Author: laoisbabe PM
The Reagans are left reeling after the Commissioner is taken and held for ransom. Can they get their father back alive?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - Frank R. & Danny R. - Chapters: 7 - Words: 17,182 - Reviews: 43 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 08-24-12 - Published: 07-26-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8361511
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Blue Bloods.
"Good morning, Francis."
"Morning, Pops," Frank replied, without looking up from his newspaper and then taking a mouthful of coffee. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, vest and tie, his attire reflected the importance of his position. The New York City Police Commissioner had to look the part.
"Is the coffee fresh?" Henry asked, plodding towards the coffee pot in his bedroom slippers.
"Yeah," Frank replied, looking over the rim of his glasses.
Henry poured himself a generous cup before taking up a seat opposite his son at the kitchen table.
"Are you finished with the sports section?" Henry asked.
Frank pushed the sports pages across to his father. It was just another typical Monday morning in the Reagan household. Both father and son had enjoyed a lovely Sunday lunch surrounded by family, just the way they liked it. Danny, Linda and the boys had come over. Erin and Nicky had stayed the Saturday night and spent all of Sunday with them. Jamie, Frank's youngest son, was in the middle of a tour of night duty so they had hardly seen him the whole weekend. But for both Frank and Henry it meant a lot having them around.
"Busy day ahead?" Henry asked, knowing from experience that almost every day was a busy day for the Police Commissioner.
"Well, put it this way, Pops, this is probably the only cup of coffee that I will sit and enjoy in peace today," Frank replied, smiling over at his aged father.
"I'd better top it up for you then," Henry said, getting to his feet and bringing the coffee pot to the table.
He poured the steaming black liquid into Frank's cup with care.
"Thanks, Pop," Frank said, "but I'm running late. Baker's already outside waiting in the car," he told him, referring to Detective Melissa Baker, his reliable assistant, who ensured that he got to all of his engagements fully briefed and on time.
Frank stood, unconsciously checked his side arm and reached for his overcoat that he had left draped over the back of a vacant kitchen chair. Once he had it on, he took one last swig from his coffee mug and put the remaining half slice of buttered toast in his mouth, grabbed his briefcase and headed for the front door.
"See ya tonight, Pop!"
"Have a good day, son," Henry replied, by now engrossed in the sports pages.
The black Police Department SUV was waiting by the sidewalk outside Frank's house, as it was every morning, just one of the perks of the job. Frank had his own driver, who also doubled as a security officer, and a second officer assigned as his protection detail. This morning he recognised Detective Fisher at the rear door of the car, waiting for him to emerge from the house. Detective Baker was sitting in the back seat of the SUV, with files on her knees, waiting to brief him on the journey into the city.
Frank exited the house and started down the steps towards the car. As he neared the SUV, a white van drove slowly up the street towards them. There was nothing unusual about that, Frank thought, probably a delivery company looking for an address. That was until he noticed the side door of the van slide open.
Immediately his instincts kicked in and told him that something was wrong, but before he had time to shout a warning, the shooting started. Frank ran down the remaining steps towards the car for cover and reached for his side arm. Fisher had already drawn his weapon and was returning fire, all the while attempting to shield the Commissioner. Automatic gunfire riddled the SUV and the area around it. Glass rained down on them from the exploding windows. Frank looked through the open door of the SUV and was horrified to see Baker slumped on her side, blood soaking her blouse. There was no movement from the driver in the front seat, so Frank had to presume that he too was injured or worse.
Both Fisher and Frank returned fire as best they could, but it was obvious that they were seriously outgunned. Two gunmen emerged from the van and came running towards the trapped men. Another burst of fire and Fisher went down. Frank was convinced that he was going to die today, but he had made up his mind that he wasn't going down without a fight. He continued firing until he had exhausted his ammunition.
Henry was in the kitchen when all the commotion broke out. He instantly recognised the sound of automatic gunfire and knew his son was in trouble. He grabbed the phone and dialled 911. As he ran to the gun safe in the living room, he gave the operator a precise description of the emergency. He then hung up, unlocked the safe and took out his old service .45. He loaded it and ran to the front door in time to see Detective Fisher go down. He yelled a futile warning from the front porch, which distracted the gunmen momentarily and gave Frank the chance to charge one of them and wrestle him to the ground. Henry fired a couple of rounds at the other, who quickly turned and returned a hail of lead in his direction. Henry had no choice but to get down and take cover. The glass in the front door shattered and the wood splintered as bullets riddled the front of his house. With one of the gunmen on the ground, Frank scrambled to his feet and tried to make a run for the cover of the house, but he wasn't quick enough. He had only climbed back up a couple of steps when the van driver jumped out, armed with a pistol, and fired a couple of times in his direction.
