Hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor, and Street poked his head out from the armory just in time to see 50-David rushing toward the motor pool. With 20 squad also out on a call, he was starting to regret offering to come back to HQ after his PT to work on weapon maintenance. He'd mainly done that to be around his teammates—former teammates officially, but not for long. Every day that passed, he was a step closer to gaining his spot back.
Street settled back on his stool, his cane laid casually in the middle of the mess of wires and mechanical parts. His expert hands moved almost faster than his brain. He'd always liked fixing things, and that was why during his probation period, he'd volunteered to work in the armory in his free time. Time flies, Street thought. Back then, he'd undoubtedly picked up schemes and tricks, and now, he could work mostly on auto-pilot, his mind wandering aimlessly.
Despite everything, this was home. There was something eerie today, though. Something different from every other day of the last three weeks, and it wasn't just because he was now used to limping around the HQ mostly in the mornings.
The place had never felt as deserted as right now. Hicks appeared to be out, too, on location with 20-Davids. 50-David, he'd heard, had just reached 60-David on another scene. Supposedly, Cortez was with them. The other teams had the day off or were on-call.
Street stretched his arms up his head and put an ear out for any sign of life. Put a bunch of alpha males together, and what do you get? Bets and challenges. All the on-duty squads were busy, and the bullpen at the other side of the building was in full operation mode. Yet, the off-duty guys still around the HQ had drawn each other out in the parking lot. Street had been invited to join in, too, but he wasn't in the mood. Being unable to take part in physical challenges nor help out his teammates in action weighed on him. He didn't need a pause nor a breath of fresh air. What he needed was to get something done, to feel useful, not playful.
Time passed excruciatingly slow when his friends were out without him, but this time, no news meant good news. The TV screens in the corridors were turned on, and no tragic events involving SWAT officers were being displayed. Street glanced at his phone; he was barely able to see there was no incoming text to read that it died. How come already? He hopped off the stool but didn't bother to retrieve his cane, leaning on the overstuffed table to get to the other side of it and plug his cell into the charger. Once the device was operating again, he re-checked it; he'd glanced right the first time, no missed calls or text. All was good.
He sighed, stretched his muscles again, and rapidly scanned the room for a challenge that would keep his mind busy for a while. When he found what he was looking for, he settled back on his stool, fully immersed in the job until his peripheral vision caught a flurry of movement. Had Capitan Cortez just crossed the corridor to reach her office?
Street's hands worked faster on the wires he was trying to reconnect. Any minute now, 50 and 60 squads should flood the HQ, as loud and gloating as ever, hopefully, and his concentration would be compromised.
However, silence kept blanketing him until unfamiliar, hushed footsteps moved down the corridor. Still wrapped in his project, Street only saw out of the corner of his eyes a pair of polished leather boots passing by. One second too late, his brain registered something else: a shimmer higher up. A gun was in the man's hand. Had the finger been dangerously close to the trigger, or was Street's mind tricking him?
"Hey," he called off for Detective Pierce but received no answer. He hopped off the stool and fetched his cane, but with grease on his hands, he dropped it and in his rush, accidentally kicked it under the table. For no apparent reason other than Chris's hunch from a few days prior, all his alarms sounded off.
Street wiped his hands as best and as rapidly as he could, and with no time to crawl down and retrieve the cane—would have been able to do it on his own anyway?—he grabbed the first functioning gun in sight and limped in the corridor, leaning on the walls.
He glanced around. It was the desert. He thought of calling out, but for what? If the man was up to something, that would tip him off, and then… This was just a gut feeling. It could be nothing at all. He walked as fast as he could, with one hand gripping the gun and with the other steadying himself using the wall, all while his back gradually started to complain about the effort.
As soon as he was at earshot, voices confirmed his suspects. Something was about to go down inside the Captain's office. Needless to say, it wasn't anything good.
"You thought no one would discover your racket?" Cortez asked—incredulous or mocking? "That you could go away with it under my nose?"
"Shut up!" Pierce yelled. "You're going to do exactly as I tell you, and maybe I can give you a merciful death."
Street's heart pounded in his chest and blood froze in his veins as he approached as quietly and carefully as he could to the Captain's ajar door. He peeked inside. Cortez was at the far wall, a step to his left. Her eyes seemed to glide on the door frame for the faintest moment. If she'd acknowledged Street, she had been smart enough not to let it show. On the other side of the room, Pierce faced the Captain, her desk between them, but Street could only see the arm with the gun trained up, the finger on the trigger.
