Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“you good, kid?” hondo asks from the opposite seat of black Betty, a concerned frown on his face as Luca run over a bump.

“yup.” is street’s answer, sweet and short.

but truth is, he’s falling down a rabbit hole, and he’s falling deep.

It has been barely a month since Nate’s death - it was all a blur, really. a few days ago he attended the funeral he arranged on his own; There were few people he recognised and those whose faces he couldn’t bother to look at.

That’s when it hit him - Nate was truly gone now. His brother was dead, and it was his fault. There would be no more handshakes, hugs, Street will never be able to say ‘thanks, I owe you’ for the hundredth time to him, because he’s gone. 

God, he feels so alone. 

from as far as he can remember, his first feeling is one of loneliness. In his earliest memories, he felt as though someone recently left him, the warmth of a hand evaporating from his shoulder and then coming back to hit him. 

But the ones that caused that feeling were gone. Buck walked into his life, then Nate. And now Nate was gone, and he had nearly lost Buck to suicide as well. 

to suicide .

The word echoes through his mind. Buck had felt so helpless and lonely that he looked at his gun and saw a way out .

loneliness is not a hard feat for him; many feel lonely at times, but this is an ache that feels apart of him.

This isolation he’s resigned himself to feels like it’s clawing through his skin and making lacerations across his whole body.

everybody feels so far away - It feels as if he’s lying dormant with a rot festering in his core.

He’s no good at sitting by himself, he’s never been, but he’s also no good at people, at loving, being loved.

he’s desperate for this ache to fade. He longs for a home but that concept feels so far away right now.

He’s also gone a long time without a hug - the last person that hugged him was Nate. 

Maybe it’s his own fault for shutting everyone out.

He partially can’t help it. He’s just so exhausted, and this urge to run away from what he loves is a sort of sadism he no longer pretends to understand.

He wants to go back. Maybe just five minutes before Nate died - just so he could try to change his fate, to save him. 

Maybe he could’ve done something different and Nate would be here right now.

He wants everything back, the way it was. But there’s no point to it, this wanting. 

Black Betty comes to a halt, indicating that they are here. The 20-David team has been chasing a serial strangler for a few days now - Street didn’t bother learning too many details, He knows how the suspect looks to identify and detain him, so that’s that.

Everyone hops out of the armored car, surprised by the sudden harsh, freezing winds. It is indeed February, but it usually doesn’t get this cold. Damn, Street should’ve brought his jacket. Besides all the gear, he only has a t-shirt and pants on. Hopefully this will end fast. 

“Listen up people,” Hondo starts as the team gathers around. “I know it’s been a rough week, and I know that a speech is the last thing that you need right now, so let’s finish this quickly and go home, alright?” He said, casting another concerned glance at Street. As the team gives him nods of agreement, he continues. “Alright. Deacon and Tan will enter the building from the window on the two-side, Luca and Chris from the back and me and Street from the front.” 

they split up, readying themselves for breaching. 

In that millisecond, Street allows himself to forget. Forget about his own life, problems, whatever. Here, he’s a swat officer in his prime, doing what he was born to do. Here, he is not grieving the loss of a brother. Here, he is not affected by the lack of caring parents. Here, he isn’t himself. He’s a swat officer, a damn good one, and that’s all that matters. 

Allowing himself to acknowledge the surroundings around the house is a good idea as well - The house is more like a cabin and it's practically located in the depth of the woods. The green grass moves along with the wind, and clouds gather in the sky, indicating rain. There’s a creek surrounding the cabin, and a bridge crossing over it. A nice place, reall—

“Now!” Hondo yells into his radio, causing Street to focus on their mission as he kicks down the front door of the cabin that SWAT supposed is the suspect’s hideout. It’s extremely large, so it’s possible that one of the victims could be here as well.

They enter the cabin,  hearing rushing footsteps and broken glass in all the chaos. 

“he’s running!” Chris calls into the radio, sprinting to follow the suspect, though not fast enough. 

“He's headed for the bridge!” She informs when she realizes that she wont get him fast enough. “someone grab him!” 