Frank realised that he had been hit when he felt the hot lead bite into his thigh. His leg immediately went from under him and he landed heavily on the steps. He found himself on the ground, helpless and at the mercy of his attackers. His gun empty, there was nothing to do but wait for the end. He looked up into the merciless eyes of the man who had shot him, trying to gauge what he was going to do next. The other two gunmen were over quickly, one of them angrily chastising the guy standing over Frank.
"Idiot! Come on!" he yelled. "Help me get him in the van."
With that, two pairs of rough hands grabbed Frank under his arms and dragged him unceremoniously into the van, despite his protests and cries of pain. He still protested loudly once they had him inside, which earned him a wallop in the face with the butt of a weapon. It silenced him immediately. Everything blurred and slowly faded as Frank lost consciousness.
From behind the pillar, Henry heard his son's cries, then a screech of tires before an eerie silence descended. With his gun at the ready, he shakily got to his feet and checked the area. It was a shocking sight. The black SUV was peppered with bullet holes and he could see one of the officers down at the open door at the rear of the car where he had last seen his son.
"Francis!" he yelled, his eyes searching for his son.
Unable to see behind the wall at the front of his house, he descended the steps to the sidewalk, expecting to see the body of his son on the sidewalk. But to his surprise he wasn't there. Some of Henry's neighbours peered out of their windows and one or two braver souls ventured out, having heard the gunfire. They were shocked and stunned at what they had just witnessed.
Henry approached the SUV and balked at the sight of Detective Fisher lying in a pool of blood near the open door of the SUV. He reached over and felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one. As he turned, he looked into the car and saw the blonde hair strewn across the back seat and knew Melissa was hurt. He reached in and felt her pulse. It was pretty strong he noted. She groaned slightly at his touch and was starting to come around.
"You're going to be all right, Melissa. You're going to be fine," he said, comforting the injured young woman. "Francis!" he called once more, hoping for a reply, but there was no sign of his son.
He walked around to the driver's side of the car and opened the door to check the driver. But he could tell before he even checked that the poor man was dead.
"Henry! My God! Are you okay?" his neighbour, Ted, asked as he tentatively approached the scene.
"What? I, eh, I'm fine," Henry replied shakily. "Did you call 911?"
"Yes, help is on the way. Are they dead?" he asked, looking at the downed officers.
"This poor man is. The others are alive but need to get to the hospital. Did you see what happened to Francis?" Henry asked, feeling guilty that he hadn't been able to help his son.
"They bundled him into the van and took off," Ted told him. "They turned right at the intersection, that's all I can tell you."
Henry could hear the sirens in the distance and felt some comfort knowing help was on the way. He turned his attention to Detective Baker, who was groggy and confused and starting to panic. He opened the rear door and talked to her, trying to keep her calm.
"See if you can help the other officer," Henry said to Ted.
Ted rounded the car and knelt beside Detective Fisher. He could see three bullet holes; two had thankfully gone into his ballistics vest and one which had missed the vest and entered his lower abdomen. He decided to keep pressure on the bleeding wound. The officer remained unconscious. Henry kept pressure on a wound to Detective Baker's arm and tried to keep her calm. There was another wound to her temple but it looked like a graze. She had been lucky, Henry realised.
"Where's the PC?" Baker asked, her voice weak and pained.
"Ssh," Henry said, gently stroking her forehead. "You're going to be fine."
"Frank?" Baker insisted. "Where…..? Is he hurt?"
"No, he's not hurt," Henry replied, deliberately avoiding eye contact. "Ssh…the ambulance is here. You're going to be fine, Melissa. Just take it easy, okay?"
Jamie Reagan and Sgt. Renzulli were coming to the end of their night tour when Jamie received a call from his Captain.
"Reagan, there's something going on at home. You need to go home, now," the Captain told him.
"Why? What's happened?" Jamie asked, sensing the urgency in his Captain's voice.
"Not sure exactly," he replied truthfully. "All I know is that there were shots fired and multiple 911 calls from residents in the area."
"Ah, hell. Thanks, Captain," Reagan said, hanging up and looking at his sergeant.
"What's going on, Reagan?" Renzulli asked, noting the change in the young man's demeanour.
"An emergency at home, shots fired. Can you give me a ride?" Jamie asked, unable to disguise his concern.
"Sure, kid," Renzulli replied, turning the car and hitting the siren.
