Chapter Text
The call came over the radio just after noon: “Active shooter, Wilson High School. Shots fired inside. Multiple 911 calls.”
Inside Betty, sirens wailing, Hondo’s voice was steady. “Alright team, eyes sharp. Multiple calls coming in. Shots fired inside Wilson High. Stay close, stay focused.”
“Copy that, sir." Tan retreated. "Reports say possible shooter still inside. Multiple floors.”
“Remember, these are kids" Those words, cold as ice from Deacon's tongue as he remembered kissing his goodbye this morning. "Stay calm, clear rooms, protect life first.”
“Exactly. We do our job, but no unnecessary risks. Let’s move.”
Chris glanced at Street. “Just another regular day?”
Street shook his head in despair “With this team? Regular doesn’t exist.”
At the school, students streamed from exits, teachers herding them, officers holding the perimeter. Reports were conflicting—possible shooter still inside, unconfirmed casualties.
Street and Chris moved into the basement. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, pipes groaning with every footstep.
Chris froze at a faint sound. A whimper. She signalled Street to halt and moved toward a women's restroom door. Inside, two teens huddled against the wall. One—heavily pregnant—sweating, screaming in pain. Her friend clutched her hand, wide-eyed and panicked.
Chris dropped to her knees. “LAPD, you’re safe. I’m Officer Alonso. We’ve got you".
"Maya.." the teen replies, almost a whisper. "Lydia" says her friend. "She's been at this almost 45 minutes. We tried to run, but she couldn't".
She clicked her comm “24-David, I’ve got a female teen in active labor, basement southeast. Immediate backup needed. Code 3.”
Steady with Deacon on his six, Hondo reaches for his comm “Copy, Chris. Medics are on standby, but the building’s not secure yet. Keep her calm and safe.”
Tan: "3rd floor, clear"
Hicks: “We’ve got eyes on the perimeter. Get in, get out”
Hondo: “Street, finish the sweep. Chris, you’ve got this. We’re right outside if anything goes sideways.”
Street: “Copy, sir”. He looked to Chris with a knowing face. “Got your six.” He scanned the hallway, but his mind never left the girls.
Maya’s contractions hit hard.“Please… please find Jacob. He was in math…”
Chris held her hand tight. “We’ll take care of him. Focus on me, alright?”
Street returned moments later. “Floor clear. No threats. No medics yet—they won’t enter until the building is secured.”
Chris nodded. “Then it’s on us.”
With a breath, she reached for her comms “Anyone have eyes on a Jacob? Tall, brown hair, green sweater”
Hicks “Copy, Alonso. He’s likely at the perimeter. Can't enter until we clear the building.”
Chris: “When you find him, can you guide him closer? She needs to see his face. She’s panicking.”
“Copy. I’ll keep him calm and let him know it’s secure. ETA a few minutes.”
Chris squeezed Maya’s hand. “See? He’s right outside. You’re okay. We’re making sure no one gets hurt.” she looks to Maya's eyes to find light. "Tell me about Jacob"
Maya trembled. “I just… I didn’t mean for this to happen. My parents… they’re going to hate me. They’re going to be so mad.”
Chris brushed her hair back gently. “Forget them for now. You’re bringing a baby into the world. That’s what matters. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
Lydia whispered: “She’s scared”
Chris smiled softly. “I know. And that’s okay. But Maya, look at me—one contraction at a time. You’ve got Lydia, Officer Street, me. You’re not alone in this.”
Maya gripped Chris’s hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. The basement’s flickering lights buzzed above, throwing long shadows across the cracked concrete walls. Street stood at the door, his rifle steady, eyes sharp—guarding against threats that could erupt at any second.
Chris (soft but firm): “That’s it. Just breathe with me. You’re not alone in this.”
Another contraction tore through Maya, her scream echoing in the confined space.
Maya (panicked): “It hurts—I can’t do this, I can’t!”
Chris leaned in, her forehead nearly touching Maya’s, voice low and grounding.
Chris: “I know this hurts, you can do this. You already are. Take each one as they come. Forget everything else—just me and you right here.”
A dull bang somewhere above made all three of them jump. Street rose instantly, weapon up, covering the hallway.
Street (low, tense in his comms): “That was close. Sounded like third floor.”
Chris pressed a steadying hand on Maya’s shoulder. “Eyes on me, Maya. Don’t worry about the noise. My team’s handling it.”
Maya: “I’m so scared…”
Chris: “I know. But fear doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you care what happens. That’s strength, Maya.”
Street glanced back briefly, softening at Chris’s words before focusing again on the hall. The building shook again, a reminder that the danger was still present. But in the basement, Chris’ voice was the anchor.
The faint rumble of the building echoed as Chris guided Maya through each contraction. The lights flickered slightly from the tension above, but Chris’ focus never wavered.
A distant crash rattled the pipes. Chris glanced at the ceiling instinctively. The building wasn’t quiet—Tan and Deacon were still sweeping classrooms, Hondo coordinating the floors above, Luca checking corridors. The suspect hadn’t been caught yet.
Chris (softly, reassuring Maya): “One breath at a time, Maya. You’ve got me. You’re safe.”
Maya whimpered, clinging to Chris’ arms. “Is… is he still here?”
Chris shook her head, keeping her tone calm. “You don’t have to worry about him. You focus on your baby. I’ve got the rest handled.”
From the corner of the basement stairwell, Street kept watch, eyes scanning the dark hallways, every muscle coiled in readiness. Occasionally, he glimpsed shadows from above, the sounds of footsteps, doors opening and closing. The hunt continued around them.
Maya (breathless): “I… I can’t…”
Chris’ jaw tightened. Her focus snapped back—this was not the time to dwell on fear. “Yes, you can,” she said softly. “You’re doing amazing. One breath at a time. I’ve got you.”
A sharp crack of movement from above drew her attention to the stairwell. Street’s figure loomed, rifle ready, eyes scanning the shadows. Chris inhaled slowly, letting her heartbeat settle.
And then, a voice over the comms jolted her from the spiral of thought:
Tan (over radio, tense): “Hondo, still no visual on the suspect. All units, keep eyes open. He’s moving fast.”
Hondo and Deacon continue scanning the main floor, locking classrooms as they make a head count. Tan and Luca, above them clearing the second floor.
Tan whispered into his radio, “Hondo, cafeteria clear? He could be anywhere.”
Deacon’s brow furrowed. “Negative. Still not visual. Keep sweeping—don’t let him slip through.”
Hondo’s voice was calm but firm. “Everyone, remember, suspect is armed. Move carefully. Watch for civilians.”
Luca peeked down a hallway, shaking his head. “This guy’s slippery. He’s not giving up.”
Above them, the faint sounds of SWAT searching continued—Deacon pausing, jaw tight, catching himself staring at the basement door as if he could see what was happening below. Tan’s hand tapped nervously along the side of his weapon, tension coiled in his shoulders. Even Street, vigilant as ever, cast quick glances back to the teen, silently grounding Chris’ calm leadership.
Back in the basement, Chris noticed a distant thump—maybe a door being kicked open. She swallowed, grounding herself. “Maya, you hear that? Just ignore it. Focus on your breathing. You’re stronger than you think.”
The basement was dim, the flickering fluorescent light making shadows dance along the concrete walls. Chris knelt beside Maya, hands clammy but steady in hers, guiding her through the contractions. She spoke in short, calm bursts, each word deliberate, each instruction measured.