Work Text:
It was a setup. This whole thing was a setup.
The ringing in Shawn’s ears rolls sickeningly through his skull. It drowns out the crackle of flames, the car alarm wailing somewhere outside. He blinks, the world slow to materialise again each time, blurry through the gathering smoke and the darkened wreckage.
Every step is heavy, the world lurching uncomfortably one way, then the other. He fixes his eyes on the door.
A stone finds its way under his foot. It’s probably a stone. A brick, come loose. He doesn’t check, in case it’s a person instead, lying still. Just trips and catches himself heavily on the cracked doorframe. Stumbles outside.
He gasps in the wet night air. It stabs cold down his throat but he welcomes it, breathing deeper. The fog is clearing, the night outside sending goosebumps down his skin, the sting bringing him back to himself.
Away. Get away. He’s got to move. They can’t find him here.
But his feet don’t run. They’re turning, and his back is slumping on the wall opposite.
He stares across the alley at the place he just escaped. The garage – or what used to be a garage – sags in a way brick and stone isn’t meant to. Most of the roof has caved in, dragging the structure to one side, bricks crumbled and scattered around it. All the windows are blown out, glass strewn into shallow puddles. The place is dark, hollow inside save for the glare of a fire, flickering somewhere in the far corner. Smoke rises from the cracks, black seeping into a black sky.
Shawn thought he’d been quick enough to save them. Thought those guys had screwed up, thinking they could slip fucking pyrotechnics past him, of all people.
He’d called the deal off. That was a clear enough signal, the others pulling back accordingly. He’d been so smug, so fucking sure they were in the clear.
Hadn’t toed the line well enough, though. Guns had been pulled and, well…
He knows more than enough about explosives. They don’t mix with bullets.
He thought he’d saved them. Maybe he got them killed.
The building smoulders on, nothing moving but the light thrown by the hungry fire across the shadows, and the haze of smoke spiralling ever upwards.
Move. There’s a siren echoing over the rooftops, faint and whining. Maybe it isn’t for him, but it’s only a matter of time.
He curses as he pushes away from the wall and something in his ankle twinges. Patting his pockets, he finds himself unarmed. Must have dropped it inside.
Quickening his pace, his eyes dart around, but not fast enough to catch the shadow rushing towards him from the next corner.
“Shawn?”
Shawn starts, head snapping around. His hand springs to his waist, but there’s nothing there, no way to fight back–
“Jim?”
Jim stops in front of him, wide eyed under the dim streetlight. His hair is falling into his face, which is dusted with patches of ash, and there’s a tear across the shoulder of his shirt. Shawn has no clue what his own state looks like.
“How the fuck did you get out of there?”
“How the fuck did you?” Jim replies. “Are the others–?”
“Didn’t see anyone.”
Shawn breathes thickly through the silence that hangs between them for a moment, pressing his tongue against his teeth.
“We should– we should check–” Jim is saying, but Shawn catches him by the shoulders before he can walk past.
“We need to get the fuck out of here as fast as possible,” he growls.
“But– but what if–”
Shawn pushes Jim back, gritting his teeth as Jim’s eyes dart in panic between him and the shell of a building behind them.
“What if the cops are already on their way? We can’t fucking talk our way out of something like this.”
“What if they’re still in there? What if they’re alive?”
Closing his mouth, Shawn swallows hard. He refuses to look behind him.
“It’s a miracle the two of us are here. Let’s take what we can get.”
Jim opens his mouth helplessly. Says nothing.
The sirens are getting closer.
Shawn starts walking, leaving Jim to follow behind. He loops closer to the building, though not letting his eyes linger on the rubble, aiming for a side street that will get them the furthest distance possible away from this mess.
“Wasn’t Mick on standby?” Jim asks, jogging to catch up. “There’s no way he doesn’t know what’s gone down by now. Someone’ll be coming.”
“And who’s gonna get here first, him or the feds? You wanna take that gamble?”
“I–”
Jim stops, and so does his voice, before he can argue any further. Shawn stomps around, ready to drag him away if he needs to. He doesn’t want to go looking, doesn’t want to see the mangled bodies of his fucking friends–
There’s a noise. It stops him before his glare can land on Jim again. Something crunching, scuffling, something living under the crackling fuzz of flames.
For someone who’s in a hurry to leave, Shawn freezes all too fast. He scans the debris. The cracks and gaps in the wall are cold and unseeing, laughing at him. Nothing moves.
Jim is also holding his breath at Shawn’s side. His eyes narrow.
“Did you hear–?”
Something shifts. Both their eyes shoot to it immediately; a pile of bricks at the corner, spilling from a door that hangs from its hinges.
Again, a small flurry of dust and stones trickles over the mound. Shawn takes a tentative step forward. The heap of rubble heaves, spilling forward, and then a foot lands on top of it, stones tumbling and scattering from underneath it as the figure stumbles out into the street.
No – two figures.