As they raced towards the Reagan home, Jamie called his brother Danny.
"Danny, where are you?" Jamie asked, panic evident in his voice.
"At home, getting the boys ready for school. Why? What's wrong?" Danny asked, sensing the panic.
"There's something going on at home. Reports of shots fired," Jamie informed him.
"What? Is Dad okay?" Danny asked, understandably shocked.
"I don't know. We're on our way over there now," Jamie told him.
"Okay, I'll be straight over," Danny said before hanging up. He ran to tell Linda that he needed to get home and promised that he'd call her when he knew more.
Jamie's heart skipped a beat when their patrol car rounded the corner onto the street where he grew up. He saw the throng of ambulances and black and whites outside his house. He could see paramedics working furiously on one wounded person on the sidewalk. Renzulli pulled up a little way up the street and Jamie got out and ran towards the SUV. He saw his grandfather, standing in his robe, looking on as someone, he couldn't see who, was receiving medical attention in the back of an ambulance.
"Grandpa?" he called as he ran up to the elderly gent.
"Jamie. Thank, God," Henry said, throwing his arms around his youngest grandson.
"Where's Dad?" Jamie asked. "Is he hurt?"
"They took him, Jamie," Henry told him sombrely.
"Took him? What do you mean?" Jamie asked. "To the hospital?"
"No. Ted saw them bundle him into a van," Henry elaborated.
"I don't understand. You're saying someone kidnapped him? Why? Why would they do that?" Jamie had nothing but questions.
Henry couldn't answer. The stress of the morning's antics was taking its toll. He swayed slightly and grasped the side of the ambulance. Jamie reached out and grabbed him before he fell.
"Maybe you should sit down," Jamie suggested, realising that the stress would not help his grandfather's heart condition. "Or go to the hospital and get checked out?"
"No, I'm fine. I could do with a drink, though," Henry admitted, shaking off the younger man's concern and heading towards his house.
Jamie tried to find out about those injured. He was relieved to see Detective Baker conscious, albeit in considerable pain. The ambulance containing Detective Fischer closed up and they took off quickly to the hospital. Jamie turned and looked at the SUV. The body of the driver, Detective Cooper, was now covered by a sheet, left in situ for the CSU he presumed. He had started to follow his grandfather towards the house when an unmarked car screeched to a halt outside the cordoned off area. He recognised his brother as he jumped from the car, flashed his badge to an officer and jogged towards him.
"Hey," he said breathlessly. "What happened? Where is he?"
Jamie looked at his brother and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't find the words.
"What is it? Is he…?" Danny couldn't say it.
"No. I mean I don't know," Jamie stammered. "They took him."
"The paramedics?" Danny asked, getting more confused by the second.
"No, Danny!" Jamie shouted. "They took him. Someone kidnapped him."
"Kidnapped? Jesus!" Danny said, realising the seriousness of the situation. "So who's in charge?"
"I don't know. I just got here. It's all a bit of a mess," Jamie explained. "His security detail has been shot. One is dead, two on the way to the hospital."
Danny ran his hand through his hair. These guys meant business. The brother's brothers entered the house and they found their grandfather , sipping a large brandy, a slight shake visible in his hands.
"You okay, Grandpa?" Danny asked with concern.
"I've had better mornings," Henry replied, trying to muster a smile.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Danny asked, sitting down beside the shaken old man.
"I didn't see it all. I was in the kitchen having breakfast," he explained. "Your father had just left. I heard the shooting. I grabbed my old service weapon. When I got to the door, your father was pinned down beside the SUV and was returning fire. Then the young man got hit and went down. I fired off a few rounds and they turned their attentions to me for a while. I took cover and by the time I got back on my feet, it was over and they were gone."
"And you're sure they took him?" Danny asked.
"Ted saw it all from his living room window," Henry replied.
"So, what do we do now, Danny?" Jamie asked, expecting his big brother to be on top of it.
"Right now, there's not a lot we can do. I guess we have to wait," Danny sighed in frustration.
"Wait? For what?"
"If they took him, we have to presume they took him for a reason. So we wait for them to make contact and see what they want," Danny replied.
"But what if they kill him?" Jamie asked.
"If they wanted him dead, he'd be lying out there on the sidewalk," Danny pointed out. "We may not like it, but we don't have a choice. I mean we can check traffic cameras and maybe catch the van on one, but the chances of following it to their destination is unlikely. Best thing we can do is wait for their call and hope the Mayor or whoever decides to play ball."
A/N - Thats it for Chapter 1. Would love to hear what you think so far. You know what to do!