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24and26david · 2 years

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☆-September Project 30-☆

day 30~ dead

∘ ༺ ☆༻ ∘

jim street x chris alonso

angst, hurt/comfort

read on ao3 here

a/n: guys we don’t need to get into the logic of this fic or how it’d never actually happen or whatever, I don’t care, just take it and be happy (also me posting stris twice in a month?? what’s happening???)

warnings: swearing, graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping, torture, character thought of to be dead (not actually dead), guns, knives, blood & gore

"Just tell us where the money is and you'll be let go." Davis taunts as he drags his bloodied knife along the side of Streets face. Street just clench's his jaw and stares straight ahead.

His feet are bound with rope and wrists behind his back with zip ties. His gun and vest have been stripped off his uniform long ago, at least three hours based off the clock on the wall.

The room is huge and probably some type of warehouse that's abandoned. There's nothing in here but a few tables in the corner and the men walking around with large guns held tightly to their sides, they circle Street and Davis like sharks. Waiting. Probably for Street to try and get away or attack but even Street knows he can't take down eight gunned men and Davis all by himself.

"Just tell me where you put the money!" Streets jaw is gripped in Davis's fat fingers with a squeeze on his bone.

The money that Davis so desperately wants isn't even somewhere he could get it. It's already at Swat HQ. It has been for the past two days but apparently Davis still thinks it's somewhere in one of the victims houses.

This whole thing started with two family's getting murdered, all shot point blank range, all dead within minutes of each other, dragged into their pools and left while the house got overturned looking for money. Both family's were wealthy and knew each other so there's a connection but Streets still yet to figure out what Davis needs the money for.

It's only ten million and while that's obviously a lot of money, there's people who have more to take. Maybe it's because the second family had ten million in cash for no apparent reason sitting under their mattress in the master bedroom, which is weird, there's many questions that arise form that, the main one being what the hell are you people doing with that much cash when you're real estate agents?

Not to mention how the hell Davis even became aware of this cash? He definitely doesn't know the people as he was living in a shitty one bedroom apartment with barely a thousand dollars for rent each month. And where did Davis get all these people? Has he promised them the money? Why are they so willing to risk themselves for him? The eight men aren't even the only people Davis has working for him, there's at least three other that Street knows of.

"Tell me!" The back of Davis's hand is slapped hard against Streets cheek as he spits some blood onto the concrete floor in response.

Streets already been tortured for hours now and he's honestly just tired of it. It all goes back to when Davis and two of his 'muscle men' as Street likes to refer to them, they slammed him pretty hard on the back of the head with a shovel, it had actually caused his helmet to fall right off before they hit him again, while that didn't knock Street out, the hits following definitely did and then he woke up here. His body is bruised to a gross point and ribs aching from the baseball bat Davis has swung into his side around ten too many times.

Streets head throbs as he stares up to Davis, he looks annoyed, kind of like a pig when Street really looks at his stupid nose scrunch, Street would laugh at this if it wouldn't cause immense pain. He's really hoping the team figure out where the hell he is soon. Luca was supposed to be right behind him but got caught up fighting with another suspect so Street was all on his own as he walked through the third victims house.

Street knows practically nothing about the third victims, he was maybe five feet into the raid when a shovel was thrown into his head so he's giving himself a pass. The team will know about the third victims for him.

They didn't even think there was going to be a third victim but, of course, Davis had to prove them wrong. The asshole. Twenty squad was pretty sure he was going to hit up different places the other two victims worked at, the unfinished property's and stuff, places with no people but then Hicks was screaming to roll out because the crew was spotted breaking into a house. Looks like all those patrol men are wasting their time sitting on each property.

"Damnit speak! You fucking cop, speak to me!" Streets said zero words this whole time and that's obviously struck up a nerve on Davis's part. Street rolls his shoulders back just trying to get some of this aching to stop. Seriously they could ease up on the bat and knife usage.

He has a few cuts around his stomach and arms, nothing that even needs stitches, just an annoying amount of hot searing pain. Then the metal bat Davis seems to love has been swung into almost every part of Streets body, including his face that he knows is bruised up pretty badly.

"Where is the money! I swear to god I will kill you if you don't answer me!" Davis has Streets t shirt clutched into a ball so he can drag Street halfway off the ground and make their faces almost touch.

"What money?" Streets voice is gruff but he manages a small smirk as Davis's eyes go wide and he drops Street down to his knees again. Street knows that was probably a stupid decision on his part but hey, he's just done at this point, even if he did tell Davis where the money was, it wouldn't matter, he wouldn't be able to get it.

