The adrenaline starts to wear off in the helicopter. Chris's leg is stretched out in front of her and she grits her teeth against the constant throbbing that vibrates her bones. Her ribs ache, her head hurts, and all she wants is to sleep, but Deacon refuses to let her until they're at the hospital.


Chris is cold where she sits on the hospital bed, dirty clothes traded for a gown. A knock on the door makes her head hurt worse, and the doctor comes in talking.

"Hello, Officer. I'm Dr. Sims, a resident here. We just got your scans back. Unfortunately, you are going to need reconstructive PCL surgery as soon as possible. Our orthopedic doctor will be here in half an hour, so we'll get you prepped and ready."

Dr. Sims puts the clipboard down to their side like it's a simple, everyday thing, and Chris tries to tamp down on the panic growing rapidly within her. She regrets telling Deacon to go, regrets that the remains of her phone are scattered in a California ghost town, regrets agreeing to that stupid stop in the first place.

An unspeakable anxiety comes over her and she remembers the last hug she gave Street before she went to Germany and he donated his liver. The worry that made it impossible to sleep even though she'd been awake 26 hours because something could happen and she wouldn't be there. The fear that she was going to die today without seeing his face one more time. That she still could on the operating table.

"Is there any way to wait?" Chris asks, though it feels like begging with how soft and shaky her voice is. "Long enough for my team to get here?"

Dr. Sims's brows furrow, like he's unsure of what Chris just said, and he glances down at his watch.

"The sooner, the better, but we can call your family and give it a little bit if they can get here quick."

Chris nods fervently, stopping when the room spins again.

"I'll call them now. Thank you."

"Okay. Let us know if you need anything, and we'll keep you updated about how long we can wait."

Grabbing the phone off the hook, Chris sighs. She knows her family's numbers, but all they'll do is fuss. Who knows if the team even has cell service with wherever they are on the road, and she doesn't remember Deacon's number from when he changed it after the flower market ordeal.

Chris takes a deep breath and braces herself as she dials the best person she can think of.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tomas, it's Chris."

"Hey," Tomas replies, confusion in his voice. "Get a new phone and not tell anyone?"

Chris tries to roll her eyes, but it just makes stars dance in her vision.

"No, listen. I need a favor. Helena has Deacon's new number from when I babysat Victoria at the last cookout. I need it."

She can almost see Tomas lighting up on the other end of the line, knowing this is something he'll be able to cash in later, but she's in pain and annoyed and cuts him off with a sharp tone before he can make a remark.

"Don't say anything, and get the number. Now."

"Woah, Chris," he says, worry creeping into his voice. "What's going on?"

"I'll tell you after you get me the number."

"Alright, gimme a minute."

Chris can hear Tomas shove his phone in his hoodie pocket and shuffle into the living room, where something plays on the TV. Through the background noise and her own head pounding, she only catches bits and pieces of the conversation. It sounds like he's telling them he lost his own phone, and she smirks at his craftiness. She taught him most of it.

She waits another minute, picking at her nails, until his voice comes back to her.

"Okay, got it. Do you have something to write with?"

"Yeah," Chris says, tone clipped with pain. "Go ahead."

Tomas gives her the number, and then promises to be back after ending his charade with her Aunt. He's quieter when he returns.

"Okay, Chris, don't play with me. What's wrong? You don't sound good."

"Listen," she starts, "I'm going to tell you. And then I'm going to call Deac. After, I'll call Helena and Sarzo. But you need to keep them from freaking out. Promise?"

"Chris, based on all of this, it sounds like there's good reason to be freaking out." More concern creeps into his tone, and it reminds her of Sarzo when she first started with K9. She sighs.

"I was injured today on that security gig, my phone's fucked. I'm in the hospital now, and they're doing surgery tonight to fix my knee."

The silence on the other end drags on. With each passing moment, Chris knows that Tomas is coming up with more questions to ask her. A glance at the clock tells her ten minutes have already passed.

"I'm fine, okay? And I'm going to be fine. I'll call them in a sec, and have the team call when I'm out of surgery. I love you."

She hears Tomas say it back, but her mind is already on dialing Deacon. As it rings, Chris watches the second hand tick and feels nausea grow in her stomach that's not from the accompanying concussion.

"Hello?"

Deacon sounds tired, but she can hear the kids playing in the background and that makes her smile.

"Hey, Deac, it's me."

"You good, Chris?"

Sparing the theatrics, Chris gets right to the point.

"I need surgery. They want to do it now, and I asked if they'd hold off until the team got back. I don't know where they are, and my phone's busted—"

With each word, Chris speeds up, the pulse on the monitor quickening until Deacon interrupts.

"I'm on my way right now. I'll call everyone in the car and get them down there as soon as possible."