"You're crazy," Cortez said with bravery more than disbelief. "You really think you can get out of here, of the SWAT HQ unnoticed after killing me?"
Pierce laughed, and the sound sent electricity up Street's spine, quite literally as the movement of straightening himself and tightening the grip on the gun tried his still compromised body. But he had to act.
Now.
Street's heart hammered in his chest. He tried to slow his breathing. Training and instinct kicked in, and on the slightest cue from Cortez, he pushed the door with his right hand, the left secure on his firearm. He limped forward, grinding his teeth, trying to ignore the ache and fatigue. Two different shots resounded almost simultaneously.
One missed. One hit the target.
The kickback of his gun reverberated through Street's arms, sending him back. Had he been his usual self, he would have held his ground, but his body was not ready to do that yet. He leaned against the wall, his legs buckling, and he gradually slid to the floor. The Captain had circled her desk and now stood with a knee on the small of Pierce's back, securing his arms behind him. Street's eyes searched for the tiny hole in the farthest wall—just an inch higher than where Cortez's head had been thirty seconds prior—then moved down to the injury on Pierce's arm before shifting back up to Cortez's eyes.
"Sorry for the mess," Street said through gritted teeth, staring at the pool of blood forming beneath the Captain and the Detective.
"I already had to redecorate in any case," Cortez said, pressing with a bit more force than strictly necessary on Pierce's back. She looked down at the groaning men, then back at Street. "You okay?" Worry shone in her voice.
Street nodded, out of breath, and at that moment, Hondo rushed into the room, followed at a short distance by the whole 20-David team plus Commander Hicks.
"We're out five minutes, and look at what you do," Hicks shook his head. He was trying to look stoic, but concern lurked behind his smirk.
Hondo knelt by Cortez and helped her put the complaining Pierce to his feet.
"You good?" By the look on their faces, Luca had just voiced all his teammates' concerns while relieving Street from the still smoking gun.
"I'm fine." Street let Tan help him up and sustain him while covering the short way to the black leather couch that sat in the corner of the Captain's office.
He could see Chris breathing out her relief before Hondo handed the soon-to-be-ex-detective to her to take out. Before following the Commander's wake through the door, she only turned so briefly to grin at Street, her best I-told-you-so look glimmering on her face. For once, Street was relieved it wasn't referring to something stupid he'd done.
"Are you sure you're alright, Kid?" Hondo studied him from head to toes.
"I just need a minute to recover from the run. My physical therapists will not be amused about what happened, but if you're not gonna tell them, I certainly won't."
"You just tell them you saved a life," Cortez nodded at him in gratitude. "Sit there all the time you need," she said and motioned everyone to clear the overcrowded room.
After everyone reluctantly obliged the Captain's orders to leave him alone, Street breathed deeply and listened to his body. Minor aches and pains spread out to his every muscle and his chest was still a bit tight, but aside from that, all seemed good. He was confident he didn't compromise his already slow recovery. He would get there. Soon, even though not soon as he would have liked.
He exhaled a little louder than intended, but no one was there to notice. He glanced over his shoulder at the pool of blood on the floor, then his eyes darted up to the bullet hole in the farther wall.
Closing his eyes and leaning back onto the couch, Street turned Cortez's words over and over in his mind. Just tell them you saved a life.
His training had saved a life. His determination not to let his body stop him had saved a life. Relief flooded him. His mind was still in the game. Months out of practice, but he wasn't all that rusty. A smile unconsciously took over his features.
"All proud of yourself there?"
Street opened his eyes to Chris standing in front of him, his cane in her hands and the most annoying but heartwarming grin plastered on her face.
"Let me guess, you're here to take the merit for the saving from me?" He tried to breathe out the fatigue if his body. "If it weren't for your warning on Pierce, I may not have noticed something was about to go down here."
Chris shrugged, handing him the cane. "I'm here to ask you how the hell did you manage to kick this thing so far under the working table in the armory."
... ... ...
During the last two months that he'd been back on the job, Street had enjoyed the only pro of working part-time in the bullpen while attending PT in the afternoons: not having to take crazy shifts and not working after-hours nor on the weekends. Although, he had to admit that waiting for Luca to be home after work had made him feel like an over-concerned wife most days. Definitely, he'd been complaining to Duke about the situation a bit too often.
