APHONOUS
A/N: So I think this fic needs a little explanation. It was created using an mixture of spoilers for 4x17 and pure speculation and my overactive imagination because I've been wanting to write this one for awhile. Therefore these aren't the exact events that will occur in 4x17 because I'm pretty sure I've decided to take crap in a whole other Shiggity direction and the story was actually roughly completed before the updated episode blurb so the chemical is different, but it should be interesting nonetheless. Aphonous Chapter 1/4 Snow Globes The day started wrong. He woke up on Jules' side of the bed because yesterday's hot call ended with him on his back in an alley like a flipped turtle. He was chasing a subject, was actually doing a good job of it too, until he slipped off a greasy metal fire escape and landed a storey and a half below. Ed caught the guy of course. Meanwhile he reeled, back arched concave in the sludge, just liquid runoff from the dumpsters solidified. When he could finally breathe through the quick flares of pain in his side, when he no longer felt like he was drowning in an ocean of garbage, when it became clear he only had a nasty bruise and maybe a slightly cracked rib, the guys sunk in their teeth, venom tipped with jest and torment. Even Raf made social commentary on how the rookie should be taking those falls. Jules cracked a line about how his routine was disqualified because he didn't stick the landing. But once they were at home, the SRU cool gloves came off and the fretting girlfriend fingers kept dragging in crisp lines over the depressions between his ribs. Pressed deep enough to change the black bruised skin to white underneath the pressure of her fingertips, left permanent impressions. He laughed through gritted teeth to hide his pain, told her to stop, but didn't swat her hands away, never swatted away her hands. She hugged him. Kissed him. Actually coddled him, because aside from one downtown explosion he's pretty untouchable. His back rested against her chest as they watched what shows he wanted. Every so often he'd release an empty moan, with no real pain behind it, just so she'd drop another kiss to his hairline from where his head laid against her shoulder. When bedtime came with his high expectations, she relinquished her side of the bed and told him it would be better for his injury. It wasn't. Her side of the bed faced the window, which had the all night distractions of city lights and the early morning addition of sunbeams. All night he lay on his back and stared at the kaleidoscope of shadows as they mutated and trekked across his ceiling. How does Jules sleep here every night? How did he before she came along? The morning dragged sluggishly. She got up half an hour before him. Kissed his cheek and messed his hair. He mumbled something about needing to shower with her because his side just hurt too much. She laughed, slapped his cheek and answered if it hurt that bad he should call into work. He should have listened to her. He should have called in. They both should have. Three hours later Team One sat collected in the briefing room. Sarge sighed, rubbed at his head with the back of his hand and told them point blank that Toth was there. For a whole minute no one in that room breathed. Well, Raf probably did, but once they explained the definition of 'Toth' his eyes grew wide and distant. Probably the military part that did it, which was ironic because it was the psychologist part that did it for the rest of them. Jules sent him an expression from across the table. It was an expression he knew well. One he wore himself. It conveyed the apocalypse, well of their relationship at least. Toth was here; he probably knew about their 'affair' and by the end of the day a choice would be thrust on them. The wonderful thing about retrospect is the answer is so infinitely simple. It was irrational but he ended up fixing all their problems, without consulting her, because she couldn't be consulted. It made him unreasonable, foolish because he ached for her. Before the one-on-one interviews could begin, they got a hot call, a bomb threat. Toth allowed it. Wanted to see how the team interacted, especially with the addition of a new member. On the way down to the rigs Sarge gave a stern head shake but no spoken words to directly instigate his relationship with Jules. Instead he watched Jules drive off with Spike and enjoyed Raf's company in his own rig. For someone he spends eight to ten hours a day with, five to six days a week, he knows nothing about the guy. An hour passed and info slowly trickled in. Sarge and Ed tried to pin down the location of the bomb. Jules and Spike split up. Spike went to the suspect's house to rummage through his basement and see what chemicals he could discover. While Jules went to his job, a dentist's office. He didn't like the idea of them splitting up, but Toth was monitoring conversations and he and Raf had to go interview the guy's ex-wife. There was nothing he could do. He should have done something. Spike's voice rang in over the comm. link as he listed off the chemicals he found stored in this guy's garden shed. Some of them normal things he passes when doing stealthy grocery shopping with Jules. He loves the way she dresses down and argues with him about the importance of fresh vegetables. Halfway through the significance of 'vitamin B' speech he usually tells her he's going to get the meat. He wants to hear the speech. God, what he wouldn't give to hear that speech. He wishes he had a recording of it. Jules informed that she was at the dentist office, one office out of six in a small, two storey complex. Apparently the office was closed, but the front door wasn't locked. Sarge told her to proceed, but take precautions. Spike said he was on his way. He stopped at a red