tw: mentions/discussion of aftermath of torture, sexual assault, intubation


The ambulance ride is a blur. Street keeps whispering for her to keep her eyes on him and lets her dig her nails into his palm while they cut away her shirt to reveal more damage. Pressure builds in her arm before releasing with a pinch and she bites her split lip to keep a whimper in.

"Hey," he whispers when he sees. Carefully, he rests his hand on her cheek and brushes his thumb against her mouth.

"It's almost over, Babe. You're doing great. Let me see those perfect lips, yeah?"

He smiles and nods at Chris until she lets go. Her eyes are so scared that it kills him, his thumb wiping tears back into her hair. She tries to hold his gaze but he sees her eyes getting more distant, falling over the paramedics and equipment before finding him again. The ability to focus waning, her panic grows and he hears how her breathing becomes an even bigger struggle.

"Shh, I've got you," Street says, voice and eyes lined with tears as a paramedic starts to pull out something in his periphery. Chris tries to hold on.

"You're gonna be okay," he promises. "We're gonna get you all fixed up. Well—they are. I'm gonna be right here no matter what. You can rest. It's okay."

With an oxygen mask over her face and Street's final reassurance, Chris loses consciousness. He does his best to answer the paramedics' questions about her history and medications while also staying out of their way, but he can't let go of her. They continue to treat what they can, and reassure Street that doctors are ready and waiting for her arrival.

When they get to the hospital, he holds her hand and walks with her as far as they'll let him until he's stopped by a nurse. She offers to lead him back to the waiting room, which is, thankfully, empty. He can only imagine how destroyed he looks, covered in blood and deep purple undereye circles, but he knows it's nothing compared to how he feels.

"She's in the best possible hands, Officer Street, and you gave them great information which will help a lot," the nurse, Stephanie, tells him with a calming smile. "I'll get you some water too, and we'll update you on her condition as often as possible."

He doesn't smile, but looks at her gratefully and says thank you when she returns. She squeezes his shoulder and says she'll be out as soon as there's something to tell him. Once she leaves, he looks around the room, taking in the dreary chairs and old magazines for the first time.

The chatter of nurses in the hallway becomes white noise as his leg bounces up and down and the clock ticks on. After half an hour passes without any new information, the tears start to fall, and he loses himself in them. Alone, he leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes, and hopes and prays that this is over soon.

His phone ringing pulls him from his mind. The clock reads another hour later and he shakes the fog away before answering. Hondo asks him how he's holding up.

"Okay. No updates yet, as soon as I get off the phone I'll go check." He can hear the tears in his voice and the exhaustion in Hondo's when he tells Street they'll be there within the hour.

"Have you spoken to her family?" Street asks before he hangs up.

"They left on a cruise a week ago. They're docked in Brazil right now, but storms have all flights grounded for the foreseeable future. They'll be on their way back as soon as they can be. I'm sure they'd love to hear from you, Street."

He sighs, knowing he can't bring himself to call them when he doesn't have anything to tell him. He flips through a magazine to give his hands something to do. The next time he hears footsteps, Stephanie walks through the doors and he sits up to meet her.

"She's in surgery," she starts, "her CT showed internal bleeding that they're taking care of. But they were able to stabilize her beforehand, so you should be able to see her once she's back in ICU recovery. It'll be a few more hours."

He knows there are still possibilities he can't fathom, but the reassurance that she's alive takes a hundred pound weight off his shoulders. He gives her a watery "thank you." and as she leaves, the door swings open, revealing the team.

They all have red, tired eyes and he lets himself be enveloped in a hug. When he pulls back, Luca holds out his backpack and tells him to go change.

"We'll be right here if anyone comes, go wash up. Fresh clothes will make you feel better, I promise." Street nods and the bag silently to find the nearest bathroom. Blood flakes off into the pristine white sink as he scrubs at his palms and under his nails, vision blurry with tears. His stomach lurches and then empties itself into the metal can by the door. The burning sensation is at least a reminder that he's alive and this is real. They found her. The little reprieve it supplies is overshadowed by the litany of injuries that will take her months, years, to recover from completely.

After he's changed, his uniform stuffed haphazardly into the bag that he has to fight not to throw away, he washes his hands again and splashes cold water on his face until he's alert and calm. He returns to find the team making themselves comfortable in the waiting room, looking at him expectantly.

"The last they told me, she was in surgery for internal bleeding. Right before you guys got here. A few more hours until we can see her, at least."

