AN: Here's a bit more. Have been debating about making this its own separate story so I can focus on some Brody Bad Ass. Not that it really matters how its posted as a long as y'all are willing to read, its just quickly turning into a full blown story line rather than drabble.

Pride stared her at her. Had she just said she had shot Chris?

Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, "He stepped into my line of fire. There was nothing I could do."

"We'll deal with it later," Pride said calmly as he touched his com to inform the SWAT commander. Right now, their undercover sting operation had just turned into a hostage situation. Pride's only concern was getting LaSalle back alive. Time was of the essence now, not only was Chris possibly dying from a bullet wound caused by friendly fire; he was still in danger of his cover being blown.

LaSalle let out an involuntary cry as Duquesne and another man, manhandled him from the backseat as they entered a make-shift emergency room run by a back ally surgeon who had known ties to the up and coming syndicate. Chris had seen the aftermath of these places, but he'd never dreamed he'd end up in one. It was an old rundown warehouse in the middle of the 9th ward, run by an aging, drunken surgeon who had been displaced during Hurricane Katrina.

Chris yelped in anguish as Eddie and the other man helped him up onto the exam table. Blood from the bullet wound was now flowing freely at an alarming rate.

"Don't worry, my friend, Oliver is going to get ya patched up, but first we gotta settle somethin'" Eddie said, patting Chris' cheek. Eddie had not missed the fact that Brody had called out her partner's name, making him question the intentions of the man before him. Sadistically, he pressed two knuckles into the bullet wound, increasing the pressure until Chris screamed.

"Who in the hell is Chris?"

"I don't know, what you mean!" Chris hissed, playing dumb. Even with all of the commotion, he clearly heard Brody calling out to him right after he'd been shot.

Eddie's eyes narrowed as he pressed his hand further down into the wound. "You a cop?"

Chris squeezed his eyes shut tight, creating a pinched expression on his face in effort to keep from screaming out again.

The second guy, the one who had been driving the getaway car, touched Eddie on the shoulder. "If he was a cop why would he take a bullet for you?"

Eddie's eyes shifted toward his associate. The man did have a point. A real cop would have more than likely let him take the bullet or surrendered like a coward.

Easing up, Eddie reassuringly put pressure on the wound with his hands. "I just wanted to see if you were still with me. When this is over you and me we're going ride off into the sunset like Butch and Sundance, but if I find out that you are a cop the next bullet will be in your head."

A couple of hours ago, Chris would have been tickled pink over the fact, that Duquesne thought enough of him to want to see him through the healing of a bullet wound, but now he just wanted out. He just wanted to be Chris LaSalle again. Seeing the look on Brody's face when she realized she had shot him suddenly made this game that he'd been playing seem meaningless. He'd been in situations where things had gone sideways, but this went way beyond the typical gone wrong scenario. All hell had broken loose and he'd just been thrown into the fiery pit.

"Look Eddie, you need to get out of here." Chris pleaded. If he could get the infamous arms dealer to leave then maybe he'd be able to get the hack of a doctor that ran this place to contact Pride. That he knew of he still had the burner phone that Pride had given him in his back pocket.

Eddie shook his head, determined to seek vengeance. "Nah, man I ain't leavin you here to for NCIS to find. In fact, I'm gunna track down the bitch that gave you this bullet."

Eddie was testing his loyalty again. He wanted to see if he had a personal connection to Brody. Chris was about to say something when Oliver leaned in. "If I do not start now, your friend is going to bleed to death."

Eddie nodded in consent, prompting the man to bring out a set of surgical tools and a black market canister of anesthesia.

LaSalle tried to protest, but he was no match for the cannula that was shoved over his face and held tightly in place. In a matter of seconds he had succumbed to the anesthesia, helpless against, the dirty back alley scalpel that Oliver would use to dig out Brody's bullet.

The ride back to the field office was quite as Pride and Brody each stared pensively at the road buried in their own thoughts. Brody the moreso, their plan had been to get Chris out safely but she had destroyed any chance of that when she had put that bullet into his chest.

She still couldn't believe it. She had really shot her partner and then called out his name. Why did he have to step in front of Duquesne? Was he really taking this case and his undercover persona so seriously that he was willing to possibly die just to see Duquesne's empire come to an end? Duquesne was the last tie in to Baitfish and his operations.

