AN: So six (6!) years and 60,000 words(!?) later, we're nearing the end. I just wanna say thanks to anyone still reading this, it's been awesome.
Chapter Twenty-One
After a brief, horrified pause, Rachel forced herself into motion and ran toward the figure on the ground, feeling a small, guilty stab of relief when she realised it wasn't Millie, but Arun lying on his back, surrounded by broken glass and struggling to breathe.
"Arun!" She ran to his side and knelt beside him, checking for injuries as Leon called for an ambulance. "Arun, are you okay? What happened?"
"Just winded, Sarge," he wheezed, struggling to get words out through his laboured breathing as Max and Jo joined them. "Threw me out the window."
Rachel glanced up at the house to see that the uncovered window on the first floor had been broken outward. "Where's Millie?" she asked, feeling the panic rising in her stomach.
"Got separated, searching house," he coughed, trying to sit up. Rachel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"No, stay down," Rachel told him, loosening his collar and unzipping his vest. "Did you see anyone?"
"No Sarge. Just heard noise, then falling." His breath was coming easier now, but Rachel was still concerned.
"Okay. We need—"
"Sarge!" Jo interrupted her, pointing up to the window.
Rachel glanced up, and felt her heart drop as she got her first look at Marcus Flint. The first thing that struck her was how normal he looked. Aside from the wild look in his eye and the fact that he was brandishing a long kitchen knife, he looked completely average. Had he not been standing in the window with the blade pressed threateningly against her constable's collarbone, Rachel would've expected to see him in a bank, or doing someone's taxes. Millie was standing rigidly beside him, her eyes wide and frightened and fixed on Rachel. The constable's vest and gear were missing, and the way she was standing, with her arms behind her back, made Rachel think he'd probably bound her with her own cuffs. Even from a distance, the sergeant could see she was shaking, and the white of her shirt was spattered with spots of red that made Rachel's heart clench.
"Oi, you lot!" Flint called, waving the knife towards them. "I wanna talk to one of you. Not you!" he snarled as Max stepped forward. "Sergeant Rachel Weston. I want her here in ten minutes. Or bad things will happen!"
Rachel stood and stepped forward without hesitation. "I'm here. What do you want?" she called up to him, but he shook his head.
"Not like this. The front door's unlocked. You come in here, alone, so we can have a nice little chat without all these nosey sods listening in."
"Rachel, don't!" Millie called, her voice cracking, but she quickly fell silent when Flint jerked her towards him, pressing the knife against her collarbone with a snarl.
"She can't do that, Marcus," Max called from somewhere behind her. Rachel shot him a furious glare, but quickly looked back up at the window as Flint laughed.
"Yes she can," he sing-songed. "And she's only got nine minutes now. Tick-tock." With that, he disappeared from the window, dragging Millie out of sight with him.
"You're not going in there," Max said immediately, grabbing the blonde sergeant's shoulder.
Rachel twisted out of his grip and glared at him. "Unless you can come up with a better plan in the next five minutes, yes I am." Rachel turned away from him began giving orders, walling off the part of her mind that was almost screaming with panic. "Jo, call the inspector. We need CO19 and a hostage negotiator. Leon, set up a cordon, tell all incoming units no blues and twos. It'll just wind him up if he thinks we're bring an army down on him."
Both officers nodded and moved away, while behind her, Arun struggled into a sitting position. "Sarge…"
"It's not your fault, Arun," Rachel murmured, pushing on his shoulder gently until he was lying down again. "Just stay there until the paramedics check you, okay?" She squeezed his shoulder once more then stood, looking at Max. "Stay with him, please," she asked, then, without waiting for a reply, started towards the house.
She was almost to the door when Gina's voice crackled from her radio. "25 from Sierra Oscar One, Rachel, don't even think about it. You stay outside and wait for CO19—"
The inspector's voice was cut off as Rachel flicked her PR to mute, though she could still hear her voice hissing from Arun's radio behind her. She could feel her colleague's eyes on her back, but resisted the urge to look back at them. Instead, the sergeant took one last steadying breath, then pushed open the front door and entered the house.
