Breathless.
Part I

-x-

"Look, all I'm saying is, it wouldn't kill you to just stop and actually think about it for even one teensy, weensy little second."

Jake's words sounded as stubborn as ever as they appeared from between his teeth in a mute hiss. The dark haired detective carefully peeked around the corner before lunging forward and holding his gun out in front of him, only to be met by yet another aisle of terrified civilians. Detective Peralta motioned for them to stay down and stay quiet as he took a step backwards. A breath escaped him as he gently nudged into his partner before the two of them spun around on the spot back-to-back to complete the same action in the next aisle of the department store.

"And all I'm saying is," Amy snapped back just as sharply, "I can't just undo the fact that we already have plans. I'm promised my mom, Jake, quit making me feel so guilty."

Jake scoffed under his breath. Motioning to Detective Santiago that the next aisle was clear, he took an extra second to shoot her a disbelieving frown.

"I'm making you feel guilty?" he continued to argue in a hushed tone, "You're the one playing the 'Mom card' on me, Amy."

Rolling her eyes at him, Amy bit down hard on her tongue. God, Peralta could drive her crazy sometimes. The two detectives may have been called out to an emergency hostage situation at the biggest Macy's in Brooklyn that evening, but that didn't mean Jake and Amy were through with the argument they had been battling out at home. Not for a second.

For once in his life, Jake had actually been pretty damned proud of himself and his romantic escapades. Obviously it was going to be hard to ever top the night he and Amy had spent in the New York public library for their six month anniversary, but that had been Rosa's idea, anyway. Jake had finally stumbled upon something of his own impulsive accord to show Amy just how much she meant to him.

And the best part was, it wasn't even their anniversary this time. Or Amy's birthday. Or Christmas. No, what Jake had conjured up was one of those lucrative 'just because' gifts that made women swoon and turned them to absolute mush.

About ten miles up the street from where they stood right now, still back-to-back and still with their guns drawn, was the beautifully lavish Central Park. At first, Jake immediately detested the idea of something that sounded as lame as 'Shakespeare in the Park'. The breezy New York weather, some 'D' grade actors, and a bunch of nerdy, old literature - what a drag.

But as soon as he realised how much Amy would probably love it, Jake didn't even think twice when he snatched up two premium tickets. The smile on Amy's gorgeous face was so worth all the dull performances and bad acting he was sure to endure.

Well, that all had been until his girlfriend suddenly thwarted his romantic plans and told him that they were going out of town for her mother's birthday next weekend instead.

It's not like Amy didn't appreciate what Jake had tried to do. She loved his gift, and she loved how unusually thoughtful he had been. But she had also reminded him a countless number of times over the past two months that their plans for the weekend in question were already set in stone. It wasn't her fault that her boyfriend actually had the memory of a goldfish. They were going to her mother's birthday lunch, and that was that.

"Well, if me playing the 'Mom card' is what's going to make you come with me, then that's what I'm going to do."

Shaking his head at her, Jake remained quiet for a moment and raised a curious eyebrow. He and Amy had been scoping out the furniture department of the store in search of their two suspects who had the whole place on lock down and the staff held at gunpoint. The two armed men were last reported to be in the jewellery boutique, smashing the glass cabinets and stealing all the diamonds and other jewels they could get their hands on.

What had caught Jake's attention was the sight of the sloppily stacked display furniture that was creating a blockage to the boutique on the other side. The two detectives ran their eyes over the makeshift blockade, looking for a way through that wouldn't cause too much noise and alert their perps. Soon enough, Jake and Amy both spotted a gap in the poorly built structure and swapped a glance with each other.

The hole that was exposed against the left wall of the boutique's entrance looked to be just wide enough for the two of them to wriggle through. As much as she was still far too frustrated to be anywhere near him right now, Amy quietly huffed out in defeat and looked back to Jake, nodding towards the slim passage way. She took a step towards it, but before Amy could even begin to squeeze her way through to the next room, Jake suddenly slipped in front of her, opting for himself to ahead first. Holding her tongue all over again, Amy simply followed him with a prolonged silence.

