"Please say honestly
You won't give up on me
And I shall believe."
Sheryl Crow, I Shall Believe
Brock headed to the stairs in no hurry when the explosion shook the whole building. He stuck to the wall, covering his head out of instinct as dust and debris rained down the stairwell.
He waited a moment longer, produced his flashlight and dared a look at the stairs. Then his mind registered that the blast had come from above, somewhere at the upper floors. He felt the burning cold in his chest he was already growing so used to, at the thought of Gillian caught upstairs by the blast.
"Gillian!?" he called out, approaching the stairs. They weren't completely blocked.
There was no answer and he ran up the steps, ignoring the cloud of dust suspended in the air.
"Gillian!"
She had to be alive. Maybe hurt, maybe out, but there was no way she wasn't alive.
Brock paused at the second floor and scanned the hall. Cracks on the walls, the floor full of rubble. He went on to the next flight of stairs, calling out again, "Gillian!"
He found more and more debris as he made his way to the third floor, and the cloud of dust was thicker. He was getting closer to the origin of the blast. Of course, since he was also getting closer to where Gillian was supposed to be. In the very eye of the storm, as usual. Okay, she always managed to be in harm's way, but she also landed always on her feet. This time wouldn't be the exception.
His flashlight showed parts of a collapsed wall blocking the stairs. He tried yet again, looking for a clear spot to step. "Gillian!"
"Agent Brockner...?"
Dammit, her voice sounded weak and shaky, and Brock was forced to stop to find his way through big chunks of concrete. At least she was still alive.
"You okay?" he asked, not expecting an honest answer, but to let her know he was coming.
"Yeah! Don't come up!"
Yeah, he grunted to himself, pushing bricks out of his way. Sure.
Wood's bedroom was plain war zone, no more ceiling, huge debris everywhere. Gillian lay on the floor right where the explosion had caught her, her belly and her already-wounded arm crushed under a concrete column. She tried to pull herself from under it, but she couldn't.
She heard the noise from the stairs and cursed under her breath—he was coming.
"Hang on, Gillian!"
Brock's voice sounded closer. She cursed again and breathed as deep as she could to shout, "Get outta here! This is gonna blow any moment now!"
The sound of footsteps came now right from the hall and Brock soon showed up at the bedroom doorway, scanning the room with the flashlight.
"Gillian?"
She cursed yet again. Stupid man, there was no time for please and sir!
"Get the hell out!"
He didn't. What a surprise.
Brock swallowed his shock at finding Gillian like that and hurried to kneel by her side, his voice drier and colder than usual as he fought to stay calm.
"Don't move. Help's on the way."
She huffed and tried to play it his way—like she always ended up doing, damn man.
"Agent Brockner, please, you need to get out and take everybody away, sir. The whole building's gonna blow."
But he ignored her anyway, too busy trying to find a way to move the column.
Gillian felt her strength faltered, so she grabbed his sleeve and tugged at it to make him face her, knowing she wouldn't be up for many more tries.
"Listen to me, dammit! There are more bombs about to go off! You gotta find them!"
Brock scowled down at her. "What?"
Gillian let go of his arm to reach under the column, then she gave him what was left of the notebook. "Found this..."
Shit. She'd just used what little energy she had left trying to send him away. Now she needed a pause to breathe, while Brock flicked through the pages. But breathing was sort of concrete-column hard.
"Three bombs...," she muttered. "Out in the city... Bad supper, remember...? More in this building..."
She exhaled, wishing she were strong enough to get herself free and kick his stubborn bitter ass down the stairs and out of the building. Why couldn't he see she needed him away, safe? Couldn't he just take the bait and go?
Brock glanced down at Gillian and noticed she was about to pass out.
"Stay with me, Gillian," she heard him bark. It was an order. How nice of him.
Things spun around and she felt like falling, so she tried one last time. "Please, go...," she mouthed, and everything went dark.
Outside the building, everybody staggered back to their feet, stunned and shaken. Hank looked up and saw Fred close to him.
"Reg...," he mumbled.
Fred's eyes widened as he turned to the building, trying his radio. "Reg?"
Perkins approached them. "You guys okay?"
Russell was helping Aldana up when Fred's voice startled them. "Reg!"
They hurried to join the other two. Hank kicked himself together to instruct Perkins.
"Call it in! We need a rescue team, a fire truck and ambulances!"
Fred still tried on his radio. "Reg! D'you copy!"
Then Russell spotted one of the Squads dialing on his phone and shouted, "Turn it off!"
The Squad dropped his phone with a jolt. Fred sprinted to the building, and Russell and Aldana followed.
"Wait!" Hank yelled behind them.
But it was too late.
Another explosion, bigger than the first one, blasted the ground floor. Fred reacted quickly enough to jump back, tackling Russell and Aldana down with him. Behind them, fire and dust and debris gushed out from every opening.