Someone was grabbing his shoulder, fingers squeezing painfully. Charlie tried to pull away, but the grip was strong and he had no idea what was going on. His head was throbbing, there was something wet trickling down his forehead, over his left eye. He wanted to brush it off, the sensation irritating, but he couldn't. Because some asshole was gripping his shoulder, muttering curses and manhandling him.
Charlie forced his eyes open with a groan.
Everything was fuzzy and his left eye was covered in the sticky wetness. He still turned his head to the right, trying to see where he was and just who was jolting him around when all he wanted was to lie down and go to sleep.
"Stop it," he mumbled, though what came out seemed to be no more than a grunt to his own ears.
"Fucking bastard," came the answer and the grip on his shoulder tightened, pulling. Charlie didn't have time to react, he felt his body being pulled out of the seat. For a second he was suspended mid air by the grip before gravity took over and he crashed to the ground.
A gust of air left his lungs as he face planted on the dusty ground. He managed to at least partially soften the landing by grabbing at his attacker. There was no doubt that whomever manhandled him had no good intentions as Charlie heard more curses aimed his way.
"Should've shot ya like a rabid dog," the man whose feet were now within Charlie's eyesight said and spat. Charlie blinked, trying to clear his head enough to figure out what was going on.
He knew he was in deep trouble. He knew this was something he should have anticipated or something he actually prepared for, but for the life of him he couldn't make head and heel of the situation. Having his face down in the dirt and head throbbing wasn't helping any.
The voice above him however was familiar.
"You don't deserve an easy out though," the man said with venom in his voice and Charlie noted movement in his peripheral vision just a second before a foot kicked him in the side.
Charlie grunted, the kick causing him to roll over and double up in pain. Once the stars vanished from his vision though he finally got a look at his assailant.
Kenneth.
As he saw the man move again for another kick, everything came rushing back.
The fights. The trial. The car pushing him off the road.
Charlie braced himself for the hit but that hardly helped.
He was so screwed.
All he could see were Kenneth's legs aiming one kick after other his way, not even caring which body part they hit. Charlie rolled with the hits and even though he managed to block a few, Kenneth was pissed and putting all his strength behind it.
Somewhere in the distance he heard Ben shouting his brother's name in warning.
Charlie could hear the sound of another car in the distance, but Kenneth was so filled with rage that he didn't seem to notice. One more kick sent Charlie rolling several feet away, out of Kenneth's reach.
That gave him a moment of reprieve, just enough to take in the breath he was lacking.
Kenneth stood several feet away, face angry red and panting heavily.
Charlie was reminded of an enraged bull mere seconds before charging. He was expecting that... Kenneth coming at him once again with flailing legs and fists, beating him to a pulp.
What he didn't expect was to see the man trying to regain his composure and reach behind his back to pull out a gun.
Charlie's eyes went wide.
He was dead.
There was no way Kenneth wouldn't pull the bloody trigger.
Based on the sick grin that appeared on Kenneth's face, he was thinking the same.
"Time to put you down, Chuckles," he said and aimed at Charlie's torso.
Charlie couldn't breathe, couldn't move or think.
All he could see was the gun pointed right at him.
He idly wondered whether he would hear the shot, if he would see the bullet coming. If it will hurt.
There was a screeching of tires.
"Kenneth!" Ben shouted.
Kenneth's head jerked, then he involuntarily turned towards his brother, an irritated 'What-' stuck on his lips.
Charlie saw that in slow motion.
He realized this was his only chance. If he didn't move, he was dead.
It was pure adrenaline that allowed him to move so fast, he was sure. And it was only due to Lawson that all he had to do was reach towards his right ankle and pull the small revolver from the ankle holster.
His aim wasn't good. He wasn't best at shooting with his right hand and the dizziness didn't help. The bullet, however small though, hit the target.