How had things ended up this way? Months of meticulous planning and work had just been thrown out the window because she had gotten a little too trigger happy. Chris could die and it would all be on her hands. Had she been a little too zealous in wanting to have her partner back?

Their only saving grace would be that Pride had asked Patton to try to activate the GPS in Chris' phone. It would take some time given the fact that the phone was a burner and wasn't intended for the purpose of tracking people, but if anyone could get it to work it would be Patton.

Hours later…

"There, I've done all I can. The rest is up to God." Oliver washed his hands free of Chris' blood as his patient's eyes began to flutter against the dissipating anesthesia. The bullet had been fairly deep but he had managed to get it leaving behind a trail of over thirty stitches which were courtesy of some leftover fishing line from a tackle box. He knew it wasn't the best course of treatment, but at least his patient was alive.

Despite Oliver's efforts, Chris was probably looking at a good case of sepsis if proper medical attention wasn't sought after soon.

"How soon can he be moved?" Duquesne asked. He had no problem with seeking treatment or the man who had taken a bullet to protect their operation, but he had a deadline to keep. The cops weren't stupid. They would figure out sooner or later that he was still in the city and they did, it would prompt an all-out manhunt.

"If you move him now, he will more than likely die." The bullet had nicked a major artery, causing Oliver to use skills he thought were long forgotten. Cauterizing an artery without the use of proper equipment had been no easy feat, but there were no guarantees that it would hold.

"How long?"

"You should go now." Oliver declined to answer the question directly. "Your friend, needs to rest. I promise he will be safe here for the night." If the ex-Navy commander chose to abandon his colleague, then Oliver would find a way to get the injured agent the treatment he needed. The truth of the matter was the wounded agent was going to die if he didn't get a hospital soon.

Eddie could only nod as his ride joined in. "You ready to go boss?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," Eddie said as he made financial arrangements to pay Oliver for the impromptu surgery before making an impromptu phone call.

"It's pretty bad isn't it?" Chris groaned, earning the shifty surgeon's attention.

"You should not be talking." Oliver hissed softly.

Chris closed his eyes, willing away the fog. "I need to make a phone call."

"I cannot-"

"I need to call my girl!" Chris retorted. "If you look in my clothes you'll find a phone, in my back pocket. All you have to do is hit the redial." That sentence had taken just about every ounce of energy he had as his body started to swim in pain.

Reluctantly, Oliver pulled the phone from Chris' trademark cargo pants and hit the redial before holding the phone next to the agent's ear.

"Hello," Brody answered the line paired with the burner phone, trying to control the sense of urgency in her voice.

"Hey Baby. How ya doin?" Chris' voice sounded weak and sluggish, as if he were barely hanging on. Brody's first thought was to apologize profusely , but she knew for his safety she couldn't.

"Where are you?" her voice cracked disobeying her minds request to keep it calm.

"Keep him talking," Pride ordered as Patton attempted to triangulate a signal.

"Heaven now that I'm talkin' to you." Chris didn't really know how to answer given the fact that Eddie was standing a few feet away. So, for the moment, he would just continue to play a role.

Brody closed her eyes, willing back unshed tears. "We're going to find you. You're going to be okay!"

Chris gazed up at the ceiling, thinking about Eddie's threat. He couldn't allow him to go after Brody. "Yeah, I don't think that's gunna work this time, Baby."

"Don't you give up. Don't you do it!" Brody's jaw started to quiver prompting Pride to grab the phone from her hands. He couldn't afford for her to say any more out of that Chris' cover might be blown. The longer he was able to keep up, his undercover persona, the longer he would stay alive.

"Almost got it!" Patton called over his shoulder as the signal began to ping off of several local cell phone towers.

Pride pressed the phone to his ear. "Charlemagne and I are comin' for you." He said calmly, listening to Chris ragged breathing. If he could just keep the line open a few moments longer. He hoped that the mention of Charlemagne would give Chris the resolve he needed to hold on just a little while longer.

A/N: In case anyone has forgotten, Charlemagne is the name of Pride's gun.