I Got This, You Got This

One-shot 13:

"Gotta Get Down On Friday"

Summary: "I need to check if you have an oxygen imbalance that could stop your blood from flowing." "Come again?" "I think you're in shock."

She hadn't known she was crying until a pair of firm arms helped her up and a voice asked if she was all right. It sounded so far away, that voice, but the man's mouth couldn't have been farther than a few inches from her ear. In fact, she was pretty sure he was almost outright yelling at her, raising his voice to be heard among the commotion. Though it didn't register how loud it all was until the man led her outside the building onto the street. There was still a giant hoopla going on outside, but compared to inside, it was the Sistine Chapel. Chloe Saunders laughed, but all that came out were bubbling sobs and hiccups.

For all she knew, this man was taking her to some abandoned alley somewhere to finish her off. He could be the partner of that other man, the one that stared at her from the opposite end of a shining gray barrel. A watery moan fell past her lips and her knees wobbled so hard that her feet stopped working. "N-n-no-no-n-nooo."

The man had to stop to wrap his arms around her waist before she fell to the ground. Chloe tried to help steady herself, but all movement in her legs had disappeared. Running away from this unknown man wasn't an option, and all that she could do was hang on as his hands dug into her flesh, holding her upright. Sharp pops tore through the air, and Chloe screamed, her arms flailing over her head. A hand pressed on the back of her neck, guiding her to duck down. Whoever had his grip on her was keeping her tucked under him as he ran to wherever he was leading her. She kept up with his pace only because she was sure he was dragging her along, not because she was actually doing any of the legwork.

More shouts came from around them, but Chloe couldn't see them. He was hugging her to his chest, her cheek cushioned against his rough vest and her eyes finally registering the brass badge with the eagle and buffalo on it. Buffalo Police Department. A policeman. A shaky sigh of relief released from her mouth, and as he aided her over a curb, she saw the name sewn onto the vest: D. Souza.

He yelled into her ear again, but she couldn't hear. Sirens were growing louder as they approached a caravan of ambulances. D. Souza came to a halt and lifted Chloe with one arm, seating her on the edge of the back of one ambulance. Around them, paramedics were rolling stretchers towards the building they'd just left, while others were already checking over people Chloe recognized from inside the bank, people who had been huddled on the floor just feet away from her. A couple spotted her and nodded in her direction, but she shook her head, wiping the moisture from her face. The sirens faded out as paramedics turned them off, lending an atmosphere of calm over the pandemonium outside.

Movement in front of her made her look at D. Souza again. Broad-shouldered and decked out in dark blue-black uniform of an officer, he looked like he should be off barreling down suspects somewhere, not tending to bank robbery victims. Sweat streaked the ends of his short, black hair, dripping onto his forehead and the sides of his face. Still, Chloe couldn't help but feel an immediate sense of calm as she looked over his haggard appearance. Her savior, consulting with an invisible person on the other end of his radio and running a hand over his face. Out of all the other cops busting through the doors of the bank, he had been the one to run by her side, haul her up, and get her out of that horrible situation.

Putting the radio back in its holster on his belt, he gestured to a medic near the ambulance. As the medic neared, D. Souza pointed at Chloe and turned on his heel. Panicking, Chloe jumped from the ambulance and landed unsteadily on her feet, clinging to his arm. A wave of exhaustion swept over her, making her sway backwards, but the officer caught her by the elbows and settled her back on the ambulance. When he seemed to be leaving again, Chloe sank her nails into his arms and kept him rooted. "N-n-n-no. N-No."

Instead of looking sympathetic, which is what Chloe would have preferred, D. Souza appeared to be mildly irritated. He shooed off the paramedic and grabbed a blanket from inside the ambulance. Unfolding it, he draped it over her shoulders and made sure it fit snug around her torso. Chloe held the sides together, and he took the chance to grab her hand and place his first two fingers on the inside of her wrist.

"Wh-what are you doing?" She had to licked her lips three times before the words could form, her mouth was so dry. She tugged her wrist away, but he caught it again and kept a tight grip.

"Checking for an irregular pulse."

"Why?"

"Don't talk." He moved his fingers deeper into her skin. Chloe could feel the throbbing of her own veins against his fingertips. "I need to check if you have an oxygen imbalance that could stop your blood from flowing the way it should."

"Come again?"

"I think you're in shock."

"Oh." Of all the things she expected D. Souza to tell her, a science lesson wasn't one of them. "I learned that in health class."

He kept one hand on her wrist and his other touching his own pulse on his neck. Unconsciously, he was counting to a minute under his breath, brows clustered together in concentration. Finally, she seemed to pass inspection because he let go of her wrist. Next, though, he reached behind her for the blood pressure cuff. As he strapped the cuff around her upper arm, Chloe asked, "Should you really be doing that?"

"No." From inside the ambulance again, he grabbed a stethoscope and waved a hand in the direction of the bank. "I should be out there, helping arrest the guy that did this. So, we're going to be quick about this because he's still running around with a gun. I can't baby you forever." When she bit her bottom lip so hard it bled, he cursed. "Shit, you were asking if I should be handling the medical equipment, weren't you?"

Chloe didn't answer, and he bumped his fist against the ambulance door. "Look, I'm a certified EMT, and I know basic first aid."

"Bet you aced all your high school biology classes."

"Sure did." He plugged the stethoscope into his ears, holding the other end up to her elbow and squeezing the valve of the blood pressure cuff. It swelled rapidly on her arm, a comfortable crushing sensation that reminded her of visits to her aunt's clinic as a kid. As she opened her mouth to remark on this, he shot her a warning glance and told her once more not to speak. So, she let him do his business and nothing alarmed him, so he took the cuff and stethoscope and threw them back into the ambulance. Not completely sanitary, but when Chloe pointed this out to him, D. Souza only ignored her.