As he shuffled past the numerous sofa chairs and coffee tables, Jake quietly cleared his throat. He never had been one to let Amy get the last word.

"So, how exactly do you suggest I get my money back for these wonderfully thoughtful tickets I bought for us, hm?"

Amy rolled her eyes again, "Ever heard of a refund, Mister Amazing Detective Slash Genius?"

"No refunds accepted," Jake instantly sniped back at her, "You honestly think I'd ever commit to something so incredibly lame without checking the returns policy first?"

The tiny trace of a sting in his words caused Amy to recoil slightly, "Well, maybe don't bother wasting your energy and going to all the effort for me next time."

By this point, both of their tempers were beginning to fire up far too quickly for their own good. So much so, Jake and Amy could almost feel the heated flames licking at their tongues when they opened their mouths to speak the exact same words at the exact same time.

"You're so inconsiderate..."

Falling to a surprised silence, Jake and Amy whipped their necks around to glare at each other. As he ducked his head under an obscurely placed lamp shade and tried to re-focus on the task at hand, Jake was the first to speak again.

"Hey, I was actually trying to do something romantic for once, okay?" he argued, "That doesn't make me inconsiderate."

"And me having the decency to stick to plans that you forgot about doesn't make me inconsiderate, either," Amy retorted, "Come on, Jake, seriously. It's going to be a nice weekend. You'll have a great time with my family - you always do."

"Oh, yeah, being constantly berated by your brothers and spending all my time trying to impress your dad who still hasn't even decided if he likes me yet. Can't wait," Jake snapped back sarcastically, not even stopping to think over his next words, "Maybe just don't invite me to the next big family event and go by yourself."

Thrown back by his argumentative nature for the absolute final time, Amy's brow furrowed in intense anger. She tightened the grip she had around her gun and felt some dangerously irritated words cross her lips, "Or maybe I'll just head out there a little early and spend the whole week with my mom and take a nice, long break away from you."

The very second that the last word left her in a vile whisper, Jake shot his eyes back towards Amy's. And for once in his life, Peralta was speechless.

It was four months ago now that Jake had purposely lost their bet, packed up all his belongings, finally threw away his one gray towel, and moved into Amy's apartment. And he could honestly say that they had been the best four months of his life so far. Living with Amy had just come so naturally to him - as hard as that may have been for anyone to believe. Amy's tidiness was rubbing off onto Jake in just the tiniest possible doses, and in return, Jake's relaxed attitude was allowing Amy to not be so uptight all the time.

They had bickered from time to time like people in healthy relationships often do, but they always made sure to never go to sleep angry with each other. And unless they were crashed out in exhaustion in front of the television, they never forced one another sleep on the couch, either.

Amy going to her mother's house may not have even been close to her abandoning him to sleep on the couch, but to Jake, the threat was all the same.

Remaining quiet for only a short instant longer, Jake forced down a lump in the back of his throat, "Fine."

Amy didn't believe him for a second. She was a good enough detective - and she knew her boyfriend well enough - to clearly see the pain sitting behind his deep, brown eyes. But still, she, too, refused to swallow her pride, "Fine."

"Good."

"It is good."

"Yep."

"Sure is."

"Wouldn't even miss ya'."

As the slimmest slither of hurt transferred from Jake to Amy at his last harsh comment, the beautiful brunette felt her heart skip a sad beat under her protective vest.

Somehow amongst all their childish sniping at one another, the two detectives had successfully wiggled their way through the tight gap in the wall of furniture. They were close to where they suspected their perps were holding up, and it was quickly becoming more and more vital that they stayed quiet. But in that moment, Amy couldn't be any more thankful for the silence. She couldn't even bear to utter another word to Jake as she simply glared at him and then spun around on her heels, darting off in the opposite direction.

Watching her as she left, Jake unwillingly let a miserable sigh escape him before he shook his head to himself. There would be plenty of time to make up with his girlfriend later - what they both needed to concentrate on right now was arresting the two goons and saving all the hostages.

