I'm baaaccckkkkk...;D
Black and Blue- Miike Snow
Erin's P.O.V.
"No, I'm just saying, I'd like to know who they are."
"Know who? What're we talking about?" Sighing, I glance exasperated at Antonio as he exits the break room, stirring his coffee. I had hoped he would tell them to shut up, but that doesn't seem to be the case as he sits at his desk and starts to listen intently to the conversation.
"Jay's team. Like his old one, the guys he served with in Afghanistan."
"Why do you want to know them? They ain't none of your business Ruzek. And most military guys aren't very forthcoming when it comes to their time overseas."
"How would you know?!"
"Okay, Al, if you suddenly had a couple of annoying cops jumping down your throat about your time in the service, how would you respond?" I manage a smirk as Alvin flips both Kevin and Adam the bird. Staring down at my phone again, I fidget in my seat, waiting for something to happen. We have literally done an entire month's worth of paperwork in the last four days, what with everyone being told-no, ordered- to leave the hospital, we all ended up at the precinct.
The problem with intelligence, is we really don't know how to relax.
And I guess Mouse doesn't know how to text back, either.
After the initial fiasco at the hospital, and my night in his bed that ended in nightmares, time has since flown, and it's been three days of blurriness and papercuts. For everyone. Mouse has been the only one to really stick to Jay, going home only to change clothes and shower, sleeping in the chairs the first two nights then eventually being rewarded a cot by Mrs. Goodwin when it became clear he wasn't leaving.
He has been my lifeline. I text him a million times a day and his responses are what keep me sane at work. The unit was put on leave for leave for a day by administration, in which we all showed up and wrote reports, unpaid, because no one could do anything else. We all were required to give our statements that day anyway, so staying at home was considered even more pointless.
Voight has been busy fighting to keep this case, the commander thinking he's going to go off the reservation in revenge. Hank has been trying to explain that off the reservation is basically where these guys operate, and if we are to catch them, we might just have to load a couple guns and follow them into the unknown.
"Hey, if everyone's done with the hormone therapy, we do have a case to work." Everyone's heads snap around, with the exception of me who was able to see Hank coming in the side door. And of course Alvin, who just is never surprised. However, all eyes are eager as we stare at the picture Voight pins to the board. He gives me the go ahead and I start talking.
"Anton Chekov. Came to America in '89, and has been in jail more than he's been out of it. You all have his record, and what Alimony Prison didn't include in there our gang database did- he has known affiliation with multiple gangs. Apparently he started out with the Gd's, then turned to the Los Lordes, before eventually hitting up the West Side Marks. He stayed there for a few years before disappearing. No sightings, no arrests. Looks like one day he just went 'poof'." I snap my fingers with emphasis, before Antonio picks up where I left off.
"So these guys, the 'no name' gang that everyone's terrified of but knows of, currently over twenty four of them are sitting in cells right now. Now, these guys M.O., is torturing people to death, then cutting off their heads to send to the police or their loved ones, and leaving the body in various twisted positions." He pins a couple photos to the board, making me swallow as the memory of the bank rears its ugly head in the pictures of their bodys.
"Well they definitely make an impression." Atwater mutters.
"Yeah, but look at how mutilated their bodies are. I mean, I understand killing one person for not paying a debt or something, but this is a bank, a very nice bank in nicer part of Chicago. And yet they didn't take much money, only about a mill."
"Which can be classified as a lot...except at that time that bank had almost half a billion in cash. The currency exchange truck came the next day to pick up the cash and bring it to the national depository. These guys were in the vault with enough money to buy out the entire city and they only took a million?"
"So this was big to them. Maybe the people in the bank weren't important, but the way they were killed-that's a message." The team nods as I sum up the past voices.
"Hey sarge." Voight nods to Kevin who is looking at his phone.
"I just got this from one of the C.S.I.'s. Apparently the murders weren't the only message there. He snags a paper from the printer, then slaps it on the board. We all move closer to examine what must be a wall in the vault, but on it is some symbols, looking Arabic. Drawn in blood.
"Do we know what language this is?" Kevin shakes his head, but then tacks up another picture. A symbol, a crudely drawn, bloody capital 'R', right below it.
"This symbol came up in a sealed file, that Mouse managed to unseal while at the hospital. The group's signature, this R as well as the way they committed each murder and the organization of that warehouse-it all adds up." Kevin pauses for a second, like he's hesitant to say their name.
"Anytime today Atwater." The colored man stares at Voight.
"You ever heard of the Riders?" I watch, confused as Alvin closes his eyes and sighs.
