Fake Fan Fiction ❯ From the Ashes (Series: What If, Story 1: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust Trilogy) ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own FAKE or Sanami Matoh's wonderful characters.

Rating: NC-17 OT+16 (Yaoi, Violence, Arson, Character Death)
Pairings: J.J./Drake
Timeframe: Approximately 2005
Series: What If?

Series Summary: The 'What If' is an alternate universe series where I explore various alternatives to the standard story. These can range from character deaths to characters never coming to the 27th in the first place. In other stories, I may deal with changing emotions in relationships and the affects they might have on those relationships. So far, my Dee-muse has been the main inspiration for these stories; so, blame him if you don't like them. ~_^* Whatever else he is, he's very creative and sadistic.


Trilogy: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Story 1: From the Ashes

Warning: Character Death!

Summary: An arsonist has targeted the men and women of the 27th Precinct, how will they deal with the death of one of their own and the horrific burning of another. Can the survivors push forward and prevent additional tragedy? Or will everyone's dreams go up in flames?

 

 

Chapter 1

 

“Yup. I understand, Sir,” The lead firefighter said into his cell phone. “Wish you'd gotten back to us immediately. Don't know how everything got screwed up.” He hung up the phone and turned toward his men. “Okay. We've got clearance to enter the building. Go tell those cops that we're going to need them to come in with us since shots were fired.”

 

One of the firefighters came rushing over to where Ryo, Drake, and Ted stood. “You guys need to go in with us. Cap says shots were fired.”

 

Ryo could only nod mutely as he drew his weapon. With a loud sigh, he switched gears to a more professional stance. “Drake, J.J., you're with me. Ted, Marty, you stay out here and come in with the medical unit. I'm sure Dee and the commissioner are going to need medical support.” He turned toward the young man that was still standing in front of them. “Do we get fire coats?”

 

“Uh. Yeah,” He stammered. “Over here.” He led the way over to the hook-and-ladder truck and started handing out coats. He'd just handed the last one out to Marty when they all heard the sickening sound of the girders giving way at the rear of the warehouse. “We need to hurry.”

 

Ryo didn't wait around and started toward the building.

 

“Hey! Wait up!” The young firefighter started after Ryo and finally caught up to him just short of the front door. “You've got to wait. We'll use a ram to knock down the door and you'll need to let the lead hose team cool down the entrance.”

 

“Then hurry up,” Ryo managed to say between clenched teeth. He shifted his grip on his sidearm and double-checked he had a round in the chamber. “Dee needs help.”

 

“What are you? A fruitcake?”

 

The firefighter's comment earned him a glare from Ryo.

 

“What's wrong, Ryo?” Drake asked as he and J.J. came up with the hose team.

 

“Nothing,” Ryo mumbled before turning toward the door. “Get us in there.”

 

The tall, graying firefighter leading the hose team flipped on the hose and began watering down the door so they could approach it. Even with the cold water, the door radiated heat. The two men with the ram struck where the middle hinge was, popping it loose. They did the same with the lower-most one and then struck the door in the center causing it to fall into the building. There was a corresponding flare-up with the flames and an almost iridescence to the heat that was pouring out.

 

“Move in,” The same firefighter said as he pushed forward with his hose team.

 

Ryo, Drake, and J.J. moved in right behind the two leading men. They could hear the sizzle of the flames as they were extinguished and the cracking of the floor caused by the vast temperature difference between the heated surface and the icy water. “What's that?” Ryo asked softly, drawing Drake and J.J.'s attention to what appeared to be a small bonfire near the right side of the warehouse.

 

“Don't know,” Drake replied as he glanced toward the roof of the structure. An entire section at the rear of the structure appeared to have given way; the girders that were still in place were twisted and glowing bright red. He could see remnants of the catwalks still attached to the rear wall; but, most of them were now strewn over the floor.

 

“Put that out,” J.J. prompted the tall firefighter as he pointed toward the small bonfire. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he really didn't want to know what, or who, it was. He'd read the Dillon report and knew the commissioner had been the one to take him down. “I wouldn't put it past Dillon to burn Dee and the commissioner alive. The file said that the arsonist had threatened to kill the commissioner and everyone connected to him. Well, the entire 27th Precinct is connected with him.”

 

“Cold.” The word sunk into Berkley's mind as the icy water hit him, extinguishing some of the flames. “It's a waste of time. I'm sorry.”

 

After the firefighters had finally extinguished the flames, it took a moment for recognition to set in. “That's the commissioner,” Ryo whispered as he rushed over to the fallen man. The detective couldn't recognize the man; but, he'd recognized the fire coat the older man had worn into the warehouse. “Sir? Berkley?” He asked as he knelt down on the floor, away from the older man's burns. “Where's Dee?” He prompted gently as he grimaced at the sight of the commissioner's burned face, hand, and legs; up close, he recognized the familiar features, barely. The fire coat was still smoldering and the smell of burnt flesh was almost overpowering. He pulled the heavy .45 out of Berkley's hand and took the relatively unscathed hand in both of his; he kept his grip as gentle as possible. “Where's Dee?” He prompted again as he saw Berkley's lips move.

