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Jake leans further away from the gun pointed towards him, he also leans in front of Gina incase Scarguy decides to change targets. If anyone must get shot, preferably nobody gets shot and they laugh about it later, he rather it would be him than Gina or a civilian. He’s accepted that he might not go home at the end of a shift one day.
It would really suck if it was during the holidays, but the holidays have always sucked. This kind of confirms his point, even if he’s excited to do a “non-denominational holiday date” with Amy this year.
Oh no. Amy. He’s pretty sure she’d be outside the store by now, even if she’s not responding to his texts, also a good thing because his text tone was definitely on.
“I’ve killed ten people.”
Charles don’t let me down, buddy. Jake leans further away.
“And that’s such a nice even number, I’ve killed eleven people is just so cumbersome.”
Scarguy scowls and Jake knows he’s not making it out of this one. Some weird uncontrollable situation happened in the vents because Charles wouldn’t let him die, and really, it’s karma for not remembering to buy his best friend a gift in the first place.
Jake sees the trigger finger tighten and he keeps eye contact with the guy. There are hostages that are freaking out, and he’s not about to appear to be frightened by his own death. It doesn’t matter because he’s going die, but he thinks it might help, so he does it.
The strange thing about being shot you never notice being shot. The bullet just kind of tears up your body and then you notice it. That’s what the older cops say at least.
Jake confirms it. He hears the gun go off at the same time the ceiling vent falls to the floor. Good job Charles!
Pain suddenly bursts in his chest and he’s knocked backward by the force of it. He has the strangest urge to cough, and it hurts like a bee-otch. Also, that’s blood. So. Not good.
Very not good. Blood is supposed to be on the inside.
“Jake!”
He’s not entirely sure whose calling his name, but his mind is still spinning with case facts. There’s something he’s missing, and he has to solve it. Money obtained. Building surrounded. Heavy-duty equipment. Bad smell. Drillsmelldrillsmell.
“Sewer,” he gasps, “escaping.”
Apparently, he’s closed his eyes, odd because he doesn’t remember doing that, but when he opens them it’s an eyeful of Charles. Really, it’s kind of terrifying but reassuring. That hasn’t changed, and his mind latches onto the continuity.
“They’re escaping through the sewers?” Charles confirms.
Jake gasps, because his lungs decide they don’t want to breathe. Maybe it’s just one because he doesn’t think the angle was right for a double puncture. Could be his heart. Jake nods his head. He isn’t going to die and let the criminals escape. Although it would be a cool vengeance backstory for Amy.
Amy.Amy.Amy. He wants to stay awake. She’s going to kill him while giving him that cute disappointed face she has when he forgets the order she likes her dishes done.
“Jake, stay awake,” that doesn’t sound like Charles, so Gina, “listen to my super powerful voice that’s keeping you from dying.”
Things are super fuzzy and it’s making him dizzy with how little he can make out.
“10-24.”
Jake knows that code. It’s bad, he knows you never want to hear it. Charles repeats the code, and that’s not good because Charles only uses the code when he has to be a cop-cop and not whatever the nine-nine version of cops are.
Charles is only a cop-cop when it’s super bad. Although, he is bleeding from his mouth, so maybe it is time for cop-cop Charles.
“Service Hallway, awake but incoherent.”
Jake really trusts Charles and he’s really tired, so he lets his best friend take it from here.
“10-24.”
Terry looks up at the approaching forms of Holt, Santiago, and Diaz. It’s Boyle on the walkie-talkie, and the only other officer in the building is Jake. So that means the code is for Jake and Terry doesn’t know how to handle that.
He warned the kid that he was going to himself hurt or worse if he didn’t start living his life outside of the precinct. It seems unfair that when his advice is finally being applied and Jake finally is connecting to people deeply emotionally something like this happens.
Right now, he has to turn off the part of him that treats the kid like an adult-kid and amp up the part of him that’s a cop, “can you repeat?”
“10-24.”
“Location?” Terry digs his blunt nails into his palm.
“Service hallway.”
Terry walks briskly to the EMTs, and conveniently away from the approaching trio of cops.
“Status?” Alive. Please say alive.
“Awake, but incoherent,” Charles answers, his voice is surprisingly steady.
“Okay.” Awake was good. Awake was really good.
There’s a shout, and Terry knows that it isn’t really good anymore.
“The suspects are tunneling through the sewers,” Gina’s voice suddenly bursts through the speakers.
It’s good she’s alive. The EMTs are looking at him concerned. Terry realizes it because he hasn’t said anything yet, and yes there are robbers he has to take care of as well.
“The hostages are being held in the service hallway, one officer is down, the building is clear.”
A group of cops volunteer to go in with the EMTs. Terry unclenches his fist. The Vulture is still in the garbage where Terry left him, so he’s not interfering but that also means Terry is in charge of this operation now.
“Diaz, you got a gun? Take a group and head around back to the manhole, the robbers should be coming from there!”
