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You hate where this is going.
Your hand clutches on for dear life onto the handle above the car window. Your knuckles begin to hurt under the extraneous amount of pressure you’re exerting. You can feel your anxiety fill every nerve in your body. Connor takes a sharp right into a dead end where up ahead is an abandoned warehouse.
Of course, you tell yourself. Why is it always an abandoned building?
Your suspect, one Julian Newson, has been a suspect under the D.P.D.’s radar for over four years and the lead you and Connor followed led to this wild goose chase clear across town. You wish you were more well-equipped to handle such a dangerous criminal but you cannot wait for backup to arrive. You had to arrest this man before he has any more opportunities to terrorize the streets of Detroit.
You reason yourself that you and Connor are more than competent to handle Julian and put this man behind bars to end this once and for all. Slowly, you remember the successful missions you two have been on, how your relationship developed further and further until you became the D.P.D.’s power couple who fought crime side-by-side. Two highly known detectives can definitely arrest this bastard.
The tires screech to a halt as you arrive to your destination. Connor removes his seat belt in a haste and removes his pistol from his holster. You do the same as you get out the car and advance forward to examine the location.
“I got your six,” you say in a low voice as you arrive at the door. Connor looks over at you, a small grin growing on his lips.
“And I’ve got yours.” You form a smile of your own then nod your head when you’re ready to enter. Connor thrusts his whole body onto the thick doors and much to your amusement, the doors open easily. You turn on your flashlight to get a better look but you soon realize that the warehouse is empty. Nothing but concrete floors, stairs on either side, and one or two beer bottles. However, despite how harmless it may seem, you don’t lower your gun one second.
“Come out! You have nowhere else to hide!” Connor yells out into the void but only his voice echoes back. Connor advances forward then proceeds to do a quick scan.
That’s when he hears the faint ticking sound.
His analysis concludes that it’s a motion sensor explosive that had been triggered by you two entering. Being quick on his feet, Connor turns on his heels and yells at you to start running. You take his word for it and make a run for the open doors. Even if you are a good runner, it’s no match for the oncoming storm. The explosive sets off, sending you and Connor flying a few feet away near the vehicle. The flames devour the metal like it’s nothing but a piece of paper. You cough as the smoke begins to permeate the air. You can feel the all too familiar sensation of warm blood cascading down your face. You struggle to pick yourself up as you use your elbow and forearm to prop yourself up. You shake your head to remove the blurriness caused by the impact and as you regain your vision, you spot Connor coming face-to-face with the man of the hour.
“How’d you like my little theatrics, huh? Pretty proud of myself, thank you for asking.” Julian levels his gun to where Connor’s chest is. Even staring down the barrel of a gun, Connor is unfazed by Julian’s actions. He takes a moment to run a diagnostic check to see his vitals and clenches when he realizes that his arm has been slightly compromised. It’s a strange sensation to say the least; to have parts of his biocomponents exposed in such a way. However, the pain can be tolerated.
At least that’s what Connor keeps telling himself.
You watch powerlessly as you see various possibilities that could get your boyfriend killed. C’mon, dammit, get up! You shake the fogginess off and mentally push yourself to kick your feet and rise from your position. Your feet drag along the gravel and you feel the heat coming from the flames mere feet away from you.
“-you are way past a plea deal. Your face is on everyone’s radar. Your time is up.” You catch the tail end of Connor’s conversation as you rejoin his side. Julian steps back, waving his gun to and fro between you and Connor.
“Listen to me, Julian. Surrender and you will make everyone’s lives much easier.” Your pleas have no effect for the sadistic man and only garners a smirk. He shakes his head and raises his eyebrows.
“That’s what cowards do. I’m better than that.”
He levels his revolver back to Connor and the flames from the fire illuminate his face and gives him a sinister look. All of a sudden, Julian’s finger settles on the trigger then takes his shot.
Your eyes don’t quite register the sound.
Your reflexes kick in and you move in front of Connor, pushing him away to protect him. The bullet hits you on your left side and the impact throws your shoulder back. Crimson blood splatters on Connor’s face as he looks up just to watch you fall to your knees. The pain renders you helpless as you give into the paralyzing feeling. The bullet tore through your bulletproof vest you had on and you begin to wonder why it had not been enough. You heave, desperate to get some air into your lungs.
