Chapter Text
“It’s not too deep. You’re lucky.”
“Lucky that you were here to take that shot, or lucky that you’re not going to tell Uncle Winston about me throwing myself onto the dead assassin over there?”
Strands of hair fell across John’s forehead as he worked to stitch you up after removing the bullet, and aside from a tiny, amused snort, he offered no reply. You flinched at the sound of the glass doors creaking open further, and it was only because of John’s hand pressing down on your shoulder above your injury that you didn’t jump out of the chair.
“It’s just Dog.” He informed you.
“Dog?”
A whuff answered your perplexed question, and a relaxed Pitbull trotted over to John. Despite the pain you were in, you couldn’t stop yourself from gushing over the dog’s cuteness. Dog’s ears perked up, and with a lolling grin, the pup’s tail began to wag excitedly.
“Careful, boy. She’s hurt.”
The pup cocked his head to the side and let out a whine. “I’ve done all I can,” John replied. You frowned at his odd-sounding response until you heard the sirens in the distance. Dog raised a paw to scratch at John’s leg, and when John didn’t move, the pup huffed and padded over to where your phone was still connected to Sonny’s laptop. With more care than you expected, Dog pulled your phone off the cable and scampered over to you proudly. He dropped your phone in your lap and returned to his owner’s side. Dog whined again, and you looked pleadingly at John, “Before you leave, can I pat him? After that, he deserves all the pets. Thank you, Dog.”
“Another time,” John promised gruffly as his pup yipped happily. “Don’t want the examination to leave you with any hard-to-answer questions.”
You kicked yourself for forgetting that you would be examined by the paramedics. Speaking of examinations, Liv would insist on coming to the precinct to view the scene for herself. The rest of the squad wouldn’t be far behind, and you cringed at the thought of Rafael and Yelena turning up at the scene to see you like this. Their lunch date had to be finished by now, right? On the other hand, if they were still on their date, there was a slim chance that they’d be so busy reminiscing that he wouldn’t be able to answer the call. Unwillingly, your gaze flitted up over to your desk, where the red handbag still sat undisturbed as if nothing had happened.
“If that handbag stays here, it’ll become evidence.”
John scratched Dog underneath his chin. His suit jacket caught on his gun holster with the movement, and you noticed that the holstered gun was exactly the same as yours. Straightening up, John and Dog walked through the glass doors. The pup made no noise as he was led away from you, and you hoped you weren’t imagining things when you noticed that the wag of his tail seemed slower and more dejected than it had been earlier.
Hauling yourself to your feet and stowing your phone in your pocket, you stood to greet the paramedics and prepared to explain the series of events to your Lieutenant. Liv burst through the glass doors, and you had a second to hope that John and Dog had made it out before she was in front of you.
“Where are you hurt?”
“Upper right arm. It-I-”
“Don’t talk! I need a medic! Officer wounded.”
Accompanied by a junior detective, one of the paramedics made their way over to you and Liv. Your Lieutenant gestured for you to sit down, and feeling the exhaustion creep back in, you obeyed. In the throng of paramedics and detectives, you glimpsed Sonny, Amanda, and Fin. Your heart somersaulted when you spotted Rafael dodging paramedics and making his way over to you without Yelena.
“This wound is partially treated. She do this herself?” The junior detective remarked while the paramedic cleaned the wound and checked the stitches.
“Don’t talk about her like she’s not directly in front of you!” Rafael seethed.
“I lost blood, but I can still talk,” you uttered snappishly at the same time. The worried crease between Rafael’s brows eased slightly, but he still stared angrily at the detective. With a jolt, you realised it was the same, steely expression that you saw him wearing when he left with Yelena. Then she adjusted her handbag....
“The handbag!” You thought, grimacing at the pain that lanced up and down your arm.
“Liv, when I came back to turn off the kitchen light, that red handbag was sitting on my desk. I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet.” The words left you in a loud, panicked rush. You tried to stand up and grab the offending bag off your desk, but one look from Liv had you rethinking that choice.
“There isn’t much more for me to do.” The paramedic announced, rising to her feet and motioning for her colleague to come and examine the dead body. “You’ve done a good job patching yourself up.”
You forced a smile, unwilling to admit the truth and not knowing how to respond to the compliment. “I’d advise trying to avoid a repeat of this, but in your line of work, that’s nothing more than wasted breath and wishful thinking.”
Your smile turned genuine at her comment. “My sense of humour is really messed up. Or that could just be the blood loss kicking in.”
“I’d recommend someone keeping an eye on you for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”
The words barely passed her lips before Rafael was volunteering to watch over you. With a pout on your face, you slumped in your seat; in the past, when you were sick with colds and flu, while you were grateful for Rafael’s care, he was unexpectedly strict when it came to not overexerting yourself.
“Watch for signs of disorientation, fatigue, and loss of motor control. Also, be on the lookout for increased or unusual sensitivity to noise and light, and lack of appetite and motivation.” She instructed Rafael.
Addressing you, the paramedic informed you that when you returned to work, you should only focus on attempting light duties. At her words, you let out a sound that was a mix of a sniff and a groan. Light duties meant being confined to your desk, which meant you would be doing paperwork.
The ADA eased you to your feet and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly into his side. Gesturing as much as your wounded arm would permit you to, you pointed out to Liv that your attempted killer’s gun was underneath Amanda’s desk. At some point, Amanda, Fin, and Sonny managed to push their way to the front of the crowd, and when Amanda overheard where the gun had slid to, she shot the gun a contemptuous look and asked if she could use your desk while you rested.
You wasted no time in agreeing to her request. Thinking quickly, Sonny pulled out a notepad and a pen.
“Your questions will wait, Carisi.”
“You know they can’t, Barba.”
“Make an exception. Now.”
“It’s okay,” you reassured him, resting your hand on his forearm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “I’ll tell you everything I can remember, and if there’s anything I forget, you can check the cameras.”
“SHIT!” You scolded yourself the second the words left your mouth. “JOHN WILL SHOW UP ON THE CAMERAS! THEY’LL SHOW HIM ENTERING AND EXITING WITH DOG!”
Fin shook his head, “The cameras outside the precinct were disabled. Probably by your would-be-killer over there,” he motioned with disgust to the now covered body. You did your best to keep your face blank, but on the inside, your emotions were a mess. The NYPD wouldn’t find out that John was the one who shot the person who was tasked with silencing you, but that meant that they wouldn’t show up on the cameras either, and it would be harder to discover their motive for attempting to kill you.
Amanda instructed the crowd to leave, and Sonny waited until the paramedics had also left before he launched into his questions. You recounted how you were the last one to leave, how you remembered about turning off the kitchen light, and the events that unfolded after that. When it came to explaining how your almost assassin died, you choked up, and Sonny’s pen froze on the page.
“We can figure out the rest from forensics and ballistics,” he offered kindly. “Go home and get some rest.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said all night that makes sense, Carisi.”