 

“I'm sorry,” Berkley thought since his words wouldn't reach his lips. “I'm sorry. Dee's on the catwalk and I couldn't get him out. Please help him.”

 

“Ryo,” J.J. whispered as he knelt down next to the other two men. He looked Berkley's fallen body over and couldn't imagine anyone surviving his injuries. The young sniper grimaced and had to turn away; the charred skin covering most of the commissioner's head and the melted glasses over his eyes showed that even if he did survive; he would have a long recovery ahead of him.

 

“Sir, I can't hear you,” Ryo whispered. He leaned closer until he could feel Berkley's breath brush over his ear. “What is it, Sir?” The detective shivered, as the heat from the burned flesh radiated against his face.

 

“Dee,” Berkley managed to say aloud. “Dee's on the catwalks. I'm sorry I couldn't get him out.”

 

“Catwalks?” Ryo asked with quivering lips. He looked up and caught J.J.'s eyes. Both men knew there wasn't much left of the catwalks and if Dee was on them, there was only the slimmest chance they would be able to get him down before the rest of the building came down.

 

“I'm sorry,” Berkley kept repeating.

 

“I'll stay with him, Ryo,” J.J. said as he nodded toward the hose team. “Tell them where to find Dee.”

 

Ryo released the commissioner's hand, stood, and rushed over to the hose team. “We have a man on the catwalks. We need a ladder, some way of getting him down.”

 

“I think it's too late,” Drake thought as he started studying the fallen walkways. He could see what appeared to be blood splattered on one of them. “This way. You stay here, Ryo.”

 

Drake's quiet order stopped Ryo in his tracks. “What do you see?”

 

“I don't know. Just stay here, Ryo.” Drake's eyes pleaded with the younger man, silently begging him to do what he asked.

 

Ryo nodded and stood watching the blond detective move forward with the fire crew. He knew the instant when Drake reached what he'd seen and he knew that what the older man saw wasn't good. “Drake?” He asked quietly as he started toward the small group.

 

“No, you don't want to see this,” Drake said as he met Ryo halfway and gathered the younger man into his arms. “You don't need to see this.” He dropped to the floor, still holding Ryo tightly, as both their knees gave out. “You don't need to see this,” Drake mumbled as tears finally started to fall from his eyes.

 

“Why Dee?” Ryo mumbled against Drake's shoulder as his tears finally began falling. The full truth of what had happened hadn't hit him yet. “I don't believe you.” Ryo tried to struggle out of Drake's grasp. “He's not dead. He can't be!”

 

“Ryo,” Drake began as he held Ryo even more tightly. “He's gone. It looks like he fell when a walkway collapsed. He probably didn't know what happened.” He was crying harder now and hoping that Ryo would stop struggling; that he wouldn't have to see his partner's body right now; that he would accept the eyewitness of someone else. “Oh, god.” Drake pressed his face against Ryo's stomach as the younger man managed to stand. “Stop. Please, I saw Dee. You shouldn't have to see him like this.”

 

Drake's unusual action pressed home the reality of what had happened. “Drake?” Ryo said with tears in his voice. “He's gone.” Ryo collapsed back to his knees and began sobbing, holding Drake as if he were the last solid thing on the face of the planet. His entire world had crashed to earth with the fallen catwalk.

 

“Ryo?” J.J. whispered as he knelt next to the commissioner. Tears slowly drifted down his face; he knew why the two men were crying, the only reason they could be, and the pain hit him harder than he could have ever imagined.

 

“Dee?” Berkley whispered as he reached for J.J.'s hand. He couldn't see what was happening around him; but, he could feel that someone was near. Images flashed through his head and nothing made sense. “Dee? Where is he?”

 

“Sir,” J.J. mumbled as he reached for the commissioner's hand. He refocused his attention on the man laying, burned almost beyond recognition, on the hard floor next to him. He pushed aside his grief and drew on his professional training; he needed to get his superior medical assistance. “Sir, you need to save your strength.” His voice came out surprisingly clear since he was silently crying hard enough that his shoulders shook. “Over here!” He yelled as Ted and Marty entered the still burning warehouse with the medical team and a second hose unit.

 

“Oh, god,” Marty groaned when he reached where J.J. knelt next to the commissioner. It took him a moment to realize that the fallen body was the commissioner, when it registered; it was too much for him. “Oh,” He groaned as he turned away and raced out of the warehouse to throw up.

 

Ted had seen some horrific things during his time as a cop; he never thought he'd see anything like this. He knew a little about burns since he'd been burned as a child when he'd pulled a pot of sauce off the stove. His deep-seated fear of fire had almost prevented him from coming inside with the medical team; only his thought that the two men would be alive gave him the courage to enter. Seeing the commissioner's condition, he now wished that he'd stayed outside. “J.J.? Is he alive?”

 

J.J. could only nod in response. Anything greater was beyond his ability.

 

“Dee?”

