—“lay you on the floor, heavy like the force between us”

Continued from here

Sean sprinted down into the water ignoring the others protests. "Hey just because you're bones a creaking doesn't give you a free pass" he said with a grin his athletic body was giving him and advantage. "So I got to the water first" he said knee deep in the water. "So you should come here and kiss me"

S.W.A.T. (2017) | Stris

Street struggles to cope with Chris getting caught in the crossfire.

AN: here’s my first Street x Chris fic, loosely inspired by 3x21! (I can’t get enough of these two)

It all happened so fast.

It had only been a matter of minutes since they contacted HQ to let them know they were tailing a suspect who ran into the apartment complex. The next thing Street knew, they were taking fire from all directions, bullets piercing the concrete behind them. Normally, the two of them could hold their own until the rest of the team got here but given the dwindling amount of ammunition they had left and the number of gunmen they were up against, the odds were not in their favour.

As they enter narrow hallway, Street hears Chris say that she was running low and was switching to her secondary firearm. Looking for cover, he tries to open a door to no avail when one of the gunmen approach from the end of the hall, firing his weapon.

He yells for Chris to get down, but its too late.

The ringing in her ears was deafening, seizing a hold of all her senses as she clutches her shoulder. Chris can’t think straight—her training useless against the pain that was radiating across her chest. She gasps and heaves, the air not quite reaching her lungs.

All Street can think of is her.

He fires a bullet that neutralizes the shooter before turning to Chris. Instinct taking over training for a split second, Street kneels besides her to check on her. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that her vest caught the bullet before reassuring her that she was okay.

Chris could barely make out his words with the deafening ringing in her ears, but she could feel him helping her towards her knees and off the ground. She barely registers Street handing her weapon, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal.

She is still gasping for air as Street urges her to follow, desperation lacing his voice as he tells her that its not safe to stay here. Tugging on her vest, Street does his best to push out the sound of her gasps out of his mind. If he allowed himself to think about the pain she was in, then there would be no way the both of them make it out of here alive.

She stumbles on a couple of childrens toys, unable to catch her footing. Her mind is racing, the pace rivalling the pounding from her chest. Finally, they reach the corridor and take cover.

Another gunman comes down the hall, opening fire on the both of them. One of Street’s bullets fire right into his chest, sending him into the ground. Taking advantage of the calm before the storm, he checks on Chris.

He feels lightheaded when he sees her slumped against the wall, barely conscious.

Before he could run over, more bullets are sent their way. Street curses, unable to fire his weapon back. His hands were trembling and numb, rendering him useless in returning fire since he couldn’t steady his hands enough to pull the trigger. Street calls out her name, hoping that she’d be able to say something, say anything, to let him know that she was okay.

When he hears them reloading their weapons, he takes that as his opportunity to run over to her. Street cradles the side of her head, his hands gentle as he touches her cheek. He calls her name again, hoping that her eyes would open at the sound of her name.

He finds out that his hopes are futile when nothing changes.

With shaky hands, he brings his fingers to check her pulse. Street calls out to her again, but it comes out sounding more like a plea. He feels a faint pulse, making him blink back the tears that were forming.

This couldn’t be happening, he thought.

Not to Chris—anyone but her, he begged.

He could feel the wetness pooling around his knee. Glancing down, he sees blood. Street curses, taking off her vest with shaky hands until he sees where the blood was coming from.

He puts pressure on her abdomen. The vest that was supposed to protect her was laying a couple of feet beside them. Hondo says that he’s 2 minutes out over comms, but seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like hours with Chris in this state.

He unbuckles the helmet strap under her chin, hoping that would make it easier for her to breathe.

“Chris you gotta stay with me,” Street pleads, his voice breaking. He could feel his hands slicked with a mixture of his sweat and her blood.

He could hear footsteps coming from down the hall. During his early days of training, Hondo had reminded him to never lose his cool. Street was never an angry kid, despite his childhood. However, it seemed as if all the anger he had suppressed during all those years had returned, and with a vengeance.

He wanted to make them pay for what they did to Chris.

He was in position, ready to fire whatever bullets remained into those men when he hears a soft whimper beside him. Glancing over, Street sees her eyebrows scrunched together, pain written on her soft features.

He must have put too much pressure on her wound, he thought.

Abandoning his weapon, his hand reaches up to hold her cheek. His other hand never left the wound on her abdomen ever since he found it. He tells Chris that he’s right here and help is on the way.

When more bullets fly their way, Street uses his body to cover hers without hesitation.

I love you and I’m sorry, he whispers into her hair, pulling her tight against him.

The footsteps grow louder as Street prepares to die for her. More gunfire rings through his ears and all he can think of is how much was left unsaid between them. As someone who grew up with nothing to lose, one glance at her and he realised that he had everything to lose. This couldn’t possibly be the way it ends.

“Street! Chris!” Hondo yells.

Street calls them over, a wave of relief washing over him when he hears them.

The team stare silently, mouths agape in shock at the sight before them. Chris, who they were always fiercely protective of, was unrecognizaable. Street was covered in blood, one arm holding Chris while the other was draped over her torso. She laid unmoving in his lap, her helmet and vest laying in a pool of red.

Luca closes his eyes, unable to stomach the sight. Years of training seemed useless at this very moment, since seeing Chris like this was enough to cut through his thick skin he built up for the job. Tan knew to never take any moment for granted, but his mind kept thinking back to how they were just laughing in the ring earlier this morning. It didn’t feel right, and it didn't feel real. Deacon stands back, saying a silent prayer that she’ll pull through. He puts everything he has left into the prayer, not knowing how to cope if he loses a teammate.

Street can’t bring himself to leave Chris’s side, but moves to give the paramedics some space to work on her. He doesn’t know how, but someone his hand finds hers in the midst of the team and medics getting here. Street watches helplessly as they tend to her injuries, unable to move from his spot or acknowledge the team just yet.

They were supposed to have each others six—and yet one of them was being wheeled away on a stretcher, her blood staining his clothes.

“I thought she had only caught one in the vest.” Street says, his voice breaking when he looks at her.

No one on the team protests when Street volunteers to ride with the medics in the ambulance. He climbs into the rig, squeezing her hand to let Chris know that he was still there. Before the ambulance door closes shut, Luca watches silently as Street presses his lips against the back of her hand.

The lights and sirens aren’t enough to drown out the noise in his head. The medics stabilized her, even reassuring him that she’d have the best surgeons working on her. That wasn't enough to pull him out of whatever trance he was in—he needed to see that she was okay with his own eyes.

Finally, the medics hand her off onto the team of emergency doctors and nurses. He holds Chris until a nurse stops him, guiding him into a waiting room for family members.

SEASON 7x5 SLIGHT SPOILERS

Can’t wait for season 4 of S.W.A.T.