done anything in your life – and kick it toward me. If I think you're going to try anything I promise you she will die."

Dean nodded and reached slowly to pull his gun from its holster. He set it gently on the floor and stood up straight before kicking it to the other end of the room. Mark nodded, his smile growing somehow more diabolical. From the hallway Dean could hear the sounds of panic as the hospital went into lockdown. With any luck backup was already on its way. Hopefully with a sniper to put a bullet in the back of Mark Bearer's head.

All thoughts of rescue left Dean's mind as Mark slowly relaxed the arm around Maggie's neck. He snaked his hand across her chest before running his fingers through her long hair and brushing it over her shoulder. Dean was tense with rage.

"So it seems you're quite fond of your partner, Detective Ambrose." Mark kissed the top of her head and Maggie visibly shuddered, "Are you two sleeping together?"

A muscle in Dean's jaw was twitching uncontrollably but he forced himself to remain calm.

Mark laughed as his hand slipped down into her hospital gown. "I'm guessing not. That's such a shame, Detective, because you'll never have another chance." Underneath the gown he did something that made Maggie flinch, but she was fighting to keep her expression steady. Dean's self-control was stretched to the limit, but he knew that the slightest action on his part would make Mark pull the trigger. It was what he was waiting for.

"Hmmm…" Mark said, "Maybe I'm wrong." He spoke into Maggie's ear, "I guess he really doesn't care about you, sweetheart."

Maggie mumbled something incoherent but vicious sounding through the duct tape and Mark let out a bellowing laugh.

"Just stop." Dean's voice was rough, "Fucking let her go and quit playing games."

Mark pulled his hand out from the top of the hospital gown, but just as Dean relaxed he slipped his hand around and through the opening in the back. "You have such nice tits, Detective." He breathed in her ear, eying Dean, "Let's see what else you have that's nice..."


She was ok, she was holding it together. Maggie kept her mind carefully blank as Mark's hands roamed her body. There had to be some way to make it out of this alive. As he slipped his hand in through the back of her gown she felt her stomach flip flop with nausea but she forced that sensation away. Yet it was becoming more difficult as he ran his hand over her hip, her waist, her stomach, and then he began to slide his hand lower – and Maggie snapped.

What happened next happened very quickly. In one smooth, thoughtless motion she let her knees buckle and lunged for the ground. Instantly Mark pulled the trigger, but the bullet soared over her head. Dean didn't need to be told that this was his only opportunity. Mark let out a cry of anger and began to aim the gun at him just as he rushed forward to tackle him to the ground. The gun went off once more just as Dean collided with him and they fell to the floor with such impact that it knocked the pistol from Mark's hand.

She was limp on the floor, every muscle weak with pain and exhaustion. They were fighting each other now with reckless abandon. Her eyelids were heavy and she could feel her will to remain conscious slipping away. But something was wrong… Dean seemed to have the upper hand, landing his fists with furious speed over Mark's face, but his energy seemed to be waning and he was deathly pale. Her eyes went wide with shock as a crimson stain began coloring the right sleeve of his shirt. He had been shot. Mark appeared to notice as well, because with a fierce grin he aimed his best punch directly at the wound and Dean recoiled, grunting in pain.

Maggie forced herself to move as Mark lunged after him, wrapping his hands around Dean's throat and squeezing. She dragged herself forward on her forearms, ignoring her pain, unaware of the trail of blood she was leaving behind from her torn stitches. She reached one shaky hand out and seized the gun closest to her… Dean's gun. Had her mouth not been taped up she would have been panting with the effort. As it was her vision was murky and her head was pounding as she tried to pull enough oxygen through her nose.

The next few moments passed by in excruciating slowness. Maggie raised the gun, trying to will her hands to remain steady. Dean's face was turning an awful shade of purple and despite his best efforts he could not loosen Mark's grip on his neck. Maggie's hand was slick with blood as she leveled it, but her grip was tense. She tried to clear her mind even as her vision blurred everything in front of her into a mass of dark shapes. Unbidden, the image of her birth father rose in her mind.

She remembered him kneeling on Hunter's lawn, his eyes feverish and wild. She remembered aiming her gun at his head with cold precision. She could feel herself there, tired but alert, her hand steady and her aim true.

Maggie pulled the trigger.