“No, no, no, no,” Connor mumbles underneath his breath as he shuffles his way to you. At this point, he doesn’t care that Julian breaks out into a sprint and runs away from the scene. Right now the only thing that matters right now is you. He cradles your head with his left arm with his right arm resting on the other side of your body.
Connor thought he knew everything but in this moment, he doesn’t know what to do other than apply pressure to the wound and call for help no matter how far away they may be.
“We have a detective down as well as a warehouse fire. Send fire and rescue to 1300 Rhys Avenue now.”
The last word is harsh in tone. He scans at your injuries and curses under his breath when he finds out the bullet had been high caliber and made with multiple metals. It was able to penetrate through the bulletproof vest like a hot knife. The bullet pierced through your pleural cavity and soon realizes that without the proper medical treatment, your lungs will begin to pool with blood. You can feel your body become colder and colder as the time ticks away.
Connor says your name and you lift your hand to stop him from asking why you did what you did. He takes your right hand into his and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“I...had to protect...you,” you swallow and taste something you know all too well: copper. Connor shakes his head, saying your name before you cut him off.
“Remember...I have your six...and you have mine.”
A tiny smile tugs at his lips as he nods his head. In a heartbeat, Connor would’ve done the same thing for you without a second thought. He takes off his jacket once he realizes simply having his hand on the injury isn’t helping enough. You take a sharp inhale at the sudden amount of pressure on your chest. You take a shaky exhale then move your eyes up to meet with Connor’s.
“Before I die-”
“Don’t say that.” Connor strokes your hair with his thumb. You lean in closer to his touch, enjoying the calmness of his movement.
“Always the optimistic, huh? Hmm, remember the first time...we met?”
“You nearly tackled me to the ground,” Connor lets out a playful huff at the memory.
“That’s why you don’t sneak up...on a drunk woman.” You shake your head and let out a laugh. Sadly, you can feel the blood rise up your throat. You sputter the excess to the side and grit your teeth.
“I love you, Connor.” You can feel the warm tears fall down your cheeks as the minor cuts sting as the tears flow.
Connor can feel his own tears cascading down his face. “I love you, too.”
He says your name and you sees your eyes light up as best as they can. Soon, you have trouble breathing correctly. Connor’s jacket is soaked from the amount of blood you are losing. His hand begins to tremble as he tosses the dirty jacket aside and scans at your symptoms. Blood is pouring into your lungs, causing an obstruction in your ability to breath.
“Hemothorax,” he says to himself and tries to apply pressure once again but without gauze or the proper medical equipment, it’s a losing game. Your eyes begin to glaze over but Connor tries to keep you awake. With your final amount of strength, you reach for Connor’s hand to hold.
You needed comfort right now, something to distract you away from the pain. The warmth is draining from your body at a rapid rate and you cough again only to taste blood. You close your eyes to focus your energy on how warm Connor hand feels against your cold skin.
You let go of Connor’s hand shortly right after.
Red and blue lights flicker in the darkness. The warehouse fire continues to wreck havoc as it nearly destroys the entire building to its foundation. Connor continues to look down at your lifeless body, hand still cradling your head. He places his forehead onto yours and lets out what he never thought had been possible—a sob with the force of a thousand hurricanes.
Connor doesn’t notice the hand on his shoulder that tries to pry him away from the love of his life. He begins to protest but he realizes that it’s Hank. Connor reluctantly rises as he watches the medics hover your body. He wants to say something but he is unable to process any coherent string of sentences. The grip on his shoulder tightens, making him face Hank for the first time. Hank’s eyes are low and gentle, understanding towards Connor’s reaction for he had been there before. Watching a person you love with your entire being die before your eyes is a nightmare no one should ever go through.
Hank notices the red blood splattered across his son’s face and it breaks his heart. He had grown attached to you, taking him under his wing as well and joked about his house becoming a place for wayward souls. When you two broke the news that you began dating, Hank said, “fucking finally,” and took both of you to a bar to celebrate. He pulls Connor into his arms and envelops him into a hug with one hand supporting his head.
“She…protected me,” Connor manages to spit out.
“She protected me.”