"Least we know we found the right place." Fusco declared bringing his cousin's 'borrowed' hunting rig to a sliding stop nearly over the porch steps. "Everything looks quiet."
"Now. And too quiet." Carter's fears had already been running wild, but at seeing the massive amount of destruction, and how crazy things must have gotten.., they were an indiscernible mess.
The two detectives dropped from the monstrous suburban 4x4, with guns out and cautiously made their way to the crumbling cabin in search of any signs of life or lingering threats. The threat they found was not one they would have expected.
"Finch... stay down!" Reese growled.
Finch hunkered out of reflex, emphatically trusting Reese's instincts and only ventured a sideways glimpse of what inexplicable new peril now befell the two ragged partners.
"What the?" Fusco immediately put his hands and gun in the air in quick surrender. "Hey easy there Rambo - it's us! What the hell?"
"John! Put the gun down! It's Carter and Fusco!" Joss implored, careful to make an exaggerated effort of holding her gun out to the side in a neutral gesture.
Precariously balanced on his knees, Reese didn't respond, nor did he moved off his targets.
Neither Detective dared provoke the clearly delirious John Reese, knowing even in this condition, or more so because of it, he was extremely deadly.
"Mr. Reese...we are not in danger." Finch slowly rose from the ground, "We're safe." His gentle promise was accompanied by a coaxing hand laid upon Reese's arm.
Bear whimpered in confusion, feeling the fight response emanating from his master and yet unsure why it would be felt toward other pack members. Though he wagged, he stayed on cautious alert.
Slowly, Finch's words began to penetrate, overriding the last vestiges of his deep-seeded instincts. "Joss?" He frowned through unfocused eyes and lowered his weapon finally succumbing the blanketing darkness veiling his mind.
Finch caught him before he hit the floor.
"What gives! Boy-Wonder ain't firing on all cylinders." Fusco huffed holstering his weapon.
Carter fell to her knees and gently helped Finch roll John back onto the cushions. Her stomach clenched at the site of him, so pal, almost bluish, cold yet sweating, and obviously out of it. "Finch he's in shock. How long's he been like this? What happened?"
"He's considerably worsened since his last encounter with Anthony... Given his state, I suspect more damage was done."
"Damage?" Her eyes traveled over the tube and bandages. "He was shot... in the chest?" The meaning hit her with dire clarity.
Soot and blood smudged Finch's haggard face as he sadly looked from his friend to Carter. "By Anthony. Yes."
By the look of Harold, he'd been through almost as much as John. "His breathing is shallow and his heart rate's all over the place. We need to get him out of here!" Carter scanned room, noting the littering shell casings, smoke-bomb canisters, shattered glass and splintered wood. It had been a literal war zone right down to the bound prisoners. "I don't see Anthony, he didn't make it?"
"No." Regret passed over Harold's eyes. "Lost to unforgiving revenge and the river's fury."
Fusco chimed in kneeling at Edward's side. "Why's Edward all tied up? Thought he was the one they were all gunning for?"
Finch pondered the question for a second. "And still true, but as it turns out he was more than just a victim. Not only did he confess to trying to murder his wife five years ago, he abused both she and Anthony for years. And only minutes ago, tried to kill Mr. Reese and myself. If not for John's intervention, he may well have succeeded."
Carter knew they'd feel the guilt of Anthony's death, but looking at them now, she just couldn't bring herself to feel an iota of remorse.
"I'll start loading Mr. and Mrs. 'War-of Roses.'"
"Fusco, hold on... " Joss turned to Finch, "you have any drugs?" An ulterior motive colored the question.
"We do..."
Fusco immediately picked up on his partner's intentions and shrugged, "hey - I didn't hear a thing..," but smiled a slightly evil grin at the, now awake and struggling, Edward. "I like it when they don't argue."
Finch hurriedly drew the appropriate mix of sedatives and handed them to Fusco. "Detective, I hate to state the obvious, but unless you brought a bus, where do you intend to seat everyone? And a dog?"
"Well Bear's just gonna have to snuggle, but those guys... I wasn't thinking they'd be 'seated." With a mischievous snarl she added, "besides, it's cold, they wouldn't mind conserving the body heat."
Finch couldn't hide the of surprise at her uncharacteristic solution.
"Hey, we'll have enough to deal with without a backseat brawl." She defended.
"Mr. Reese is most definitely rubbing off on you..." Finch looked at Joss with a gentle but sad smile.
"Not sure that was a complement, but I'll take it."
"I assure you Detective, it was meant as nothing but."
"He'll need some thing too. It's gonna be a tough trip."
"He cautioned against its suppressing effect on compromised breathing."
She cringed at the long shelved memory re-surfacing from her field training back in the army, and at hearing Reese groan just from them just simply preparing to move him. Emotionally she was fractured, just trying to hold herself together by what shreds of control she had were utterly ripped apart at the sight of the invincible hero, the man she cared so deeply for, laying far too still.
"Ready Partner?" Fusco asked, luckily returning from situating their prisoners. "We'd better hurry. Soon as those meds wear off, the natives'll start eating each other."
Fusco smoothly took her place at John's shoulders. "I'll take Tall Dark and Heavy, you guys grab a leg. And don't worry. He'll be ok - he always is."
Carter gave a weak smile of appreciation, matching the one attempting its way to Finch's face. "I'm not certain how you both managed this, but we are in your debt Detectives. And if I had to guess, Mr. Reese would be highly impressed by the impossible nature of it."
"Yeah he does like a grand rescue."
Carter sat on the floorboards of the backseat beside Reese, trying her best to steady and brace them both again the jumbling over every rocking rut and dropping hole. At first Reese had responded in silent grimaces or low groans, now Carter paled to see nothing at all. "Fusco.., hurry." She heard her voice waver. "He's hardly breathing!"
Fusco gripped the wheel and pushed the massive Suburban harder and passed smart.
Finch gripped the seat to crane his stiff body to look back in powerless horror.
And Carter gripped John's shoulders. "You stay with me! Fight! You hear me! Don't you quite!" She pleaded.
With the heavy hunting rig screaming toward the city, loaded with its seven passengers, and pushed beyond its limits of safety.., neither Fusco, Finch nor Carter would remember the harrowingly brutal mountain roads, the treacherous ice-slicked highways, or the endless, unplowed maze of city streets...
They would only remembered their friend, dying in the back seat.., and everything change.