"Bloody hell." He murmurs, scrubbing his hand with a face.
"You know these guys Al?" He nods.
"Yeah, and they're not your average gang. Shit, you couldn't even classify them as a cartel. This group is huge. They have eyes and ears everywhere, and a hand dipped into just about every legit crime organization. And they're dangerous. Way dangerous. Most all of them who aren't pawns are trained in a million different ways to kill, and ninety percent of them are just down right insane. They won't hesitate to kill a cop is needed."
"These guys kill cops? How come we've never heard of them before?" Nodding in agreement with Ruzek, I'm staring confused at the picture of the bloody message as Alvin answers.
"Yeah they do, but only if they have to, which is a rare occasion. These guys are smart. They know if they killed police they'd get too much heat, and if they are surrounded, they will give up, because odds are they'd be more use getting information in prison. And if they're too valuable to go to prison, then they have plenty of lawyers and judges in their pocket to get out of whatever charges they are facing. And if all that doesn't work, they will break out of wherever they are being held and just operate as a wanted fugitive." My phone buzzes and Alvin pauses.
"Look these guys...they would gas up a police precinct and kill fifteen officers just to get one guy. They don't care." The tiny amount of weight that had faded from the atmosphere of the bullpen is slammed back down with his words. Maybe we had hoped that these guys wouldn't be as bad as we thought, and now, it's pretty obvious they are ten times worse. And as I read Mouse's text and start to collect my coat and keys, it's becoming painfully obvious that this is going to be the hardest case of our careers.
"Hows he doin?" Mouse's ragged face jerks up to meet mine. He blinks a couple times, and I know the answer before he even speaks.
"Vitals are holding steady, and he's breathing on his own. No sign of infection." I can't help the giddy smile that emerges on my face. The excitement in Mouse's eyes are a reflection of my own. The past three days have seen another surgery to drain the fluid buildup around his spine, and to remove the remaining fragments of the bullets that were considered non threatening. In fact the doctors had debated removing them at all, their position meant he could have lived his whole life with them in his back and wouldn't have had a problem. But they figured since they were going in anyway they might as well.
After that operation the swelling has stayed down, and his vitals slowly the climbed back into a better area as his body seemed kickstarted itself. Mouse had updated me as the doctors told us he was finally recovering from shock, and his lungs were starting to function at a semi normal rate while they healed. Multiple x-rays and a couple CT scans of his back confirmed that there was no break in spine, and as far as they can tell from the images they have his spinal cord and nerves seem uncompromised. They can give no reason him not to wake up with full capability in his legs.
I peek into his little private ICU room, watching as a couple nurse adjust various tubes and change the I.V. bag.
"They're taking him off the meds. Hoping to get him to wake up, although Rhodes said it still might be a day or two until he's fully conscious." I nod again, transfixed by the small glimpses of his face I get around the medical personnel. They kept him in a medically induced coma for the duration of his time on the ventilator.
In a very messed up way, that helped me focus, because I knew there was zero chance of him being awake and talking. Now however, he could wake up. And like actually conscious not "hey I'm about to almost die and I can't talk but how are you" kind of awake he was the last time I was at Med.
Four days. Four days of not seeing him, not touching his face or holding his hand. Four days of me going straight home and heating up leftovers, taking a shower then watching one of those documentaries Jay loves until suddenly I'm waking up on my couch and I have twenty minutes to get my ass down to the station.
Four days of not hearing his voice and not feeling his fingers on my skin, of not feeling his stubble against my cheek as he kisses me. Four days of not going to sleep with my arm draped across his chest, feeling his chest softly rise and fall and hearing the soft sigh as he finally drops into sleep himself.
It's weird, the things we find we miss the most when they are gone.
So many times when we would sleep over each others apartments I'd lay awake, long after he'd started snoring softly. I would stay, eyes wide open and staring at nothing, letting the feeling of him beside me heal my soul.
After Terri, I spent less of that time healing and more of it worrying about him. I would never ask him to give up his job just so I know he'd be safe, and he would never ask me, although I know he worries about me constantly. Our badges mean so much to each of us, moving beyond just arresting bad guys and settling into somewhere so much deeper that it's almost an obligation for living.
I just hope he still remembers that in the months to come as I'm going to make him stay far away from the precinct while he recovers.
"You can see him now." I'm jolted from my thoughts as April exits the room, sending me that passing remark as she walks by. I nod, but make no move to enter the room. They just stopped giving him those drugs, so there's no way they are out of his system enough that he could wake up. I refuse to go anywhere near him until he is awake enough to tell me to stop crying.