Diaz looks surprised, but she nods and gestures towards Hitchcock and Scully, who follow a little overeager. Terry sighs, at least they’ll have the perps once this is over with. It’s a small prize, but at least they wouldn’t have cop-killers running around the city, more so than there was at the beginning of the night. No. Jake isn’t dead. You don’t even know that he’s badly injured. Charles wasn’t panicking so it had to be fine. Gina had to take over because Charles and Jake are being their usual idiot selves. Get a grip Terry, it’s fine. Jake is fine.
“Sargent Jeffords,” Captain Holt’s voice calls from behind him.
“Captain Holt, Amy,” Terry turns.
They look worried, Amy looks worried and Holt is scanning the crowd of hostages now making their way out of the building.
“Report,” Holt orders still looking at the door.
Terry steels himself, it’s time to be a cop, “Diaz is apprehending the robbers now, the hostages are being safely escorted out of the building, Gina has been found and is uninjured.”
Holt nods along to the statements, “and Detectives Peralta and Boyle?”
Oh, he does not want to do this. He wants to be at home eating a slightly dry Christmas dinner with his little girls and his wife. Terry never should have told Jake that he hopes there was a gun to his head. That’s really what jinxed this night. He also thinks slightly superstitiously that the nine-nine was due for a wake-up call, Peralta’s injuries aside. They seem to forget the darker side of being a cop.
“They were able to prevent the situation from escalating,” Terry shifts, inhales, and carefully does not look at Amy or Holt, “and there’s been an officer down reported.”
Holt snaps his head towards Terry, and now he knows how deeply Holt cares about Peralta. It’s a little relieving because Terry has been prepared to step in if Holt started to withdraw from Jake. The Jake who accidentally calls Holt dad and has calmed substantially down in the short time Holt’s been mentoring him. Now he knows that if anything Holt is going to be more… emotional Holt? He doesn’t really get it, but he’s not abandoning Jake and that’s a good thing.
“Who?” Holt asks.
Terry almost feels bad about Charles, because the two in front of him are acting like he’s already told them it’s Jake. Charles is important to them, if a little weird, but Jake is something special to the nine-nine.
“Peralta, sir.”
Yeah. There goes any feeling he had left to celebrate after this night, because as he says it four things happen at one. One, Amy’s legs immediately give out and he has to awkwardly catch and lower her to the ground. Two, Holt shows a readable emotion of shock, Terry almost worries he’ll have to stop him from running into the building. Three, the EMTs shove through the crowd of civilian hostages, one’s holding a breather-bag and yelling a lot and quickly. Four, Rosa returns with three robbers in custody and the other cops leave the building with the remainders.
Rosa shoves the perp a little rougher than normal. She’s in a bad mood because three of her friends were in a hostage situation and she didn’t know until it was almost over, but mostly because her friends were in a hostage situation. She’s going to hit Jake because she’s almost certain he turned this into a Die Hard thing. At least Charles and Gina were with him to stop him from doing anything that would get him killed.
That’s what she thought up until she spotted the gurney and an oh-so horribly familiar shock of brown hair. Rosa looks towards the door where Gina is holding onto Charles and Charles is holding onto a perp almost twice his size and then she looks towards where Terry, Captain, and Amy are. They all look equally heartbroken so it’s not much of a jump to a conclusion as a confirmation.
Jake’s been injured.
She’s going to kill him if he’s not already dead. The EMTs are working in him, which means that he’s currently alive, which is good. Two uniformed officers approach and she pushes the perp into their waiting arms and storms over to where Terry appears to barely be holding it together.
“What. Happened?” She asks.
“I’m unclear,” Terry says, “all I know is Peralta has been injured.”
“Shot.” Charles says listlessly, “I was too slow and he got shot and now he’s going to die, and I’m the worst best friend in the world-“
“Boyle!” Rosa snaps, “this isn’t your fault. Jake knows that. We all know that. It’s the guy-who-shot-him’s fault.”
“He trusted me, he gave up his vent moment for me!” Charles practically sobbed.
Rosa chalks it up to a Die Hard thing, and then mentally screams. Of course, it’s the one-time Jake acts the adult he actually is, is when he gets injured. Judging by the urgency from the EMTs and Boyle’s non-reaction reaction, it’s bad. Jake might not get to go home after this night, and that thought sucks. A lot. Less because he’s a fellow cop, and it hurts everyone on the force when one of them dies and more because it’s Jake who solves cases like nobody else, Jake who she went to the academy with, Jake who is one of her best friends simply because he understands and accepts her boundaries.
It’s incredibly difficult to imagine waking up and walking into the nine-nine and not seeing Jake air-drumming at his desk or running into the briefing because he was late for some inane or sweet reason. Rosa doesn’t want to imagine it. The whole night feels wrong, so she moves towards the group of cops she knows and tries to get a read on things.