Today the sky was clear, the air pleasantly warm and filled with BBQ scents, and 20-David, had the whole Saturday off, combined with a Sunday on-call instead of being on full duty. What more to ask for than a welcome-to-the-world party for Deacon's fourth child?
Victoria Josie Kay had actually arrived a couple of months prior, but apparently, she'd had some health issues. But those issues were now resolved, and tiny, strong Victoria was the liveliest and happiest newborn Street had ever seen. More reasons why this late feast was all the more important and all the more joyful.
Breathing full lungs the sweet, pleasantly cool air, Street took in the scene displaying before his eyes. Deacon and Annie were both shining bright while dealing with all kinds of guests and relatives. Tan had brought Bonnie along, and Chris was catching up with her, all three of them sipping from paper cups. Hondo was deep into a conversation with Cortez, occasional grins taking over their lips. Luca split his time between mastering the grill and being the best uncle the Kay's kids could ever desire. Commander Hicks, in the meantime, took advantage of Luca's distractions to try stealing his place in front of the blazing charcoal. All around the garden, some other off-duty SWAT officers, including Evans, chatted lightly with a few of Annie's friends, who were clearly amused.
As Street strode securely toward where Tan, Bonnie, and Chris were, he didn't miss his cane a single second. It had been five weeks since he'd abandoned it for good, but sometimes he still found himself randomly grateful for the ability to walk—and run—free.
Giggles filled the air while little Matthew and Lila played catch. The boy grazed Street and bailed; the girl tried to reach for her brother, but instead slipped and fell right at Street's feet, who immediately ducked at her side to assess the damage.
"It's alright," Street said, scooping the whining Lila up in his arms. The movement came as natural and smooth to him as it could ever have been. "It's not even a bad scrape, see?" He continued soothing her. "No blood. Will a brave girl like you let a scratch like this stop her from such an important duty as playing?" His lips curved, and he felt the dimples on his cheeks getting pronounced. Once the girl smiled back to him with the cutest little grin, he put her back down. And just like that, off she went chasing her brother.
"What?" Street shrugged with a sheepish smile, acknowledging all the looks on him. Some were awed like they didn't know how naturally he came to deal with kids. Others were almost concerned. And then he remembered. They didn't know. "Okay," he said, taking advantage of the unwanted attention. "I guess Victoria won't mind if I take this moment to make my big announcement." He shot a glance toward Deacon, who was holding the newborn girl, and to Annie at his side. "It will take just one minute, I promise."
As Annie nodded with a smile, Street noticed all the looks had morphed into expectant and anxious.
"I've been cleared for active duty," he said at once. "I'll start back on 20-David the day after tomorrow." He grinned widely, hoping he was not blushing for all the attention he was receiving. As much as he was proud of himself and liked to brag with his friends from time to time, compliments and applause still made him feel a tad uneasy. "What's all this fuss about starting things on Mondays anyway?" he said, trying already to shift the subject.
After the slightest moment of astonished silence, cheers erupted from his teammates, just as it was anticipated. Everywhere he glanced, Street saw huge smiles and hands to shake.
"You did it earlier than expected?" Luca asked, his eyes bright. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Street shrugged. "I got the news yesterday. They practically kicked me out of the rehab facility, telling me not to show my face ever again."
"Of course they did." Chris punched him on the shoulder. "You drove them crazy."
"As you do with us," Tan chimed in. "I also bet they were tired to endure that as—" his voice faltered; Bonnie had elbowed him, making him glance at Annie and the kids. "—to endure your whines."
"I've never whined," Street complained. All looks turned severe. "Okay, maybe once or twice," he smiled sheepishly again, and everyone joined in with chuckles.
The amusement faded so slightly away, and Deacon handed baby Victoria to Annie, then followed Hondo's lead in expressing his delight for Street coming back to the team. Then Cortez added her own felicitations, too.
"Well," Evans made himself noticed among the small crowd that had gathered around Street. "I guess your friends were right all along. You came back to claim your spot." He grinned, holding out his hands for Street to shake. "Good job." He patted Street's shoulder with his free hand.
An embarrassed silence fell among the presents. When Street had gone talking with Hicks about his reintegration, they hadn't talked about Evans' fate.