“I got him,” Street says, pulling his weapon away and beginning to run after the suspect. He gotta say, he’s pretty impressed with the swiftness, despite the guy being big as hell. 

They make it to the rocky, old and mossy bridge. The target stops abruptly, turning around with a swing. 

Adrenaline courses through his veins, and god does he enjoy it. His trained instincts do the job of dodging the swing, and he throws his own. 

Like a couple of stray cats fighting, they continue going at it, until Street slips a mistake, and the suspect overpowers him.

He braces himself for a punch, a kick, or god forbid anything worse, but the only thing he is met with is the coldness of the water. 

For a second, he thinks that he’s being waterboarded again, like when it happened when whip was taken by bettiga and Street was fighting off one of bettiga’s men.

But now he realizes that the suspect, seeing the perfect opportunity, grabbed Street and jumped into the water beneath them. 

and is now holding him down.

At that point, it feels as if all the air in the world ran out. Which would technically be true, since he’s currently under water.

The fact that the sky is darkening outside does not make it better. He can barely see the bottom of the river. In fact, he can barely see anything. 

He feels the hands on his neck, holding him down. Trying to understand where the suspect is located, he starts trying to land a punch on the guy, to make the guy get his filthy hands off of him.

But it doesn’t fucking work.

Then, the panic starts. 

He tries his best to thrust his head above the water but it seems to be only bringing him down, with the hands around his throat making it worse. He claws at them in attempt to free himself, but he feels his senses getting weaker and weaker.

His body desperate for air, he inhales. 

And isn’t that the worst mistake he’s ever made?

He breathes in a mouthful of water, the liquid going straight to his lungs and burning. His chest aches, along with the pain in his lungs, and he sputters for air, desperate for it.

But it never comes. 

Instead, comes the numb feeling across his body, the tingling, the muffled yells, and the hands that were wrapped around his throat finally leaving.

He wants to cry out, to scream, to breathe , but the water seems to be everywhere — around him, in his eyes, mouth, lungs .

God, he’s going to die here.

This is it; this is how he’s going to go. 

In pain, in agony.

Fighting, only because it’s his body’s instinct to survive.

The gurgles of unshed tears engulfs him in one gigantic tide that he cannot seem to get above.

Whenever he tries, his face is pushed down again.

This is it. 

This is how he’ll go.

His screams drowned out by these waves as he drowns in his own unshed tears.

And then, the panic disappears. 

And for a second, he thinks — very quietly;

Isn’t this what he’s been longing for?

Isn’t this the answer to his prayers?

Isn’t this the solution to his problems?

He feels the unconsciousness embrace him with open arms and warmth , lungs no longer burning. 

He feels the splash of water of something, or someone, jumping into it, and there’s a blurry face coming closer that he doesn’t bother to recognise. 

It could be the suspect, or maybe Luca.

He doesn’t care. Not anymore.

He closes his eyes; he lets himself go.

Chapter Text

When Street opens his eyes again, it's quiet and he sees everything blurry. 

Darkness.

The water.

Luca. 

Wait.

Luca? 

In a millisecond, that's also much too slow, he can feel himself being pulled out of the water. The freezing breeze causes him to shiver violently, and his body, as if on instinct, latches onto whoever is next to him, and that turns out to be Luca.

Shit, Luca just saved him.

The older man holds Street close, trying to catch his own breath. After getting the big ass suspect out of the water and then getting Street out as well, he deserves a tiny break.

Street’s vision is blurry, but he can still see the team run over and drape their jackets over him and Luca.

God, it is cold.

And he is alive.

——

He’s alive. 

He almost died, and the world didn’t end. 

The world didn’t stop when he was there, his screams drowned out by the wind and the water.

The world is still living. Still moving.

But he isn’t. At least he doesn’t feel like that.

He thought that a taste of death, a hint of his life ending, would soothe this ache.

But instead, it feels like it’s growing. 

“Officer Street?” 

His name being called catches his attention as he turns around to the source of the voice. 

