A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! Here is my gift to you...

Enjoy! :)

Deacon walked across his kitchen and opened the front door of his apartment. He wondered why the officer posted outside would be knocking, but he appreciated the respect of privacy nonetheless. Being under house arrest didn't afford him much of that.

When he opened the door, Chris pushed her way in. He glanced at the officer nearby and the man shrugged.

"I told her you're not supposed to have visitors, but she insisted."

Deacon smirked. "You get used to it. But feel free to call Commander Hicks if you want."

The officer shook his head. "I don't want to get in trouble because she couldn't take no for an answer. Keep it under 30 minutes, okay?"

Deacon agreed and closed the door.

"You got anything to drink?" Chris asked.

"I was about to make some coffee."

Chris nodded her approval and took a seat on the living room couch.

"I'm assuming you heard about your suspension," he said.

"Yeah, I could use the vacation time," she quipped. He appreciated her being so relaxed about such a serious matter.

While the coffee started to brew, Deacon walked in and sat down in the easy chair across from her. "I need to know. How's she doing? Nobody will tell me anything."

"That's why I'm here."

Deacon's stomach flipped. "Did something happen?"

"No, she's doing good." At his look of relief, she said, "I came here to tell you that. She's been asking about you."

"What'd you tell her?"

"Not much. Mostly she's been sleeping, so we've only told her you were tied up at HQ."

"Not completely a lie…"

"Nope. Hopefully we can keep it that way for now. She's in rough shape. She needs to rest."

Another wave of longing surged over him. "What happened anyway?"

Chris told him everything that was in the police statement, from Lopez stabbing Reagan, to Reagan's brother saving her after being the one to capture her as an act of gang initiation.

Deacon leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. He pressed his hands to his mouth, as if in prayer. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the image of her broken and bloody body lying on the emergency room curb. It could have been a lot worse though. Right then she could have been buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, like so many unfortunate gang victims before her.

"I— we almost lost her yesterday…" he murmured, fighting to hold back the emotion of it all.

"Does she know?" Chris asked.

He frowned. "Know what?"

"That you love her?"

Deacon's brow rose and he dropped his hands. "How…?"

"I just know," Chris said with a slight smile. "I've seen the way you look at her. And I know she feels the same way."

The coffeemaker beeped and Deacon got up to fill two mugs. He was still lost in his own thoughts, shocked by the realization that, in this short amount of time, he had fallen in love with Reagan.

When he sat down, Chris got out her phone. "Do you want to call her? I can shoot Street a text and he'll make sure she gets the call."

"Why would you tell Street?"

"Because he's with her right now."

The sudden stab of jealousy reminded him of when Reagan sat in the same place after Street was injured. But, like before, he had to remember that sitting next to someone in the hospital wasn't meant to be scandalous. Street was being a good friend, and Deacon appreciated it since he couldn't be there with her.

"Yeah, I would really like that," he said finally.

Chris sent a text and waited for Street's reply. When it came though, she dialed the number and handed Deacon her cell phone.

Reagan stared at Street, but wasn't really seeing him. He simply sat and waited for her to process it all.

"So...you're telling me," she began, "that Deacon put his whole career on the line?"

"To save you, yes."

"I need to talk to Hicks."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Street sighed. "It's complicated, and you know why. If Hicks found out about you two, it would make everything so much worse for Deacon. Just let the whole thing run its course. I suspect it will blow over soon and he'll be back at the precinct in no time."

"But not in charge, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"Exactly. You didn't. You think he's going to lose his position as team leader."

Street sighed again, but this time it sounded strangled.

"I want to talk to Commander Hicks," she said again before he could reply. "Where's my phone?"

"I think it's still back at your house."

Remembering her house and what had transpired the day before, she shot up in bed and cringed when it pulled her stitches. "June! I forgot about June! She's probably so worried—"

Street reached out and touched Reagan's arm. "Luca talked to her. She was worried but he told her you're going to be okay."

"What's today?" she asked suddenly.

"Sunday."

"Crap. Luca was supposed to help her move stuff. And we were going to play softball yesterday!"

Street let out a short laugh. "Well we were all a little busy. But you'll be happy to know that he's over there right now."