A buzz from his radio came through and he leaned away to answer it. His expression was even more agitated when he put it away, telling her, "The suspect's been apprehended."

"Sorry."

"What for?"

"You wanted to catch him, didn't you?"

His shoulders jumped in surprise, and he relaxed. "Yeah." Then, he reached his hand out and blocked her eyes. "I'm seeing if your pupils dilate correctly. I'd rather see that you live than chase after that bastard."

Her spine bolted upright. "You can die from shock?" She struggled to wrestle his hand away from her face.

"I thought you said you learned about it in health class," a soft breath sounding like laughter escaped him, and Chloe glared at him from behind his hand. "Anyways, you don't seem to be disoriented, but it's customary to ask some questions to make sure you're in the clear. Do you remember your name?"

"C-Chloe Saunders."

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I have a st-stutter!"

"Okay, okay. So, Chloe Saunders, do you know what day it is?"

"Friday, the eleventh—"

He waved off the rest of her sentence. "Yeah, you got that. Do you remember why you were at the bank today?"

"I-It's pay day. I was dropping off my check, and-an-and," she choked on her words.

D. Souza was silent, waiting until she apparently realized she couldn't bring herself to say anymore. When he made to move his hand from her eyes, one of hers flew up to hold it in place. Chloe liked the darkness it provided her because she wouldn't have to look at his face, see the reminder of his rescue and what had almost happened moments before that. Clearing his throat, he said, "Look, Miss Saunders—Chloe—I'm going to need to take a statement from you, so it's best if you just get it out with here and now. Don't keep it bottled in because then it'll just come back and bite you in the ass later."

She nodded, still flattening his hand against her eyes. Tears were falling from them again, probably wetting his fingers, but he didn't jerk his hand away so she let it stay there. "He...He just walked in and puh-pulled out a g-g-gu-g-gu—"

"Gun. He pulled out a gun. Just slow down and get your words out. Don't think about them."

"A g-gun. He pulled out a gun and st-started telling us to-to get on the ground," she paused, sucking in a deep breath because her throat kept closing up. "Then he told the teller to g-g-give him all the money. A-a-a-and I d-duh-don't know what happened. He j-just kept yelling at us to get down, g-get down, and there was a gu-gunshot, and I sc-screamed and then he was p-pointing the g-g-gun at m-m-m-"

The hand lifted from her eyes. Moss-green eyes stared back at her through blurry tears. "Your eyes responded perfectly. I think it's safe to say you're not in shock."

Chloe blinked, face heating as D. Souza backed away and responded to another call on his radio. He faced her a moment later, head bowed apologetically. "I have to go now. I'll get someone else to look over you again, get a second opinion, but I'm pretty sure you'll do fine. Here," he climbed up into the ambulance, walking farther back and returned with a clipboard. Tearing off half the sheet of the form held down by the clasp, he took the attached pen and scribbled something on the paper. "These are some directions to the precinct, if you need them. I'll have to ask you to come in to write down your statement. Just ask for Derek and someone will direct you to me."

"Derek?" She looked down at the paper, and there was his name, Derek Souza, scrawled down in big block letters. She pointed to the number at the very bottom. "What's this?"

"My cell." A hand hovered over hers, hesitant, before finally resting and slightly squeezing her fingers. "Chloe, if you have any problems—if you're not feeling all right, I want you to call that number."

"But you just said I'm fine."

"Physically, yes, you are." Now, he was gripping both of her hands, forcing her to stare into his eyes which no longer seemed quite as irritated at being kept detained by her. "But something happened to you today, Chloe, and it's not going to go away anytime soon. If you need someone to talk to—someone whose been through the same thing..."

"You were h-held at g-gunpoint?"

A shoulder shrug. "It kind of comes with the job. Look, all I'm saying is this will mess with your head for awhile. I suck at this interpersonal bullshit, but you're going to need someone to at least listen. So, if you wanted—I mean, it doesn't have to be me, I might not even answer my phone some days, but if you leave a message—I can—"

"Thanks, Derek. That'll be c-cheaper than therapy." She curled her fingers around the paper, thinking that it she pressed the pen ink close enough to her palm, it'd help her memorize his number. He'd thrown her a lifeline, and she hadn't even been sure he saw her as something other than a hindrance keeping him from his job.

"Yeah, well, in this economy—"

Chloe moved across the space between them, and kissed Derek Souza's cheek. Leaning back, she saw that he froze, eyes wide and filled with confusion. Maybe he was the one in shock now.

Authoress's Notes: I think my Itunes shuffle is possessed because it plays a crap ton of Disney songs whenever I write DP. Hell yeah, I could listen to the Beauty & the Beast soundtrack all day long if I had the time. I should write a song-fic collection for a B&B song when I'm done with Friday... Hmm...

Anyways, happy Friday! Everyone get down! In a partyin', partyin' way, not in the way Chloe got down, cuz that's sad. The moment I sat down to think of an idea for this chapter, back in the summer, I immediately came up with this, and it was supposed to be another funny-ish chapter. Except it came out more serious. Which is totally awesome because it was a wonderful tribute to my precious CSI: NY (the true inspiration behind this chapter and the reason why I was so excited to write it).

"When I get home, I'm going to scrub this place like a crime scene...which it is because you've murdered joy." That's from Modern Family, another one of my TV loves. I thought it was appropriate.

If I wasn't so hell-bent on being a writer/editor, I would so be a crime scene investigator. With a bunch of witty one-liners, to boot.

Thanks for reading/reviewing!