They’re freaking out, not that she expected anything different. They also don’t know anything more than what Gina and Charles know, which is unsurprisingly not a lot beyond how the injury happened. Also, the EMTs won’t let one of them ride in the ambulance with Jake because they aren’t immediate family and they need the room to work. Rosa knows the last one is more of a platitude than the truth of the rejection.
Instead, they all pile into one of the police vans since no one trusts themselves enough to drive. Rosa leans her head back and presses it against the cool metal. No one is talking, which is unusual for the nine-nine. She cracks one eye open to survey the group now that they don’t have to keep up public images. Boyle is nervously fidgeting with his shirt, and his hands are caked in drying blood, some has rubbed off on the shirt. Gina is subtly leaning against Charles, she’s blank-faced in her shock and once again drying blood stains her skin and clothes. Rose frowns, judging by the splatter she was right behind Jake when he got hit and based from Boyle’s rambling story they were on the ground, the quick calculation in her head places the bullet would almost dead center in Jake’s chest. Her fists clench and she ignores the training in her head that’s telling her she needs to write off Jake’s chances now.
Her gaze drifts to Terry, who’s hunched over and smaller than a man his size has any right to be. His phone is between his hands, and the contact picture is Sharon. There’s a pang in her stomach at how the holidays will feel for the Sarge when-if goddammit- Jake dies. He would have three little girls to spoil and a grave to visit. Terry seems to realize that too, and he seems too afraid of that possibility to tell his wife a goodnight.
A sob catches Rosa’s attention, and now she’s staring straight across at Amy. Pristine, competitive Amy is knees to chest sobbing. Rosa wants to comfort her, and chance away from the notion that she should have checked her phone earlier like Rosa told Boyle this isn’t anyone but the shooter’s fault. She can’t think of it going any other way even if they were outside the store when Jake first texted her, because people were in danger and Jake will always put himself last in that situation. Terry gently pulls Amy to him, who gracelessly slumps against the older man. A faint Spanish prayer reaches Rosa’s ears and she mimes the words with Amy.
Holt is the last one Rosa checks on because Holt’s probably been through this at least once before. The captain is stony-faced and stoic, there’s a tightness around his eyes Rosa notes, she’s never noticed that tell before. His posture is straight-backed and entirely professional, and Rosa wants to scream at him to get a reaction. Not that it would help anyone, probably it would make things worse seeing their captain lose his composure, but Rosa wants to break something and currently, Holt is the only target she has.
She inhales sharply and pushes the urge back down. A soft part of her mind is telling her that Holt isn’t reacting because he isn’t emotionally invested in this squad. It’s a lie she knows, they’re the first squad he’s led and it’s Jake whose hurt and whatever they tell themselves and the general public, Rosa knows they care about each other, because Jake actually cares about what someone thinks of him and Holt lets himself be pulled into silliness that he wouldn’t otherwise accept.
The van jars to a stop, and the group tilts with the sudden change in momentum. Rosa is the first to stand and open the doors. They’re outside of the hospital, an ambulance sits in the bay with its lights flashing but the siren’s off. Gina is a second behind her, and she’s unsteady but her face is less blank and more scared. Rosa shucks her NYPD windbreaker off and tosses it to Gina.
“What?” Gina says dazedly.
Rosa nods to her jacket, “how are you holding up?”
Gina looks down, pales, and can’t pull the jacket on fast enough, “well, you know.”
“Yeah,” Rosa says, “if you need to talk about it.”
That’s the tipping point for Gina it seems, she huddles into the windbreaker, “I need Jake to be alright. How do I tell his mom that I watched him die in front of me?”
“You tell her the truth.”
“The truth? That I was too scared to do anything while my childhood friend takes a bullet because he wants to play hero?”
Rosa looks up at the flickering lights of the ambulance, “no, that he was doing his job and living up to his oath.”
Raymond ignores Diaz and Gina as he gets out of the van. He knows Diaz will step up and take care of things, just like Jeffords did tonight. Like Santiago will do once she’s gotten herself through the current bought of grief. Like Peralta did when he was one of two people in a department store being taken under control by armed robbers.
He’s proud that Peralta did his job with dignity, there’s no doubt that he is a good detective but for once Raymond wishes that he would have just laid low and waited for on-duty officers with guns and raid gear to come and do their job. It never would have happened, but there was a good chance that this night wouldn’t have ended with most of his detectives curling uncomfortably in the ER chairs waiting for news.
They’re lucky enough that Peralta didn’t leave the store in a body bag, and Raymond hates that. He doesn’t like that the staff won’t give him any updates on Peralta’s condition because they aren’t family (legal family with paperwork) and that they can’t reach his emergency contact. Raymond stops pacing at that thought and pulls out his phone and walks a respectable distance away from the nine-nine.
Kevin picks up in two rings as usual.
“Raymond, how was the ocean?”
“Cold,” he answers automatically.
There’s a long pause. He knows Kevin has already picked up on his tension, it’s late and he hasn’t made any indication as to what he needed to call about.