That turns out to be Dr. Wendy, a person he’s been trying his best to avoid. After the mission that had gone wrong, Hondo wanted Street to have a talk with Wendy.

Which, if it isn’t clear, is something he wasn’t looking forward to, but here we are.

She ushers him to her office and invites him to sit across from her.

The last time he had sat here, in front of her, was when the whole Buck situation had happened.

Not a pleasant memory for a plain office. 

“I’ve been trying to catch you for a while, you know?” The woman smiled, trying her best to not look threatening, even though she basically just cornered him. Not that he’s saying anything. 

“Yeah, sorry.” He blinks, unsure what to do with himself. If once this room was like a safe place, a place where he’d love to pour his heart out, then now he feels suffocated. 

“Would you like to talk about what happened?” 

“You know I don’t really like talking.” he attempts a laugh, but it comes out more like a wet chuckle. Wow, not even a second in and he’s about to break down in tears. 

“you’re gonna have to let it out eventually. It’s not healthy, keeping your emotions shoved down for that long.” Dr. Wendy says, concern in her eyes.

“it’s only been 8 days.” 

“Only?” She tilts her head, doing her therapist-special skill thing where she reads someone’s mind by staring at them. 

Weird, if you ask him. But that’s just therapists, or at least he thinks so.

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“Of course I do.” He scoffs, not meaning to sound rude. 

“Tell me, then. Describe it to me.” she says, leaning back. 

Street raises an eyebrow, not sure if she’s actually serious. 

Okay, she is serious. Alright. 

“well…”

he knows the exact moment he’s hit the water — the coldness of it meets his back, not exactly embracing him with comfort. It feels more like he hit a brick wall before getting engulfed in the river. 

The next thing he feels are the hands around his throat, cutting off his air intake and pulling him further down to the bottom. 

and— fuck, he feels relief. 

“Relief?” She asks, brows knitted in a frown. 

“you could, uh, you could describe it like that, sure.” he hesitates, suddenly finding his hands very interesting as he fiddles with his fingers.

“Why do you think you felt relief when you were on the brink of drowning?” 

Street lets out a nervous chuckle, overwhelmed by the serious, all emotional questions. “I feel like I'm taking a school quiz right now.” 

Dr. Wendy’s face shows a serious expression, letting Street know that he won’t be able to change the subject.

“I guess— I guess with all the pressure, and, y’know, stress, from my brother’s death and stuff, made me think that maybe dying would be an easier way out.” He says, looking up to see Dr. Wendy’s reaction. “But, I mean, everyone has these thoughts once in a while, so..” 

“They’re not healthy thoughts.” She interrupts him, the worry on her face growing. 

Street frowns, a tad confused. “Are you suggesting that im suicidal?” 

“Are you still having those thoughts?” 

He shrugs, because he doesn’t truly know the answer to that. 

The discomfort is only growing with every question, and it seems to be noticeable, since Dr. Wendy suddenly gets up from her chair.

“We can continue another time if you don’t feel comfortable doing it today.” She says, grabbing some random papers from her table.

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” He says, mirroring her movements. He leaves her office eventually, breathing out a sigh of relief. All he needs right now is some action to take his mind off the bad stuff, that’s it. 

—

Hondo knew that was bound to happen eventually.

Dr. Wendy, bless her heart, told him about Street’s suicidal ideation, in case it was crucial.

Which it is. Because damn, Street was showing signs of depression in that month since Nate’s death, and Hondo missed it.

Again.

Just like it happened with Buck. 

And even though he caught on early, he doesn’t know how to approach the kid. Street is more guarded of his emotions, more defensive than Buck. When he joined, he had these walls built around his heart that took the team a long time to break down.

But now, over the course of a few weeks, Street managed to build them back up again. 

And Hondo’s not sure how he messed up. 

Hicks is standing next to him, as if they’re on trial and he’s making sure that Hondo says the right thing to the kid.

And when he sees him walking closer, he dreads the conversation he’s about to have. 

“Hey, kid.” He starts, making Street look up from his phone and give Hondo a bright smile. 

“What's up, Hondo?” 