Reagan smiled and then rubbed a hand over her face. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything. If I hadn't been taken, if I had been a better sister, if—"

"Okay stop," Street said. "None of this is your fault so stop wondering if you could've prevented it."

His cell phone tinged and he sat back to remove it from his pocket. He glanced at the screen and frowned.

"What?"

When he looked back at her, the frown vanished and he pasted on a smile, but it appeared forced. "It's Chris. Deacon wants to talk to you."

She smiled as well, but it fell for a moment. "Is he allowed to do that?"

Street shrugged. "Probably not, but I think we're past that now. I mean, it can't get much worse." As he talked, he typed out a text and sent it. Then, his phone rang and he held it out.

Reagan swiped to answer the call and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, babe."

Her breath rushed out, shuddering, as she fought back the tears that came out of nowhere. "Hi," was all she could manage to say.

"I miss you."

Just those three tender words were enough to cause those tears to tumble. She swept them away and said, "I miss you, too."

"Are you doing all right?"

She nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Yes. I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you yet. They have me so busy back at headquarters. You know how much paperwork this kind of thing creates," he joked, but she knew he was lying.

"David," she said quietly, "I know what you did for me. You don't have to cover it up."

She heard him blow out a breath. "I want you to know that I wouldn't have done it differently. Whatever it takes to keep you safe…"

Reagan didn't hear anything after that because her focus was drawn to the doorway of her room, where Commander Hicks stood with a hesitant smile.

Street glanced over his shoulder and then back at her, his eyes wide. He shrugged, as if to say, I didn't call him, even though she'd asked him to.

"Reagan?" Deacon asked at her silence.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Auntie, I need to go. My boss just got here."

"Hicks is there?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay, I'll let you go." There was a quick pause, then, "I love you, Reagan."

Her heart squeezed in her chest and she tried not to cry all over again. She avoided the curious gazes of both men—for different reasons—as she said, "I love you, too."

She ended the call and passed the phone to Street. She could've sworn she saw disappointment on his face, like she'd just hit the last nail in the coffin for their romantic relationship.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Hicks said, stepping further into the room.

Reagan wiped an index finger beneath each eye to fully clear away any excess moisture. "No, it's fine. I was just talking to my aunt."

He nodded in understanding, and Street conveniently chose that moment to excuse himself, but still shot her a warning glance before he left the room.

"I read your statement," Hicks began. "Please accept my deepest apologies for what you went through, and for the fact that we were unable to negotiate with their terms. You know how things work in the LAPD."

"I do know and I'm sorry you were put in that position. I hadn't talked to my brother in years, and things weren't great between us, but I had no idea he would do that."

"Your brother…do you know where he is?"

Reagan stared at Hicks, realizing why he had come down here to talk to her.

Her expression was somewhat stony as she said, "No. I was told he dropped me off and drove away. I don't even remember the car ride."

"Did he say anything?"

"Just, 'sorry.'"

"He apologized to you? After all that?"

"Well he did save my life."

"After putting you in the position to need saving."

Reagan let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not justifying or forgiving what he did, but he could've let me die and he didn't. Now La Eme will be after him. He's on the run. If we do find him, he's going to need protection."

"Protection," he stated, his voice flat with annoyance.

"Yes. He's still my brother. I won't have his blood on my hands."

"No, just yours," he snapped.

Reagan dropped her heated gaze to her lap. She was looking for an opportunity to help Deacon and the team, but didn't seem to be making any headway. If she couldn't find an opportunity, she'd make one.

"Speaking of deals, I think you should offer one to Sergeant Kay."

Hicks' lips pressed together to form a thin line. "I don't think you're in the position, Officer Cassidy, to make that kind of suggestion. I will agree that Deacon is as good as they come and I'm sorry to see it come to this."

"If he's so good, then help him."

"Officer Cassidy…"

"Have you tracked the location of the plane?"

Hicks' brow twitched in confusion. "Yes. They're somewhere in Mexico."

How original, she thought to herself. "Have the local authorities taken them into custody?"

"They can't and probably won't. Those men are wanted in America for committing American crimes. The Mexican police don't have jurisdiction and don't usually care to."

"Then let me suggest a deal for Sergeant Kay and my team members. They only wanted to help me. Let me help them now. Please?"

Hicks' scowl smoothed out and he took a seat in the chair beside her. "Okay. I'm listening."