“I’ll be late tonight,” he settles on finally.
“Work emergency?”
A nurse runs down the hallway.
“Something of that nature, yes.”
He waits for a code to be called, but he doesn’t hear anything.
“Should I be concerned?”
“No, the situation is wrapped up, but…”
What does he even say? How does he even say it? Kevin knows about his fondness for the nine-nine and the work ban has been lifted so that he can talk about his detectives and their shenanigans.
“You have a soft spot for that Peralta,” Kevin says at breakfast
“Perhaps, he is a very talented detective and has potential,” Raymond answers.
Kevin hums, “is that why you were so angry after the news of what his actual father did?”
“I don’t understand what you mean by actual.”
“He does call you dad,” Kevin sets his spoon down, “and you have called him son.”
He’s tried very hard to not think about what Kevin was implying that morning. Raymond knows the truth of it, but he would rather no one else did. Except maybe Peralta, he hopes that Jacob (“that’s biblical”) knows the positive effect he’s had on Raymond.
“Raymond, you trailed off?”
He clears his throat, “yes, well. Peralta has been injured and we’re waiting for news on his condition.”
“Oh. Oh my.”
Raymond nods to the beige wall.
“Please keep me appraised of the situation.”
Peralta would be thrilled if he knew that he had a soft spot in Kevin’s life.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Raymond. Be safe.”
Raymond ends the call. He glances back at the squad who have all huddle in a corner. They’re a mix between too emotional to sleep and too emotionally exhausted to stay awake so he walks over to them. Jefford nudges Amy, whose asleep on his arm and Gina who was leaning against his leg.
“Go home, rest in your own beds.”
There was a surge of protest from the squad.
“We are only taking up space in the waiting room. Santiago and I will remain here, but the rest of you need to be at home.”
Jefford looks around at the group, “you’re welcome to crash in my living room. We can come back in the morning, and that way we’ll all get the news at the same time.”
Raymond is immensely grateful for Jefford’s kindness.
Gina bites her lips and looks towards the ER doors. There’s a small tremble to her slight frame. Boyle and Diaz look like they aren’t going to move and Santiago looks to shaken up to make any sort of decisions.
“The news will be the same whether you are here or at Sargent Jefford’s home,” Raymond states, “it’s best to rest when you can.”
If the night took a turn for the worse, Raymond has no doubt that any of the squad will be well rested. Beyond that their mood is just adding to the rest of the mood in the hospital. He doesn’t believe in energies as Gina does, but he knows that too much of a bad feeling can hinder healing. Furthermore, it’s disruptive to the other patients and families who have loved ones here tonight.
“Okay,” Boyle says suddenly, “let’s leave.”
Diaz opens an eye and she almost looks worried. He would have thought that Boyle would have made the biggest argument to stay. Raymond notes that he should probably talk with Boyle about his not being his fault again, but for now, he’ll take the agreement.
Gina nods as well, “call as soon as there’s news.”
Diaz stands and helps Gina to her feet. Santiago barely leans away from Jeffords before he stands. Boyle is the last one to move. He too looks wistfully at the ER doors and Raymond can’t help but follow the gaze. There’s no telling what is happening beyond those doors beyond hurt and illness. Peralta, no Jake, is back there surrounded by strangers frantically trying to save his life. Raymond wants news, but if news came too quickly then it was likely bad news considering how severe the wound seemed.
He sits quietly next to Santiago who looks blankly at the magazine table.
“What if he doesn’t make it?” She whispers.
Raymond looks at the doors again, “we live with it.”
“This is why I didn’t want to date a cop.”
“Love is always worth the pain,” Raymond says, “when the love is like what you have with Peralta.”
She shifts in the chair so that she’s leaning against Raymond’s arm.
“I love him so much.”
“He’s strong.”
Amy blinks awake as she hears the squeaking of shoes. A doctor approaches them, her scrubs are covered in blood and Amy’s heart rate jumps. The doctor’s face is neutral as is her body language and Amy unwinds herself from the position she’s been in since Holt sat down next to her. She doesn’t understand how his uniform is still orderly. On another day, in another time she would ask him about it.
“Are you Captain Raymond Holt?” The doctor asks softly.
“Yes.”
Amy leans forward, begging for any scrap of information. There’s light in the ER now, and a purple sky so it’s barely dawn, and it’s been almost nine hours since Jake got brought in.
“Officer Peralta is still undergoing surgery,” the doctor says, “it’ll still be hours before he’s off the table.”
There’s not a lot to work within that statement, but its more than they knew, which was that Jake is alive and still fighting and being fought for.
“I’m not supposed to do this,” the doctor says, “but the nurse says you’ve been here all night.”
Holt nods and the doctor turns away. Amy pulls her phone from her pocket, its almost dead, but the charger is in her purse.
Nine-Nine Group Chat
Sant(a)iago: Jake still in surgery. Might be for hours. Don’t know anything else.