"Okay. All we can do is wait. Have you eaten anything?"

Deacon speaks up, and when Street shakes his head, he tosses him a protein bar before they all lapse back into silence.


It's 9pm when a white coat comes through the doors with a clipboard in hand. He beelines for the group of men towering over everyone else who have appeared in the waiting room since. They stand when they see him coming, wiping sweaty palms on their pants.

"Dr. Richardson, I take it you all are here for Officer Alonso?"

"How is she?" Luca asks, tone clipped and worried.

"She's in serious condition, and has been moved to the ICU for the time being. We had to perform an exploratory laparotomy to stop internal bleeding sustained during the trauma. We're monitoring it but we're confident we stopped it. She suffered significant bruising, as well as burns and lacerations, and dehydration."

He stops, lets them digest, and watches the rapid emotions on their faces. After a moment, he looks down at the clipboard and moves his pen down to the next line of notes.

"She has a concussion and broken ribs, and we're lucky the pressure injuries weren't as severe as they seemed. Currently, I'm most concerned with the swelling on her neck and infection. We've intubated to support breathing, and we're administering antibiotics for the infection, as well as fluids and IV nutrition. We're going to keep her under monitored sedation for now. The next 24 hours are critical, and we'll go from there."

They nod, following along and trying to digest as Dr. Richardson speaks. When it's evident he's about to ask if they have any questions, there's a knot in Hondo's stomach that makes him speak up. Street stops breathing.

"Was she sexually assaulted?"

Dr. Richardson sighs, his lips coming into a tight line.

"The severity and number of her injuries make it hard to sort out what may have been the cause of what. Our priority was stabilizing her, and we don't conduct sexual assault exams on unconscious patients, especially since she's in critical condition. Her labs came back negative for STIs, and we'll send her clothes for testing to see if they turn up DNA of any kind. If Officer Alonso reports anything differently when she wakes up, we'll go from there. I'm sorry I don't have a concrete answer for you."

Silence settles over them, the kind that freezes the moment inescapably. Street can feel panic starting to run up his spine, his fist itching to connect with anything, but is stopped by Dr. Richardson's voice.

There's a sad smile as he's finally getting to deliver the news they want to hear:

"You're welcome to see her as long as the noise is low. Given the nature of your jobs and the situation, visiting hours don't apply."

The team quickly turns and gathers their things before following the doctor to another floor, and stopping outside Chris's door with nervous energy bouncing between them. Dr. Richardson reminds them once more to keep the volume at a minimum and then pushes the door open, leading them in and quietly excusing himself.

Soft gasps and tears escape at the sight of Chris, the weight of the conversation somehow heavier and lighter; they don't know what happened, but she's here. She's hurt worse than they've ever seen, but she's here. They don't know what's going to happen, but she's here.

The fluorescent light of the room makes her pale skin look waxy, the dirt and blood having been somewhat cleaned away but leaving streaks of pink on her hands and more prominent bruising in its place. A sheen of sweat is visible, Chris's face taut with pain even though she's unconscious. The white bandages over her wrists and forehead are too bright, making them all feel sick, only worsened by the numerous wires and tubes she's hooked up to. A thin blanket covers her, but it doesn't seem to do enough to protect her from what's happened.

Deacon is the first to step closer. He sets a gentle hand on Chris's forehead and the other on his own chest, beginning to murmur a prayer. He feels hands settle on his shoulders, and they all say "amen" together once he's done.

Opening his eyes, Deacon wipes away his tears and runs his hand down the side of her face. He gives himself one more moment, one deep breath, before moving so everyone else can have their time, but when he turns he sees Street, eyes wide in shock and stuck by the door.

He doesn't move when Deacon nears, only able to open and close his mouth fruitlessly. Carefully taking Street by the bicep, Deacon leads him into the hallway, and shuts the door.

"Talk to me."

Street opens his mouth, knows his every emotion can be read on his face like a book, but when he looks Deacon in the eye, all that comes out is a sob. Deacon pulls him into a hug, promising that it's alright.

"She's alive, in the safest place she can be. Everyone who hurt is either locked up, and they're already flipping on each other. You hear me?"

Street nods against Deacon's shoulder. He pulls away and clears his throat, wiping at his eyes as another round of sobs threatens.

"Seeing her in there, Deac, it makes me so angry." Deacon softly whispers that he knows.