The plan that Captain Holt had briefed them on was a simple one. To Jake's left, where Amy had just taken off to, was the cosmetics counter. To his right were racks upon racks of designer brand clothing. Directly in front of him, and keeping the bad guys' view of he and Amy obstructed, were the fitting rooms. All the pair had to do was sneak around to either side of the two robbers, surround them, and then wait for back up before taking them down.

Keeping the simplicity of all this in mind, Jake crouched down slightly and held his gun upright again as he calmly began to creep towards his mark on the opposite side of the boutique. The two criminals were well known to the Brooklyn police. Cousins Clay and Benny Strowman had terrorised countless other jewellery stores in the past two and a half months - but they were yet to come face to face with a squad like the Nine-Nine.

Bringing these guys in was going to be a hell of a lot easier for Jake than it was for him to fight with Amy.

The tallest rack of clothing appeared in Jake's line of sight as he immediately fell into a squat and hid behind it. He took one more second to quickly check that his gun was properly loaded before he peeked out from behind the rack and glanced over to the shattered jewellery cabinets.

An instant twinge of confusion shot across Jake's brain when all he saw were six or seven terrified hostages - no bad guys.

"What the..."

Before the thought could even fully escape him, Jake's ears suddenly perked up at the distracting sound of a struggle echoing from the cosmetics section of the boutique. He shot his vision over to the other side of the store to find that both cash registers at the makeup counter had been ripped open and emptied by the greedy criminals.

Jake frowned. This wasn't these guys' mode of operation - they always stole jewels, not cash. They weren't supposed to be anywhere near the cosmetics counter.

...Wait

As a dreaded sense of realisation quickly crashed down onto his shoulders, Peralta ceased any and all thought and peered further around the corner. And at the sight of a new hostage caught up in a vice-like grip with a gun held to her head, that's when his heart stopped.

Much to Jake's horror, it wasn't another civilian.

"Amy..." he muttered, "Crap."

Darting back down behind the rack of clothes, Jake took the shortest possible milisecond to squeeze his eyes shut and compose himself. He needed a plan, and he needed one now.

Reaching up to his ear piece, Detective Peralta drew in one last calming breath before he pushed the button on the tiny device, "Boyle, do you copy?"

Charles' response came in an instant, "I've got you, Jake, what's going on?"

"Do you have my location?" he asked, looking back over to where the Strowman cousins were holding Amy. His eyes narrowed at the tall door that stood right behind her, "There's a fire exit door to my one o'clock - what street does that lead out onto?"

From where he was placed in a car with Detective Diaz outside the store, Charles quickly used the computer on the dash board to look up the location of the GPS in Jake's radio, "Corner of Third and Hamilton."

"That's where you need to send back up," Jake commanded with a harsh whisper, "Get them here. Now."

"Copy that, Jakey."

As soon as Boyle's voice was gone, Jake came tumbling back into the reality that he was still on his own, and these crooks were still holding his partner hostage with the threat of a loaded weapon pointed at her skull.

Jake swallowed back another lump of nerves. He knew the right thing to do was to wait for back up, but just as he was maybe starting to reconsider this option, he heard the sickly smug voices of his two perps from the other side of the store.

"Well, well, what's a pretty little cop like you doing sneaking around this big ol' store all by yourself, hm?"

The smaller of the two cousins who stood just off to the side seemed to sway sort of nervously, "Aw, come on, man, surely she can't be here all alone."

"Yeah, sweetheart, where's your partner? Or your whole team? Come on, how many other little piglets have you got creeping around here with you?"

Their vile words to his girlfriend made Jake feel absolutely sick to his stomach.

No, dude, stop.

The reprimanding voice dwelling within Jake's subconscious cut him off before he could get carried away with too many other thoughts about Amy. He couldn't let himself slip into that mindset. This wasn't Amy, his gorgeous girlfriend, standing in the middle of the store in danger. It was Detective Santiago, his partner and colleague. It was crucial Jake constantly reminded himself of that so as not to make any rash decisions or crazy mistakes.

"Got nothing to say, then, princess?" the bigger and stronger of the two men snarled. He tightened the grip he had around Amy, earning a couple of uncomfortable groans from her.

