"After my brother died, I… I made a promise that I'd never let my guard down again. Always be first in and last out." - Danny Reagan, 11x1

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May 15, 2009 — 5:08am

He shivered.

The warm blood covering his brother's body had seeped through Danny's shirt until he was now chilled. From the cold or the grief, he didn't know.

Firm hands gripped his shoulders.

"Hey… hey… it's okay. … Danny?"

Jackie.

Even though his muddled mind hadn't yet fully worked through all that had happened, he was aware of her nearness. It was a comfort in a world otherwise full of pain and despair.

"Let him go, Danny."

Jackie's voice, firm but gentle. She was still here. Of course she was. She was sitting on the muddy ground next to where he'd fallen, cradling his frame against her as best she could.

Her hands moved to his arms, pulling him back, away from the body. He ran his hand through his brother's short-cropped hair one last time before letting go. This couldn't be real.

A uniformed figure, taking Joe's body from his arms and laying him back in the matted grass beneath them.

One of the paramedics stepped closer, holding a sheet and reaching out to drape it over Joe's still form.

"No… wait."

Danny's voice sounded broken even to his own ears.

"Not yet."

The man only nodded, and let the sheet fall where it was, covering only Joe's legs.

Joe… Joe… Joe…

His chest heaved. Every breath felt like the end. He wished it was.

Someone was rubbing his back, as if he were a child in need of comfort. Jackie again drew him back from the edge—back to real life, awful as it was.

"Danny? Danny, it's okay. Talk to me."

"My brother, Jack…" The reality still insurmountable in his mind. "My brother…"

"I know. I'm so sorry."

In an attempt to focus his mind, Danny snagged on the tattered remnants of Joe's t-shirt. "See the… see the shirt…"

"What about the shirt?"

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus. It was hard to do anything while staring at your brother's bullet-riddled body.

"After 9/11, I went active… in the Marines. Joe was walking a beat… Said he never felt the need to join up…" He needed her to understand, but he was too winded to string words together. "I was… home on leave… right before Fallujah… and he walks in wearing that shirt. Proud brother of… of a US Marine, it said on the back."

"Oh, Danny…" Jackie was crying too, he could hear it in her voice. "He was so proud of you. So proud to be your brother."

A minute passed—or maybe an hour. Grief has no clock and the surreal ache in Danny's chest knew no deadline.

The next thing he knew, the familiar-looking paramedic knelt next to them, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Reagan."

Danny nodded.

"We did everything we could, but… he'd already bled out so much by the time we got here, and…"

He nodded again. "I know." He didn't blame them. He just… Dear God, it hurt.

No.

Danny swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He needed to concentrate, get his head on straight, figure out what came next.

A moment of convincing himself he could and he pushed to a kneeling position, letting himself take in the view of his brother's body for a final moment. Jackie stood from beside him, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

The early morning light glinted off something at Joe's side. His NYPD shield still settled into his limp hand, smeared with crimson blood. The shield. The one he'd devoted himself to, carried every day for nearly a decade, and now given his life for.

Danny reached over and gently picked it up, brushing the lifeless fingers. He couldn't let the sight of his brother's body get to him again, had to focus.

He clutched the gold shield into his palm until the engraved front left impressions in his flesh. With his free hand, he picked up the sheet still covering only part of the body, cast a final look into his brother's face, and pulled the sheet up so that it covered his torso and head.

Then he pushed to his feet and took a step back.

When he turned and looked around, he was suddenly aware of the many somber faces surrounding him. A few he recognized as being from Joe's squad, a few others he didn't know. The EMS responders were still standing by—probably wondering if they needed to check him out.

Jackie stood a few feet away, conversating quietly with Sgt. Slewinsky. Danny walked toward them, still gripping his brother's shield in his hand as if the small act could somehow reverse the events of the past hour.

"Who did this?"

Jackie motioned to two other sheet-draped bodies furthering back in the yard. "Joe's partners got both of them."

The men who'd snatched his brother's life were also dead before their time. Somehow that small fact brought him no comfort. But if the killer's were dead, the only thing else that mattered right now was—

"Does my dad know?"

The sergeant met Danny's gaze and slowly shook his head. "One PP knows that an officer was killed tonight, but no details. I'm going up there myself. No parent should have to hear those words through a phone call."

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