... ... ... MORE THAN LIFE TO LOSE ... ... ...
The quiet of an early working morning all of a sudden broke loud gunshots as if in the next room. In fact - in the reception hall of the 21st District of the Chicago Police Department. On a dime, alarmed and with their weapon drawn, Antonio, Jay and Kim - the only three in the Intelligence at the moment, ran to the secure metal lattice gate dividing their Unit from the first floor. It gave them enough of vision, while staying unnoticed round the corner.
Downstairs with few injured but still the significantly outnumbering policemen were urged to drop their guns. Clearly, the sergeant Trudy Platt more than anyone appeared reluctant to fulfill the claims of the two seriously armed and fueled intruders who held two unlucky hostages as shields, and one of those was Antonio's adored wife for a month and a half already.
What the fuck with being at gunpoint not less than he in the field, when her job required to sit tight in the office? But no time and place for venting. The situation, unstable to critical as reflecting the offenders' condition, wouldn't resolve itself without more blood. While Kim calling Voight and emergency service, as long as they had advantage as remained unseen, the two men with sniper skills, Antonio and Jay, each chose the target to eliminate. For that reason, aware of the backup ready to fire and mutely approving it, Platt put down her revolver, for others on her side to transparently mirror that, and continued to persuade the silliest and hopeless homo-sapiens, who encroached on her station, do the same.
But the subsequent shots were inevitable... and fatal.
A harsh grip from behind to cut short her chatting with Trudy and to drag her backwards knocked the wind out of her more than shooting itself at her ear straight after. But still and not resisting she was, whether because of a bunch of policemen around and her wise consciousness, or rather 'cause of the shock to jog the memories of the dread experienced almost six months ago. So, composed exterior of hers, nonetheless, slowly sinking inside. Not merely amid the past, but the craved future of the dearest happy routine she'd found.
While wanting this world to be more safe and better place for people, striving to assist but not like a desperate mother Theresa, however, there had been nothing real to tie her to this life what she'd miss. Until she followed her heart with taking a new turn and leap of faith, and met the man who with one glance brought the most perceptive meaning to her existence. Before that encounter, standing tall as always through whatever, but, if doomed to fail the fight, she'd accept any mortal end... as an exit from this dullness...
A different story when spending the first night with Antonio and laying totally naked in his arms, she didn't care if struck by death right then and there, she'd die happy, and no regrets, as she'd tasted paradise on Earth. But with treats like that continued as a pattern not to be bored of, with every passing day she got addicted to the pleasure, finding herself insatiable of him, of love and of living. Thus, now, no, she's definitely not ready to be gone. Neither today, nor any soon. And, paradoxically, what gave her power, it also became her Achilles' heel. The fear to lose what she came to cherish froze her on the spot. Chained by yet delusive pain, if everything, that's irreparable, would happen too fast just as an instant blackout, and she wouldn't get a chance to feel her beloved husband once more, she was afraid to breathe. Could it be that Universe decided to humble them, showing who's at the wheel and disposing its snap closing for them, contrary to their rose pink agreement?
Therefore, about to despond, her eyes treacherously filled with tears, and the image of the fierce sergeant, she was starring at, blurred. Instead, the flashbacks of every sweetest moment with Antonio flooded her mind, she saw nothing else and was deaf to voices and noise for seemed like forever, but the sound of another gunshot - actually, two but simultaneously, she did hear like a blast, echoed in her heart to make it plummet and in her head, blank and in darkness, as she shut her eyes and nearly shattered. Missing the second and the fact she was free from a foreign hold, missing the active fuss to change the intense suspense, she stayed transfixed but finally encouraged herself to dumbly take a view of what indeed occurred.
Everything slowed and muffled as if underwater with few blinks in incomprehension, before the body emerged in front of her to clasp her in so well known, though, too rough and possessive embrace than usual. But that was exactly what she needed. To revive her spirits directly at his closeness, his touch, his own emotions sensed with her flesh...
"I'm okay," she uttered, swallowing her tears and reassuring them both.
"But I'm not..."
Aw, shit, terrifyingly understood, as she exhaled in relief and nuzzled into the neck of her favorite man with a lame appeased smile on her lips. But those were seconds of personal bliss, because she moved away, collected and determined, no, rather to hide the belated tremor to overwhelm her, and softly returned them back to reality, "We get to work, Antonio."
Thus, releasing herself from his arms, she stepped across the dead right at her feet in a puddle of blood. There was one more deceased on her way, not to mention the bustle around and Voight out of nowhere giving instructions along with Trudy. The thread's removed, but the mess would stay for some time, as well as the impact. And what forced this stupid suicidal act they would still have to investigate. So, all the sentiments would wait 'till home, there to bare the souls just as their bodies.
"Talk to me," Antonio asked as led her into a spare secluded room in the middle of the day. Hours of established discipline, but in the course of caring for his woman his patience tended to zero. He knew that she put the mask of coldness to manage her emotions, or more correctly, to shove them deeper. Not the lack of her serene attention bothered him, but that her glow faded due to the inner turmoil she obviously experienced by herself. "Shrink or me," he repeated and then specified to behold her attempt to smile for the first time since the morning accident, "...your mate and your husband, in joy and in sorrow."
"You're so clingy," she made him chuckle to her delight, though, not eager to discuss the unpleasant event. "I can't be productive if let it all flow. And talking that's not what I need, anyway... Those feelings have no verbal form yet. If you saw me zoning out, it involved no thinking. I don't want to go there. Not now... Honestly, wishing just to crash... on the bed with you... You're my cure, the most efficient," she lightly fawned upon him to tease and please them both, but meaning nothing blatantly lecherous.
"You seemed not in the mood for endearment either," was his lame demur to cause her true bewilderment.
"I'm always in the mood for sweet corrupting, husband! But we had job to do and act professional..."
"Screw that. I'd better leave with you for home without reporting," he confided pretty earnestly, but she accepted no sacrificing, what could be too hypercorrect to even annoy herself.
"Antonio Dawson, I'm a bad influence on you," nevertheless, she preferred to ridicule it playfully, and again didn't expect his emphatic response.
"Total nonsense! You're my priority, once my love and my family." Whether he'd learnt the lesson with his ex-wife, or the current inspired him enough, but he believed in what he's saying. "So, let it be - we're done for today. And no compromising."
Damn it. Eased, tamed, seduced she got with his positive statements. Always combining cautious gallantry and steadfast affection in everything he did, but taking full charge of her being made her man remarkably irresistible. No more coherent words to waste time. Their mouths could be occupied with each other tangibly, and his arms constantly around her as she'd safely snuggle up to him, for protocol or anything not to inhibit. Thus, yes, they're going home.