But other than that, Santiago remained silent.

"Well, that's alright," he recommenced with his teeth clenched, "We've got ways of making you talk or making your team surrender."

The sound of the gun cocking shot through Jake like a bullet.

Screw waiting for back up. It was go time.

"NYPD!" he shouted, barrelling into the crooks' line of vision and pointing his gun at them, "Put the weapon down. Let her go."

The immediate tension that filled the room could have been sliced with a knife.

The civilian hostages sucked in a collective gasp from where they sat on the ground as they realised just how much the situation was quickly escalating. A small breath managed to escape Amy, too, as she locked her desperate eyes with Jake's and thanked God that he was there with her. But Peralta's focus was somewhere else entirely in that moment.

The bigger of the two cousins who had his arm tightly around Amy's neck smirked slyly at Jake. Clay, he thought to himself. The larger of the two, and the brains of all their illegal operations, was Clay Strowman. His younger, smaller cousin who was still fidgeting away off to the side was Benny Strowman. The ironically matched pair had somehow pulled off about a dozen jewellery store heists over the past number of weeks. But there was no way in hell Jake was going to let them get away with it this time.

Laughing to himself again, Clay raised an eyebrow at Detective Peralta, "Now, see, I knew that would make you come out of hiding. You're just lucky I didn't pull the trigger," he taunted, "How many more of you are there?"

"No one else, it's just me and her," Jake assured him, "How about we keep it that way? She and I can stay right here if you just let the other hostages go."

As he continued his calm negotiations, Jake took a couple of subtle moments to properly survey the situation. The hostages were placed a few feet away where the original robbery had begun to take place. Clay looked as determined as ever as he kept a firm hold of Amy and had his gun buried into her temple. Benny was visibly shaken by the appearance of another cop. He had Amy's gun stuffed down in the waistband of his jeans, and his own weapon was hanging loosely by his side with no real rythym or reason.

Narrowing his eyes, Jake took a mental note of the smaller thug's shattered confidence and terrified stance, before he slowly tilted his head just slightly to glance at Amy. As their longing gaze mirrored one another's, Jake felt his chest ache.

It didn't matter how much they had been angering each other only three or four minutes ago - the fear in Amy's brown orbs and the sight of her in direct danger broke Jake's heart and shook him to his absolute core.

"Now, now, don't try and start that crap with me," Clay suddenly cut back in, responding to Jake's last request, "The hostages go nowhere. I need as many get out of jail free cards as I can get."

Blowing out a quiet sigh of defeat, Jake simply shrugged his shoulders, "Okay, but if we're playing Monopoly, I get to be the race car."

"Jake..." Amy pleaded through gritted teeth.

"Ha, I'd listen to your little partner if I were you," Clay advised as his biceps gave Amy's torso another threatening squeeze, "I'm sure as hell not here to play any games."

A single bead of sweat slowly rolled down the side of Jake's face as he bit his tongue and tried to remain silent for a moment. Why the hell did he always have to be so impulsive? Right now was certainly not the time to be cracking any kind of joke.

"Or do I need to show you just how serious I'm being here?"

The foreboding words that slid out from between Clay's lips seemed to have a psychotic mind of their own. He viciously wrenched Amy around to further face Jake and he pressed the barrel of his gun even harder into her head.

"Clay..." Benny warned him with a murmur.

A mere ounce of Benny's panic washed over Jake as he nervously licked his lips, "Come on, don't be a dumbie, dude - you and I both know you aren't going to harm an NYPD detective."

The steady rate at which Jake's level of calmness was decreasing was obvious to every set of wide eyes that filled the room. Amy's heart was in her throat. For the first time that she could remember, ever, the normally cool and cocky Jake Peralta was nowhere to be seen. And as she heard Clay swallow a smug lump directly behind her ear, Amy shuddered.

"Oh, won't I?" Clay asked, daring Jake to stop him as he shifted his finger down to hover over the trigger.

Without a second thought, Jake took two almighty steps forward, "I am not going to tell you again, put the weapon down!"

An exasperated breath escaped Amy as she didn't even stop to think.