Charlie let out a breath as he saw Kenneth's body jerk mid turn, a look of surprise crossing his face as the bullet pierced through his skin, into his shoulder. The gun fell from his hand and he faltered, though surprisingly he still managed to stay standing.
Charlie blinked, then pulled the trigger the second time. This time though the bullet missed Kenneth by few inches and Charlie had to pause. His vision faltered, the figure in front of him becoming blurry for a moment. He heard two different voices.
"Police! Hands up!" one shouted.
"Kenneth! Get in!" shouted the other and Charlie could hear a car pulling up nearby, he could see another blurred figure reaching out and pulling Kenneth inside, spitting and cursing.
Charlie aimed at the blur of the car and fired off three more shots, until he heard his gun coming up empty. The car's door had already slammed shut and with the screech of the wheels it was pulling off.
"Davis!"
Charlie instinctively aimed his empty gun towards the movement.
"Bloody hell! Put that down!" came a shout and Charlie did. He squinted and looked up at the familiar form of his colleague.
"Bill," he said, voice choked as he let out a laugh of disbelief. "Happy to see you."
"I'd say the same but that would be lying," Bill grunted as he squatted down next to Charlie, looking torn between helping him or decking him. "Why the bloody hell did you leave the station?"
Charlie let out an annoyed sound and attempted to get up. At least Bill wasn't too much of a hovering type and didn't try to keep him down. Instead he offered his arm and pulled him up, steadying him when he swayed.
"Let's leave the questions for later... we need to follow them."
Bill seemed like he wanted to protest. But this was Hobart and Charlie knew the man always put priority to catching the bad guy. Right now that was just what Charlie needed.
"Get inside," Hobart said nodding towards the police car he arrived in. Charlie gave a short nod, putting the now empty gun inside his pocket. He wasn't sure leaning over and putting it back into the ankle holster would be a smart move. Right after that he ran a hand over his face, rubbing the wetness off of his eyes. He grimaced at the redness covering his hand now, but at least his vision was a bit better. He didn't have to squint anymore and the world stayed mostly put. Satisfied, he quickly settled down in the passenger seat while Hobart already pulled out in pursuit of Kenneth and Ben.
Charlie was expecting a barrage of questions any second now, but there was only silence. Hobart shot him an annoyed look, let out a gruff sigh and nodded towards the glove compartment.
"There are some paper towels in there if you want," he uttered, glaring at Charlie's face and blood covered hand. Charlie gave him a sheepish look and opened the compartment, pulling out a wad of towels. He didn't look at them too closely, unsure how clean they were. They would have to do, at least for his hands.
The silence of the car didn't last long. Hobart reached for the radio transmitter. Within a minute, the station was informed about the crashed police cruiser, a shootout and two armed suspects fleeing the scene. He requested backup and Lawson to be informed immediately.
Charlie's stomach curled when he realised that Kenneth and Ben would have to pass by the Doc's house. He prayed that they caught up to them sooner or that the men drove by without stopping. Anything but them entering the house with Jean.
Blake would never forgive him if something happened to his wife. Hell, Charlie wouldn't be able to forgive himself.
"Can't you drive faster?" he snapped at Hobart as soon as the man finished the call, though he knew the car was already reaching top speed.
"I wouldn't need to if you weren't an idiot," Hobart snapped back. "You were supposed to wait for escort."
"I'm not bloody five!"
"One wouldn't know," Hobart muttered.
Charlie shot him a glare. He was leaning forward on the seat, trying to catch sight of the red car but so far no luck. Did they lose too much time? Or maybe they went off the road somewhere?
Charlie's head was spinning with everything so it took him a moment to realize something.
"Wait. How... how did you know?"
"Know what?"
"About Kenneth... you must've known," he frowned, sure that Hobart would be pelting him with questions now if it wasn't the case.
Hobart just shot him an irritated look.
"I'm not an idiot, Davis. I knew something was up the moment you waltzed in with that cast on your hand. I confronted the boss and at least he had half the brain to tell me. Unlike you."