“I think you need a little break from swat.” 

“What?” Street’s smile fades away immediately. “No thanks, i'm good.”

Hondo wants to leave it at that, oh how desperately he wants that. He wants to believe the kid that he’s good, but the commander is standing right next to him, and if he doesn’t say it, then Hicks will. 

“I wasn’t asking, Street.” 

And that seems to break the dam. 

“Hondo, please.” The kid begs. “Don’t take this away from me! Swat is my only lifeline—“

“I’m sorry, kid.” 

“Hondo, please.” His brown eyes are glassy, as if tears are about to start rolling down his cheeks. 

“I can’t risk you or anyone else on our team getting hurt.” 

Street goes quiet for a second, a heartbroken expression on his face. 

“Are you calling me a liability?” He says, his voice cracking. 

And Hondo? He doesn’t know how to answer that. He’s at a loss for words. 

“Street, I—“ 

“That’s an order, Street.” Commander Hicks finally speaks up, a serious expression on his face. 

Street looks at Hondo, then Hicks, disbelief in his eyes. He casts another look at Hondo, before storming out of HQ. Hondo let’s out a short sigh. 

“It was the right thing to do, Hondo.” Hicks says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“I know.” Hondo nods, blinking back unwanted and sudden tears. “Just got a little déjà vu, that’s all.” He says, regaining control of his emotions as memories fill his mind. 

“you’re off swat!”

“Fine! I don’t need you, or anyone else!”

“You don’t kick people out of a family!”

“This is your fault!”

Hondo watches the kid storm off, noticing Chris’s and Luca’s confused faces staring back at him from the other part of the building.

It is for the best, right?

—

This already happened once before.

When he messed up, back then.

But he didn’t mess up now, did he?

the question of ‘where did he go wrong?’ courses through his mind, and he finds himself at the same river where he almost drowned. 

He looks up at the sun setting, with it shining over the river and making it glow a golden color. 

He thinks about Buck.

Buck was in the same shoes as him earlier that month. 

Dr. Wendy mentioned bottling up his emotions wasn’t healthy, and how he would eventually find himself in Buck’s shoes.

And yet here he is, standing exactly where he should’ve died. Exactly in Buck’s shoes.

He tightens his grip on his gun in his right hand, memories flooding his mind. 

He thinks about Nate. 

He thinks about a childhood he never got to live. 

He thinks about Buck, all the times he saved him from this exact tragedy. 

He thinks about the team. The family he never thought he’d have.

With shaky hands, he brings his gun to his temple, fingers lingering over the trigger. 

Then, the sound of a truck stopping and footsteps.

They’re light and easily recognisable. It’s Chris. 

Street doesn’t dare to turn around, afraid of Chris’s face. 

Because he knows that if he looks at her, he won’t be able to do it. He’ll back out.

And it’s too late for that already. He needs to do it.

He twitches at the way she’s looking at him. It’s easily recognisable as well — the protocol on how to deal with a suicidal person has been drilled into him since his time in the Long Beach Police Academy. 

She’s looking at him like he’s a victim.

He’s not.

He’s not a fucking victim.

“Go away.” He yells out, anger lingering in his tone. “I don’t want you here. I don’t need you here, just— go away.” His voice cracks, as he turns back to stare at the water. 

“You know I can’t do that.” She replies, her voice soft and calm, despite Street’s angry comment. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” He chokes out, fighting back tears. “Why did he do that?” 

“Because he’s scared.” She answers. 

“Scared?” He huffs. “You can’t be serious. The almighty sargeant harrelson is scared? Of what?” 

“He’s scared of losing you. ” She admits, catching Street off guard. 

“what?” 

“Dr. Wendy talked to him and Commander Hicks. They were afraid that you were gonna hurt yourself.”  She says, trying to make eye contact to look more reassuring. 

“Hondo cares about you, Street. More than you’ll ever imagine. Please just talk to him, he’s worried.” 

“Yeah, right.” Another defensive move. Sarcasm. “He kicked me out of my home, again, and you’re asking me to come home? ”

“Yes.” Another voice agrees blantly. 