"No, babe, just - "

The word left her with absolutely no sense of self-control as Amy quickly tightened her lips again and cringed. But it was too late. Clay and Benny had heard loud and clear how Amy had referred to Jake, and there was zero chance they were going to let her pretend like it had never happened.

"Well, did you hear that, Benny?" Clay snarled with a laugh, "I think these two little piggies are in love!"

Amy wanted to kick herself. There was nothing more important about working cases with Jake than making sure their relationship stayed completely under wraps. The last thing either of them needed was for a perp to gain any extra leverage in a stand off because of how deeply they felt and the terrifying lengths they would reach to keep each other safe.

But as Amy sensed a shudder cross her at the sensation of her captor running his hand down her back, it was almost certain that's exactly what she had just done.

"Not that I can blame you, of course, Detective," he spoke, directing his sinister words and actions at Jake, "If I had to work alongside this hot, little piece of ass every day, I'd wanna' take her for a ride, too."

Jake's knuckles were beginning to turn white from how tightly he was holding onto his gun. Amy continued to stare him down in a panic as she could almost swear she spotted a vein bulge out from his neck. She didn't even know Jake was capable of having any veins there.

He was starting to get angry - so angry, and Amy could tell. She tried to keep him calm with her gentle, brown orbs but was quickly distracted as Clay reached around to her side and began to unfasten her vest.

"Aw, come on, Clay," Benny muttered as he brought a hand to his head, "Are you seriously trying to get us shot right now?"

Clay snickered at his cousin's words with a sly smile. The filthy minded creep had a plan, and he knew exactly how to carry it out. As he untucked Amy's shirt from her pant suit and ran a hand along the bare flesh of her stomach, he glared Peralta directly in the eye.

And then, as his slimy fingers popped open the very top button of Amy's blouse, Clay leaned into her neck to take a single sniff of her hair, "Relax, Benny. I'm sure our detective friend here won't mind if I take a sample of his pretty little tramp."

Jake immediately saw red. He took one more giant step forward, his arms stiffening in the right-angle at which he was holding his gun. The fierce appearance on his face made Amy's chest skip a beat. Never had Jake looked so determined to fire his weapon with the intention of actually hurting someone. She couldn't let him lose control like that.

"Jake, stop, you know he's just trying to make you mad so you make a mistake."

Almost instantly, Amy's words caused Jake to freeze on the spot.

She was right. Jake knew she was right. He had figured that out for himself the moment Clay Strowman had first wrapped his disgusting arms around her. But none of that necessarily meant it was going to be able to stop Jake from acting on an impulsive whim to protect her at all costs. No matter how much he tried to focus on the stolen jewellery or the terrified hostages or anything else about the job at hand - all he could see was his girlfriend. And all he could think about was the last words he had spoken to her before they were separated.

He wouldn't even miss her? It was the biggest lie Jake had ever told anyone in his life.

His dominant stance was beginning to crumble. Clay loosened Amy's bulletproof vest even more, undoing another button of her shirt and tugging her in even closer towards him. His gun was still pressed firmly into her skull. She continued to struggle with a victimised grimace on her face, and Jake's blood continued to boil. But... what more could he do?

Playing chicken with his own life was easy. Jake had done it a million times before. But to put Amy at risk like that? Her life was not one to be played with. Jake loved Amy far too much for that.

Benny Strowman breathed a sigh of relief as Peralta finally went to lower his gun to the floor in surrender. He thought for sure that his older cousin's wildly evil intentions were going to lead to some seriously scary consequences from the detective who had been aiming at them with such purpose. All that Jake could do was glance up at his girlfriend with an apologetic glisten in his timid, brown eyes. Clay chuckled again and nodded towards him, gesturing for Benny to go and retrieve the gun and take Jake hostage.

That was when they all heard it.

The sudden noise of an almighty crash went ringing throughout the boutique. There were a few weighted thumps and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering to a thousand pieces. The commotion of it all had immediately caused Benny to spring backwards in shock, and Clay to detach himself from Amy with his head tilted curiously to one side.