light. Listened and imagined her opening a heavy handled door to a dark room, gun drawn to her face. The rig idled away even as the light flicked to green. Raf glanced over at him and pointed to the color shift. He repressed the need to give the rookie a half-lidded glance of ridicule. Everything was casual. Ed summarized a possible location for the chemical bomb. He drove through the intersection without as much as a car turning into his lane. Then a sound blasted over the comm. link. It was loud, deep and his fingers wrung against the wheel. On first instinct, while the bile flooded his throat, he assumed she'd been shot again. Her voice cleared the link before anyone could ask what happened. Breathier, more nervous than usual. A lot more. She was panicking. He used all of his resistance in order not to slam on the breaks and change directions towards her. He should have. "Guys, something happened." "What's going on Jules?" Sarge questioned with his harsh tone of concern. "The front door shut, mechanically or—I—it locked and now—" There was a beat. The longest beat in the world where he gripped the wheel so hard, the rubber burned indents into his skin. "Something's coming through the vents." All of the moisture left his mouth. He couldn't swallow. He flipped on the sirens and before Raf asked what the hell he was doing, they were already on the highway heading towards her. "What are you doing?" "Spike—" "We're going to help." "It could be anything. This guy has enough chemicals to make anything worse than we've seen. Bigger than we've seen." "Jules, stay calm and look for another exit." "Like the guy didn't think to seal it up too?" "Spike what's your ETA?" "Less than five." "This stuff is snowing down in the hallway. It's—" She started coughing. Kept coughing. Sometimes at night she has this whooping cough. It sounds painful and it's loud as hell. She told him once it was from her chain-smoking father. This cough sounded nothing like the hollow night cough. This cough was painful. He knew, he could hear the lung tissue as it ripped. She wheezed deeply, once, twice. Then after a few heavy breaths regained enough composure to explain, "This stuff is—" but then started to cough again. " Jules, concentrate on—" "Stop talking." "Shut up." Sarge, Spike and himself all chimed in and told her in three distinct ways to keep her mouth shut. Talking only increased her inhalation of whatever chemical was blizzarding around in the air, into her lungs, her blood, her organs. She answered by coughing, deeper, wetter. The wheezes between the hacks grew smaller. "Jules?" Sarge tried to call her attention back again, but after telling her not to talk, was she really apt to answer? He knew she probably wouldn't, even if it was out of spite. She coughed harder, a minuscule hiccup of a breath segmented a prolonged coughing chorus until it suddenly stopped accompanied by a dull thud. His foot pounded the gas pedal so hard, he's amazed it didn't break. He counted the seconds into the drive. Watched the clock. Tried to remember the little chemical training he received and what amount of time she had to get out of there. His body flushed as copious amounts of sweat leaked out of him. His eyes began to burn. At a minute and a half Spike got to her. Pulled on a gas mask, crashed the glass panels on the front door, found her face down through the chemical haze and carried her out to decontamination and EMS. Raf said they should go back to interviewing the ex-wife because Jules was safe and there was a bomb. He answered Raf could have the rig and do whatever the fuck he wanted with it once they were at Jules' location. When they finally got there, ten minutes later. Spike was in decontamination and would remain in there for another twenty minutes. Whatever this stuff was, it was ruthless. It was all over and inside Jules. He only caught a glimpse of her as they loaded her into the back of an ambulance. Her face was red and she had the same tube sticking out of her mouth that she did three years ago when she was shot. The paramedics shut the doors and he rocked on the balls of his feet just praying it wasn't as bad as before. She shouldn't have to handle the pain. He couldn't handle losing her. Sarge approached him, told him they still had to catch the guy. But he honestly couldn't focus. Couldn't stay objective. He was offered up all these potential chances to intervene and didn't do a single thing. Jules was suffering for his mistakes again. Now his bones and muscles fall flaccid as he reclines in a chair. He's in the debriefing room, the lights off, and a few stars are visible over the glow from the neighboring skyscrapers. It was daytime when they corralled him into the room, all but hogtied him to the seat. He tried to leave before they found him, didn't even bother changing out of his cool pants before rushing to the elevator. Spike, who still didn't smell right, asked where he was going. Ed told him to stay put. Toth called him out in front of everyone. He's the pinnacle of a triangle. The apex of a mountain. Toth and Sarge create the other two points of what could be an equilateral if they all tried just a bit harder, but he's about two mandatory trust falls from the switch in his brain flipping off and the violent actions coming out to play. No one has said a word in almost ten minutes. Each of those minutes, years that he'll never get back. He knows Toth's psychology, knows the intimidation is supposed to make him confess to the 'affair' he's been having. Toth probably wants to know all the sordid details; like the debriefing room is some high school bathroom and they're in between classes. At this point he really has nothing left to lose, nothing left to give to the team, but he still has Jules. He just wants to hear her voice tell him off in that irritated