Holt’s phone lights up with the notification, but he ignores it. He’s staring at the wall again. Amy stares forlornly at the nicknames Jake gave everyone at the start of the month, he might not like the holidays or celebrate Christmas, but he does love a good pun.
Nine-Nine Group Chat
Feliz naviDiaz: Okay.
She suspects that they’ll see the nine-nine in an hour or so. Terry probably wants to see his kids open their gifts. It’ll be strange for them to have so many semi-strangers in their house, but Sharon will understand. Amy is glad that no one had to spend the night alone, sad holidays aside, right now no one in the nine-nine needed to be alone.
Jake is alone. Surrounded by strangers. She didn’t tell him she loved him today because they were rushing this morning. What if he dies without hearing it one last time. What were her last words to him? Something about joining Holt and Rosa at the ocean, but she can’t recall the conversation. Just Jake’s happy little smile he gifts her with every time they’re in the same room. The smile that can make everything better.
She really needs that smile right now. Amy would give anything for Jake to walk out of the doors, healthy and grinning and talking about Die Hard.
True to her guess, everyone showed up about ninety minutes later sans Terry.
“He wanted to see his kids open their gifts,” Boyle says.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, Jake’s mom rushes into the ER. She makes an immediate b-line towards the squad.
“How is he?” She asks breathlessly.
“In surgery still,” Holt answers, “we haven’t been able to get any information.”
Karen shakes her head vigorously and it’s easy to imagine a set of rapid-fire cools with the movement. Amy is glad that Roger isn’t in town, she’s not sure if it would be worse for the man to be here or be in the city and not here. Holt takes care to the nurse's station and Amy heaves out a breath. They’re going to learn something finally beyond alive and in surgery.
She hates not knowing things.
Twenty minutes later Holt is supported Karen and the women look shaken. The nine-nine look to Holt, but Amy keeps her eyes on Karen because she’s not sure if she needs to prepare herself for good news or bad news.
“Do you mind if I-“
Karen bobs her head, “go ahead.”
Holt helps Karen to a chair, which Gina immediately moves to comfort the women. She’s crying now and Amy looks to Holt in panic.
Captain clears his throat, “Peralta is still in surgery. The bullet damaged the aorta and pulmonary artery, they’re attempting to repair both now. They’ve given him a transfusion for the blood loss.”
Amy thinks back to her first aid training. Being hit in either of those areas was almost a death sentence, but both she can’t help but think that it was a miracle that saved him from dying at the scene. She wants to ask a million questions but her mind isn’t connected to her mouth at the moment.
“How is the surgery going?” Rosa leans forward.
“There have been some difficulties it seems,” Holt replies, “the area where the bullet was lodged made any repairs impossible until they removed it, but removing it was incredibly risky.”
Holt isn’t telling them everything. She can see it in Karen’s shoulders and Holt’s non-tone. Amy knows that any difficulties in a surgery usually dropped the chances of survival, and her best guess that Jakes' heart stopped at some point during the surgery. It’s the most horrifying moment of her life. Until this point, Jake being shot and in surgery was just another nightmare to her. Now it was real because she knows the doctors have something they need to fix. Jake had died last night, at some point, and Amy was going to be sick.
She stands and bolts towards the bathroom. Its clean, but gross because it’s a public bathroom and Amy can’t decide if she wants to be sick or cry so she ends up doing both until she’s just dry heaving.
He died. He died. Jake died and I didn’t tell him I loved him and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
He’s not dead yet, and that’s all Amy can pray for, is that his heart doesn’t stop again for a long time.
Somehow, she gets to her feet and stumbles to the sink. She washes her hands until they’re raw and splashes water on her face until the blotchiness dies down to something passable. Amy feels a little more human and less like she’s going to break apart in a million pieces. It’s still a possibility, but she can at least pretend to not be so close to her breaking point.
Terry is waiting for her by the vending machines.
“Are you holding up?” He asks softly.
“Mostly,” she answers, “I just. What am I supposed to do?”
Terry’s hand hovers above her shoulder until he nods and then he places it gently, “what you’re doing now is more than enough. We can’t do anything else until we get news.”
Amy nods, “I didn’t tell him goodbye.”
“You never know when you’re going to have that last conversation.”
“Just. What if he does die?”
“Let’s not jinx it,” Terry says ruefully, “have faith in the doctors. They’ve kept him alive this long.”
Amy crosses her arm and scuffs the tile with her shoes. She didn’t exaggerate when she said this is why she didn’t want to date a cop. Their lives were dangerous, and she didn’t want to worry about not coming home to her partner one night or her partner not coming home to her. Especially someone like Jake who cared far too much about making sure everyone else went home to their families. It was hard watching him bury himself in work when it was just a friendship and he didn’t have to care so much about what he would leave behind, but now…
She doesn’t know what to do with someone who would put their relationship second, but she supposes that it’s worth it, because being with Jake is worth all the anxieties of the job. Amy doesn’t know how to deal with the thought that Jake may not live through the day, but she also knows that she wouldn’t strong enough to handle this blow if she hadn’t started dating Jake.
