hello everyone here is something a little different - me beating up hank instead of nick :) hope you like! it's pre-ship btw
The guy comes out of nowhere. He and Nick are in this empty house off Burnside which an informant had said was used as a temporary storage spot for a drug dealer connected to their latest case. He’d said the spot had been abandoned a week ago, right after the murder, and multiple checks had confirmed it. There shouldn’t be anyone here.
Except there is. Hank’s on the first floor and Nick’s on the second, and there hadn’t been anyone in here five seconds ago.
And now there’s a guy and Hank goes for his gun but the other guy is faster, too fast, and just like that he’s grabbed the gun out of Hank’s hand. He tucks it into his own belt and moves forward, right up into Hank’s space, pushing him backwards with a hell of a lot of power, until Hank’s back is to the wall.
“Quiet,” the guy hisses, voice low and dangerous, before Hank has time to shout, to alert his partner, anything. His arm is across Hank’s chest, pinning him to the wall, and then his other hand disappears and then it comes back and the point of a knife is pressing into Hank’s throat.
“How’d you find me, huh? Who talked?”
“Let me go and I’ll tell you.” He’s careful when he whispers back, hyperaware of the knife at his throat. His heart is pounding but he keeps his head clear. It’ll be fine. He can talk his way out of this, and if he can’t, Nick’ll only be upstairs for so long, and then it’ll be two on one.
It’ll be fine.
“Don’t think so. Tell me.” The knife digs harder into his throat and he can feel blood well up. He’s barely breathing now for fear of driving the point any further into his skin.
He can’t actually give away their informant. They need the guy, and Hank’s not going to be responsible for getting him killed in any case.
“I’m sure we can…work something out.” He has to force the words out, so quiet he himself can barely hear them.
“Sure we can. Like you telling me that name.”
The knife’s digging in further, and he wonders how much distance is left between its sharp point and his windpipe. Nick, come on, man, he thinks. There can’t be anything that interesting up there.
Like he’s willed him into existence, Nick appears, coming down the staircase. He draws his gun. “Drop it!”
The knife does not drop. Just his luck.
“I don’t think so. Let me out of here, and I won’t cut his throat, how’s that sound?”
Hank makes eye contact with Nick. They’ve worked together long enough that they can read each other like this, just eyes, no need for anything else.
“Okay. Okay. Let him go, and I’ll let you go.”
“Put your gun down. Slide it over here.”
Nick does as he’s told.
‘Now go. Upstairs.”
“I won’t do that. I need to see him, to know he’s safe.”
“I won’t hurt him if you do what I ask.”
It’ll be fine, Hank thinks at Nick, looking right at him. Don’t make this difficult.
“Okay. I’m going.”
The guy’s arm pushes him into the wall even harder, and then it releases, and Hank has about a quarter second’s reprieve before he’s getting punched in the face.
His head snaps back, hits the wall, and when his eyes focus a second later, the guy is gone.
A door slams at the back of the house, and Hank takes off in its direction. He flings the door back open and finds himself in a backyard surrounded by a high wooden fence. He climbs onto a conveniently placed chair and pokes his head over.
He can see into a couple yards from here, and there’s no sign of their guy. He’s gone, just like that.
The energy drains from him in an instant, and he sits down heavily into the chair.
The back door opens again, and Nick steps outside, gun drawn.
“He gone?”
“Yeah.” HIs voice is still quiet, like that damn knife is still at his throat.
“You’re bleeding,” and Nick is in front of him now, gun tucked away, crouched down, worried. He reaches out to touch the spot, the center of Hank’s throat, where the knife had rested, had dug into skin, and he can’t help it–he flinches back, away.
Nick stops, raises his hands, moves back. “Sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have–you’re bleeding, is all. But that was stupid of me.”
Hank waves him off. “It’s alright. Little jumpy, I guess.”
“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
Nick offers his hand, and Hank takes it, lets himself be pulled to his feet. They both hold on a little longer after that as they make their way back through the house and out onto the street.