 

J.J. shook his head and nodded toward where Ryo and Drake were still holding each other crying. Ryo was shaking so hard they could see it from where they were.

 

“Sir,” Ted whispered as he knelt next to Berkley's head. He looked over the older man's blistered and charred skin and felt there was little hope of survival. It appeared that his head, entire left side, and both legs were burned beyond recognition. He looked away and tried to refocus his sight on anything else and spotted Dillon's body. “At least he won't be bothering us any more.” Ted turned back to J.J. and the two men exchanged angry glances. Both seemed to say, “Death was too painless for him.”

 

“Is there another victim?” The lead EMT asked when he saw Berkley's condition.

 

“Talk to Drake,” J.J. waved in Ryo and Drake's general direction. He was positive that Dee was dead; otherwise, the other two men would have been helping him instead of crying in each other's arms.

 

“He doesn't have much hope. I'm just doing triage,” The apologetic man explained.

 

Ted and J.J. nodded; even though they didn't like it, they understood the medic's position. J.J. held the commissioner's right hand and gently brushed his fingers over the older man's wrist. Ted touched the unburned side of Berkley's face, slowly pushing the few unburned hairs away from his damaged eyes. They tried to give him as much comfort as they could. He fought the urge to remove the mangled glasses; the wire frames had melted and the lenses appeared to be embedded in Berkley's face, completely covering his eyes.

 

The medic walked past Drake and Ryo and instead asked the lead firefighter on the hose team about survivors.

 

“Don't think so. I don't think he's alive,” He said as he pointed with his chin toward the walkways, now steaming from the water from the hose. “The fire's out in that area, just a little hot.”

 

“Thanks,” The medic said as he rushed over to the walkways. He knew when he reached it that the individual was dead; brain matter had seeped from his head and there was blood mixed with the water. “He's smiling.”

 

“That's weird,” Shannon said as she stopped next to him. “The bodies we get don't normally smile.” She looked the man over. In life, he'd been handsome with rich, dark-brown, almost black, hair and olive skin. Even in death, he looked attractive. His face was untouched by flame and he didn't even have any soot on him. “He looks like he could get up and walk away.”

 

“The damage is behind him.” The medic knelt down and checked for a pulse; finding none, he flipped open a sheet and laid it over the dead detective. “Guess that leaves Mr. Crispy.”

 

“I'll never understand your sense of humor, Jake,” His assistant said as she quirked an eyebrow at him. “I'll radio for the coroner.” She picked up her cell phone and followed through on her words. After a few minutes conversation, she discovered the coroner was already on his way and would arrive shortly. Once she'd reattached the cell phone to her belt, she knelt next to the other victim. “I hate burn victims,” She thought as she gently cut the front closures on the heavy fire coat. They needed to remove the material so they could examine the extent of the burns on the man's torso. When she tried pulling the material away, the man stirred and weakly cried out in pain. “This is going to have to wait until he's in the ER.”

 

“I know,” Jake replied while he continued to assess Berkley's airway, heart rate, blood pressure, and other information he could do in the field. He wrote up the basics and contacted the hospital. “I'll be bringing in one male, late-thirties/early-forties, with second and third degree burns over greater than 40% of his body. Pulse ninety and weak, BP seventy-five over forty, breathing is shallow and slow, weak response to pain stimuli.” He flipped off his radio and looked Berkley over again. “Where's all this blood coming from?”

 

“Isn't it from the burns?” J.J. asked. He'd moved enough that the medic had room to work on the commissioner; but, he'd stayed close enough to still hold Berkley's hand and give comfort.

 

“I don't think so,” The medic said slowly as he gently removed the fire coat away from the Berkley's right side. With the widened field of view, he spotted a small hole in the man's vest and quickly cut open the vest and shirt, carefully removing the fabric from Berkley's right side, leaving the left, burned side intact. “That explains the bleeding.” He finished tearing through the shirt and vest so he could more easily inspect the injury. “Mercy, Jake again, I have an update on the burn patient. He also has a bullet wound to the lower right chest with pronounced bleeding. Have a trauma team waiting for our arrival.” As he spoke, he pressed a thick compress over the entrance wound; when it soaked through in a matter of moments, he added several more. “Once he's on a board, we'll wrap his torso to hold these in place.”

 

The warehouse seemed to creak. “We've got to move him now, Jake,” The assistant prompted. “How do we stabilize him without hurting him more?”

 

“The third degree burns aren't a problem; but, he probably has second degree burns under the fire coat, his thighs, and pelvis.” He grimaced over the last part of his assessment as did J.J. and Ted. “Frankly, I'll be surprised if he makes it to the hospital,” He said quietly to his assistant.

 

“Sir?” J.J. started to question a moment before he felt Berkley's hand spasm, a short warning before he began coughing uncontrollably. Blood foamed at his mouth and he started to choke while struggling to breathe.

