Fools Rush In

Previous: We've Got Big Balls

Summer meanwhile was staring at Sean Flannery, struggling to keep focus. “You fucking shot her?! What good is she to me dead?!” A hand cracked across her face. “You stupid slut. Hayden? Are you TRYING to piss me off? It's okay…it's okay. I forgive you. Your company is as good as mine anyways. You never even knew…” Summer blinked as Amy emerged. The mole gave her a sickening smirk. “Surprise. This is what you get for all you've done, Caldwell. That restaurant was supposed to be mine!” Summer couldn't reply.

Meanwhile, Ella tore the skirt off her gown, revealing her work cargos beneath and got out of the car, grabbing her munitions belt and strapping it on. Slowly, she crept into the warehouse, keeping to the shadows. A code pressed over the radio. Three guards. Armed. She made sure to stay hidden until backup arrived. She was just there if things went south early.

“No!” Shit. Radio. “Central? Twenty two seven oh five, I need a bird on the great lawn stat. Yes with a rifle. Snipers at the Flannery Warehouses. Retask a bird if you have to. Just get them moving!”

Inside. Running. In. “Hayden, Evans, Winter Caldwell is safe but with medics. Summer's injured, there's an agent on scene moving to extract. I'm on my way.” He could hear the rotors getting closer and didn't stop to wait for a response.

He ran around the building, watching the helicopter coming in, barely waiting for it to hit the ground before he jumped in and started his preparations. “Move, Flannery Warehouses.” Headphones on, rifle in hand, check the bolt. Harness. Down on the deck, ready. The pilot had barely lifted off. He was running on adrenaline.

Ethan grabbed Stacy, stopping her from pacing. He didn't have any words for the shock he was in, but he knew he could look after her. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her lip, making sure it wasn't too damaged. Cautious, he could see the bruise. Relief it wasn't as bad as it could be.

“Drop me.” Without the ability to see what was going on, Seeley needed to get closer. He sat back up, eschewing the bolt action for a carbine for close quarters. He pulled it out from the armored box under the seat, checking the load, shrugging out of his jacket and tucking spares into the vest. Again, he didn't wait for the skids to hit the deck before he was out and running.

Stacy looked up at Ethan as he dabbed her lip, trying really hard not to cry as Booth ran in and gave a report. Winter was okay, but Summer was injured? What kind of injury?

Ella was frowning as she snuck around a corner. Her elbow came up and smashed into the face of the guard she'd bumped into. Down he went, unconscious, blood pouring from a broken nose. She moved closer.

“Sign it over, Summer. Sign over Caldwell Accounting, sign yourself over to me and I'll make this all go away.” Flannery said, his voice disguising the smack of metal against flesh as Ella pistol-whipped another guard. Two down. Where was the other… Searing pain went through her hip and she turned on her good side, gun lifted, one shot fired. Ping! Flannery looked up and grabbed Summer from the chair, pulling her up, holding her like a shield, the point of a knife at her back.

Seeley…where are you…. Ella thought. Up on the roof, a sniper took aim. “I've got a dot on Flannery!” He called through the radio. “Ah, a federal agent. I wondered if you would show up. Ella Booth, is it? Word spreads about the OC department, you know. I'd rather not have to kill you, after all, you did me a favor by shooting Shea. Good job. Shot him with a gun when all he had was a knife.”

The blade twisted against Summer's back, sank into her skin. She was already so far in shock that she couldn't scream as Flannery pushed her away. “Come on then, Agent Booth. Take your best shot. I'm unarmed, and I'm open.” Meanwhile, the third guard crept closer to Ella, gun raised, bleeding from his shoulder.

Seeley hit the deck running as a shock shot up through his leg. He was expecting it. He kept going. Inside. Turned on entry and ran up the gantry, getting high up. He heard the shot ring out and doubled his pace, no longer caring about any noise he made.

He saw a guard turning as he sprinted towards him. Still no sight line. The butt of his carbine came up and he didn't stop, smashing it into the man's nose with enough force to knock him backward and break it. Out cold. Or in enough pain to be no trouble. He didn't care he was still running.

There. He slid to a stop on the steel of the walkway, dropping into an aiming stance. A double tap on the radio, he could see Ella and didn't want to give away her… Shit… He shifted his aim to the guard behind Ella and switched his radio to the sniper's channel.

“On my mark.” He set the radio to open channel.

Safety. Single round. Aim. Prepare. Caress. Hold.

“Ready when you are.” The sniper replied. Keep him still, Booth… Ella looked at Summer, bleeding out on the concrete. Shit. She brought her hands up, gun aimed up, right finger along the barrel. “Flannery, you don't want murder added, do you? You can't beat that charge. Let me help Summer. Do you really want her to die? You love her, right? In some sick…twisted…perverse way, you've gone to all this trouble to have her, right? Not to kill her..” Flannery paused, then pointed at her.

“You're using that psycholog–mumbo jumbo on me. It won't work!!” He screamed, enraged, though his eyes dropped to the redhead on the ground. The man behind Ella slowly crept closer, about twenty feet away now.

His finger began to shift from along the barrel.

Adrenaline. Summer on the deck. Flannery standing. Bracketed by a sniper. Guard behind Ella. Bracketed by Seeley.

Too many variables.

From his position behind the sight, Seeley could see the guard's finger twitch down towards the trigger.

Come on Ella. Don't back down.

He held the trigger, waiting, hoping. Too much.

“Mark.” Bang. Bang.

He dropped the guard behind Ella before he could put his finger on the trigger. The sniper fired from his position and drilled Flannery in the chest, the round coming in from the other side, avoiding Summer entirely.

Blood. Blood everywhere.

