Author's Note: Well, I told you I wouldn't make you wait long! Here we go, chapter 6. Let me see, what trouble can Jim get himself into this chapter … ;-) :-)

*******************

Chapter 6: Can't Save Them All … 

Jim watched as Hondo turned his cell phone on – he couldn't let this happen. He flexed his muscles slightly, feeling for any reaction from his captor, but there was none. So far, so good, he thought, now …

The plane had been badly damaged by the crash landing caused by Hondo's actions. Street knew that any second now the plane was going to explode. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the flames lick closer and closer to a small pool of fuel that had escaped the fuel tanks. Come on, come on, he thought impatiently, glancing back at Hondo, who was ever closer to complying with Gamble's demands.

An explosion rocked the bridge as the flames reached the fuel. With a cry, Street struck out backwards hard, striking the distracted Johnson hard in the gut. He doubled over in pain, and Street relieved him of the rifle, and was halfway across the bridge before Gamble and the others had time to react. Deke grabbed his gun and gave Street covering fire, forcing Gamble and Alex back behind the plane.

Jim dived behind the car.

"Street!" Hondo yelled. "You OK?"

"Never better," Jim replied with a grin. "Few cuts and bruises, nothing major," he added as Hondo shot him a glare. He decided not to add the part about his bruised ribs and the fact that he was having difficulty breathing.

Deke fired again as a head appeared at the plane door. He cursed as he missed, but remained on the alert.

"They can't stay there forever," Street yelled. "It's going to blow, and soon. The fuel tank's damaged," he added, by way of explanation. "It's a miracle it hasn't gone already. They have to know that."

He looked up suddenly as Rick charged out of the plane, trying to get behind it. Hondo brought him down with a bullet in his head. TJ – seeing the fate of Rick – did not leave the plane.

"There he goes!" Hondo yelled, pointing at Montel as the Frenchman ran from the plane, flames licking up the wings. Gamble followed a few metres after. "Go! Go!" Hondo yelled. Deke broke cover, running after Montel. With a cry, he leapt at the wanted man and tackled him to the ground.

Montel struggled, but Deke held a gun to his head. "Give me a reason, you son of a bitch, and I swear I'll do it," he growled, pressing the barrel of the gun into the Frenchman's temple. Montel went limp. He knew it was over.

Gamble had disappeared off the edge of the bridge, but Street and Hondo approached the plane.

TJ was crouched inside the cabin of the plane, his face pale, and blood leaking from a gunshot wound to his chest. "I reckon," he whispered as Gamble and Hondo appeared in the doorway, "that you win." He reached into his pocket, and Hondo raised the gun threateningly. TJ grinned. "Ah now, Lieutenant," he hissed, "no tricks, I promise."

He pulled out the handcuff keys, and tossed them to Street. Hondo grabbed the keys and unlocked the handcuffs.

"Go get him, cowboy," TJ said with a laugh. "Give him my best."

Hondo nodded. Street pulled back from the doorway, balancing the rifle in his hands, before heading towards the section of bridge where he had last seen Gamble.

Hondo remained behind holding a gun on TJ. The cop-turned-criminal let out a gasp of pain as he forced himself to sit back against the seat. "Bullet," he explained to Hondo. "Reckon one of you boys must have got me." He tried to steady his breathing. "So … what happens now, sir?" he added, with a touch of insolence.

Hondo realised that he would need an ambulance. His gaze fell to the gun clasped in TJ's hand. It rested on the ground, as if it was too heavy for him to lift.

"TJ – let go of the gun. Now."

TJ looked down, a little surprised to find the weapon in his grasp. "You know what, sir," he said slowly, "I don't think I can obey that order."

The fire was creeping ever closer to the cabin. Hondo was getting nervous.

"TJ, what …"

"Reckon this is the only way," TJ rasped out, his voice weakening. Drawing on hidden reserves of strength, he slowly raised the gun. For a second, Hondo feared that TJ was aiming for him, but then he realised what the man was intending to do. He made to move forward, to take the gun, but TJ forestalled him.

"No," he said. "You don't want me alive. SWAT doesn't need me alive." He raised the gun to his head. "Sorry, Hondo. Guess you can't save 'em all."

Hondo turned his face away.

*******************

Chris Sanchez lay in a drug-induced sleep, oblivious to the events transpiring on 6th Street Bridge, oblivious to the doctors conferring outside her room. She had no idea that one of her former teammates was dead, that another lay fighting for his life just down the hallway from her.

It was easy to hide in oblivion. Hide from the pain she would face when she woke.

But something was calling to her, forcing her to wake. Something wouldn't let her sleep.

Slowly, she rose to consciousness …

*******************

Author's Note: A relatively short chapter this time, but I felt that TJ's death deserved it's own chapter. I'll have the next chapter up in a day or two; it will feature Street vs Gamble!!

Review! Please!