 

“Shit,” The assistant said as she struggled to get a firm hold on the fire coat, she didn't even think about the pain it might cause him. “Roll him.” She was able to roll Berkley enough that the blood drained from his mouth and nose, and flowed out instead of blocking his airway. “We need to get his neck stabilized and move him. Now!” Her voice was a clear order. Jake may have been the lead medic on the team; but, in some ways, she felt more in control because he tended to take more time to care for each patient. “He'll eventually learn that he has to move faster here. There are just too many calls to cover to give each person individual treatment.”

 

Jake nodded as he hit his radio and called for a gurney, cervical collar, and backboard. He gently wiped away the blood from Berkley's mouth and under his nose before helping Shannon return him to his back. He wiped away some of the last dribbles of blood and was shocked when some of what he though was charred skin pulled away without eliciting a response from the injured man. He wiped a little more and realized the skin underneath the black material was unscathed and a normal, healthy pink. “The blood protected his skin to some extent,” He realized with a start.

 

Ted could only watch in horror. “The bullet probably hit a lung. He's got to be bleeding into his chest.” He continued to make silent observations concerning the commissioner's condition. He had little medical training; but, all officers were required to learn basic and advanced first-aid during their training; and, he had his own experiences to draw on when looking at Berkley's burns. “He doesn't seem to be that uncomfortable. When they rolled him to his side, he didn't yell out in pain or anything. Maybe because he was in too much pain to feel anything else.” He tapped the medic's shoulder. “Why didn't he react when you rolled him?”

 

“Most of his burns are third degree; they don't hurt because the nerves are gone.” He looked at Ted's grimace and understood this would be hard on them as well. He'd only been working this position for four weeks. He'd been a trauma medic with the San Francisco EMS and a flight medic with the military before that. Jake had moved to New York City from San Francisco because his wife had gotten a job at New York's Mercy General Hospital. Since she was a burn specialist, she would probably be the doctor carrying for the victim when he reached the hospital. “I'll call and make sure she'd the one to work on him. I trust her experience.” One of the first things he'd been ribbed about was that he'd feel right at home being assigned to the 27th Precinct's ambulance route. When he'd ask what they'd all meant, he'd been shocked to be told that the whole precinct was a bunch of fruits. This had been his first run dealing directly with the men of the 27th and what he saw actually encouraged him. They were coming together to comfort a family member, he assumed, of a fallen comrade and seemed willing to support another member of their precinct that was close to death.

 

“What will happen to him?” J.J. asked in a soft, scared voice.

 

He knew from experience that in many cases where an injury could be terminal, the difference between life and death was sometimes as little as maintaining hope of recovery in the people around the victim. He didn't mind making an effort to explain what would happen to the injured man. Jake didn't know if it would make a difference; but, he was willing to try anything. “At the emergency room, they'll establish an airway so his breathing isn't impaired; I would intubate him here but I'm not sure how much damage was done to his throat. I could end up doing more harm than good. He's probably suffering from smoke inhalation and has some burning of his throat because of the hot air. His shallow breathing from his chest wound might have helped avoid some of that damage; but, I'm positive it didn't avoid all of it.” He soaked several dressings with saline solution and handed them to his assistant so she could wrap the victim's damaged left hand. “They'll need to determine the condition of his heart, kidneys, and whether or not his still healthy tissue is being adequately hydrated. Dehydration and poor circulation are common risks in burn patients. Once he's stabilized, he'll probably require surgery for the chest injury and debridement of the burned tissue.”

 

“What's debridement?” J.J. asked.

 

“It's where they surgically remove dead or damaged tissue.”

 

“Won't that hurt?” J.J. asked as Ted turned away.

 

“It can,” Jake admitted. “He'll require drugs for controlling the risk of infection, tetanus shots, and nutritional support. He might need surgery for removing scar tissue, oxygen, counseling, or a number of other treatments. Once a burn specialist has seen him, you'll know more. Is there someone you can contact, who can make medical decisions on his behalf? He's not in any condition to make them himself.”

 

“I'll talk to the chief,” Ted quickly said as he stood up and rushed out of the now smoldering warehouse, thankful to be away from the heat, smoke, and especially, the burned body of his commissioner.

 

J.J. knelt on the cold, wet concrete in shock. He couldn't believe how much had changed since that morning. He'd lost one of his oldest friends on the police force; he was in danger of losing his superior; and worse, the one responsible was dead; so, he couldn't even take his anger out on chasing him down. The lavender-haired sniper did the only thing he could do; he directed his rage, grief, and other emotions toward the commissioner, hoping that someone could survive. “Sir,” He whispered. He wasn't sure if Berkley was still conscious; but, he could feel the older man's hand shiver in his. He didn't know if that was a normal reaction, shock setting in, or if there was more wrong with the man that they hadn't discovered yet. “Everything will be all right. We're all here for you and you're going to be taken care of.” J.J. quickly crawled around the working medics so he could be near Berkley's head. He brushed his fingers over the undamaged skin so the older man knew he was there.

 

“I think he wants you to hold his hand,” Shannon prompted as she nodded toward Berkley's twitching fingers. “Most victims of trauma want to have something to hold onto. It keeps them rooted in what's left of their lives.”