See the other main reason I haven't gone back to the hospital is that I'm afraid if I do, I will take one look at him and just start bawling my eyes out. There's also that voice, that evil little voice housed in the back of my mind that gives me this irrational fear, that going back into his room would mean him having another health crisis. That I left him in that warehouse when he needed me most, and I'm the reason why he was shot.
But this is also the voice that convinced me I killed Nadia, and that if I stayed anywhere near anyone else I loved, they too, would die, and it would be my fault. After this philosophy almost got Jay killed, well, I no longer listen to that voice.
"You go. I'm going to go tell the team." Mouse dips his head, in appreciation and understanding. I have found that he understands me more than most and while sometimes he'll call me out on shit, make me talk, he also tends not push me, like he can tell just by my demeanor that I'm not ready. Like now, as he pauses at the door.
"Wanna bring me breakfast tomorrow?" It's a sly little invitation, a wide open door. Coaxing me to come in to see him, because he knows that I might wait too long, and Jay would wake up without me there. So instead of brushing it off like I want to, I force myself to nod, swallow past the dryness of my throat and ask what he wants.
He smiles, for the first time in a while.
"Surprise me."
Voight's head perks up as I climb the stairs. The guys must've been conversing about something, although not very important because Hank is leaning casually against the door frame of his office and most the guys are sitting in their chairs.
We have slowly gotten better, me and him. I guess both of us needed time to understand and accept that what's done is done. In fact the whole team seems to have resettled itself back together. Everyone knows what was said in that office, as I know we weren't exactly quiet and the gossip train has ran itself around the team, although I think they were careful not to let it run around the precinct too. Everyone's found their reasons to take a deep breath and forgive, to move on for the sake of each other.
"I didn't think I'd see you back here today." I glance at my phone. Its nearly five, and the guys were probably trying to decide if they were going to leave, and if they did, were they were going to go. We've stayed away from Molly's the past few days. Maybe because we didn't want to drag our miseries to that happy bar, or maybe because the paramedics who brought Jay in were from Fifty One, so walking in there we'd be meet with pity, something all of us loathe.
I just stare at him for a long moment, the silence making my eyes well with tears. Hank's face softens.
"Hows he doin, kid?" I swallow, then give a soft gasp as air suddenly seems less abundant.
"They took him off the ventilator. He's breathing on his own and his vitals are up. Considering everything they can see, they think almost no damage to his spine and no sign of infection." I hear the collective sigh of relief and happiness from the team, but I can't really process it. My eyes stay locked with Hanks.
"How are you doing?" Nothing can really describe my facial expression, I really just flit through emotions before finally settling on a tiny smile.
"He's going to wake up." I manage to whisper, my voice sparkling with exhilaration. Hank stands straight then open his arms with a little smirk.
"C'mere." I move the two steps into his hug, letting out a little elated laugh along the way. I don't start crying; my eyes water and my head feels like exploding but I refuse to start crying.
"I'm proud of you kid." I nod into his shoulder then step back, holding him at arm's length.
"Damn it Hank, I'm trying not cry." This makes everyone chuckle as I sniff rather loudly and dig the palms of my hands into my eyes. Then I look my both straight in the eye and tell him I'm going to fake being sick for a couple days to get out of work. Which earns another laugh.
"I'm gotta bring Mouse some breakfast tomorrow. I'll let you guys know if he wakes up." I'm waiting for the "oh sure, make us slave away on this case" but it never comes. At first I think it's because they are angry about it, or at me for something, until I look around and notice there is no anger on their face but something else...relief maybe? Concern? Worry? Actually it's more like all three, but maybe not just for Jay but for me too.
Aw. They care.
"Why don't you bring him a copy of the message from the bank. He has his laptop right? Maybe he can figure out what it says."
"Yeah sure." I reply as Antonio stands, grabbing his coat. Everyone seems to follow his lead, packing up for the day. Hank gesture to my keys as he locks his office.
"You got your car."
"Yah."
"Come one I'll drive you home." I smirk.
"That's nice, except then somehow I have to get breakfast and get to the hospital tomorrow." Voight smiles as we turn and start to walk towards the stairs. He wraps an arm around my shoulders.
"I'm aware. And you're buyin." This sets me laughing, the devil.
"Skinny Pancake it is."
Jordan's P.O.V.
"So then, he's okay." I feel the punch from Jesse, playful on my shoulder.