"What the fu-"

Jake didn't even flinch.

Bringing his gun back up in front of him, he only took a quarter of a second longer to adjust his aim. And then, with probably the fastest reaction time he had ever recorded, Jake didn't blink as the bullet fired from his weapon and pierced right through the thigh of Clay Strowman.

The giant of a man roared out in agony as the impact caused him to drop his own gun cold to the ground. There were still a million other sounds taking place all around them. Turns out the makeshift barrier of furniture was just as poorly built as Jake and Amy suspected. As the pile of wood and cushions and glass had come toppling down to the ground, it had been enough noise to distract the two criminals and for Jake to steal the opportunity to strike.

Some of the hostages were shrieking with fear, Benny was yelling and cussing at the sight of his injured cousin, and some other police sirens were finally starting to scream out way off in the distance. But Jake wasn't letting any of that throw him off his game. He had one eye carefully glued on Benny to see how he might retaliate, while Amy scrambled for Clay's discarded weapon.

But the big man wasn't going down without a fight.

All of the frantic energy that filled the small boutique suddenly turned to utter silence for Jake as all he could hear was the shocked, high-pitched screech of a female voice that was all too recognisable to him.

The most selfish parts of his brain began to pray that the noise had come from one of the civilians as Peralta slowly turned back to face where Amy and Clay Strowman had been standing. And then, Jake felt his world split in half.

The larger of the two perps was still grasping at the excruciating pain pulsating through his leg with one hand, but in his other sat a very long, very sharp looking kitchen knife that was dripping with blood. Amy's blood.

"Amy!"

Jake's cries were as shattering as the sight of Amy collapsed on the ground and clutching at her side where she had been stabbed. Without even stopping to take a glance at his handy work, Clay immediately turned on his heels and hobbled over towards the fire exit as fast as his injured leg could carry him. Benny was simply frozen in place, standing over Amy's body with his arms held out to either side in utter disbelief, "Holy shit, man!"

With his mind switching to auto-pilot, Jake took a first step towards Amy and reached for his radio, "Officer down!" he announced into the mouth piece, "I have an officer down! I need a bus to the Macy's on Third Avenue! Repeat, I need a bus now!"

As he shoved his radio back onto his belt and quickened his steps towards his fallen partner, Jake narrowed his eyes at Benny where he remained standing idly by. The younger of the two cousins quickly realised that Detective Peralta was bolting straight towards him as he choked on a terrified gasp and turned around to run. Grinding his teeth together in pure frustration, Jake snatched up his baton and extended it out to its full length.

He might not have been as athletic as Rosa, and he certainly wasn't as strong as Terry, but he knew how to use all of his equipment. And Jake knew that with just one swing he could completely demolish this scrawny piece of crap's kneecaps if he wanted to. And for the first time in in his whole career - Peralta really, really wanted to.

But, somehow, Jake found it within himself to use all the restraint he could muster. Catching up to Benny with ease, he hit him across the back of his legs just hard enough so that he, too, would fall to the floor in pain. Leaping on him and instantly confiscating his two weapons - Benny's own gun along with Amy's - Jake then whipped out his handcuffs and locked them around the younger Strowman's wrists as tightly as he could.

He took two quick seconds to glance up at the fire door just in time to see Clay struggling to escape to the other side of it. Jake cursed under his breath, but he didn't remain hung up on the moment for too long. Letting go of his arrested criminal, Jake turned towards his left. Towards Amy.

"Ames..."

The affectionate word left him with a mere murmur as Jake crawled across the floor to be by her side. Benny immediately attempted to spring to his feet and make an awkward, hasty exit, but the jewellery counter's security guard who had been taken hostage quickly took over for Jake in holding the smaller criminal down.

Jake's panicked heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was going to explode in his chest. Cradling Amy's head in his hands, he fastened his eyes to her's. He simply couldn't bring himself to glance down at the wound behind her loosened vest that was still pouring with blood. A watery lump formed in his throat as his girlfriend gazed up at him in desperation. She was struggling to breathe as she tried to force out a couple of words to him.