 

“Okay,” J.J. whispered after swallowing hard. “I just thought he was trying to say something. His lips keep moving.”

 

“Probably just reflex,” Jake mumbled as he moved to Berkley's legs and gently straightened the right one before applying saline soaked bandages to both limbs. The more he saw of the man's injuries, the more convinced he was that he would lose most of both legs, his hand, and probably most of the left side of his face. He'd seen few cases with burns this extensive that had survived and fewer still that survived intact, physically and mentally. “Maybe it would be more humane to give him pain medication and allow nature to take its course.” He sighed as he started to apply another bandage and berated himself for allowing such negativity into the situation. However, he had to wonder, not for the first time, at the expense and effort that would be invested in the injured man.

 

Ted returned with Marty. Ted was talking on a cell phone, yelling for someone to be put on the phone, that he didn't care that they were in a meeting. Marty was carrying a cervical collar and supporting the opposite end of the backboard Ted held. “I'm trying to get hold of his emergency contact. She's in California though. The chief wants to know if one of us can fill in for the time being?”

 

Jake nodded. It was against regulations but if it meant the difference between immediate treatment and waiting, he was certain the hospital would make an exception.

 

“Good,” Ted slammed the phone shut. “I'm really tired of dealing with the FBI. J.J., chief said for you to go with the ambulance and we'll continue trying to contact Agent Spacey.” He knelt down near Berkley's head. “The gurney should be here pretty soon. There was some problem and your ambulance driver was directed to another scene. Another should be here in five to ten minutes. Is there anything we can do?”

 

“Not right now.” Jake turned to J.J. and asked, “I assume you're J.J.?”

 

The lavender-haired man simply nodded. He could see Berkley was in serious condition and on one side; he didn't want to be responsible for his medical decisions. He knew there was a very real chance he would have to decide if the commissioner should be resuscitated or not. As badly injured as the man was, J.J. had to seriously think about what would be the best option. He knew why the chief had chosen him to accompany Rose to the hospital; the two men had dated many years before. However, they'd never discussed what they wanted to happen in the event they were severely injured on the job. That and death had been topics they had carefully avoided. Now, he wished they'd spoken about them at least once. The weight of the responsibility of the damaged man's life rested heavily on his shoulders.

 

“It's all right. You're not going to be asked to save his life, simply listen to doctors and tell them if their course of treatment is something this man would want.” Jake could see the indecision in J.J.'s expression and tried to reassure him. “You're not his emergency contact so you won't be responsible for withholding treatment, only guiding what happens.”

 

J.J. sighed and nodded again. “I'll do my best. I just wish I knew more of what he would have wanted.” He glanced at the huddled forms of Ryo and Drake and knew there was something else he needed to do before they left. “I'll be back.” He said as he released Rose's hand and stood. “I have to know something before we leave.”

 

“The other man is dead,” Jake said quietly. “He died on impact and probably didn't know what happened.”

 

“Thank you. I just need to see for myself.” He looked at Ryo and knew there was something even more important than seeing Dee's body. “He didn't deserve this.”

 

“No one deserves this.” Jake concentrated on stabilizing Berkley's head and neck. “Go. We'll be at least fifteen more minutes here.”

 

Not sure where to go first, J.J. started moving toward the place Ryo and Drake where huddled in each other's arms. Ryo's crying was strangely subdued in the massive warehouse. He wasn't sure if the brown-haired man was simply cried out and he'd missed the louder wails or if he was overwhelmed and unable to fully express his grief. When he was about ten feet away, his feet detoured around the two men and took him to the fallen slab of catwalk where a large white sheet had been spread. He knelt down on the now warm concrete and lifted the edge of the covering. “He looks like he could wake up and walk away,” He whispered. With a shaking hand, he reached out to touch the side of Dee's face. How he wanted to glomp the raven-haired man one last time. “Good bye,” J.J.'s voice cracked. “I'm sorry. Good bye, Dee-Sempai.” He allowed the sheet to fall back over the body and returned to where Ryo was still crying in Drake's arms.

 

“Ryo,” J.J. whispered.

 

“He can't hear you,” Drake said as he rubbed over Ryo's shoulders. “I can't believe it.” Drake's lower lip shivered and J.J. could clearly see the tension in his lover's neck, shoulders, and hands.

 

“Maybe he can feel we're here.” J.J. knelt down and hugged Ryo against his chest.

 

“Maybe.” Drake didn't sound convinced. “How's the commissioner?”

 

J.J. looked to the ground. “Not good. Dillon tried burning him alive. His face,” He stopped because if he continued the full force of what had happened would hit him and he knew he'd be useless. “I've got to ride to the hospital with him. I'll stay with him until Diana Spacey gets here or until he …” This time J.J. couldn't go on. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I'm not up to this, Drake.”

 

“None of us are.” Drake gathered Ryo back against his chest. “I think they're ready to move. Go on, I'll see you at home.” The blond rubbed J.J.'s arm in silent support. “Take care of our commissioner. We can't lose anyone else.”