Terry looks at her with concern and love and no pity and that’s almost enough to send her into tears again.
“Sharon says that the waiting is the worse part,” Terry mumbles, “she says she can deal with everything else, no matter what the results are, but not knowing is what kills her.”
Amy can see that. She does feel better knowing exactly what they’re trying to fix in Jake’s body. It’s something she can strategize around, and it will be the same no matter how the rest of the surgery goes because once she gets a solution she can plan around it.
Part of her keeps praying that at the end of the day, she’ll still have Jake alive and she can kiss him while some dorky movie plays in the background. Terry gently tightens his grip and then he pulls away. Amy nods and they head back to where the rest of the precinct is waiting.
Not much has changed. Gina is still comforting Karen. Charles and Rosa are pressed arm to arm despite Rosa’s no contact rule. Holt is straight-backed and staring at the door. Amy sits next to him and turns the phone on enough, so she can see the dorky screensaver of her and Jake. It’s from one of their first dates, Jake has somehow managed to lift her up and they were kissing. A street photographer grabbed the image, and the lights of the New York skyline are fuzzed out and they’re perfectly in focus.
It almost looks like the cover of a romance film. She can imagine how the rest of the movie would go from here. The doctor would come out and tell them they’ve finished the surgery and that Jake is going to be okay. She runs into the room and he’s already awake and looking at her and in love as he’s ever been.
Except this isn’t a romance film, and the doctor is only going to talk to Jake’s mom because Amy has no legal right to know what’s going on. More than likely he’ll be moved into the ICU, where Karen might be willing to let her be on the visitor's list. Jake won’t be awake for some time after surgery, and there’s still no guarantee he’ll make it through the surgery or immediate recovery.
Being a cop gives you the uncomfortable knowledge of what a bullet does to a body. She’s investigated enough murders and suicides to know the chances of surviving being shot are always slim, even in the least vital places.
Hours pass and numerous people come in through the doors. It’s not busy, which is both a surprise and relief in New York during the holidays.
It’s noon when a doctor approaches the group. This doctor is a young male, covered in less blood than the previous one, and he looks completely exhausted. Amy wonders if the first doctor was the trauma doctor or the anesthesiologist.
“Karen Peralta?” He asks with a mild accent.
“Yes?” Karen pulls her sweater closer to her chest.
“If you’ll come with me?” He gestures away from the group and towards one of the private rooms.
Amy knows it because he needs privacy for this conversation legally, but she can’t stop her heart from dropping to her feet. It’s not good news. Jake’s gone. He died. Oh my god.
Terry’s hand is on her back and he’s giving her the best comforting look that he can manage. The tension in the air has increased several degrees. Even Holt is looking nervous at the thought of the what kind of news Karen was getting at the moment.
Half an hour passes, and Amy is seconds away from having a full blown panic attack because good news doesn’t take this long. It shouldn’t, that’s why happiness is always so fleeting. Karen walks back to the group, and she’s got a large smile on her face.
The nine-nine breathes a collective sigh of relief. Karen wouldn’t be smiling like that if her only son had just died.
“They say the surgery went well aside from a few complications when he was first brought in. He’s in ICU now, but if he remains stable through today and tonight, then they’ll admit him.
Amy feels the tears in her eyes.
“Only one person can visit at a time, and the only family.”
She expected that.
“But once I’m done, Amy you can go in. I talked the doctor into putting on the list.”
Amy does cry now. She’s so so so very grateful to Karen for giving her this. It would be so easy for Karen to keep Jake away from them, but she isn’t, and Amy is going to cry because Jake is alive and she’s going to see him soon.
Soon turns out to be two hours, in which Holt forces her to eat something. Karen comes down to the mess hall and Amy practically runs to the ICU. The nine-nine will be asking Mama Peralta a lot of questions, but Amy gets to see Jake.
Jake who she knows had his heart stop beating and probably almost bled to death. It hits her again how close she was to losing him. There isn’t a word in the world that can describe the feeling of fear and relief that she experiences walking through the ICU.
She hates coming to this part of the hospital. Bad news lingers in the walls.
Amy nearly collapses when she gets to Jake’s room. He’s paler than normal and there are deep bruises around his eyes. Jake looks peaceful and frail, and Amy wishes that he would move or twitch or even breathe in a pattern different from how the ventilator is forcing him to. There’s too much tubing around his body and a mask on his face. It scares her how much different this Jake is from the one she ate lunch with yesterday, and he looks like he is barely alive. Which is fair, because he is barely alive.
She just didn’t want it to be too blatant. He’s only two or three hours out of a surgery that had his chest open to the world to see. Amy sits in the plastic chair next to the bed and grabs the hand that doesn’t have an IV line sunk into it.
