The case had been a difficult one involving a her. The man had killed her boyfriend out of unwarranted jealously. He had been a stranger, the murderer. It had been easy enough to solve. The hard part was actually finding the perp. After days of searching a tip was given that he was hiding away in a warehouse on the outskirts of New York City. When they entered the building he was there gun in hand, fully loaded. Sharp cracks filled the air a men fell like flies. A stray bullet lodged itself into her friend's chest. A fatal wound. His white face stayed in that permanent look of shock as the bullet penetrated his skin. Everyone even the murderer froze as she ran to his side skidding the last few feet. His eyes had frosted over as his time dried up. She checked his neck for any sign of a pulse. She received none. She gazed down to the wound. The blood stood in dark contrast against his white shirt.
Her fingers skittered over his wound while blood caked her nails. His blood. Her fingers. People stood in shock watching the two on the ground one dying, one caring. No one paid any attention as the shooter rose his gun level again aiming for her back right behind the heart. His finger faltered on the trigger as the women craned her neck to watch the shooter. Her eyes spoke to him. Kill me. Kill me now. They said. He hesitated his finger apply acute pressure on the trigger. Pull it. End it. Finish it. She wanted to die and if the shooter didn't kill she swore she would go home and plunge a kitchen knife through her heart. Her cold small heart. Blood seeped through her jeans as she neared closer and closer to her death. She gave the shooter one last look before turning her head back to her wounded best friend,crush,never known lover. Silence lasted for seconds as she counted down. She heard him cock the gun presumably aiming it towards her back. Before he shot she pressed her lips to his for the first and last kiss. She knew that would do the trick and she was right. Even though he had never meant to kill her an uncontrollable rage took over him. One shot. One very accurate shot shook the crowd to it's core as blood blossomed over her back. People could only watch as she fell over him his hand encased in hers as their blood mixed on the tile seeped through her open fingers like water. His life was literally in her hands. His blood was on her clothes her tears were on his face. Blood collected around them a mix of his and her's. Their blood was one. They were one. Many would argue that they were one long before that moment. They were one when they had there first coffee. They were one when they laughed over some old forgotten joke. They were always one never knowing it.
Somewhere a new lover received his first kiss. And somewhere people were nestled in bed dreaming of peace and love. Somewhere a kid was laughing at a story his friend told him. And here two friends died encased within each other's arms. And that's what they were. Friends. Because fate thought it only right to take them away before any confessions were shared. Before any steps were taken. A memory is born from the darkest crevices of a mind. A memory in which they are talking over coffee about the newest development in a case. They would never believe in only a few hours death would meet them with open hands and steal them away.
Silence still echoed as the shooter made to get away. One man had the smarts to aim his gun at the man and pull the trigger. A scarlet hole appeared as the man fell like a puppet whose strings had snapped. No one spared a glance for him as they watched the tragic ending to what could of been the happiest fairytale. The happily ever after everyone had expected them to achieve had shattered. Tears escaped and chaos broke as the people finally took the unthinkable in. New York's Finest lay dead.