Chapter Text
The shots got close, too close.
Even if it was possible with her brain, she still would never forget the whizzing sound of the bullet or the smell of burning hair as it grazed her temple before impeding itself in the stone of the precinct.
Nor would she ever forget the panic in Karadec’s voice as he shouted, “Morgan! Get down!” and practically tackled her to the sidewalk.
He took the brunt of their fall, but she still felt the concrete scrape hard into her side and couldn’t stop a hiss of pain. A pain she easily forgot as more bullets hailed above their heads, biting chunks out of the building behind them and twisting the steel of the police cruiser in front of them.
An assault rifle, her never-stopping mind supplied before she felt a heavy hand on the back of her head push her face into Karadec’s chest.
“Stay down!” he commanded, and for once she was happy to oblige, hearing more gunfire (LAPD standard issue, her brain noted) be returned before tires squealed amidst shouting voices and sirens and then…quiet.
How could it be so quiet? She blinked, swallowed hard, tried to make her ears pop, but nothing…
Dissociation, she realized, no chance to ground, too much, too fast, too soon… First, Nick bled out in her arms, then Wagner Sr. straight up accused her of causing his son’s death in Selena’s office, then Karadec got in the politician’s face, demanding to know who gave the older man the source that got the Captain murdered, then Wagner shouted back he’d only used his pull because “that bitch” blackmailed him, then Karadec’s fist met the man’s nose and Selena shouted for unis to “Get this asshole out of my office!” while holding her partner back and she’d been so fed up and just needed some air and then…
God, what had she gotten herself into this time? What had she gotten her family, her friends into?
Now, now, Mo, you made your choice, it’s time to live with it.
Mo. Her hackles raised. She’d always hated that nickname. Her name was Morgan. From the Old Welsh name Morcant, a compound of mor for sea and cant for circle. But still he’d insisted on that stupid diminutive, anything to make her feel smaller. Long before Ava came along, he was the reason she was determined not to be her kid’s first bully.
But bully or not, the prick had a point, and she forced herself to focus on her breathing, on her heart beat, frantic as it was, and how much her head hurt and was…wet?
“Morgan! Morgan, c’mon, talk to me! Are you hit anywhere else?! Morgan!”
Strange, her usually cool as a cucumber partner sounded anything but calm and collected. Huh, cool as a cucumber, such a weird but accurate idiom, the first written record of which was by John Gay in his poem “New Song on New Similies”–
“Selena! We need another medic here! Gillory’s going on about cucumbers and likely concussed!”
Oh, she’d been saying all that out loud? Damn, maybe she did have a concussion… But medics meant hospitals, and waiting rooms and blood on her hands, so much blood she couldn’t wash it away and–
“Whoa! I’m okay, I’m okay! Really, it’s just a graze, and we all know head wounds look way worse than they really are. Now, c’mon partner, help me up!”
She pointedly ignored how she’d been tucked into Karadec’s chest with his arms around her and his handkerchief (seriously who the hell still carried those around except him?) pressed against her head as he helped them both stand. She also promptly curb-stomped the thought that she didn’t want to leave that spot into oblivion. Not the time, never the time for that, Gillory.
She took pride in the fact that high-heels and all she didn’t wobble, batting Karadec’s hand away to press her own against her head. She didn’t miss how he stayed close, however, and she took him in with her own discerning eye.
“You okay?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know, and surprised by his answering scoff.
“What? What’d I say?”
“Morgan, somebody just tried to kill you, your blouse is a bloody mess, and you’re asking if I’m okay?!”
“Well, sorry I asked, Mr. Super-Cop! I must have forgotten bullets run away when you show up!”
“Hey! Knock it off, both of you!”
Soto’s voice cut through her indignation swiftly, but she couldn’t help one last eye roll in his direction before turning to their boss.
“Did they catch the assholes who did this?” she waved around the now active crime scene that was the front door of their workplace. She winced at the sight of medics helping other officers turned victims, but thankfully everyone appeared to be breathing.
Selena shook her head, “Unfortunately, no. We’ve already found the car, but they got enough of a head start to ditch it. But it’s clear who their target was, and until they’re found we need to put you and your family in protective custody.”
She groaned, “Again?! I don’t think Ava’s forgiven me for the last time–”
“No, Morgan, I mean safe house protective custody. There are too many entry points in your home, and I think we all know why you’re the one with a bullseye on your back.”
Her hand dropped from her head, fist clenched around the cloth to match her other hand, “Selena! You need my help finding who murdered Wagner, and I can’t uproot my kids with only a couple weeks left of school and Ludo can’t just leave his job and–”
“Morgan, you can’t help us if you’re dead! We can pick up any missed class work from their schools, and I’ll deal with Ludo’s employer. This won’t be for forever, these pricks shot and hit cops, and we will find them. Understood?”
How such a petite woman could be so scary was part of what Morgan loved about her boss, but having that fierceness turned on her was another matter entirely. She knew she’d already lost the argument; Selena was just waiting for her to accept it.
“Okay, fine,” she huffed.
“Good,” Soto nodded, “Daphne and Oz were part of the chase so I’ll redirect them to pick up Ava and Elliot. Karadec, drive Morgan home, I’ll call you with the hotel address once things are set.”