Okay. Breathe. Bring it down. Aim. Fire. Ella Booth had been trying to stall Flannery, trying to get him to let her help Summer but it became clear he would rather her die than belong to someone else. She shifted her finger, hands descending, coming together to grip and fire. In reality, it took a split second.

In that split second, Flannery fell and Ella heard a body drop behind her. Sniper. Seeley. “Five six eight four two, get a medevac down here, stat!” She called into the radio, kneeling beside Summer and applying pressure to the abdominal wound as ambulance sirens screamed into her hearing from outside. Medics poured into the warehouse. “Summer Caldwell, twenty-five. Suspected bullet wound center abdomen, knife wound, mid back, possible lung collapse.” The medics took over and one stopped Ella as she began to look for Seeley. “Agent Booth, you're injured.”

Ella followed the gaze to her hip. Blood on her cargos, the red clear on the bodice of what had been her gown. Adrenaline and everything else had kept her from feeling the full brunt of the pain, even now. She looked for her husband as the medic poked and prodded.

“Mafankulo that hurts.” She hissed. The medic nodded. “Yeah, we're going to have to take you over, have a doc get that bullet out.”

Back at the Gala, Winter burst through the door and threw herself into Troy's arms, ignoring her aching body. Her arms and face were bruised, rash burns on her upper arms, her jaw.

Seeley dropped his head in his arms as he saw both men go down. Adrenalin. He'd been running on adrenalin the whole time and now? He was coming down hard. He was used to it, every time he had to pull the trigger. But somehow, this was different.

He flicked the carbine to safe and slung it under his arm, starting to walk down from the gantry as the medics went to work.

“Situation under control, stand down. I repeat snipers can stand down.” He finally noticed the guard he'd smashed in the face writhing in pain as he walked across the gantry, holding his nose. “Medic! One up here, broken nose!” He knelt down to cuff the man just before the medics arrived, leaving him to their attention.

Down the stairs and along to where Ella was. He made his way through the milling medics and agents at work cleaning up. “Where is she?” He almost snarled at one of the medics, but she was only doing her job. He kept going until he reached her, under the care of a medic.

“First bullet wound? You'll get used to it.”

As the adrenaline fell, he could feel a bruise in his gut. Spreading. He looked down at his vest, realizing for the first time there was a round embedded in it. Too much adrenaline, he hadn't even felt it when the guard on the gantry had shot him, he was too busy being the white knight, focused.

He closed his eyes. “Grnf.” Ow. Like. FUCK. That hurt. Open again. “Like that.” He pointed at the round, flicking it out of the vest.

Troy wrapped his arms around Winter as she threw herself into him, noticing every single little bump and scrape and bruise on her body where he could see them. “You're alright! Thank god!”

Kaine and Ethan both turned to see Winter as she burst into the room. “At least one of them is OK. I hope the Booths are as good as they say they are, or there will be hell to pay.” Kaine was falling back to his old, ruthless self without Summer. Because she was the one in trouble, even.

Ethan moved behind Stacy and pushed her towards Winter, giving her support so she could support her friend if needed. No words. Simply… There.

Ella looked to her husband as he came near. She was covered in blood. From her hip. From the splatter as Flannery fell. From applying pressure to Summer. The medics were prepping Summer to be flown to Irving. The trauma team was ready for her, and immediately went to work on her the moment she arrived, her vitals tanking.

“You were shot…” Ella said, worried. The medic nudged at her. “Come on, we've got to get you in to get that out.” He looked to Seeley as though asking for help. But Ella was lifting her husband's armor. “Ouch. You should come get looked at too.” She murmured, frowning. The medic sighed. “Agent, with all due respect….” Ella turned and glared, her eyes welling with tears. Rather uncharacteristic of her to cry under pressure…

“Fine fine! I'm coming. I just…”

“Booth and Booth…go get checked out, I'll wrap things up here.” Said a new voice. Andrews, Ella's department head, who looked at Seeley. “I will make sure to obtain all the proper reports you'll need as well, Agent Booth.” He said, then looked around. “When Ella said it was a Flannery…I've been on standby all along. Never thought I'd see the day…” He added as an agent cuffed Amy and led her away. Ella was very good at following orders, however, and allowed the medic to lead her to the ambulance.

Stacy felt the nudge and pushed back lightly. Not while Troy was holding her. But she stayed close to Winter. Just in case. An agent came in. “Hayden. She's been life-flighted to Irving. She was shot in the abdomen and stabbed in the back. Collapsed lung. Come with me, I'll take you.” Winter looked at Kaine. “We'll follow behind. I'll use Summer's phone and call Giles.” She said. “Go.”

“I've lost count of the number of times I've been shot. I'll be fine.” He watched the medic working on his wife. “You should listen to him.” He nodded towards the medic. “I'd hate to see that heal badly.”

He closed his eyes. Pull rank. Go with the flow. Mix it. He turned to face the newcomer. “With all due respect, I don't think a desk jockey should be telling a decorated veteran to get checked out. This isn't the first time, and probably won't be the last.” He beckoned one of the medics over and he shrugged out of his vest. “You're welcome,” he added.

Ethan didn't argue, letting his hands slip around her from behind, turning the push into a hug around her waist. He knew she'd go when she was needed.

Troy held onto Winter as the agent entered and told them about Summer's condition. His hands slipped to her waist as she told Kaine what to do.

Kaine? He was pissed. He grumbled under his breath as Summer told him what to do. Unintelligible. Frustrated. Annoyed. He followed the agent out. “Please tell me he's dead. Or wounded. Or maimed. Or something nasty I can take pleasure from.”

Next: Rest and Recuperation