A/N: I stunned myself over the weekend by producing this little drabble. Never thought I'd be capable of writing a short piece like this. It was meant to be a one-chapter job but, despite the shortness of each segment, it just seemed to work better as two separate chapters. So, here it is. My take on the events on the courthouse steps in 'Proud Flesh'.

Dislcaimers: The usual. I don't own any CI characters. I only wish I did. I'm making no money from this. I only wish I was.

Spoilers: Proud Flesh (season 5), and Pas De Deux (season 3)

Two shots. That was all it took to bring down Chance Slaughter before he had a chance to fire his own gun.

Alex stood on the steps, the anguish on her face and in her eyes belying the rock steady grip with which she held her weapon. Off to the side, and just behind her, Bobby had his own gun drawn, but he’d not been as quick as she. The moment was fleeting, and he’d not had a chance to fire a shot. As Slaughter Snr and Chance’s wife fell to the ground beside him, Alex felt her strength start to fail, and suddenly it was all she could do not to simply burst into tears. She knew what Chance had done, and she had a sickening notion that when his gun was checked it would be discovered to be unloaded.

Death by cop…

He had acted deliberately with the intention of sacrificing himself to save his father from prison. As she heard journalists shouting that, with his dying breath, Chance had confessed to his brother’s murder, she knew her suspicions were right.

Death by cop…

Another suspect had tried that with her once before, a couple of years ago. The man had been dying of cancer, and he’d tried to pull a starter’s pistol on her, in an effort to provoke her into shooting him. The stunt hadn’t worked, but it had shaken her nonetheless. Later, in the interrogation room, Bobby had picked on it in an attempt to convince the man’s partner to turn on him.

Death by cop…

Effectively, it was one of the surest ways to commit suicide in New York. Pull a gun in front of a cop.
God, she felt sick.

There was a hand on her arm, gentle but sure. She looked around, pulled from her dazed memories, to find Bobby standing there. His eyes reflected the concern he felt, but he knew her well. She didn’t want pity. Not here, not in front of so many people.

“We… need to clear the scene,” he said softly, and in that seemingly unfeeling statement she heard a world of concern and understanding. He was giving her the opportunity to regroup and regain some semblance of control before the blood-hungry media suddenly decided to turn its focus onto her, and they both knew that the best way for her to do that was to immerse herself back into the job.

Sucking in a deep breath, she allowed Bobby to take her gun, and then followed him into the fray, to clear the scene around Chance Slaughter’s now-lifeless body.

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