"You are lucky I don't put a bullet through your fucking skull!" The cold tip of a glock is pressed to Streets forehead as he stares up around the gun to Davis. He's not too scared, he knows Davis is only going to kill him once he's served his purpose. And let's face it, Street knows this is his death bed, while it's not ideal, it's something he has to deal with.

"If killing you didn't mean I have to go get one of your little friends, I would skin your alive." Davis snaps and Street just blinks. He almost feels like he's in an action movie as he listens to this very villain sounding story Davis is going off about.

Streets pretty sure the fact that it's hitting the six hour mark is a sign that he has to get himself out of here. He was really betting on someone from the team busting through the door but that doesn't seem to be that probable at this point.

And shit, now he has to get out of here without getting himself shot or just falling over from the sheer amount of bruises he has. Davis has left and come back a few times, adding new injuries to Street each time he returns, asking the same questions that Street won't answer, and Davis is getting more and more angry with the situation.

"So officer, I have a little surprise for you." Street is instantly on high alert at the grin spread across Davis's face. He’s yet to look anything but enraged.

"We got your little girlfriend." Girlfriend? He's not dating anyone? He hasn't dated anyone since Molly but that was almost a year ago.

"What's her name? Ah yes, Alonso." Streets stomach drops. Not Chris, anyone but Chris.

"Miss Cristina Alonso. Works Swat with you, you guys get pizza on Friday's, you've ridden to work together, quite a lovely little relationship you have going on Jim." How the fuck does he know all that? That's not even relevant to anything Davis should be worried about.

"So what we're gonna do since you won't talk is play some games with your girlfriend while you answer my questions, sound good?" Street could throw up if he wanted.

"Say hello Chris." There's a flip phone held up by Streets face as he hears a muffle hum of words he can only assume is Chris with something blocking her mouth.

"Every time you lie, they fire a shot at your precious girl, the gun isn't fully loaded but there are bullets in there so don't be dumb." Davis places the phone flat out in his palm as he crouch's down to Street level and clears his throat.

"Number one, where is the money?" Street feels his chin tremble.

"I don't know." A blank sound of a gun clicking on the other side of the phone makes tears well up in Streets eyes.

"I'll ask again, where is the money?" Davis is growing more angry as he narrows his eyes at Street.

"I don't know where they put it." Another shot but again not real bullet, Streets heart rate is picking up as his hands shake behind him. He needs Chris to be alright, he won't be able to live with himself if something was to happen to her.

"I know you know, tell me where it is!" Davis spits the words out to Streets face. Streets head shakes back and forth. The money is locked away, the only person with the key is Hicks or Hondo and he's not even sure they still have it.

"Last chance Street, tell me." Davis takes his free hand to hold Streets hair and tilt's his head down to stare at the phone. Tears slowly spread over Streets cheeks as he looks at it knowing Chris is being hurt on the other line.

"It's locked away, you won't be able to get it." Davis shakes his head.

"Where is it locked up?" Street genuinely doesn't know this part, he just knows it's in Swat HQ somewhere.

"I don't know, I swear I don't know-!" A shot rings out over the call, a bullet in this one, he can hear the thud of Chris's body hit the ground and a sob erupts out of Streets throat.

"Chris! No! No! Chris!" Davis let's Streets body drop down into a ball as he lets out high pitch noises of pain and curls into himself. Streets head bows forward into his chest with the tears flooding down his cheeks and into the cuts across his face.

They sting when the salt hits the gashes but Street can't even get himself to breathe in a proper breath. Chris is dead. She's gone, she's never coming back and- and his fault! Street let's out a scream he's been stifling since he woke up tied down and it echos in the large building.

"Jesus Christ man, what'd he say to you?" One of the muscle men asks once Davis walks away with a smile, leaving Street curled into himself with sobs.

"H-he killed her- he killed her and it's all my fault-." The man's eyes go wide at Streets blubbering words.

"Shit- uh- well I mean, you'll be dead soon too." The guy winces a bit before walking away.

Great. Now Street really knows he's gonna die, fucking hell. Does he even care? Chris is gone. She is- was- the love of his life wether or not she knew it. He'd give up everything for her, he was about to, if she was to ask him to quit swat so they could be together, he wouldn't have hesitated.

Maybe that's a little crazy to quit your dream job just to be with a girl but Chris is more than just a girl to Street. She is and always will be more than that, she's everything to him, hell he wouldn't have even still been in Swat if it wasn't for her and her drivenness. Anything she ever did had Street in complete Awe, every little quirk, any time she even just smiled at him- it felt like Cupid was shoving arrow after fucking arrow down his throat.

