tw: implied/referenced sexual assault


"Hey," Street says quietly a few hours later, looking down at Chris and dragging the team's attention to her. They're all unsure of what to say, ready to sit in silence, but her groaning has them all getting up to help her readjust against the pillows. Street waves away everyone else's hands just in case, helps her sit up, and then finds the chair next to her again.

She takes a deep breath and lets her gaze float over each of them and memorize their faces, faces she wasn't sure she was ever going to see again. It's been like groundhog day, but she refuses to fall back asleep or let her mind spiral again. She wants normalcy, even if she has to fight a concussion and the meds to get it. Clearing her throat, she looks down at her hands as she speaks.

"How many did you pick up?"

"Seven," Tan says, "including Huevo. And three girls we've got in touch with social services."

"Bodies?"

They have to strain to hear, but better that than put her through any more discomfort.

"No, they're all sitting in cells."

Chris blows out a breath and feels her shoulders relax, if barely.

"Good." She whispers. "If you hand me the notebook, I can write my statement."

Shock settles over the men and they fail to be subtle in the looks they give one another. Chris rolls her eyes and reaches forward, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder and Hondo handing her the paper.

"You don't have to do this right now, Chris, you can take some time. You should take some time."

She hears him out, though it's clear that she isn't going to listen. When Hondo's finished speaking, she shakes her head, handing Deacon his jacket back.

"Now, and then it'll be done. I can't sit here and stare at the wall or start crying again." Chris says, like she's also trying to convince herself it's a good idea. She can't keep looking at their faces while too many feelings make a muddy puddle in the bottom of her stomach. "A pen?"

One finds its way into her hand and she sets the paper on her lap to write.

"Do you want some privacy?" Tan asks.

"Yeah, thanks."

Street moves to kiss her temple before leaving, but stops at the small shake of her head. Despite the pang in his heart, he doesn't put up a fight and goes silently. Hondo watches the exchange and pats him on the back as he closes the door to leave her in solitude.

"I know, I know." Street says to him, the edge on his voice dissipating. Hondo nods.

Alone, Chris's hand moves across the page, retelling what happened day-by-day and line-by-line. Her years on the force have given her finely honed skills to recall the vivid details she'd much rather have forgotten: colors of shirts and numbers of teeth and choked cries from the girls. The monitors next to her fluctuate when her breath catches or her heart speeds up in a vain attempt to get away from it all. She clenches her fist until the images float away from her and she feels human again.

"It's over." She tells herself on repeat. "You made it out. You did your job."

Trying to remember everything in as much detail as possible takes her hours, like piecing together fractured pieces of glass that she first has to pull out of the wounds they're making in her. Stephanie comes in with another nurse, Melinda, once to check her vitals like normal and twice when the monitors peak at the nurse's station before she can calm herself down.

"I know." She tells Stephanie the second time, slow tears on her face. "I just need to get this done and then I'll rest."

Stephanie doesn't look convinced, but lets Chris continue, so long as the monitors don't spike again.

It takes another hour. Until every memory is spread out in ink, unimaginable but undeniable, and she's sure nothing is missing. The pages end up in a neat stack on the bedside table, though they're tear-stained and crumpled from how hard she was gripping them. She knows not everything is legible, but she can't think about it any longer.

She drops the pen and both of her hands start to shake, no longer feeling like her own. Every line and tattoo looks foreign. She can't help but wonder what happened all the times she was unconscious and left to the mercy of Huevo and his men. The thought makes her pulse race.

I can't do this, Chris thinks. She wants a shower. To rip the IVs out and leave. To hug her family. For none of this to have happened and for everyone to stop looking at her like she's as fragile as she feels every time something new happens.

She wants her body back.

Fingers fiddling with the plastic tubing, contemplating how bad of an idea it really is to get herself out, her head snaps up at the door opening. Before they can see her, she wipes her eyes.

"Hi, Chris." A gentle voice calls, and it's not who she expects when she sees Wendy walking in. Her instinct to tell her to leave falls away.

"Hi." Chris responds, voice raspy, and drops the tube. "What are you…?"