“Jacob Peralta,” she whispers, “if you ever scare me like that again, I’m leaving you.”
Probably not, but the words might get a reaction. They don’t, and the rhythmic breathing continues. Amy leans forward and pushes Jake’s hair away from his face. There’s not much to run her hands through, but she knows if it was much longer, he’d basically have an afro. It’d be a nightmare to deal with in the morning as much as she’d like running her hands through it. Her hand trails down his face and neck until it settles over his chest. His heart is beating strongly like the monitor reports, but it’s nice to have that reassurance.
Part of her is glad that Jake won’t be able to go on active duty or fieldwork for a while after this when he was injured before it wasn’t bad enough to warrant a hospital stay (until he got struck by a car) but this isn’t something he can brush off.
This isn’t something the nine-nine can brush off.
But she also knows Jake is going to be miserable not being able to do any police work, it’s what he was born to do. Amy taps out a rhythm on his chest.
“Let’s hope you're done with your heroics,” Amy sighs, “Holt can’t go any grayer and you’ll make Charles go gray so young.”
She doesn’t mention that a repeat of this would practically kill her.
Gina calls in sick on the third day that Jake is moved into the general hospital. She knows that none of the others will be there until the evening, and she can sneak out way before then. Also, she needs to get away from them for a while, their tension is affecting the energy of the precinct. Jake is going to be fine, he’s healing much better than the doctors expected, and he was practically dead when they brought him in.
Really, there’s no need to jump every time the phone rings. Jake isn’t going anywhere. Gina might need a little reassurance though.
It’s hard to forget the moment she thought that Jake was gone. She had her hands on the bullet wound, and suddenly he stopped breathing and Charles lost his pulse. Jake went limp and Gina barely kept herself from crying, instead, she kept shaking him like she did when they were kids and she had a nightmare and needed reassurance. That’s what Jake was always good for, making you feel better when the world was ending, even though he’d rather cut off his own arm than talk about emotions.
Gina peaks into Jake’s room and sees that he’s scrolling on his phone. His eyes are a little glossed over and Gina knows he won’t be awake for much longer. She doesn’t blame him, getting shot probably hurts.
“Gina!” Jake brightens at her arrival, but it’s lacking his natural excitement.
“It is I,” Gina spins as she enters the room.
Jake sets the phone down on his lap, “shouldn’t you be at work?”
Gina shrugs.
“Well, I for one am grateful. It’s so boring. Edna, my nurse, isn’t exactly the chatty type, she asked me who Alicia Keys is!”
“Why were you talking about Alicia Keys?”
“The Voice was on,” Jake shrugs.
He winces. Gina remembers why he’s in the hospital in the first place.
“You good?”
“Yeah, who knew shrugging used chest muscles.”
Gina doesn’t respond to that, she’s too busy fighting back the feeling of blood rushing through her fingertips. She doesn’t know how he lost so much blood so quickly.
“Gina?”
“Don’t get shot again,” she says seriously, “my awesome presence doesn’t work long distance.”
Jake looks down.
Gina bites her lip. He’s about to talk about emotions.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what? You saved the day!”
“I ruined the holidays. No one is saying anything, but I guess I really messed everyone up. Charles didn’t even mention a weird sex thing once when he visited!”
Gina grabs his hand, “yeah, it did mess with everyone.”
Jake looks away and that makes Gina squeeze his hand until he looks back at her, “but you can’t be upset about upsetting us. Jake, you’re family, of course, it’ll freak everyone out when you get shot.”
“They thought I was going to die.”
The room goes silent. Jake twists his hand so that their fingers are interlocked. Gina can tell its still emotional Jake, so she doesn’t say anything that would make him clam up.
“I knew I was going to die,” Jake whispers, “the doctors say I flatlined twice on the table and once in the ambulance and once on scene.”
Gina winces at the number.
“I have no idea how I’m still here, and no one else does either.”
“Why is this a bad thing?”
“Because no one is normal around me. They freak out every time I move wrong. I didn’t want to die, but I accepted that’s how that night was going to end.”
“Jake,” Gina squeezes hard, “that’s precisely why everyone is freaking out. We love you, and you dying? It was the worst possible feeling in the world. You matter so much to everyone.”
“Not everyone.”
Gina should have kicked Roger Peralta in the dick when he walked into the precinct that day. She might the next time she sees him.
“Who cares about him?”
“I feel like… this was too much for everyone. I can’t stop hurting because I know I hurt them. It’s not like I wanted to.”
“Jacob Peralta-”
“It’s biblical!”
“Jacob Peralta, if you’re implying that your life shouldn’t matter, I will call Amy and Captain Holt here right now, and you can listen to the joint lecture.”
Jake looks properly horrified, “no! That’s not what I’m saying… I just. They shouldn’t care so much about me, I’m going to die doing this job and I don’t want people to hurt because of me.”
It’s a logic that probably only Jake understands and only Amy could probably figure out where he’s coming from.