"Me, too. But the best thing we can all do for Chris right now is keep our heads on straight and be there for her. She's going to need us, you most of all."

He gives Street another minute to collect himself, and the pair take a few deep breaths together.

"You ready to get back in there?" Street nods, and Deacon's small smile reassures him. The team turns around when the door opens, stepping away from Chris so he can go to her.

More tears emerge when he sits down, though he leaves them be in favor of taking her cold hand in his. He can feel the life under her skin when he strokes his thumb over her wrist, and relief courses through him.

"Hey, Babe," he rasps as another tear runs down his cheek. He can feel the team's eyes on him, but pays them no mind, too caught up in her. "I'm right here, okay? I'm not leaving."

The team spreads about the room, unpacking blankets and toiletries and phone chargers. Hondo steps out to call Hicks and her family again while Deacon updates Annie. Street doesn't take his eyes off Chris; he lays his head on his arms, still holding her hand, and lets all the world beyond her face fade away.


The next five days press on like the constant drip of a faucet: steady, predictable, and enough to drive someone to the brink.


The team rotates around her bedside, only leaving when Annie or Bonnie come to take their place and remind them to go to sleep.

Even then, the furthest they can get Street is outside the hospital doors for a quick walk and a coffee before he returns to sit like a statue in the chair next to her. Luca brings him fresh clothes and a blanket from the house, since he's taken to sleeping on the short couch underneath the window. His 5 o'clock shadow grows darker and thicker by the hour.

"His back has to be killing him." Tan comments as he and Hondo leave Sunday afternoon for various debrief meetings. Hondo shakes his head in disagreement.

"I doubt he's even noticed. He said he'd sleep once she was safe, I'm just grateful he is. But they're going to want him to come in for his own debrief once we get back. Shouldn't take long."

"You're going to have that conversation with him?" Tan asks, an unsure look on his face that softens when Hondo sighs.

"I'm going to see if they're willing to come to the hospital and talk in a conference room instead. Then I'm going to the prison to check on Huevo, if you're up for the ride."

Nodding, Tan says he is.

"I don't know how the bastard survived, Hondo. He wasn't breathing when they put him in that bus."

Hondo shakes his head, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth.

"Doesn't matter. He's going to spend the rest of his life rotting in prison."


Luca sits next to Chris, alone in her room, while the morning sun is just staring to come in though the blinds. The styrofoam cup in his hand is almost empty but he holds it tightly.

"Thought Hondo and Deacon were going to drag Street out of here." He tells her, a sad huff of a laugh escaping as he tries to wrap his head around Chris out-cold in a hospital bed, and how the rest of the world feels out of balance.

"I told him some air would be good. Really, I think he only went because I promised to call if anything changed in the time it takes them to lap the building. He misses you. We all do."

Luca's fingers tap the side of the cup in a steady rhythm. He knows Chris won't respond, but he tries to imagine her voice in his head and what she would say if she could.

I'm going to be fine. Don't worry about me. All of you look like hell.

He's still pondering when Chris starts to shift, fingers flexing. His hand finds the call button on instinct and then takes hers.

"You're okay, Chris, it's okay." Luca says softly, hoping that maybe his voice will reach her and calm her down.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay." Panic builds but he looks to the steadiness of the monitors for solace.

Stephanie knocks and enters, giving Luca a quick smile before picking up Chris's chart.

"It looks like she's in pain." He gets out, at the same moment her body shakes again.

"Her fever is slightly elevated. Just over 100, but the infections are working their way out, so I'm not too concerned."

Stephanie tells Luca with a comforting tone. After adjusting the bags and buttons on some of the IVs, she jots something down in the chart and tells Luca again that Chris is okay. "I'll be back to check in half an hour."

Luca nods, and then his gaze falls back to Chris. Hurt is still etched into her face, and the hand not in his is clenched like it's braced for more. Setting down the now-cold coffee, he holds her hand between his and lies his forehead down on the edge of the bed so he stares at the floor.

"You're going to be okay."

He isn't sure if he's saying it for her sake or his own.


The hospital room is cold. No matter what, that's the first thing Street notices, and it never goes away no matter how long he sits with Chris's bruised hand in his, his thumb carefully brushing over her slowly-healing knuckles. He traces every inch of her face until he's memorized it, and then pulls his phone out of his pocket.

"Hello?" He asks, voice meek.