…
It was dark inside, the natural light blocked by the boards on the windows, and Rachel groped at her belt for her torch before she went any further. The house had the musty stink of decay, and the air was heavy and damp. The sound of footsteps creaked from somewhere above her, and the sergeant headed for the stairs, drawing her asp with her free hand as she went. The stairs creaked loudly as she ascended, and the sounds of movement paused briefly.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Rachel found herself at one end of a hallway. There were doors along both sides, all closed, but one had a thin strip of light visible from underneath it. Guessing that was the room with the window where she'd last seen Flint, Rachel moved towards it slowly, keeping her asp ready as she turned the handle and pushed the door open. Moving carefully into what looked like the master bedroom, the sergeant saw the broken window on the opposite wall, glass glinting on the carpet. The angle of the light from the window illuminated half the room, leaving the other half mired in dim shadow, and Rachel raked it with the torchlight as she moved further away from the door.
"That's far enough." A voice sounded from further in the room. Rachel froze, then slowly turned her head as the door drifted shut behind her. Marcus stood, alone, in the doorway of what Rachel guessed was an ensuite, brandishing a long kitchen knife. The blade was dyed the dull crimson colour of dried blood, and Flint tapped it restlessly against his leg every few seconds. His hands were cut and bleeding, injuries Rachel guessed he got when he pushed Arun out the window. The only sign that Millie had been there was a pile of police gear; Millie's belt, vest, hat, and jumper were stacked in the corner, while her radio lay in bits near Marcus's feet.
"Drop them," he demanded, and Rachel – unsure of where her constable was and unwilling to risk a physical confrontation – complied, tossing her torch and asp into the pile. "Belt and vest, too."
"Where's Millie, Marcus?" the sergeant asked as she obeyed, trying to keep her tone calm and level.
"Lock the door," he said, ignoring the question, and Rachel felt the dread in her stomach tighten painfully.
"Where's Millie?" Rachel asked again, and Marcus tensed up.
"I'm not telling you," he snarled. "Lock. The. Door."
"Okay," Rachel said, holding her hands out and speaking in what she hoped was a calming tone. Taking a second to glance over at the door, she noted the sliding bolt that was obviously a recent addition. The sergeant edged over towards the entry, careful not to turn her back on Flint, and slid the bolt home.
"Okay, Marcus. You wanted me, I'm here. Now what?" Rachel asked, stepping away from the door and being careful to keep her tone even and her movements deliberate and non-threatening.
"Now we have lots to talk about," he said, moving forward. He pulled the door to the ensuite shut behind him, but for one, brief moment Rachel caught sight of Millie. She was on the floor of the bathroom, gagged and blindfolded, sitting against the wall with her hands behind her. She didn't move or react to Flint's movement, and the momentary flash of relief the sergeant felt was quickly smothered by a wave a dread at the constable's unmoving form. "Did you like my present?"
"Which present, Marcus?" the sergeant asked, trying to push Millie's condition from her mind and keep her focus on the man in front of her.
"You know. I had the boy deliver the card. It was mostly for Millie, but it was for you, too."
"You mean what you did to Cassidy," Rachel realised, remembering the text on the second card. 'I hope you liked my gift.'
"Yes! He took advantage of Millie. He got her drunk. I couldn't let that stand," he explained, eerily calm for someone who was talking about slicing a man's face open.
"I'm sure Millie appreciates that, Marcus."
"Oh, she does," he said, nodding happily. "I asked her, she said so."
"That's good. Can I talk to Millie, Marcus?"
"No!" he snapped, going from calm to manic in the blink of an eye. "Nobody can talk to her except me! Especially you." He pointed at her with the knife, and Rachel raised her hands in an acquiescent gesture.
"Okay, Marcus." She briefly considered asking why 'especially her', but before she could there was a noise from outside.
"What was that?" Marcus snapped as the strident yelp of an ambulance siren echoed from the street. He crossed to the window, gesturing at Rachel with the knife as he moved. Rachel shifted opposite him, circling around the centre of the room and keeping enough of a distance between them that she'd be able to react if he came at her. The move put her between him and Millie, and meant that if he wanted to focus on her, he couldn't watch what they were doing outside.
