Let the speculation begin...
"It's no place for a child." Adam turned on his heel and left. Each step breaking one half of his heart, yet the other knew it was the right thing to do.
There was seriously only one way this could get worse.
It wasn't the first time but he hoped it was the last.
Warehouses….he fucking hated them.
They were dirty, dark, cold and lifeless. The clang of a pipe, the drip of an old tap echoed around in his head, even now, setting his teeth on edge again.
Sliding his key into the door he tried to be as quiet as he could. Kicking off his boots and stripping off his smelly, wet, blood stained clothes he stood under the shower for a few minutes, letting the scalding hot water try and bring him back to life. Finding a hoodie and some sweat pants he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and spread it out on the floor beside her and lay his head down.
Sleep didn't come though, even though his bones were tired. He listened to her breathe and held his phone in his hand in case it rang. Closing his eyes the past eighteen hours flashed through his mind on an endless loop. The questions kept coming. What if? How? Why? Did he do the right thing? Had he made the right choice? Was he still making the right choices? What if?
For some reason he thought of an old TV show, one that he watched with his Dad, back when he was young. It was their thing, at least that's what he remembered. So many of those moments now were more questions than memories. Did it really happen the way he remembered it or was it what he wanted to believe it was like? He remembered the show though, he remembered them all.
'Sometimes you hear the bullet'.
It was an episode of MASH and he hadn't thought about it in years. Could you, or more to the point, would you hear the bullet that had your name on it? Would it sound different from all the other bullets he'd heard?
This one sounded like all the others.
He still heard it though and he slid his hand under his hoodie and felt for the tender spot. His cold hand against his hot skin was strangely calming. The heat and gentle throb took his focus for a moment.
It wasn't the first time he'd taken one in the vest. It wasn't that long ago that he'd been felled by bullet. He felt that one thud into him, it knocked him off his feet and as he thudded to the ground it had knocked the wind out of him. That shot hit harder than this one. It was a glancing blow to his side, but the bullet was meant for him. It was meant to kill him, fired from a gun he knew well, one that was never meant to be pointed at him.
He didn't even feel this one. It wasn't until his adrenaline wore off and he went to take his blood soaked vest off did he feel the shooting pain. Pulling up his shirt he was surprised to see the darkening bruise. Luckily nobody saw it, Kevin's focus was elsewhere and he pulled his shirt down and pretended it didn't happen.
Every day it was a possibility that the vest might not stop it. It covered your centre mass, leaving your arms, legs and your head at the mercy of a good or lucky shot. Today was a lucky shot for him, unlucky for the person firing it.
That wasn't the sound of that bullet he could hear now though. It wasn't the first shot fired from his gun either, hitting them in the chest, he remembered the air escaping from their lungs and the involuntary groan. The second, third and fourth shot hit flesh again, chest, abdomen, arm and hand as the body lurched forward. it was the fifth shot, splitting open the head that he heard and then the thud of the body hitting the ground. The blood oozed out on the floor, slow and steady. Not that he cared, not about that blood.
The light hair was gradually turning dark as the blood oozed onto the dirty concrete around the lifeless body.
Dropping his weapon he scrambled on his knees and used all his strength to push the body away and roll it off her. He didn't care that it could be considered tampering with a crime scene. Saving her life was more important than preserving the evidence.
"Ruzek." He heard his name echoing around the cavernous building, a deep rumbling voice. "Ruzek. Are you alright?"
"I'm here. I'm alright. Call a bus."
"Where's Burgess?"
Kevin's flashlight bounced towards him, his footsteps heavy on the concrete.
He blinked as the light hit his eyes and Kevin stopped on a dime. The lifeless body in his arms as he struggled to stand. The long dark hair hung loosely over his arm, her arm swinging lifelessly. "Is she?"
"Help me." Adam cried as his knees buckled under the weight. Kevin dashed forward and tried to take her from his buddy's arms. "No." he growled. "Call a bus." He repeated desperately.
His radio crackled to life as he barked the orders down the line. Calling for back-up, for a bus, calling for help. Desperate, anguished words spoken into the cold dark cavernous abyss.
"Where are you Atwater?" Voight's gravelly voice came back down the line.
"East corner, ground floor. I've got them."
"Are they okay?"
"Ruzek is, Burgess is…." He looked at Adam. "…in bad shape. One offender DOA."
He looked at the body, face down on the hard dirty floor. Flicking his light over the prostrate form something seemed familiar. The head was turned away from him and there seemed to be more blood on the floor than what was left in the body. "Don't bother. They're dead." Adam responded coldly as he took his first steps towards the door. He couldn't carry her though, the dead lifeless weight got the better of him and he sunk to his knees, cradling her body to his chest.
"Ruze?"
"Yeah. I was shot at, it was a death wish." Ruzek cocked his head. "It was a good shoot."
"I know." He looked at the body again and closed his eyes briefly, trying to clear his mind and put all the scrambled pieces together. "Is it…?
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know."
Kevin dropped down to his knees beside them and checked her pulse and exhaled slowly. Adam looked at him, he was rocking slowly and gasped "She's okay, she's okay, she'll be okay. She has to be…."