Though Street never really had the guts to actually do anything about it after that kiss in the backyard with alcohol lacing across their lips, he just allowed Chris to make the call that it was too complicated. But then she kissed him in the locker room and it was like everything in his world stopped spinning because Chris kissed him. Streets pretty sure he's never been so in love with someone, no matter how many times he tries not to be.

That kiss in the locker room only lead to a bunch of weird energy and never really figuring things out but Street still holds onto it. He knows it might be stupid that one kiss means so much to him but there's nothing he can do to make his brain let go of it, it clings to that moment like a life line, praying they'll figure something out soon- or- that they would've figured something out.

Street guesses it's his time to try and get rid of that dream considering he failed Chris on all fronts. Couldn't be her boyfriend, couldn't be her best friend, couldn't be her teammate- couldn't even save her life when she needed him to. So maybe it is time to try and move on from the dream of him and Chris being together.

He should really be focusing on getting out of here first. Streets eyes scan around the room and take note that instead of eight men, there's only six remaining, most of them stopped circling around to instead talk by the door across the room.

Is it still extremely risky to try and get out of here with six people waiting to kill him? Yeah.

Does he have another option? Nope.

It's not hard to break the zip ties behind his back, he honestly could've done that hours ago but that would've caused some issues. Next is reaching down to un tie the ropes around his ankles that are tied pretty tight.

"What are you doing?" Street shoves his hands back to where they were with the zip ties as he looks up to a black haired man.

"I have to pee." The guy rolls his eyes.

"Then piss yourself, you ain't getting out of here." Hm that's what he thinks.

"Seriously? Fine. Might wanna stand a few more feet away." The guy has a brief face of disgust before backing up a few steps and turning his back to Street. Everyone else is still over by the door so now's really the only chance Street has.

He gets the ropes undone after a moment and stands quickly, maybe a little too quickly as he goes light headed but pauses with an inhale for balance. Okay now he has to move.

"Don't move." His hand is clasped over the guys face as he whispers in his ear while tugging the gun strap off. He prays to god this works how he wants it to.

Thankfully the black haired guy puts up zero fight and just lets Street take the gun then get him down to his knees. Street takes no time to get the rope wrapped around the man's wrists while glancing over at the group of five people that have yet to notice anything.

"Let me go and I won't shoot." Street barks out once he can point the AR-15 pointed at the group of men. They all turn to him with a raised brow but make no move to actually grab their own guns.

"Just let me walk out of that door and nobody gets hurt." Street's probably not nearly as intimidating as he wants to be since his face is bloodied and shirt ripped apart to show the slice marks he has littered around. Not to mention the slight sway in his feet from the no doubt concussion he has.

"You just gonna walk out the door?" One of the blonde men looks very unimpressed.

"I just wanna get out of here, I have nothing to give you." Although he would appreciate his gun and vest back from wherever they stashed it.

"Yeah we kinda got that covered as it's been seven hours. Y'know for Swat you look a bit pathetic holding that gun." Okay ouch, that kinda hurt.

"You already killed the one person I care about so just let me go and plan her damn funeral." Street swallows back the spit in the back of his throat, the taste of copper reminding him just how bruised up he is.

"Good luck finding her body." He shoots the blonde man's foot. Street kind of expected that it would set the others off to shoot him but they're just staring in horror as the man falls to the ground screaming.

"Let me go." He sighs pointing the gun back at the man on the floor. There's tears streaming down his face as he holds the hole in his foot.

"You shot me! You fucking shot me!" He gaps like Street doesn't fucking know that.

"You deserved it, now let me go!" He just needs to make it back to HQ where he can collapse in the locker room and probably sob over the sweater Chris has in his locker from that one day she forgot to take it back from him.

"Alright alright, just don't shoot any of us." The black haired man from before opens the door and Street breathes the biggest sigh of relief but it gets cut short as-

-Davis walks in. Mother fucker! He really thought he'd be getting out of here.

"What the hells going on?!" Street fires two shots into each of Davis's shoulders before he can reach for the glock on his hip. Two of the men that walked in with Davis go to fire but they catch bullets to the chest.

"Fucking shoot him don't just stand there!" The guy with the foot wound yells to the other five that are still just standing there.

"Hey, you don't gotta shoot me, just let me go. I bet you won't even be paid for this job since you still haven't found the money and Davis is gonna die and-." Street stops his ramble when the black haired guy just opens the door again.

"Give me the gun and get out of here." Street can't comply faster as he runs as fast as he can, which isn’t that fast, out of that building and to the road it's on.