"No, no," Jake hushed her, "No, babe, don't talk, it's okay, the ambulance is on its way, okay?"

As faint memories of his basic first aid training began to reform in his mind, Jake finally peeled back Amy's vest and lifted up the side of her shirt to gaze at the long, deep gash that stared back at him. Jake swallowed, hard. He didn't know if he wanted to burst into tears or throw up, but neither of those options were going to be any help to Amy in that moment.

The remaining hostages had made it to their feet and were curiously milling around the area in which Amy had fallen. Jake gawked up at the small group and fixated his vision on a tall man wearing a thick, black jacket.

"You, here," he commanded, beckoning to the the bystander, "Jacket, now."

Immediately doing what the detective had asked him, the man shrugged out his jacket and passed it down to Peralta on the floor. Taking a second to compose himself with a deep breath, Jake exposed Amy's wound a little further and then pressed the black fabric into her side, applying all the pressure that he could.

Amy flinched and cringed at the instant, intense pain that went shooting up the side of her body and all the way to her brain. She probably would have screamed if she had the breath to do so. An uncomfortable guilt churned within Jake as he moved one arm away from her waist and reached his hand across to meet her's.

The sight of his girlfriend's blood that stained his palm and his fingertips made him feel absolutely sick to his stomach.

Trying as best as he could to push this thought to the back of his mind, Jake timidly licked his lips and went to speak to her again, until he jumped slightly at the sound of loud voices and heavy footsteps echoing from behind him. Turning to look over his shoulder, Jake felt his chest settle slightly as his back up team had finally arrived and were clambering over the pile of fallen furniture.

Better late than never, Jake supposed, but he didn't allow himself to stay spiteful for long. At least he knew he would be leaving Amy in trustworthy hands while he chased Clay Strowman down.

As the final remnants of this thought slowly trickled from his brain, Jake suddenly narrowed his eyes, frowning to himself. Shooting his vision back down to focus completely on Amy, he swallowed what he sensed was another lump of nervous vomit.

Jake knew he needed to listen to what his first instinct had been - bolt out of the building, hunt down Clay, arrest him, and close the case. But as his brown orbs continued to mirror the near identical ones that gazed back at him with so much fear, Jake second guessed himself.

"Peralta!"

The sound of his name being called across the room by one of the uniformed officers from the Nine-Nine snapped Jake out of his trance. He whipped his neck around to glance at the five or six other police, and then looked back to his girlfriend.

Except - no. This wasn't his girlfriend, Amy. It was his partner, Detective Santiago.

Without stewing on the thought for a moment longer, Jake spun back around on the ground, keeping a tight hold of his partner's hand as he called out to the other officers, "We've got one suspect restrained and cuffed right here. His weapon and the weapon of the second perp are on the ground, and so is Detective Santiago's."

The robotic tone caking his voice felt so strange to Jake as he paused for a breath and continued to brief his team on the situation, "She's been stabbed, there's a bus on its way here for her right now."

In a last ditch attempt to assure himself that he was doing all the right things, Jake allowed his eyes to fall back to Amy's one last time. His brow immediately crinkled. Amy was still conscious and alert, but her skin was looking a lot more pale, the strength in her grip was weakening, and her breathing was short and sharp, like she was struggling a thousand times more than before and absolutely gasping for breath.

Something was seriously wrong. Jake knew it. But he also knew he still had a job to do.

Giving Amy's hand a tight, loving squeeze, he slowly began to slip his fingers away from her's, unhooking her own set of handcuffs from her belt.

"You're okay, Ames. You're gonna' be okay, okay? I promise," his words appeared to her in the most quiet whisper as he cradled her cheek for the shortest possible moment, "I'll cya' in a sec."

Leaping to his feet and ripping his gun back out of its holster, Jake went tearing off towards the fire exit. In one final bout of hesitation, he glanced back to Amy to make sure that one of the uniformed officers had taken his place by her side. When he spotted Officer Griffiths holding the black jacket firmly against Amy to stop as much blood flow as she could, Jake nodded to himself.

He needed to find Clay. The crook needed to pay for what he had done.