A figure steps beside Chris, revealing Tan. “Come home, man.” 

He looks at them, and the way their eyes look, like they ache with the weight of unshed tears. You are our home, their eyes tell him, do you not understand?

Street looks away.

“I don’t know if I can.” 

Chapter Text

“I don’t know if I can.” 

His voice is shaking as much as his hands are. Ever since Nate’s death he had felt painful numbness that he was desperate to break, desperate to be rid of it. If that was the case earlier, it is not now. He feels as if he’s on fire, feeling both everything and nothing all the same. He feels the wind caress his face, feels the grass crunch under him, feels the ache of his feet. He had overworked himself to death this week. Most of all, he feels Tan’s and Chris’ desperate gazes on him. He dares to look up at them, only now realizing that he was staring at his weapon. 

He is yet to kill himself. Something, a tiny part of him deep down, fights the urge to do it. 

Look at them! the tiny voice in his head yells at him. Look at them! Do you want them to see you die? 

No. He doesn’t.

How would you expect them to move on? How would you expect them to live with the thought that they failed to save you?

….

He looks up at them, and..Chris is crying. 

Her eyes are glassy and red rimmed, but he can’t seem to read her expression. Is she angry? No. Scared and worried. The tiny voice in his mind corrects him.

Tan’s face is scrunched up in fear and worry as well, but he does a better job at hiding it. His body language, though, betrays him. He looks ready to leap on Street and wrestle for the gun.

The gun. The feel of it burns in his shaking hand as he looks back down at it. 

He’ll miss this team. This family. His family, if what Chris said about Hondo is true. Had he really wanted to simply protect Street from such evil thoughts? The older man will be devastated to hear that his decision to bench Street was what led him to..this.

Can he really bear to be the one responsible for their grief? After they had just nearly lost Buck? 

Guilt spreads in his chest like a wildfire, and…fuck. He doesn’t— he doesn’t want to leave them. He doesn’t want to die.

Ever so slowly, he loosens his grip on the weapon, watching it fall on the grassy ground with a soft thud. He doesn’t have time to look up before he’s pulled into a tight hug. 

He hears Tan grab the gun and slip the safety back on before he too joins in on the hug. 

“It’ll be okay.” Tan mumbles as he manages to hug both Chris and Street. “We’re all going to be okay.” No one is sure if he’s trying to convince Street, Chris or himself, but Street believes him as much as possible. 

***

He’s hesitant to walk into the headquarters.

The sky had already darkened into a dark blue, but there are no stars to be seen - clouds have hidden them all. 

He thinks he’s rather.. afraid to see Hondo. Chris’ words are one thing, but what if Hondo will tell him to leave, since he’s benched? 

Doesn’t matter. He couldn’t run off even if he wanted to - Tan and Chris are walking behind him. 

The first thing he sees when he walks into the building is—

Hondo. 

Hondo, with such a guilty expression that it makes Street halt in his place. 

Hondo takes a few cautious steps towards him, as if he’s a feral animal about to run away. Street doesn’t move.

Hondo simply stares at him, taking him in. Street is sure he sees the older man let out a sigh of relief. Had Tan and Chris texted him while they were all on the way back to HQ? It’s possible. 

“I’m sorry, Street. I'm so sorry.” Hondo mumbles with such vulnerability that it startles him. 

The apology hangs in the air before Street simply can’t take it. He walks over to the man and hugs him, burying his face in his shoulder. 

“You’re going to be okay.” Hondo says with certainty, hugging Street back. but Street is still a little unsure. 

“What if I won’t be?”

“We’ll be there for you, even if you won’t be.” 

Trusting Hondo’s words, he relaxes into the embrace more. 

He feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s going to be fine. Because one day you think: I want to die.

And then you think, very quietly: actually. actually. I think I want a coffee. a nap. a sandwich. a book.

And I want to die turns day by day into I want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friend, I want to sit in the sun.

I want a cleaner kitchen 

I want a better job

I want to live somewhere else

I want to live.