“Don’t kill yourself before you’re dead.”
Jake blinks and tilts his head. Then his face slips into a grin and Gina knows she pushed too far because Emotional Jake is properly shoved away for a private introspection at best.
“That sounds like it should be in a Die Hard movie!”
Gina rolls her eyes and barely keeps herself from shoving at Jake. She’s not going to tell him that she needs a new set of those movies because the day he got out of surgery she went home and threw every single one of them at the wall until they shattered. That movie is the bane of her existence, especially when her best friend almost dies because he’s acting them out in his head and trying to be everyone’s, but his own, hero.
Charles is nearly bouncing while he waits for the elevator doors to open. It’s Jake’s first day back on the force after two months of forced rest and rehabilitation. He’s only working half days three times a week for now. Holt conceded the more days for less time at the precinct, and Charles wonders how that argument went because it was hard enough saying no to Jake when he was healthy, so it must be impossible when he looks like death warmed over.
Bad word choice, Charles winces.
Terry is also looking at the elevator. The nine-nine is starting to feel like it did before Christmas. He’s so grateful that he gets to feel like the love in the precinct again. Ever since that night he’s been half dreading that he’ll wake up back in the hospital with Karen coming to them and sobbing instead of smiling.
He’s had that nightmare more than once. Charles also remembers in vivid technicolor Jake being shot and collapsing. He didn’t see the hate or disgust that Charles felt with himself in those eyes then. Jake knew exactly what was going to happen, and he trusted Charles enough that he could make himself a target and save everyone. The wheezy breaths and oozing blood aren’t going to leave him. Gina is the same way he’s sure because Jake did die in his arms. It's not as romantic as the movies make it out to be, it horrifying and gross and traumatizing.
Not even the type of trauma that spurs people to vengeance, but the kind that just made him want to curl into a ball and cry.
The elevator dings open, and Jake limps out with an Amy wrapped around his arm for support. His color hadn’t returned yet, and there’s a stiffness to his gate now. Still, the nine-nine erupt when they finally realize it’s Jake.
“Why are we celebrating?” Scully asks and Hitchcock shrugs.
Charles rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t stop the smile because his best friend is back and alive and smiling and not dying. It’s perfect and fantastic.
Jake grins at him, and now Charles thinks it can’t get any better.
Until Jake wraps him in a weak hug. It lacks the strength that Charles has come to know, but he knows that Jake is hugging him the hardest that he can and Charles hugs him tightly but gently. He doesn’t want to cause Jake any sort of undue pain.
“Hey, buddy,” Jake says and he’s still grinning.
Charles is over the moon because he thought the last thing, he would ever see on Jake’s face was a neutral mask while he’s eyes show fear. The smile is one of the angles.
He also thought that he would never get here because Jake is the absolute epitome of a person. Charles clung to him when Jake first joined the force because he had been the only detective that hadn’t shown blatant hostility towards him. Then because Jake was nice to him and it took almost three years, but Charles realized that it wasn’t just politeness and that Jake thought of him as a friend. It’s so surreal to hear Jake call him buddy because Charles never thought that he would have a best friend on the force.
The best thing about this job is that he gets to work with his best friend every day, and his best friend is now back and not dead and its literal heaven.
“Charles, you good?” Jake tilts his head and he looks concerned.
“Yeah, just planning your first day back.”
Jake looks a little concerned, “I’m on desk duty…”
Charles nods, “yes, but we can have lunch and work on reports together and I have to catch you up on the gossip.”
“Amy kept me up to date.”
“Well, did she tell you about how Hitchcock mixed a strawberry strudel and cherry pie together when they both had been in the fridge for over a month?”
“No, she most certainly did not.”
Amy rolls her eyes, “I decided that Charles is better at the gross food things.”
Jake grins and gives Amy a peck on the cheek, “you just didn’t want me to have any fun during my recovery.”
“You could pull your stitches!”
“They’re sewed together, how are they going to fall out?”
Amy looks justifiably horrified at her boyfriend’s lack of basic medical knowledge. Charles smiles so hard he thinks that his face is going to split because Jake is in front of him warm and breathing and making jokes and they’re still friends even though Charles let him get shot.
The last thought dampens his mood slightly. Jake himself says he doesn’t blame Charles, but Charles blames himself because he could have been faster in the vent, but his pants got caught on the corner of a loose panel and it slowed him enough to stop him from dropping down before the gun went off.
Jake seems to read his mood and he subtly shifts from Amy’s support to Charles, his eyes crinkle in personal amusement as his mouth turns to a grimace from the slight stoop he has to adopt, “so, what’s our game plan?”
“Well, there’s a case with three bodies, two murder weapons, and six suspects and we don’t know who did it.”
“We gonna find out who done it,” Jake breathes unevenly through his nose in a laugh, “sorry people are dead, my bad.”
Charles is pretty sure he speaks for the nine-nine when he thinks that they got no greater gift last holiday season than Jake’s survival.