Relief washes over her.

"Thank you, Deac, I'm—"

"No apologies, Chris. I'll be there soon."


Chris lies back with her eyes closed and tries not to be overwhelmed with discomfort and uncertainty while she waits. The blankets are scratchy, but she's cold without them. Closing her eyes hurts, but the light burns even more. Her mind spins with the day's events: the indescribable feeling she got when she saw Street standing outside that godforsaken building, and how badly she wanted to not let go of him once he had an arm around her.

A gentle knock makes her eyes blink open, slow and heavy, head tilting to see Deacon. He's out of his work clothes and is quick to cross the tile and sit, taking Chris's hand in both of his and being careful of the IV line.

"Hey, what did they say?" Deacon asks, but Chris is already asking her own question.

"Did you call the team?"

"Yeah. They'll be here within the hour. Is that okay with the doctors?"

She nods, says she hopes so.

"I didn't want to not see everyone before—"

Exhausted, Chris halfheartedly gestures to her legs, and Deacon nods.

"I'm so sorry, Chris. Anything you need, you know Owen and I've got you, okay?"

"Yeah," she breathes out with a wince, too shocked to think about medical bills or recovery yet.

"Do you need anything right now?" Deacon asks, tears lining his eyes.

Chris shakes her head, leaning into the feeling of his hands when he squeezes hers.

"I'm good. How're the kids?"

Deacon doesn't argue, even as bruises bloom on her face and she zones out on him, still flush with relief that they're both alive after the day they had. He talks about Matthew's baseball and Lila's school. Chris listens as best she can until she remembers her own family.

"Can I ask a favor?" She interrupts him, voice hoarse.

"Of course, Chris."

"Tomas knows, but I haven't called my Aunt and Uncle. Will you?"

Chris knows it's a big ask, but even the thought of telling them was exhausting, and she doesn't have it in her to dial them. Still, she continues.

"Or I can ask Street. Or, you can tell him if they can't get here before I go under."

Deacon gives her a small smile.

"I assume you don't want them worried and rushing down here?"

Chris blinks slowly, exhaling.

"Yeah. Tomas is supposed to keep that from happening, too, but they'll listen to you more than either of us."

Leaning forward, Deacon presses a short kiss to her bandaged forehead and reaches for his phone. A text message notification pops up as he unlocks it.

"Team's about ten minutes away. Do you want me to call them now or wait? If it were my kid, I'd want to know sooner."

Chris nods, stops herself from mumbling that she isn't their kid, because she knows what Deacon means and is grateful, so grateful, for her family, but it isn't lost on her how many times she couldn't bear to think about them today for her own sake. How the thought of them and losing them makes her stomach bottom out worse than all the injuries she's sporting, and that she needs to keep as much distance from that as she can.

"Now's fine." She whispers, watching him walk into the hallway.

Her vision blurs in and out of focus until Deacon's boots squeak loud on the tile as he enters, followed by four more pairs. The team stands inside the doorway like they don't want to crowd her, uniforms traded for their civvies.

"I don't have the plague." Chris says, smiling now that her eyes are on her team again.

They chuckle at her comment, and Luca is the first to step further into the room and give her a hug. Street and Tan follow, and then Hondo comes to stand on the opposite side of her bed, a hand on her shoulder.

"What'd they say?" He asks, and the team looks at her expectantly.

"Torn ligaments. Nothing too major."

The team all looks away from her, their eyes traveling over the hospital room and glancing at one another, as unsaid concern and understanding gets passed between them because they all know it isn't minor.

Someone new clears their throat as they walk in, and Chris sees Dr. Sims with a nurse on his heels.

"Ortho's here. Surgery should take about an hour. You folks are welcome to wait. We'll let you know when we're finished, and one person can stay overnight."

The team doesn't look happy, but they file out all the same. Chris squeezes them tight when they hug her, and they all make comments about her being badass and coming out the other side stronger.

Street is the last one, the team looking at him from the doorway as he hugs Chris. When he stands, she catches his wrist, speaking low enough so the team can't hear it. The locker room flashes in her mind, and then the bullets that just missed her only a few hours ago.

"You'll be here?"

"The second you wake up."


hello! thank you so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! this is one of the longer fics i'm working on, that i'm hoping to have finished through the holidays, though i'm not sure yet what my update schedule will look like. big, huge thanks (no surprise) to sandyfin, as our (many) discussions about the show but particularly their lack of shown-recovery inspired this, and who continues to be my first reader! please let me know what you think! comments/kudos are always so appreciated and cherished, i read them all and am sending you all my love! xo, A ps: if you want stris christmas fluff, send me prompts, bc it's also christmas fluff time ❄️