 

“We won't,” J.J.'s said with certainty. For the first time they'd entered the warehouse, he felt a tiny sense of hope.

 

“Good.”

 

J.J. hurried over to the waiting EMT'S. “He's going to make it.”

 

Shannon frowned and though, “I doubt it.” She was a realist when it came to her job. She'd been trained in Washington D.C. where gang shootings were a nightly occurrence. The things she'd seen had hardened her to the point where unless it was clear the patient was going to survive, she assumed they would die. It didn't lessen the effort she put out for them, just tempered the hope she felt.

 

Even belted to the backboard and then the gurney, Berkley moved his hand trying to grasp something. J.J. caught his hand and held it. The older man seemed to quiet down and relax. His breathing was less labored and the stress, while still evident on his face, seemed bearable.

 

“It's going to be all right, Sir.” J.J. brushed two of his fingers over Berkley's unburned cheek. “I'm here. The entire precinct is here.” He easily kept pace with the gurney and refused to release his superior's hand even as they loaded him into the ambulance.

 

The ride to the hospital seemed like something out of a nightmare. Every movement that jarred Rose seemed to pull sounds of pain out of the older man and even after pain killers were administered, he would periodically whimper. J.J. was surprised that Berkley's lips continued moving, silently mouthing the words, “I'm sorry” and “How's Dee?” over and over. Since he had no words that would comfort the injured man, J.J. stayed silent.

