Author's note: Hey everyone! Thank you for reading and reviewing, even though I know the last one shot wasn't everyone's cup of tea (also, noted) . I just wanted to say that updating times might change, since uni started again and it is a lot. I will try to keep it at twice a week, but I make no promises, so please don't be mad if I won't update as much anymore.
This one takes place right after 3X12 ended. It was such a shame they didn't show us what happened right after Pruitt died, so I decided to write it.
Hope you enjoy and leave me your thoughts!
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It isn't his grief to feel, it isn't his sadness to take over his body and drop him to his knees. It isn't his tears to cry, it isn't him who needs to search for a back to lean against, it isn't him who needs to find a shoulder to cry on. It isn't him who needs to find someone to carry him to safety.
Robert and Pruitt Herrera, or maybe he should think of him as his father in law now, had known each other for many years, have crossed paths on many occasions, but were never practically close by any means. Even after Robert saved the undocumented restaurant workers from being deported, he still had a feeling deep in his guts that Pruitt didn't really approve of him, didn't really believed he was good enough for his daughter. But when he sees the cap standing on the edge of the ladder, the only remnant of the man who rescued all of them all from a certain death, Robert's knees feel like they are going to give and fold in, leaving him sprawled on the ground.
He has to breathe, has to remind himself that there is someone else who probably feels everything so much stronger now. The woman he has been sharing every one of his mornings and every one of his nights and every free moment he had in between with. The woman to whom he recently started calling his wife.
His eyes search for her. They left the storage unit together, but somewhere along the process he lost contact with her, and by now, it seems as though she disappeared into thin air. Everything around him is a mess of shouts and black smoke, of firefighters coming and going, so he can't locate her at first, isn't able to recognize her in the sea of helmets and coats all looking exactly the same.
He is able to catch a glimpse of Hughes standing next to the ladder, leaning against someone who Robert suspects is Miller, and he is almost convinced she is crying. He keeps looking for his wife, finally walking, finally able to move his stiff body, even though it still feels like his leg is on fire, still feels like someone came and stabbed him with a thousand knives right at that particular spot up his thigh.
He walks slowly, using the vehicle for support, until he spots his wife in the distance.
Andy stands far away, as far as she possibly can from the chaos the scene has become. Her hands fumble with the blue cap, twist it around over and over again, but as far as he can tell, her eyes are dry and her cheeks are stain free.
She is probably in pain, so much pain, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. He wants to hold her in his arms, to reassure her he is there if she wants to fall, to crumble. He is there to catch her, and if it is up to him, he will always be there, until he takes his dying breath.
When he promised her he would have her, for better or for worse, he meant it, every word he said.
"Bishop." He calls the direction of the captain he appointed.
"Sir." She nods. "I just wanted to say, I tried to talk him down, but he didn't listen." She tries to explain what happened while he was inside the storage unit, attempting to save the woman he loves, tries to give a reason as to why things escalated to such a point a retired firefighter had to lose his life in order to save theirs.