Charlie had a feeling Hobart was actually... hurt about being left out. He couldn't find the mental capacity to deal with it right now though.
"I didn't have much of a choice," he muttered as an explanation, ignoring the snort of disbelief. There. Did he just spot something red on the horizon?
He squinted, his face almost touching the front window.
"Settle down," Hobart grunted. "Don't want you going through the windshield if I have to stop."
"Look! There!" Charlie pointed ahead, as if Hobart couldn't see for himself.
"Sit back!" Hobart snapped and in the next moment Charlie realized why. He was mistaken. The car could go faster. With a grunt, he fell back on the seat as Hobart stepped on the gas. They were maybe five kilometres from Blake's house.
"We need to stop them, now!" Charlie almost shouted.
Hobart didn't comment, just nodded.
The distance between the two cars was getting smaller. Charlie was almost heartened by the sight. The driver of the car seemed to have trouble keeping it straight on the road, it seemed he was occupied by other things as well. Charlie would like to think Ben was trying to keep Kenneth alive.
The old Charlie would have felt bad for shooting a person. And Charlie knew, if it had been someone innocent, he would be shaking with guilt before the bullet even left the chamber. But Kenneth wasn't innocent and Charlie was aware he only defended himself.
He couldn't care less whether Kenneth survived or not... except for the case. They needed him alive for that. Even the case could go and screw itself however if it meant endangering Jean.
"Bill!" Charlie said and his tone held a hint of pleading as he knew they were getting closer to Blake's house.
"I know," Hobart replied, teeth clenched as he pushed the car to the limit. Finally, they were close. Close enough to maybe open fire at the car.
Hobart reached for his gun, and Charlie didn't even ask why he had it on him. He suspected Lawson gave Hobart the clearance just as he gave Charlie the small revolver he used earlier for protection.
"Hold the wheel!" Hobart said, giving Charlie only a second to react and clutch the wheel, cursing as he tried to keep the car on the road. "Damn it Davis, keep it straight!" Hobart shouted even as he rolled down the window and leaned out, aiming.
He fired off several shots.
Charlie could see at least two hitting the car, though they hardly did much damage. The next one however shattered the back window and the car in front of them swerved wildly. Charlie bit down the urge to yell in satisfaction.
The car in front of them was anything but stable.
"Hold on!" Hobart shouted a warning. He settled back behind the wheel and used the moment to his advantage. He pushed on the gas pedal with such force Charlie felt the engine give an angry rumble. They were now pulling up to Kenneth's car. Hobart jerked the wheel and rammed the front of his car into the right back side of the red car, much like it had done earlier to Charlie. The car's wheels screeched and it veered wildly off to the left. Charlie caught sight of a wide eyed Ben trying to control the wheel, while keeping one hand protectively in front of his brother, stopping him from falling over.
It was of no use.
In that one glance Charlie saw the crimson splash on the front window, the strange shape of Kenneth's skull...
Charlie swallowed down the sudden nausea.
He watched as the car went off the road, onto the empty field. It drove for about twenty more seconds at high speed, jumping over some bushes when its speed begin to decline. It didn't stop, not right away. But it was clear Ben had simply lifted his foot from the gas pedal, then slowly pressed on the breaks.
"What the hell?" Hobart asked, following the strange trajectory of the car.
"He's dead," Charlie said tonelessly. "Kenneth. His head is blown off."
Hobart didn't say a word as he pulled up next to the red car that had stopped in the middle of nothing. "Stay put," Hobart commanded as he got out, gun ready even though Charlie knew he had only one bullet left in the chamber.
He stayed put. Not because Hobart told him so. He stayed sitting because he didn't really want to see the inside of the car. The previous glance he got was enough. He didn't need to see the brain matter and skull fragments covering the interior.