 

~~~~~

 

“All right, we're clear.” The fire chief's words sent his men scrambling to gather their equipment. They would leave one hose down in case of flare-ups or new hot spots; but, the main fire was out and they would be needed for other calls.

 

“What's the reason you didn't move in sooner? That killed my man.” The chief was barely holding it together. He might have made Dee's life hell at times; but, the young man had been one of his favorite cops. He'd always believed the crazy pain in the butt would take his job some day.

 

“I hate to lose anyone. We were informed this was a hazmat warehouse and had dangerous chemicals in it that my men aren't certified to handle. It wasn't until headquarters started checking more that they realized it was a screw up. If we'd gone in without clearance and the warehouse was filled with chemicals, I'd have lost more than just one man. I could have lost my entire crew along with all the cops that went in with us.” The fire chief was irritated and could understand the other man's anger. “I'm sorry.”

 

“He was,” The chief stopped himself. “Just clear your men out. We already know this was arson and a very sophisticated case of arson at that. The man responsible is already dead so we won't need your report right away. Frankly, I don't want to deal with you right now.”

 

“Yeah.” The fire chief turned back toward his men and pointed to three of the youngest ones. “You three stay here with #2. Maintain a single hose for hot spots and flare ups. There shouldn't be any but you never know.” He signaled for the ladder and two pump trucks to head out and as the main ladder truck rolled past him, easily swung onto the steps at the rear of the cab.

 

The chief glared at the exiting trucks and was strangely relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with the pompous fire chief any more for the time being. “Let's get things cleared up.” He looked around at the rest of the team he'd called in from the precinct. “He owe this to Dee and Berkley to make sure Dillon didn't have any help.” He entered the warehouse and was immediately drawn to the sheet covered body of his detective. He hadn't been able to force himself to look at the commissioner, as he was loaded into the ambulance; the chief wasn't sure he'd be able to look at a man, burned alive, and not throw up. With short commands, he distributed the teams around the building. They knew what they were doing and would do it well since it was their own who had fallen.

 

“Chief,” Drake said quietly as the older man approached them. “He's exhausted. Can someone help me get him to a car? I need to get him out of here.”

 

“I'll help you in a minute. I just have to see for myself.” The chief started toward the sheet-covered body but was jerked back by Ryo's voice.

 

“Please. I need to see him one last time.”

 

“I don't think you should, Ryo,” Drake whispered.

 

“I need to.” Ryo's voice sounded weak and broken but there was a hint of strength there as well. “I owe him that much.”

 

“Okay,” The chief said with a sigh as he stepped back to help Ryo to his feet. He reached out to help Drake up as well. “I'm glad I don't have to do this alone.”

 

“I wish we didn't have to do this at all.” Drake's words were true for all of them.

 

They walked to their fallen comrade and just stood there for several minutes. None of them wanted to uncover Dee. Each had their own reasons. Drake didn't want to see his best friend's body again; the chief didn't want to see the young cop, who'd been strangely like his own son, dead. Ryo was afraid of seeing his lover's fallen body; knowing as long as he didn't see the truth with his own eyes, he could lie to himself and convince his heart that he hadn't lost his first love.

 

“I can't do this,” Ryo whispered. “Dee's not dead. He can't be.”

 

The chief sighed. “I can't believe it either. He deserves justice. Was anyone else involved? Dillon had to have help. No one could have pulled this off on their own.” The old man knelt down next to the sheet shrouded body and pulled it back. “Do you know if he was alone?” He couldn't believe how alive, Dee still looked. The only indication he was dead were the streaks of blood that ran from the back of his head.

 

“No,” Ryo whispered as he knelt next to the chief. “No.”

 

The chief reached out and opened Dee's fingers. One part of his mind screamed not to touch the fallen detective; the other screamed to give Ryo something to hold onto so he could grieve. He pulled the rosary from Dee's grasp and looked at Ryo. “He would have wanted you to have this.” He pressed the well-worn beads into the young-man's hand and closed his fingers over it. “Evidently it brought him peace in the end.”

 

The only response was Ryo's sob.

 

Drake carefully covered Dee's body again and watched as Ryo seemed to close off his sorrow. “Ryo?”

 

“We need to get this scene processed. Dillon had to have help.” Ryo climbed to his feet and looked around the warehouse. “This took a lot of time to put together. I know he's been out for a year; today was the one year anniversary of his release. Look at all this. I haven't handled many arson cases so correct me if I'm wrong. This,” He swept his arm around to indicate the entire building as he continued speaking, “Would have taken time, hours, maybe days to set up.”

 

“Ryo?” Drake asked.

 

“I can't deal with Dee's death right now. I have to do something.” Ryo's quiet words hinted at the grief he was holding in while still reflecting his inner strength. “Please, I have to do this for him. If there's someone else out there, we have to find him so Dee will,” Ryo's voice cracked. He took a breath and continued. “So Dee will be able to rest in peace.”

 

Drake looked at Ryo's clenched fists and watched two drops of blood drip from his right hand and ripple in the shallow pool of water at his feet. “Open you hand, Ryo. Wear the rosary, don't imbed it in your hand.”

 

“Oh,” Ryo opened his hand and quickly wiped the silver and pearl beads on his shirt. “This should be returned to Mother Lane.”

 

“Keep it for now, Ryo,” The chief's voice was quiet but broached no argument. “We'll handle Dillon.”

 

Ryo stepped to the opposite side of the catwalk and picked up Dee's weapon. With a practiced snap of the wrist, he opened the barrel. “Six shots. He had one empty chamber; but, there are six spent shells.” He sniffed the shells. He knew Dee had practiced earlier and had cleaned his weapon afterward. “I don't think he reloaded. He normally didn't carry reloads for his backup weapon.”

 

“Why was he using his backup? He's been allowed to carry a semi since Rose gave him clearance.” The chief frowned. It wasn't like Dee to use a revolver if he had the option of a semi-auto.

 

“I don't know. Did he still have his primary?”

 

As Drake was getting ready to check, one of the women from SVU yelled from the back of the warehouse that she'd found a weapon. “That might be it,” Drake said as he straightened. He threw a general thank you to whatever deity had stepped in so he didn't have to check the body of his best friend.

 

“Where is it?” Ryo asked as he walked to where the woman was working. “Dee's weapon. Have you already documented it?”

 

“It's clear.”

 

Ryo snapped a pair of gloves into place and picked the weapon up. He dropped the clip and after checking the number of rounds left, checked the chamber. “Full clip and one in the chamber. He must have dropped it when he was climbing this ladder.” He reloaded the weapon automatically as he looked up the ladder until his eyes hit the point where the steel had bowed and snapped from the concentrated heat of the fire. He whimpered a moment before regaining control over his emotions. Ryo shifted the weapon to his left hand and noticed the melted groove in the grip. “He had to know there was something wrong. Look at this.”

 

