OA:
I dove for my pistol, but I knew it would be too late. Dave was going to send that code, this whole place would explode, and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop it. I watched him in slow motion, his finger getting closer and closer to the button that would end all of our lives. All of my training, everything I did undercover, all of those times I ran into buildings with ticking bombs, and this is how I would die? How all of those little figures on the ground below me would die?
How Maggie would die?
And it was all because my boot slipped on the smooth metal and I failed to snatch the device before Dave could. How depressing was that?
But then a bullet whizzed above my head, tearing through the air with a long bang. I tried to find the source, but when one wasn't immediately found, I looked back to Dave…just in time to watch him plummet over the railing, detonator in hand. Scrambling to my feet, I dashed for the edge. Part of me worried he'd hit the button when he landed, but as seconds ticked by with him lying motionless on the concrete below and nothing exploding, I let out a breath. We were safe. But how…
I looked down the stairs, and who should be standing there but Maggie? Of course. I tried to muster a small smile to thank her, but one wouldn't come. It had been too close. Still, she nodded, breathing heavily, and I knew that she understood.
The moment SWAT secured Dave's body, I turned away. Part of me knew we were supposed to bring him in alive for questioning, but since we still had Josie and Iris…I couldn't say I was upset about the outcome. The monster who tried to burn my partner alive was dead, so a bigger part of me would sleep a lot better tonight.
She was still at the bottom of the stairs when I left the upper level, having not moved since taking the shot. Her hands were even still wrapped around the pistol. Worry sparked in my gut. "Maggie?"
Her eyes were vacant. I stepped to her side and reached a hand to her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"
She looked up at me, and I realized that she was trembling under my hand. "I had to."
Oh. "I know, Mags."
"I just…" She took a ragged breath. "When I first joined the group, Dave was the one that showed me around. He was an amazing cook, and he played guitar like nothing you've ever seen." She was silent for a moment. "But then…" She closed her eyes. "He tried to kill me, OA. He taped me to the seat belt in that van, and he poured gasoline over the hood…and he threw the match. I don't know how to feel: relief that a killer is dead, or grief for a friend?"
I pulled her close to me. I wasn't sure what to say. Cases ending with a body were always hard, worse when it was someone you knew. But when you took that shot yourself? That was hell. Those cases never left you.
She pulled away first, clearing her throat. "Let's get back to the JOC. I still have a ton of reports to finish from my time undercover."
I knew she was just avoiding getting more emotional — I could see the tears forming in her eyes — but I let it go this time. "Yeah, let's go." I paused. "It was a hell of a shot, Maggie."
"I know." She strode ahead of me.
And she would have hated it if she'd known, but I walked the whole way back to the SUV with my hand positioned behind her back. Just in case she needed me.