Mark bearer screamed and clutched at his chest, falling to the ground and writhing in agony. Dean gulped in hungry breaths of air and locked his gaze on hers. She saw with relief that his eyes were bright with shock and concern, but not pain. He rolled onto his front and crawled towards her. Maggie let the gun slip from her tense grip and it clattered to the floor. Mark was no longer screaming, his body completely still. Whether he was dead or merely unconscious, she couldn't care less.

Suddenly Dean was there, drawing her toward him and cradling her gently in his lap. She found the strength to smile up at him.

"Mags…" he mumbled, his voice hoarse, "Mags, it's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." He rested his hand on her cheek and she could feel his warmth. "DOCTOR!" he shouted at the door, but made no move to leave her, "DOCTOR, GODAMMIT!"

Her mind was foggy, and though she tried to form words to speak to him she found she could not. Instead she raised her bloodied hand and put it over his. He laced his fingers with hers and she slipped into darkness.


When she awoke she was in a new room, her entire body consumed with barely numbed pain. Sunlight shined brilliantly through the window and stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly as her vision adjusted, and when her eyes fell upon Dean she felt the warmth of relief flood her. The pain suddenly seemed less important and she smiled brightly. "Hey," she rasped, and coughed to clear her throat. It hurt, but it felt worth it. "Dean, I-" she coughed again.

"Shhh, Mags." He smiled, pulling his chair closer to her bed. His hair was slicked back today, but it looked like he hadn't shaved in a while. His right arm was thickly bandaged, and her eyes fell on it with concern. Dean laughed, "Leave it to you to be worried about me when I thought you were lying on your death bed." He flexed the arm, "It's fine. Doc had me cleaned up in no time. You, though… Fuck, Mags, you've been out for so long. I was-" his voice broke, and he seized both of her hands in his, "I was worried."

She felt a blush creeping into her cheeks and squeezed his hands. "M'okay." She mumbled, trying to put some strength into her voice. "Did I… Is Mark Bearer…?" It was barely a whisper, but he nodded his understanding.

"Mark Bearer is dead. I still can't believe you were such a good shot, even torn up like you are and bleeding all over the floor." He shook his head. "Mark is dead, Glen was arrested. Case closed." His expression darkened, "They found over a dozen bodies buried in the woods beyond their property. Catching them saved countless lives."

Maggie nodded gratefully. It was all over at last. This had been unlike any case she had ever worked before… and seeing it through to the finish had nearly killed her. She didn't know whether it was the narcotics talking, but what she said next came bubbling up without thought, "When I'm out of here I'm going to cook you dinner."

Dean grinned, "I'd like that." He suddenly grew serious, "I'm checking the yard before I let you get out of the car, though."

Maggie, as best as she could in her present condition, laughed, "Good idea."

"Mags, I-" he dropped his eyes and squeezed her hands, "You're the best partner I've ever had, you know. And, well, I don't want to fuck that up or anything." He brought his blue eyes back up to meet her own, and the look in them was enough to send shockwaves throughout her body. Momentarily her pain was the furthest thing from her mind. He opened his mouth again but couldn't seem to find the right words.

Instead he leaned down, painstakingly slow, and brushed his lips lightly over hers. It felt as if sparks were flying between them, and she craved more contact. Thinking he might need encouragement, she leaned into him and deepened the kiss. As they moved their lips together she was conscious of nothing but him… his scent, the heat of his body, the exquisite way that the slightest touch from him flooded her senses. He grazed his teeth gently over her lower lip and she opened her mouth, their tongues twining together like they had always been meant to do so.

Milliseconds passed like hours, and before she knew it she had to break away to take a deep breath. It hurt, but she was too high on passion to care. He raised one of his hands and cupped her cheek, his eyes dark with emotion. She placed her hand on top of his and leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she savored the sensation.

"Mags," his voice was husky and sent another shiver of desire through her. Even her toes were tingling. "I don't really know how to say this, but," he paused, his thumb stroking lightly over her cheekbone. She met his intense gaze with her own, "I want you to be mine."

She smiled softly, thinking of everything they had been through together. In such a short time, they had formed a bond that was indescribable. "Dean," she began, relishing the sound of his name on her lips, "I already am."


A/N: And it's done! I am so happy with this story, and even more ecstatic that I actually finished it! There will possibly be a sequel, I haven't quite decided yet. If you read through to the end please leave me a review! It really means so, so much to me!