Drake and the chief looked at the weapon. “It didn't matter. He must have believed Dillon was on the catwalks.” Drake reached out and touched the melted plastic. “It takes a lot of heat to do this. Why would he take the chance?”

 

“He was an excellent officer.” The chief's quiet words said it all. They all knew Dee was willing to beyond the call of duty if that's what was required to accomplish a goal.

 

“Only six shots.” Ryo's words were spoken under his breath.

 

“Dillon was as good as dead when he decided to take on the 27th,” Drake said. The undercurrent of anger covered up his own grief.

 

“Let's check the body,” The chief directed. “Then, we need to get an update from J.J..”

 

The quiet reminder of their commissioner's battle sent an icy chill down all their backs.

 

“Yeah,” Ryo said with a sigh, “The body.”

 

As he walked away, the two men left behind had to mentally ask if Ryo was referring to Dillon or Berkley. They hurried to catch up to the detective.

 

“What we got?” Ryo asked the coroner when he reached her. “You're new.”

 

“Yeah. Just transferred in thirty minutes ago. Jennifer Scott,” She introduced herself as she glanced at the handsome detective standing over her. “Just came up from Boston. Do you know what was over there?” She waved a bloody hand toward the place Berkley had laid.

 

“Yes. This bastard tried to burn our commissioner alive.” Ryo knelt down and looked closely at Dee's shot. “Right through the spinal cord.”

 

“Perfect shot. If he'd been hit with a real bullet, I could carry his head in a separate bag.”

 

“Would have served him right,” The venom in Ryo's voice carried his words to the coroner.

 

“You said, `tried to burn our commissioner alive,' he was taken to the hospital?” Jennifer Scott continued going over the fallen arsonist. “Shit, get back,” She exclaimed as she jumped away from the body. “He's wired.”

 

“What?” The chief asked as he and Drake reached the other pair. Seconds later, the walls burst into flames again; a moment after that, Dillon's shirt began smoking and a tiny tongue of fire began lapping along his side. “Get out of here.”

 

The chief's command sent SVU and his own officers in motion. “Dee's body, we're not leaving it.”

 

“Let's move,” The coroner commanded as she grabbed her kit. “Get that hose team in here and get these flames out. We need answers.”

 

One of the people from SVU yelled for the firemen as the three men and Dr. Scott reached the place where Dee had fallen. Jennifer swept the sheet back and began her exam. She was getting ready to roll the body when someone yelled that the fire department had cleared out, they were on their own.

 

“Shit.” She turned toward the chief. “Are you expecting to find anything here that will be used in trial?”

 

“No.”

 

“Pick him up and get him out of here.” Thirty minutes into her first shift at her new assignment and she was already breaking the rules. Her trainers would be so proud. “Wait, one minute.” The smoke was starting to fill the remnants of the warehouse. “Just in case.” She placed plastic bags over each of Dee's hands and snapped a few pictures of where he'd fallen. “We can't wait for a body bag. Just pick him up and let's get out of here.”

 

“I've got him. It's the least I can do,” Ryo said quietly as he coughed in the thickening smoke. He gently gathered his lover into his arms and headed to the exit. “I don't remember it being this bad when we came in.” He began coughing harshly.

 

“It wasn't,” Drake said between his own coughing. He pulled his hand away from his mouth and gasped at the blood on his palm. “Oh, shit.”

 

“The chief's information was right. Everyone clear out!” His yell carried through out the building. “This is a chemical fire. Stay low and cover your mouth and nose.” He pulled out and handkerchief and held it over his face.

 

Drake tore his shirt and used part of it to cover his own face. When Ryo faltered and almost dropped Dee's body, Drake shoved the rest into his hands and took Dee from him. “Cover your face.”

 

It took several more minutes to get outside. Several minutes later they had a head count. “Everyone accounted for,” One of the SVU personnel reported before returning to sit down to try to recover.

 

“We need to keep moving,” Chief Smith prompted. “Put Dee in the coroner's vehicle. We need to load up and get away from these fumes.”

 

“Should we call for an evacuation of the warehouse district?” Drake asked as he looked around. He knew when they were running around there hadn't been anyone around. Everything looked abandoned.

 

“Don't think that's necessary,” Marty said as he walked over. “Ted and I were checking the rest of the buildings in the vicinity. They're all empty.”

 

“There's Ted,” Drake thought as he found the red-head helping one of the SVU men move further away from the building. Everyone jumped as more sections of the warehouse collapsed sending ash into the air. “Let's get out of here.” He moved to Ryo's side and touched the back of the detective's neck. He'd taken Dee's body back as soon as they'd been outside and now sat holding him close to his chest. “Ryo, you need to release him.” Drake picked up Dee's body and carried him to the coroner's vehicle. He had to step away when Dr. Scott and two men from SVU placed him in a body bag. “Oh, god,” He whimpered as they zipped it closed.

 

Everyone looked up as a small fleet of vehicles pulled into the parking lot. “What the hell are you doing here?” The leader of the team jumped off the first truck. “This is a chemical fire.”

 

“We know,” The chief said sarcastically. He had another coughing fit.

 

“Get some oxygen over here!” The small hazmat team jumped into action. Within minutes, everyone was getting oxygen and a quick once over. Twenty minutes later, the warehouse was covered with chemical foam. Two of the team members came over and showed the team leader their readings. “Okay, all clear!”

 

As everyone removed their masks, they breathed a sigh of relief. The fire hadn't gotten out of hand and the chemicals had dissipated quickly. The wind had been blowing over the river and wouldn't endanger the rest of the city. “You guys shouldn't have gone inside. I thought we gave orders not to enter the building?”

 

“A call came through clearing the fire team that was here. They went in, put out the flames, and said we could proceed.” The chief's explanation showed the strain in his voice but at least he wasn't coughing any more.

 

“I don't know where they got their information but we didn't give them clearance. We would have been here sooner; except for a call of a fire in a chemical plant in Jersey.” The team leader pulled out a flashlight. “Open your mouth.” He checked the chief's mouth and was relieved to see there wasn't any new bleeding. “This must have been a mild blistering agent.”

 

“Like mustard gas?”

 

“Among others.” He flashed light up the chief's nostrils and checked his exposed skin. “Seems to only affect the mucus membranes. We'll need to test for the specific chemical. I'd recommend going to the emergency room, just to be safe.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Drake sat on the curb next to the chief. “Everyone seems to be breathing better and we have everything we can get from here. Let's find out how the commissioner is.”

 

The two men looked at each other. Their eyes said the same thing, “I'm afraid to find out if he made it.” Neither of them was sure which outcome they were hoping for.

 

“Clear out,” The chief ordered. “Drake, Ryo, Marty, Ted, you're with me in the command vehicle. We'll send someone for the vehicles.”