Two: Her

I try not to show it, but my hand is shaking. Why? It's not the first time I've used it, far from it. It's not the first time I've been in such a situation, either. Perps have taken hostages before, sometimes even police officers. I've been there and back. I've taken shots like these before, and I was always right on the mark.

So why am I hesitating now? It's a rhethorical question, really. I already know the answer to that. Does it make me hesitate? Yes. Does it make me afraid? Yes. I'm scared. I don't want to shoot, because I know that there's a bit of truth in Victor's lies. There's a chance that he can pull the trigger on his shotgun before he dies. There's a chance that I miss him. There's a chance that I miss him and hit Elliot.

Elliot. Why did he have to go and get us into this mess? I want to blame him, curse him, but I can't. He's shouting at me to take the shot, to take my chances. The same chance I've taken before. I've never missed my mark.

But now, I'm not so sure. I wait, try to talk, try to stall until the reinforcements get here.

To be perfectly honest, I don't want to take the shot. If it were anyone else's life on the line, I'd do it without batting an eye. But this is Elliot. My partner. My best friend. The best damn thing that ever happened to me. No matter what happens, no matter how badly we screw up, we're always there to bring the other down a peg or two, or cheer each other up. He's got my back, and I'd bet my life on him. We're closer than husband and wife, we know the other better than we know ourselves.

Do I care for him? Hell yes. His is the one life I refuse to gamble with, including my own. If I lost him now, after all we've been through together, I don't know if I could handle the job anymore. I don't know if I could handle anything anymore.

Victor's making empty promises, trying to save his own neck. He has to realize there's no way out for him. Elliot catches my eye. "Take the shot," he says. His voice is calm, collected, a stark contrast to Victor's mindless babbling. I shake my head, but something in his eyes pleads with me.

"I made a choice, Olivia, back at the bus station. I don't regret it, but it was wrong. Don't make my mistake, Liv." His eyes are boring into mine with an intensity that makes me want to turn away, but I can't.

I fight to hold back the tears that want to come, and grip the pistol tighter, wishing for a small miracle. I want to hate him for the choice he's forcing upon me. How could he make me choose between his life and Victor's next victim's? I try to steady my grip, and raise the pistol, until I have a clean line of fire at Victor's head. "I'm sorry," I whisper, before starting to squeeze the trigger.

Elliot smiles softly, closing his eyes and waiting for the sound of the gunshot. He trusts me. He trusts me to take this shot, do my job, prevent Victor from killing anyone else…and not regretting it afterwards.

I can't. I can't take the risk and not regret it. Elliot means too much to me. I relax my hold on the gun and slowly place it on the ground. Victor's eyes widen, as do Elliot's. The shotgun swivels, and I can see the horror in Elliot's eyes as the shot echoes through the derelict warehouse.

My eyes must show the same shock that's in Victor's. Elliot just smiles and slowly sinks back against a crate, leaving a bloody smear as he slides to the ground, both his hands still holding firmly onto the barrel of the shotgun. I have the presence of mind to dive for my pistol; even as Victor turns to run, I snap off two quick rounds that pierce his back. Sirens can be heard from outside, reinforcements are arriving. I don't care.

I crawl over to where Elliot sits slumped in a growing pool of his own blood. It's a miracle he's still alive, but we both know he's not going to make it. I still can't believe it, can't believe the way he swung himself into the way of the shells that were meant for me.

He cracks one eye open and smiles weakly. "Shoulda taken the shot," he tries to chuckle, but coughs up blood, instead. Before I can say anything, he's got a hand on mine. "It's okay, Liv. I would've made the same choice, too."

"I'm sorry, so sorry," the words come out of my mouth as a whisper so soft, I'm not even really sure if I said them, but he just shrugs and closes his eyes. "Don't be." And without my knowing, my tears start to fall, mixing with his blood, even as the EMTs wheel him away.