"Yeah doofus, he's going to be fine. Almost five months of Physical Therapy, but he's going to be fine. Any loss of feeling in his legs would be from swelling because of the bullet wounds, but the feeling will return as the swelling goes down."
"Thank god." I exhale, resting my head in my hands. Now very well rested, it's easier to keep my emotions in check as we discuss our Lieutenant. The others had a hard time, but not quite like me. Never really quite like me. Jess can always be a little calmer-or perhaps more stressed-as she understands most medical jargon.
When Jay found me in my Sophomore year of college, I was an emotional black hole. I wouldn't do anything, I didn't care about anybody, and most nights I found sleep only through alcohol or pure exhaustion. I was passing all my classes mind you, mechanical engineering was something I found very easy to grasp. The workload was the worst part, but more because I was lazy, not because I didn't understand it.
We met in the back of an Advanced Calculus class, where instead of taking notes he was reading his brothers first year medical school book. When I asked why, he simply said "because sitting here taking notes on stuff I learned two years ago would be a complete waste of time."
The whole situation was abnormal for me, really, it was. Most days I wouldn't talk at all, and when I did it was because I absolutely had to. But there was something about that kid, as he sat there in a ratty 'University of Chicago' tshirt and sweats, not even bothering to pay the least bit attention to the professor's lecture, that made me talk. Made me scoot over, hand him a headphone and make him move the book so I could read too.
He pulled me out whatever you'd like to call where I was, and he did so without mercy. He didn't take my shit, my whiny, lazy, self pitying attitude. In fact, he loathed me for it. So, in my anger, I decided to change just to spite him. Which probably saved my life. Our Junior year he told me about his brother who happened to meet a girl with my last name, whom I guiltily admitted was my sister.
They met, then he took us to meet Grayson one day, and Adams just about fell into our laps one time in study hall. By senior year we had met the famous Rachel, and though most of us felt she was a hard ass, I liked her and every comment of sarcasm she had. We had, without knowing it, already become a family. A crazy, wild group of young adults with fucked up past's, and yeah maybe we didn't care as much for our personal safety as we should have, but we meshed, in the tightest way possible.
When we heard Jay was going into the Army to join Rachel, some sort of special missions task force, we were terrified. Or at least, I know Jess was.
"What if something happens to him and we aren't there to help? What if he comes back different?! We'll lose him if he goes, I know we will."
Mind you, the second I got the news I instantly decided on enlisting with him, but it took Jess a full twenty minutes of her ranting before she realized that. And of course if I was going, so was she. And at about that time in our fight there was a knock on the door and hey, guess what, Grayson had talked to Adams and decided that they were going with him.
And that's how it all started really. I mean the summer before we went to basic was absolutely insane, and I doubt we'll ever have so much fun again, but it was just what we wanted. And while we became more dangerous and maybe a little more psychotic with our training, we never lost that "zero fucks given" attitude.
Until we learned what the sands were really about. I guess then we kinda grew up.
But we're still crazy. It's probably the reason we're all still alive. That and Miss Jessica Romana, because when she graduated CU, she had her full degree in emergency medical. She was a certified EMT, field technician, and she watched more surgeries than most med students could stomach.
Couldn't even tell you how many times she's had to patch us up because we refused to go to the hospital. Which is great for us, but really, I can see how much fear it puts in her when she understands just how bad an injury is.
It's the reason why I was so afraid for Jay. Her reaction, scared the living shit out of me, and everyone else. Rachel told us we are going to look into it, but the last couple days have been us getting the dust out of the compound, sleeping, eating, and just getting back to normal. When we aren't arguing about where to eat or unpacking we are working on the cars, which arrived two days before we did. It's kind of stupid, seeing as before we put them into storage we had them about as close to perfect as they would ever get, but hey, the guys need to do something and going clothes shopping with us isn't on their list.
Not that it's on our either, but let's face it we can't live out lives in fatigues, sweatpants, and our combat uniforms.
But Jay's okay now. Hes going to wake up and be okay. Which means we need to get back to work. And I don't just mean getting up to date with Vinny's cousin who turned traitor on his family and joined a rival gang. We need to find out every business deal, footstep and helping hand the Riders have done in the time we've been gone.
We also, get to look into Will's death, because that was just wrong in so many ways. And with Jay in the hospital and Intelligence knee deep in something they don't know how to fight, it's looking less and less likely that some random guy decided to try and rob Jay's apartment and "happened" to fatally shoot his brother.
I just hope we aren't too late to stop a war.
So there you have it folks. A little back story, some catching up in time...and next chapter we get to see things heat up a little more.
Review please :)