Flint wasn't paying any attention to her, instead focused on the scene outside the window. "There's so many people out there," he said, flattening himself against the wall and peeking outside carefully. "Why can't they all just leave us alone? I just want to talk. Why can't they go away and let us talk?" he asked, agitatedly thumping the handle of the knife against the wall.
Rachel had an inkling of what her colleagues would be trying to do, using the noise of a siren to cover the sound of CO19 breaking in, and knew that in order for them to succeed, she needed to keep Flint's focus in the room. "Why did you take Chloe, Marcus?" she asked, drawing his attention back to her. "How is she connected to this?"
"Millie liked her," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "When she finished talking to me that day, she went next door and spoke to Chloe and her mum. She was so nice to them."
"So you thought that if you had Chloe, Millie would see how good you were with her."
"Yeah," he replied, pacing agitatedly back and forth. "I thought that if I showed her we could be a family…But then you got in the way." He stopped moving and pointed the knife at her. "See, I thought you were alright," he said, eyeing the sergeant accusingly. "You looked after her after we had that fight at the club and you got that rat Cassidy off the streets. But it was just an act! You're just like the rest of them, trying to get between us!"
"I'm not trying to get between you, Marcus, I was just looking after Millie," Rachel lied, trying to calm him.
"Don't lie to me!" he raged, brandishing the knife. "I saw you that night. You drove her home from the club. You tricked her into kissing you! I saw it! DON'T LIE TO ME!"
Rachel's blood turned to ice in her veins. He'd been following Millie from the beginning. How many times had she been alone and vulnerable? How easy would it have been for him to finish what he started? The fact that by now there was almost certainly at least one CO19 team within earshot who had probably just heard him yelling about the sergeant kissing her constable didn't even register.
"It wasn't like that, Marcus," Rachel said, struggling to keep her tone calm and soothing even though her heart was pounding in her throat. "It wasn't what it looked like."
"You're LYING!" he screamed, and Rachel saw in his eyes the moment he snapped.
Time slowed down as several things happened at once. Flint loosed an enraged howl and ran at her as behind him, door to the hallway disintegrated in a cloud of plaster dust and the shaped explosives CO19 had used to blow it off its hinges. Four black-clad officers stormed in the newly created entry, yelling for him to drop his weapon just as Flint reached her and stabbed wildly towards her with the knife. The sergeant's limbs felt heavy and frustratingly slow as she moved to deflect the blow, and while she managed to divert the poorly aimed thrust, the momentum from his charge carried Flint forward into Rachel, and they both slammed into the wall behind her. There was an odd sensation of pressure just above her right hip, but Rachel ignored it as Flint, having dropped the knife in the impact with the wall, pushed away from her and raised his fist. He began to strike at her, but before he could complete the movement, two armed officers appeared behind him. One of them caught his upraised arm and twisted it behind his back as the other one swept his legs out from under him, and together they followed him to the floor, moving to secure him as he screamed in inarticulate rage.
Time slowly returned to its normal pace as more officers poured into the room. One appeared in front of Rachel and placed a hand on her shoulder, but the sergeant shook him off and pushed past him, heading for the ensuite. She felt her heart unclench when Millie reacted to the sound of the door opening, her movement banishing Rachel's fear that she was unconscious or worse. The constable was still in the same position, her hands bound behind her around a railing that looked like Flint had added it for that purpose. She was sitting with her knees drawn up tightly to her chest, but aside from her uncomfortable position, she looked unharmed.
Rachel crossed the room swiftly and sank down next to her, uncovering her eyes and pulling the gag from her mouth. "Millie, are you hurt?"
The constable shook her head, and Rachel took a brief second to press a hand to her cheek before she stood and assessed her bonds. The railing was screwed firmly into the wall, but the wall itself had been weakened by months of neglect and damp. From her position on the floor, Millie lacked the leverage to pull the railing free, but it quickly broke loose when Rachel kicked it, and the constable leaned out of the way as it fell to the floor between her arms.