Hobart obviously got to the same conclusion. He was pointing his gun at the driver's seat, but even Charlie could see the look of disgust on his face.
"Hands up!" Hobart shouted at Ben, but Charlie could see he wasn't moving. He must've been paralysed by the situation. Or perhaps he was hit as well? Charlie wasn't sure. He hoped not. Whatever happened, he never felt ill will towards Ben. The guy was trying to be half decent to him. They shared a meal for hell's sake. Charlie was sure he would've been long dead if not for Ben. Kenneth would have found a reason to get rid of him in any case.
Charlie hoped Ben won't do anything stupid. He didn't want Hobart to shoot him after all.
It took a long moment for Ben to react. Hobart kept shouting commands at him, he even opened the car door. Ben just sat there, his head turned to where his brother's body was now slumped down. Charlie swallowed.
Hobart had reached his limit. He cursed and not waiting for a response, reached inside. Not unlike Kenneth had done before, Hobart pulled Ben out of the car, pushing him to the ground.
There was no need really. The moment Ben lost sight of his brother, he broke down, heaving. Charlie grimaced in disgust and sympathy.
He could imagine what it was to lose a brother. Hell, he had nightmares about it for the last few weeks. He however couldn't feel sorry for the man that died. Swallowing, he opened the door on his side. He got out of the car and averted his eyes from the gruesome picture in front of him. His eyes caught the familiar shape of Blake's house in the distance. His legs felt jittery and he had to lean back against the car. This was close. Too close.
Hobart was leaning over Ben, putting him into handcuffs and pulling him to the back of their car. Ben didn't put up any resistance. He just stared at the ground, dazed.
Charlie could hear sirens in the distance.
The cavalry was there.
They were late... but that didn't matter.
Charlie looked at Hobart and gave him a nod of thanks.
He wasn't left hanging after all.
The couch wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, yet Charlie felt perfectly content to stay there for the following day or week. Maybe it was because he had it all for himself. He was leaning back on the pillow Jean brought, one hand resting carefully on his stomach while the other was propping up the bag filled with ice, holding it against his forehead. The cut from his collision with the wheel wasn't that serious and had stopped bleeding with the help of some butterfly bandages, though the eggnog bruise forming underneath was more uncomfortable. Despite his headache though Charlie couldn't help but feel kind of jittery.
After all, he was alive.
Ben was alive too and he was pretty sure that once the primary shock from the death of his brother dissipated, he would start talking. Lawson and Hobart would make sure of that and Charlie swore to himself he would be present, if only to make sure that Ben wasn't harmed in the process. He still owed the guy something.
Speaking of the devil, Lawson was pacing the living room, ranting at Charlie for being stupid enough to leave the station without a backup. Charlie wanted to point out that in the end he did have a backup but then he thought better of it. The rant would surely end sooner if he stayed silent and looked contrite. That wasn't hard to do after all. The ice bag was starting to melt and Charlie kept grimacing as droplets of water ran down his face. He didn't dare to take it off however. At least it was covering half his face and making him look more pitiful than ever.
That should have counted for something, right?
Unfortunately, Lawson was too annoyed to pay attention to him and if anything his lack of comments made him more furious.
"Are you even listening to me Charlie?" he barked and Charlie blinked, because if the boss was calling him by his name, he had to be pissed.
"Uh... yeah. Sorry, Boss," he said, hoping that would be enough to placate the man.
Lawson shot him a look then grunted, seemingly more annoyed.
"What the bloody hell were you thinking?"
Charlie shrugged. The move awakened the throbbing in his ribs and he winced, just as Jean was coming in with a tray of drinks.
"Matthew! Can't you stop pestering the boy even for a moment? I hardly think this is the right time!" she admonished.
"Oh come on, he's perfectly fine!"
Charlie scoffed. Now while he technically wasn't seriously injured, he was far from perfectly fine. He did have a headache rivalling one of his worse hangovers and one of the other reasons why he decided the couch would be his dwelling for the next few days was the fact that moving around just caused the whole world to tilt at strange angles.