"Hicks called me in." Wendy says with a smile. "We don't have to talk about anything, but I heard you're writing your statement and wanted to be here if you needed someone."

Chris nods, uncertainty settling on her. She gestures to the stack of papers on the table, like Wendy can read them if she wants, but the doctor shakes her head.

"I'm not here to read it. I'm here to talk, it doesn't have to be about what happened, it can be since you've woken up, anything. Or nothing at all."

"Thank you." She says, trying to think of something else to say. Wendy's like a breath of fresh air, someone who doesn't know exactly what happened and has only heard peripheral details. Someone there's no expectation to uphold around.

Picking at her fingernails, Chris sighs.

"I'm glad I— I'm glad it's written. I miss my family."

Wendy nods along with her, hands folded in her lap with none of the shakiness that Chris feels.

"I'm sure. You told them not to hurry back?" Her question holds no judgment, but Chris sighs.

"It's the only way I know they're safe. And, I don't want them to see me like this."

Wendy hums and hands her a tissue to wipe away a tear.

"That's normal, especially for someone in your line of work. Have you spoken to them on the phone at all?"

A twinge hits her neck when Chris tries to shake her head, so she refrains, continuing to pick at her nails.

"Not yet. Street called them today. It's been… hard to be awake." Fire creeps up her neck and into her face, shame at not talking to them, and Wendy tries to squelch it right away.

"That's okay, Chris, you've been through a lot, and it's a lot to manage others' emotions on top of. If you're up to it in the next couple of days, maybe give them a call."

Chris absorbs what Wendy says and then looks back up at her, slightly more relaxed.

"I'll try. Thanks, Wendy."

Wendy smiles and places her hand on top of Chris's, still covered in bruises and cuts scabbed over.

"How are you doing otherwise, if you want to talk about it?"

She shrugs.

"It's surreal still. I really just want to go home. When do we start mandated sessions?"

"Your body is working hard to reregulate itself, but it's going to take a few days, especially since you're in the hospital. We'll start official sessions after you're discharged so you can focus on physical healing, but I'll come by to check on you, and you can call me twenty-four/seven. Writing and breathing are the best things I can recommend for emotional processing right now. The doctors are here to help you, so there's no shame in asking for whatever might make you feel better."

Unsure what to say, she wipes at the wetness on her face. Wendy exhales and looks around the room.

"I'll leave you to get some rest, but do call if you need anything."

Chris musters up the strength to nod. Watching Wendy walk out, she lies her head back on the pillow and lets out a long sigh. Her reprieve is short-lived when the door opens again to reveal Stephanie.

"Hey, Chris, how are you feeling?" She asks as she goes through her checklist like it's second nature.

"Okay. Tired."

"That's normal," Stephanie says, and Chris thinks that she could say anything and someone would tell her that it's normal.

"Everything looks good for the night. Do you want me to let your team back in?"

She swallows, her heart picking up for a second when she thinks about what Wendy said.

It's a lot to manage others' emotions.

Guilt eats at her, but she whispers no.

"I just need some time tonight. But will you take them my statement?" She gestures towards the lined paper, signed and dated and containing a complete account of every bruise and shot. Stephanie nods and says of course.

"Hit the call button if you need to. Otherwise, get some sleep."

Stephanie leaves quietly, and Chris searches for the remote to turn on the small TV in the corner. She finds something mindless and turns the volume down so it's a low drone in the background as she closes her eyes.

But sleep proves impossible. Her mind, now with the weight of knowing she'll have to write a statement gone, is full of room to think about what happened.

Chris scans up her body, trying to come to terms with everything Huevo and his men did to her. Scenes flash behind her eyelids like a high definition movie, and it's all she can do to breathe through them and tell herself she isn't there anymore. That she can't run from it because there isn't anything to run from anymore.

Somehow, barely, Chris works her way over her hips, up her torso and chest, phantom hands following her the whole time that 'battery' doesn't begin to cover. Tears roll down her cheeks that she wipes away with a shaky, bandaged hand. Knowing those men listened to Huevo like dogs is her only reprieve, but it does little to provide any relief from the memory of their voices in her ear.