Rachel helped Millie struggle to her feet, then groped at her waist for the keys to the handcuffs before remembering her belt was on the other side of the room, where she'd dropped it at Flint's command.
"Keys!" she demanded of a uniform approaching her. He blinked at her in confusion, and she spoke again. "Handcuff keys, now!" He fumbled at his belt, then extracted them from their pouch and dropped them into her outstretched hand.
As soon as Millie's hands were free, she turned and flung her arms around her sergeant in an embrace Rachel returned unreservedly. The constable was shaking violently, and Rachel could feel her tears soaking into her shoulder where she'd buried her head. Behind her, Rachel could still hear the chaos of the arrest as four officers carried a howling Flint from the room as he continued flail and struggle violently, but her focus remained on the woman in her arms.
"Shh, Millie, it's okay. You're safe," she murmured in her ear, struggling to keep her voice steady. It wasn't until she flinched when she felt a hand on her back that the sergeant realised she herself was shaking almost as badly as Millie was.
"Is she okay?" It was Smithy. "Are you hurt?" Rachel started to answer, but he cut her off with a curse. "Shit, Rachel, you're bleeding."
As soon as he said that, Rachel became aware of a burning line of pain just above her hip. Millie released her and drew away slightly as the blonde sergeant pressed a hand to her side, and Rachel heard the constable gasp as it came away covered in blood.
"It's fine, it's just a little cut," Rachel told them, pressing her hand back over the injury and wincing.
"C'mon, the paramedics are outside," Smithy said, guiding the two women towards the door. Millie was still shaking, and her grip on Rachel's free hand was almost painfully tight, but the sergeant didn't mind. She was too caught up in the relief to care.
…
By the time they got outside, Rachel was beginning to feel nauseous and light-headed, and it was only the arm Millie had slipped around her waist, with her hand covering Rachel's where she had it pressed over her wound, that kept her walking steadily. The constable's other hand was joined tightly with Rachel's free one, and the sergeant found the warmth of her grip surprisingly comforting. She could feel several sets of eyes on them, and was infinitely thankful to Smithy for leading them directly over to the ambulance, stopping the other officers who probably would've swarmed around them otherwise.
"She's got a knife-wound to the side," Smithy told the paramedic who appeared beside them as Rachel began to sway on her feet.
"Okay, just take a seat here and we'll have a look," he told her, and Rachel sank gratefully onto the back step of the ambulance. Millie still hadn't released her hand, and her grip tightened as Rachel moved her other hand and the paramedic lifted her jumper, revealing her once-white shirt that was heavily stained with blood. He tugged the blood-soaked garment out of the way, shooting Rachel an apologetic look as she gasped in pain, and Smithy hissed in surprise as the wound was properly uncovered. It was a long, deep cut that ran along her hip, and it wasn't pretty. "Well, Sergeant, you've won a trip to the hospital. That's gonna need stitches."
"Is she okay?" Gina appeared at Smithy's shoulder as the paramedic covered the wound with a wad of gauze, concern written across her face.
"I'm fine, Ma'am," Rachel tried to insist, but even to her own ears the words were slurred, and the world was beginning to swim alarmingly out of focus.
"She's going to the hospital," the paramedic asserted, helping the sergeant to her feet and guiding her onto the gurney.
"Millie, go with her," Gina ordered, though Rachel was fairly certain the constable would've followed her into the ambulance regardless.
Lying on the gurney wasn't helping the sergeant's dizziness, especially once the ambulance started moving, and her eyes were starting to feel heavy. Millie was sitting by her head, and the sensation of her fingers carding through her hair was the only thing keeping Rachel grounded and aware, but even that wasn't enough as the last vestiges of adrenaline faded from her system.
"Rachel? You need to stay awake for me, hon," the paramedic told her, sounding like he was talking from very far away. "Rachel?" She tried to answer, but the words got lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth. "Rachel? Nope, she's out. Run the lights, Kathy."
He was still talking, but his words weren't making any sense. The last thing Rachel heard was Millie breathing her name in her ear, but the blackness took her before she could respond.
AN: Sorry, I just can't help myself. Last cliffhanger, I promise. One more chapter to go.