"Oh, come on!" Evans chuckled soundly. "You all sad to lose me now?"
His teammates were not exactly sad, Street could tell it, but something unsaid hovered in the air all the same. Even he wasn't sure how to feel about the possibility he was the reason this young man could lose his chance of being part of something as great as SWAT. On the other hand, this was Street's spot, and Evans had only been there to hold his place...
"Don't worry," the arrogant man continued. "You're not gonna get rid of me this easily!"
"Evans here is going to join 60-David," Commander Hicks explained. "Backer needed some fresh meat since Long is going to step back from active duty until his retirement next month."
Street was unexpectedly relieved to hear that. Evans was a bit of a jackass—maybe more than just a bit—but he also was a good cop; he had proved himself capable and even promising during Street's long absence from the field. Street knew first-hand how hard it can be to adjust to the 'SWAT is a family' thing and to let go of the selfish bits of yourself to become an integral part of it. He wasn't going to judge. The man could do great things in SWAT, just not on 20 squad. That was Street's place. His family. Maybe Backer would teach Evans what Hondo and the guys had not had the time to teach him in his stay with them. Maybe his presence on another team will make Tan and Luca even more competitive than they already were with the challenges between teams. For sure, it would be a reminder for Street to never give up and keep fighting for what he wanted.
A faint, impatient whimper sounded from baby Victoria, who was tucked securely in Annie's arms.
"Okay, okay," Street said, his face numb from smiling so much. "The queen had spoken. We should go back to the real reason for this party."
The small crowd slowly shuffled away as everybody went back to the conversation they left hanging when Street had interrupted them. The atmosphere had already been cheerful and light, but something had changed now. The looks on Tan, Chris, and Luca's faces were all shiny, and the smirks and grins brightening their expression lit Street's with a kind of anticipation he'd never felt.
He was back, and his family was here for him.
Street wasn't sure how his life would be from now on. He only knew one thing: he was happy. He was as happy as he'd never been in his entire life.
...
The end
...
Final Author's Note: So, this is it… Mixed feelings are flooding my heart, but I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am.
First, let me just add one thing to wrap the story: I know that I put Street through quite a physical and emotional ringer. You have to admit, though, that after all the fighting, the setbacks, and the ups and downs, I also gave him the happy ending he deserved, or at least I tried to. He is with his family now. Moreover, he feels part of that family to all intents and purposes. He feels stronger, accepted, and he knows that no matter what, he's not alone anymore. His friends had proven they won't abandon him as everyone else in his life had done before, and whatever will happen in his life from now on, Street feels that he can be happy in the deepest sense of the word.
I'd like to hear how the reader's experience has been, but from my point of view (I still have some difficult in calling myself 'the writer'), this whole experience has been challenging in many ways.
I started this journey about two years ago (even earlier if you consider all the weeks I spent planning and drafting before actually posting chapter 1). I never thought it was possible for me to create such a big project and to stay invested in it for so long. Yes, I had my moments of lack of inspiration and motivation, but I always came back, and this is the result.
To tell you the truth, I loved and hated this story, feeling all the shades of gray and colors in between. And now, it's over. It's finished.
I guess I changed quite a bit during this period (wow, I still can't believe it's been a whole two years), both as a person and as a writer. I like to think I grew, through setbacks and rush of creativity, through moments of discouragement and moments of hope, through wanting to bail everything and craving to take my dear project to its fair end.
And this is the end I had planned all along. I drafted bits of the action scene since the first week of planning the story, but at some point, I started doubting my plan and felt I should cut the story short. I can't believe I actually made it through to what I had originally planned.
Thank you all so much.
Thanks to Ivedonestranger, for proofreading and helping me with the English language for the first fifteen chapters.
Thanks to Lalez for the constant encouragement during the second half of this journey.
Thanks to whoever had skimmed through my pages:
-To the ones who had been with me from day one two years ago. A special thanks for your extreme patience.
-To the ones who started and dropped off at some point. It's okay. I've thought about doing it a few times, too.
-To the ones who jumped in later on and kept up with me until the very end. I'm flattered that my project captured your interest.
Thanks to whoever spent their precious time leaving a comment or a review. I appreciate every single word.
Sorry for being so wordy in my final note. It's been a pleasure taking this journey with you, and though I'm a bit sad it's over, it also is about time for me to move on.
Take care, and see you again, I hope.