It's like being shot, the weight of what happened settling on her in its terrifying, undiluted entirety. She hits the call button.

"What do you need, Chris?" Stephanie asks. Chris swallows.

"Something to help me sleep?"


"She's okay." Stephanie says with a sweet smile to the team. "She's requesting no visitors at the moment, but did ask me to give you this."

They all know what the papers are, looking at them in her hand like it could be a bomb. Hondo is the one who steps up to take them, clearing his throat and telling her, "thank you."

"We don't know when she's going to want visitors again. Anyone who wants to read this can, and then I'd go home, freshen up, get some rest. I'll stay, and call if I need to."

His tone is sure, and the rest of 20-David nods.

"I'll read it tomorrow, I need to help Annie with bedtime." Deacon nods his goodbye to the rest of the team and murmurs again to Hondo to call him immediately.

Finding his seat, Hondo is careful to unfold the papers. As his eyes travel over the pages, Street notices Hondo's sharp breath and downturned mouth from his seat across the way. Weariness lingers over the room like a worn blanket.

Hondo's jaw is tense as he finishes reading and then stands without announcement and lets the papers fall back onto the chair. For a moment, he can't tear his eyes off the waiting room, almost as if he's staring through the walls and into Chris's room. Blowing out a breath, he walks out without another word.

Tan takes Hondo's position, preparing himself to read her account of events. He's followed by Luca. The two discuss in hushed tones after they're done, but Street doesn't catch what it's about, too focused on his own heartbeat. The papers on the chair seem to weigh a ton as Street approaches.

His heart races faster as he begins to read, starting with what happened in her apartment. Flashes of the rooms come back to him, heartache building as he pictures Chris fighting to get away in the one place she should've been safe. Tears come to Street's eyes and he blinks them away so they don't smudge the ink.

The more he reads, the worse he feels. She writes in chunks of time that are punctuated by briefly falling asleep or being knocked out and make his stomach turn. With so much detail, he doesn't know how she got through it.

His heart stops when he reads about the other victim there with her, the one she was forced to shoot at, whose body they still haven't recovered. The gruesome image of Chris, helpless, in a position where there are no winners, enrages him. He can't stop seeing the gashes on her wrist from where she struggled.

Once he's finished, turning the seventh page over and thanking god the back isn't marked, he feels numb. Words swirl around in his brain—smoke, guns, girls— and he can't make sense of them.

Even knowing that the girls and Mama Pina's girls and Chris are all safe provides no comfort, nor does thinking of Cortez fighting against this. All he can think about is how many more there are. The hands and breath and teeth on Chris for days that she didn't want.

That the pain of wakefulness brings her no real solace.

He wants to kill Huevo and his men.

Street's shoulders are hunched as Hondo, Tan, and Luca approach him again. He doesn't know what they were talking about, but he knows they've come to a decision of some kind.

"Every last one of them." Tan says quietly, before anyone sits down. "We get every last one of them, or we go down trying."

No one disagrees.


"Street, I know it's not okay, but Chris is safe. You haven't left the hospital since you got here, you've barely taken care of yourself. And I get it, but you need to get some rest; she wouldn't want you torturing yourself like this, and you know it, man. She's probably already asleep for the night."

Street sighs and finishes his glass of water. It makes a clunk sound as it hits the bar next to a plate full of crumbs. His stomach hasn't stopped turning since Chris reassured him, via Stephanie, that he and the team could leave for the night.

"Fine. I know. But the second I wake up—"

"Yes. The second we're up. Hondo will call if he needs to. Are you taking Duke for the night?"

Nodding, Street gets up and tosses his dishes in the sink before gesturing Duke towards his bedroom. Halfway down the hallway, Street stops and turns back towards the common area.

"Thank you, Luca."

Luca's sure, comforting voice comes back to him.

"Of course, man. Get some rest."

With Duke at his feet, Street manages to sleep for the first time in what feels like weeks.


thank you for all the support and lovely comments in response to my last fic and what's going on. i hope you all enjoy the update chapter 9 will be up sometime by the end of the weekend. after that it's for real surgery time, so obviously i can't say what will come when, lol, but it will definitely be updated eventually.

all my love

A