"Hi, Jim," Helena's familiar tone comes through the speaker. It's a weight off his chest to hear her, a rush of emotions surging through him while tears blur her vision. "Sarzo's here, too. How's Chrissy doing?"

"As well as she can be. The infection's almost gone, they think."

Their relieved sighs twist his stomach into guilty knots. His tears start rolling hot down his cheeks, the words pouring out of him.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." It's all he can say, voice breaking more as each repetition bounces off the hospital walls. Everyone has been telling him this isn't his fault, but it feels like it is. He knew she was hurt, he knew she was upset, and he still let her go home alone.

"Jim, honey," Helena says, but he hears the thickness of her swallow and more regret barrels through him at her having to comfort him. "It isn't your fault, I promise."

"You found her." Sarzo interrupts. Street can feel the memory of his warm hand on his shoulder and tries to lean into it, wishing they were there in person. "You and your team brought our girl home, and you haven't left her. She's strong."

"Yeah, she is," Street affirms, the ghost of a smile on his face at the thought. His tears start to slow as their words soothe him as much as his thumb resting comfortably over her wrist to feel her steady pulse. "How are you guys doing?

"Still docked," Sarzo sighs, and Street can hear the disgust in his voice. "They're predicting another day until we can leave, and it'll be a few more after that until we're at a dock with an airport nearby. We'll be on that plane the second we can."

"Tell her we love her?" Helena adds. Wiping his tears away, Street smiles small.

"I'm in her room. I'm sure she heard you. Her fever is down."

He can't take his eyes off her face, pained as it still is, as they talk more to try to relieve some of the hurt blanketing them all. Moments later, a knock pulls his attention and Stephanie enters.

"Okay," he clears his throat, "one of her nurses is here. I've got to go. I'll check in soon."

"Alright, Sweetheart, please do. We love you both."

It stops Street in his tracks. The Alonso's have always made an effort to make him feel welcome, to make him a part of their family once he and Chris got together, but this feels different. Not pity for a young, screwed up kid, or putting on an act for Chris's sake. It feels undeniably real. Biting back a sob, he nods.

"Love you, too."

He wipes away his tears and shoves his phone into his sweatpants pocket. Stephanie rests a gentle hand on her shoulder to comfort him before she walks around the bed and starts checking everything over in the way only seasoned hands can.

"She really is doing good, Jim. Her vitals are strong."

Sighing, he wants to believe her but it's hard when he hasn't seen her sparkling eyes or heard her voice in days. Heartbreak crawls up his throat.

"I just want to see her smile." He whispers. He's memorized how far her chest raises and falls, helped along only by the intubation. Her hands and fingernails are finally losing the pink twinge of blood that's hung on with all its might. Every night, before he falls into a restless sleep, his focus on the memory of her laugh, but it's getting quieter in his mind. Stephanie gives him a gentle smile, her tone certain.

"You will."


"I have some good news." Dr. Richardson starts when he enters Chris's room Wednesday evening.

The team looks over at him, their hunched shoulders and under eye bags pronounced from the amount of time they've been there. Deacon rubs his hands together while Luca stands and paces. Hondo turns from the window to lean against the wall and stare at the doctor, and neither Tan nor Street move from her bedside.

"Christina's vitals are mostly where we want them, and there are no signs at present of recurrent bleeding. The fever and swelling are both down to manageable levels. If her condition remains unchanged or gets better overnight, we're going to stop sedation."

What Dr. Richardson is saying meets their ears, but no one moves as they process what he said.

Deacon understands and breaks first, leaning forward so his elbows are on his knees and then leaning back against the couch and wiping tears from his eyes. The rest of the team follows, short laughs of disbelief and relief expelling themselves.

"It may still be a while before Christina wakes up, and longer until she's able to remain awake and coherent, but I'm pleased with how she's recovering."


helllloooo! hope you're all doing well. thank you so much for all the insanely lovely comments on the previous chapters, and i hope you like this one just as much! very little actual chris in this update, but a lot of writing the team's reactions and about chris/street from their perspective, which was super fun. and the first appearance (if via phone) from the alonsos! truth be told, i started writing this before i had truly fallen in love with them as characters (aka: before the delusion set in), but i still thought they would obvs be aware of chris's condition and trying to do anything to get to her. alas, they're stuck on a boat for a bit, but they'll definitely be featured more prominently later! also, yes, huevo survived, but hopefully that makes for some more good angst/h/c/whump later too ? please let me know what you think! thank you all 3 more soon xo, A