Looking around Streets pretty sure he knows where he is, scratch that, he is absolutely sure he knows where he is, he's maybe a ten minute walk from HQ! This is some bullshit. That's basically all Street thinks as he trudges his way up the road and tries not to wince with every step that sends shocking pain through his body.

"Street?!" Hondo and Luca are right there when Street stumbles his way into the briefing room at HQ. Maybe he should've tried to call for help or even an ambulance but all he can think about is that sweater in his locker.

"Christ kid?! Where the fuck have you been?!" Deacon and Tan appear quickly as Luca holds Street more upright.

"I'm sorry- I'm so sorry- guys I'm sorry- I'm sorry-." They all look shocked to see the tears running down Streets face as Hondo shakes his head.

"What are you sorry about? You didn't do anything, you made it out of there." Street pushes out of the hand Hondo puts on his shoulder.

"It's my fault- I'm sorry- I should've just said something- it's my fault-." How can they not know Chris dying is all on him? He should've fucking lied or done something to make them stop.

"What's your fault? What happened? Street talk to us." Do they not know Chris is dead? Oh god have they not figured it out. Street breath hitches as he leans into Lucas side with a cry.

"Chris- she- Chris-." He tries to explain but they all furrow their brows and-

- and Chris is appearing in front of him.

"What about me?" Street basically collapses as he reaches his arms out to her and sobs. He's not even sure if this is real or just some hallucination his concussion is causing but he's going to hold onto it for as long as he can.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I failed you, I'm sorry, oh god Chris, Chris I'm so sorry, it's all my fault." His head is stuffed into the crook of Chris's neck as he clings on for dear life, her hand holds the back of his head carefully.

"Street, Shh, its okay, I'm right here. I'm okay." She assures but Street shakes his head against her.

"You're not- you're not okay. Chris I'm such a horrible person, how could I let them do that to you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-." Streets face is pulled back to be held gently in Chris's hands as she looks at him with confusion and concern mixed together that have her brows knitted tightly together.

"Street I am right here, I am okay, we're both okay." He's shaking as he reaches his hands to hold her wrists and she keeps her hands cupping Streets face.

"You're not, I heard it- you're not okay Chris- please, I'm sorry." The tears are heavy against Streets face as they drip down enough to fall onto what's left of his shirt.

"Heard what? What happened?" Street gasps a moment but Chris keeps holding him steady.

"I heard it- I heard him shoot you- you're dead! Chris you aren't real- I heard you die and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should've tried harder to save you." Chris's face is one of pure horror as she drops her hands and Street lets out a strangled noise form the back of his throat.

"Don't leave yet- please- just give me five more minutes- please just let me have five more minutes, I can't let you go yet." Street cries high pitched when Chris takes a step away but his hands are tugging her shoulders into him again.

"Just five minutes- I don't want you to go, I can't let you go yet- just hold on for five more minutes." Chris's arms wrap around Streets back tightly as he sags into her.

"Street I'm okay, I'm alive, I didn't get shot." Chris says into Streets gross hair that has blood and sweat coating it.

"I heard it Chris, I heard you hit the ground." He shakes the words out but Chris is pulling away again with her eyes teary when Street looks into them.

"It wasn't me, I'm okay. Street I'm perfectly okay and alive, look at me, I'm okay." She takes Streets shaking hand to press it over her chest where he can feel the bumping of her heart beat.

"Feel that? I'm okay. Street please, I'm okay." Streets brain really isn't comprehending this all too quickly as he stares at her a moment. She looks so real and so healthy. She looks normal, he's not sure if he was hallucinating he would get such a clear view of her.

"But- but you died and I- I couldn't save you." Chris shakes her head firmly.

"I didn't, it was somebody else, it wasn't real. You got out of wherever you were and that's all that matters because we are both okay." She states it with a caring tone and her hands holding Streets shoulders, making his weight balance out as his legs aren’t nearly steady enough to hold himself up, but also to try and ground him.

"The- the warehouse down the road- I was at the warehouse." Street can hear shuffling behind him but he's just focused on having Chris standing in front of him. Alive.

"We thought you were a few towns over, I don't know how we missed the mark so bad." Chris gives half a smile.

"Please- please don't leave. I know you're okay but I just really need you close right now and I'm in a lot of pain and you always know how to fix things and- and- I love you. I love you and I need you somewhere safe where I can see you." Chris and Street keep their eyes on each other's as Street talks in almost a frantic tone.

"I love you too, I'm not going anywhere. I promise I'm not going anywhere." Chris assures, pulling him in close again and holding on for just five more minutes.

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