tone which really hides her own mortification at being in a hospital. Wants her to roll those gorgeous eyes while he gathers her in his arms. Wants to feel her fingernails through his hair while he listens to her heartbeat just to confirm that she's really there. So for her, he keeps up their tattered charade, remains quiet and silenced in the chair. But if he was hooked up to the polygraph machine like last time, his pulse would rocket the needle clean off. Maybe it would hit Toth. He grins a little at the thought. "Constable Braddock." Toth's lips smack together. He clasps his hands on the surface of the table. "Are we really going to wait here all night?" "We might have to if you don't start asking questions." His answer is almost immediate, like a bullet leaving a barrel. Sarge doesn't respond, merely sits half mimicking his stance. He has the weak inclination Toth has already given Sarge shit for him and Jules. That Sarge is just here now because the rulebook says he has to be. "Are you really going to deny it?" "Deny what? You haven't asked me anything yet." "Constable Braddock." Toth's voice usurps, it grows stern and their playground taunting is over. "It's obvious that you and Constable Callaghan broke probation by reinstating your romantic relationship. Since neither of you excused yourselves from the team—" "We didn't see a reason why our personal lives are anybodies business." "You're a danger to your team, not to mention civilians. You disobeyed direct orders today when you found out Constable Callaghan was in danger. Then had to be coerced back into doing your job." "We got the guy." Ed got the guy. He was glad to be Sierra Two. He'd never been happier to be Sierra Two. Not that he didn't want to extract some homemade vengeance on the guy who made his girlfriend's lungs into chemical filled snow globes, but dealing with SIU and then Toth questioning the use of lethal force, he'd never see Jules. Toth sighs, loudly, angrily. His face hidden by the dusk growing huskier and more menacing outside. "The fact remains that you cannot be objective. You've used lethal force on subjects before when they've threatened Constable Callaghan." He shakes his head and crosses his arms in defiance. "If it was anyone else on the team, it wouldn't have been a problem." "Sam," Sarge finally speaks, his hands slide across the desk but they're missing the olive branch. "You've previously admitted you would break the priority of life code for her." He did. He would. He will. It's because she is his life. He's almost lost her twice now. He can't even count the near misses. Can't even count the blink-and-you'll-miss-it close calls. "So what now?" "I need to know when your relationship began." Toth shuffles some papers in the dim light and retrieves a pen. A smirk crosses his face, "the last time you came to visit." "Excuse me?" "The last time you were here. That's when we got back together." His smirk blooms and he remembers how perfect that moment felt. Finally being able to reconnect with Jules while at the same time figuratively flipping off Toth. "Jules and I are stubborn. You tell us we can't do something and we want to do it." "So you've been breaking probation for—" "A little over eight months." "Anything else I should know?" "Well, I'm going to propose to her on her birthday." Sarge shakes his head. "Sam—" He leans forward resting his chin on bent knuckles. "I think she kind of knows though. I've been asking her what she likes more gold or silver and she told me the silver is actually white gold." He grins, remembers the way her fork halted halfway to her open mouth as questioned why some engagement rings were gold and some silver. He doesn't know if her expression was because actually brought up marriage or because he honestly didn't know gold could be white. It's her fault anyway; she brought up the honeymoon first. He should be with her. He still doesn't know how badly she's been hurt. What if she still has that tube in her throat? After she got shot she had it in for over a day and the sight of it made his stomach swoop. When she woke up the first thing she did was try to yank it out. He stopped her last time, he stands from his seat and smoothes out the few creases in his pants, he'll stop her this time. "We done here?" "Absolutely not Constable Braddock. We have to discuss the ramifications of your decisions. Disciplinary actions are in order not only for you, but Constable Callaghan as well." As Toth continues to talk about the possibilities of one of them being fired while the other receives a pay cut and suspension from work, he surrenders the various SRU issued knickknacks from his belt and places them on the table. Toth doesn't seem to notice but Sarge does. "Sam?" "This team doesn't need me." He shrugs setting down his badge which catches the faint light just enough to cause a small flare. "I mean we work well together, but I'm replaceable." He places his sidearm on the table. "Jules isn't replaceable. Not to me." "Constable Braddock, I guarantee you that if you walk out that door right now, you will not have a job at this SRU tomorrow." "I know, I just quit." Next Chapter - Mock-epic Hospital Scenes. I'm beginning to hate them as much as Jules.
The story was originally intended to be a oneshot, but then I thought more and more on it and added more lines and scenes and well now it should have four distinct chapters.
Another thing is I based the chemical very very loosely on a real chemical mostly because chemistry (and math) makes my head hurt. So if that's your forte and you're like "Psssh this chemical doesn't seem real or the reactions don't." Suck it up. From Just-World alone my computer history can get me arrested and I wasn't going to add chemicals to the mix more than I had to.
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