Shawn’s marching towards them, Jim at his heels.
“Come on– fuck–”
Shawn can’t see them, submerged in darkness, but it’s Joey’s voice.
The two silhouettes stagger together, nearly toppling one way before careening the other.
“Joey? Joe, how the fuck did you…?”
Drawing closer, Shawn finally lays eyes on him through the shadows. And the figure slumped over him is–
“Paul?”
Holy fuck. Shawn’s feet won’t move. What miracle has got all of them out of there?
But then Paul’s tipping again, into Joey who nearly buckles under him, determinedly keeping him up from his spot jammed under one of Paul’s arms. He curses, free arm catching Paul’s other shoulder as the bigger guy swings forwards.
Blinking back to himself, Shawn lunges closer, grabbing at Paul before the both of them can go plummeting to the asphalt.
“What happened? How did you get out?”
“He– there was– shit!”
Joey staggers again, Paul’s weight slipping his way and off Shawn. Jim swoops in, dragging Paul’s arm up before he can crush Joey.
Paul sags between them, head drooping. Shawn lugs the arm more securely over his shoulder, trying to catch Paul’s eye in alarm. All he can see in the dim light is an ominous, dark cascade of blood shining down the side of his face.
“Paul!” Joey barks, ducking in front of his friend. He smacks him on the chest, shaking him. “Open your eyes! You’re scaring me, man.”
Just as Paul raises his head a fraction, a siren sears through the alley. The three others freeze.
Jim hikes Paul’s arm higher over his shoulder.
“Let’s fucking go.”
Shawn nods hurriedly and they’re bundling Paul away, disappearing down the neighbouring street with Joey limping after them.
“Joe, what the fuck happened?” Pants Shawn.
“I dunno– we jumped behind those cabinets and it– they fell. Got his head. He– he was hardly answering me…”
“Paul,” Shawn hisses, “you with us?”
At least Paul looks around in the direction of his name, blinking blearily through the blood seeping across his face.
“Joey?” He slurs.
Shawn meets Jim’s eyes, finding the same panic reflected back at him.
“Joey’s here, dude,” Jim tells him. “We just gotta go a little further.”
Shawn steers them around a corner. Paul’s steps are getting more laboured, his weight sitting heavier over their shoulders. It’s slow going. When they’re maybe half a street further, feet trailing, breaths panting, a rapidly approaching engine echoes off the bricks.
Head snapping up, Shawn is quick to pull them towards the wall in the meagre hope of cover from the shadows. Once again, Paul lists against him.
“Eyes open,” Shawn mutters to him, but he doesn’t look to see if he’s paying attention. He keeps his own eyes on the opening at the end of the street as a dark car slides past.
His grip is tight on Paul as they all watch it pass. It slips out of sight – and then comes the sound of brakes. The engine quiets.
Joey curses. Apparently he managed to keep hold of his gun somehow, because he’s holding it behind him as he creeps ahead of them towards the corner. His steps are uneven, and Shawn catches sight of torn fabric, revealing a gash on one of his legs.
A second later Paul is slumping against him, warm blood seeping through Shawn’s shirt where his head sags.
“Fuck! Paul, don’t go dark on us. Shit…”
In their panic, Shawn and Jim lower Paul to the ground with clumsy, hurried hands. Eyes trained on Paul’s face, Shawn only breathes when he sees his eyelids finally shift and part.
“Do you feel dizzy?”
“Huh?” Paul’s distant eyes slide to him. “Dizzy, yeah…”
At least he’s responding.
“Just hang on,” Shawn instructs him. “Know you’re dizzy, but don’t go falling asleep. Got it?”
Paul nods vaguely, a slight frown pinching his brow.
“We can’t make him walk much further,” Jim worries, catching Shawn’s eye seriously. “He needs help.”
“You think I don’t fucking know that? What are we meant to–?”
“It’s Mick!”
The two of them glance around in surprise. Joey’s gesturing to them with his gun from the end of the street.
“Little help?” Shawn barks back.
Nodding, Joey limps out of sight. Moments later, the large figure of Mick is rounding the corner instead. Shawn’s never been happier to see him.
Mick’s frown deepens as he gets closer, running his eyes over the lot of them.
“Fuckers tried to blow us up,” Shawn grits by way of explanation.
“Help us with him,” Jim says before he can ask anything else.
Not long later, Shawn is finally slouching around the corner and falling into the backseat of the car. Joey’s shoved across to the other side, Paul between them. Mick’s thrusting a bundle of bandages from the front and Shawn does his best to hold it tight over the dent in the side of Paul’s head while Joey talks to him, nervous and incessant from the other side.
They drive into the night. They pass a cop car going the other way on the main road.
Shawn doesn’t look back. Just meets Mick’s eyes in the rear view.
“What about the other guys? They even alive?”
With a steady sigh, Shawn turns to watch the dark roadside going by.
“If they are, it won’t be for much longer.”