Jean at least seemed to be on the same page as him, because she shot Lawson a glare that made the man fall silent for a blissful second. With a gruff snort, Lawson settled down in one of the chairs.
It had been a long day, for everyone involved and Charlie felt a twitch of guilt for being the cause of it.
The whole showdown was rather anticlimactic, Charlie thought as his mind took him back to the moments shortly after they apprehended Ben.
He remembered leaning against the hood, listening to Hobart talking in the radio. He thought it was useless, seeing as a police car was pulling up right next to them. It was starting to look like a damn parking lot, Charlie thought idly.
Of course it was Lawson in all his furious glory. Charlie barely blinked and despite his limp, the man was right next to him. A look of shock crossed his face for a second as he caught the sight of the body, but that was quickly replaced by something else.
Lawson reached out, clasping Charlie's face, startling him out of his weird haze.
"You alright kid?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically low, almost shaky.
Charlie blinked, stumped.
"Y-yeah," he stuttered. Why the hell was Lawson looking at him as if he was the one with the bullet in his skull?
It was only later, when he was settled in Blake's car for the rather short ride home when he caught sight of himself in the mirror and understood. He had blood smeared all over the left side of his face, the darkest splotch vanishing somewhere under his hairline.
Charlie wasn't sure what Lawson heard in the radio, but based on the speed at which he and the others arrived, they probably expected something worse.
Even Blake had appeared out of nowhere it seemed. Though maybe it was just Charlie's distorted perception of time. He did feel rather woozy through all, that's why he preferred to lean against the car, out in the fresh air. What if he needed to puke? He had rather not mess up Bill's car. That was just asking for trouble.
When Blake did arrive, his face was unusually pale and full of concern because of course he had first seen the crashed cop car on the road and didn't have the luxury of the police radio. Charlie wasn't sure what he expected from the man. Most likely an angry shake or scathing words for bringing the threat so close to Jean. That's what he expected out of everyone at this point.
What he got was Blake pulling him into a short but strong embrace.
Charlie blinked.
"Charlie! I thought-"
"Uh... am fine Doc," Charlie managed to utter into the man's shoulder, while trying valiantly to pull back and not to bloody up his clothes. Really. Was everyone crazy today or was he hallucinating?
Blake had finally let go of him long enough for Charlie to try and straighten up, making an effort not to look like a total wimp in front of the other officers milling about the scene.
"No bullet holes?" Blake asked seriously.
"Nope," Charlie answered, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes. It hardly seemed appropriate. "Not in me at least," he added, his eyes glancing at the other car.
Blake grimaced. Still he gently clasped Charlie's chin and looked into his eyes.
"Am fine, Doc," Charlie reassured him and Blake let go with a sigh.
"Any nausea? Double vision?"
Charlie shrugged, thinking it unwise to actually shake his head at this point.
Blake's eyes narrowed but he was interrupted by a call from Lawson.
"Blake! If you have a moment?"
Blake nodded, but turned back towards Charlie.
"Don't go anywhere," he warned, which seemed a bit moot. Charlie was happy that things around were mostly still. He had no intention of trying to run and face plant in front of some junior officer. He was already feeling embarrassed enough as it was. It was as if he was either going through a ringer or being coddled to death by the people around him. Charlie hoped his image wasn't permanently ruined. He would like to come out of things looking like a capable individual for once.
Charlie scoffed at his own maudlin thoughts. They were hardly logical or right at the moment, he recognized that at least. With a sigh he decided for once to just do what he was told. He watched Blake first taking a look at Kenneth, making a perfunctory check of the man's pulse. Of course there was none. After all, Charlie could see a splotch of brain matter on the windshield from this angle.
Admittedly, focusing on that thing probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. Charlie would still say days later that him bending over and missing decorating Bill's car with his lunch by mere inches was caused by the head injury and not the gruesome scene in front of him.
It hardly seemed to matter as shortly after he found himself being pushed into a different car. It was only when they pulled up in front of the house when he realised the Doc had left a crime scene to tend to him. That seemed rather inappropriate.
"Nonsense, Charlie. Living always take precedence over the dead," Blake noted when he steadied Charlie's swaying form and led him towards his practice.
"What about Ben?" Charlie asked gruffly then winced when Jean appeared in the hallway and let out a startled yelp upon seeing them. He imagined the look was a bit unsettling.
"Charlie! What on earth?" she asked even as Blake raised a calming hand.
"It's alright, he's fine," he reassured her while Charlie endured another hug. Well, endured was maybe a bit harsh word. It always warmed him when Jean showed her care. This time he just returned the hug a bit more fiercely, glad that she was safe and didn't have to witness any of the gruesomeness.
"What happened?" she asked once she released him from her grip.
"I'd like to know that as well," Blake said with a bit of a scowl and so Charlie had no choice but to give them a short recap of the situation, while Blake was taking care of his head wound.
Jean tutted at the risk he had taken, while Blake clenched his teeth during most of it. It was apparent he realized how close Charlie came to dying or how easily the situation might've turned critical even to Jean. Charlie was still expecting some choice words, but Blake held back.
Charlie wasn't sure why... so blaming it on the possible concussion, he asked.
"I'm not happy about you taking unnecessary risks," Blake admitted gruffly. "But it's hardly my place to give you hell for it."
Jean rolled her eyes. She was just using a wet rag to clean Charlie's face from dried up blood.
"It would be a bit hypocritical after all," she muttered silently and Charlie's lips twitched.
"I heard that," Blake noted but his tone was more amused than anything. "Be as it may, I'm sure Matthew will have some choice words. I am also reserving the right to address this at a later time... preferably when you will be able to listen properly."
The slight smile slipped from Charlie's lips. Of course. It would be too much to ask not to have anyone chew his ears off for something he was hardly at fault of.
"Alright. To bed with you. I need to go back to the station and then stop at the morgue," Blake sighed patting Charlie on the leg.
"I should come with-" Charlie started, attempting to slide down from the exam bed, only to pause and grab for the nearest thing to steady himself. The blasted room decided to start swinging around. He groaned and closed his eyes momentarily.
"You're staying. I don't need you throwing up in the car," Blake said, while Charlie let out a groan. He was hoping he won't throw up right there, screw the car.
"Lie down and stay there. Doctor's orders," Blake admonished.
Charlie would have liked to protest, but he was too busy keeping his mouth closed and his head on his neck. Without a word he laid back down.
"Good boy."
Another pat on the leg and by the time Charlie opened his eyes, Blake was already gone.
It took him a moment... or maybe few hours... for his vision and stomach to settle. Jean had been in and out of the practice, leaving him to rest. Which would've been all good and dandy, but every time Charlie opened his eyes he expected to see Kendrick leaning over him with an evil grin.
When he just about rolled off the bed by accident, he decided that perhaps the couch in the living room would be a better place to hang around. He wasn't even entertaining the idea of scaling the stairs. While his own bed seemed like a wonderful mirage, he didn't want to be kept out of the picture. Which meant waiting for the return of Lawson and the Doc.
A bit later, when Lawson arrived, Charlie thought he might've made a mistake. Perhaps being left out wouldn't have hurt for the night at least.
Charlie was tucked up on the couch, the ice melting on his face while Lawson ranted. What he got from his words was that Ben was in no shape to talk right now. Blake had to sedate him, hoping that he would be up for an interrogation the next morning.
Charlie hoped so as well. He had no clue how they managed to find him. Just who gave them the information?
Lawson shook his head gruffly when he asked.
"No bloody clue. But whomever it was... they will pay," he added darkly.
Charlie felt oddly reassured by that.