The harsh sting of the icy New York breeze whipped Jake across the face as he burst through the fire door and into the back alley that sat on the corner of Third Avenue and Hamilton Street. As big and powerful as he was, Clay Strowman couldn't have gotten very far - not one one leg, no way. Even if he had to search for him all night long, Jake was focused. He wasn't going to let this case go unsolved. Glancing down at his gun, he cringed at the sight of Amy's blood covering his skin, but quickly forced the harrowing thought from his mind.

Jake snapped his head back and forth as he looked up and down the alley a couple of times. Surely this guy wasn't so much of an idiot that he would choose to run out into the open street where any number of other cops could be looking for him. Considering this logic for a second longer, Jake quickly dug his heels into the pavement and spun around, heading down in the opposite direction.

The time that had passed between Strowman escaping and Jake running after him must have been a hell of a lot shorter than how it actually felt. All it had taken from Detective Peralta was the fastest little sprint he had ever ran in his life and a smooth drift around the corner of the alley until his vision zeroed in on a very large, very clumsy looking perp trying to scale the fire escape on the side of the building.

He supposed the crook's plan had been sort of genius - no one would think to look for a hobbled, injured criminal up on a roof top. The dumbest thing about it was simply how much Strowman had underestimated Jake and the fact that would be coming after him for some serious justice. With a little bit of pure revenge served on the side, of course.

"Freeze, Strowman!" Jake thundered into the alley.

The commanding tone in Jake's voice caused Clay to slip in surprise, grunting in agony as his bullet wound came into contact with the metal railing of the stairs. Gawking down to the ground beneath him, the bigger Strowman growled in frustration at Detective Peralta where he stood firm with his weapon pointed at him all over again.

"You seriously think I won't shoot your other leg?" Jake challenged, "You're under arrest. Come down from there and keep your hands where I can see them."

The stubborn criminal remained motionless in his place a minute longer. His leg was in far too much pain to try to climb any further, and he knew if he reached back for his knife, Peralta was going to release fire. The jig was well and truly up.

Huffing out in infuriated defeat, Clay wrapped one arm around the metal pole of the stairwell so he could hold both hands up in a second of surrender. He stretched his good leg down to the next step and then tried to slowly and carefully hop down one by one.

Jake couldn't help but smile and snigger a little when the great oaf slipped all over again and instead came tumbling down to the ground from about five feet up in the air.

A second tortured scream sprung from Strowman's voice box as he landed hard on his injured leg. The couple of deep roars from his throat had been so loud that they finally attracted the attention of two other uniformed officers who had been patrolling the front of the department store. Swapping a quick glance with them, Jake holstered his gun and then reached down to the ground, viciously dragging Clay to his feet. His bottom lip curled up in a snarl as he mustered all his strength and shoved his perp up against the brick wall to cuff him.

"Ow! Aw, shit, man," Strowman whined, "Police brutality, ever heard of it, asshole?"

Jake chuckled under his breath as he shook his head. Strowman was lucky that Peralta was still managing to somehow show some restraint. He could have been so much more brutal in that moment if he really wanted to.

Snatching the kitchen knife away from the inside of the goon's jacket, Jake handled it carefully as he stuffed it into the back of his cargo pants. And then, as Detective Peralta took Amy's set of cuffs from his belt and locked them tightly around Clay's wrists, he leaned in and swallowed, bringing his voice to a threatening whisper.

"If she's hurt," he began, "I am going to lock you up in the deepest, darkest, grimiest hole so far down in the bottom of Rikers that you are never going to see the light of day again."

Ploughing straight into an instant silence, Clay didn't even dare to murmur another whimper from the pain in his leg. His cocky, criminal bravado diminished into complete nothing. Strowman didn't think in a million years that he'd ever come across a cop smart enough and brave enough to actually take him down.

But Strowman didn't know Peralta. And Strowman didn't have the first clue about what Peralta was capable of when any harm was caused to Santiago.

Ripping him away from the wall, Jake pulled Clay around to face the two officers who were standing behind him and cleared his throat, "Can you handle this for me?"

Both of the other boys in blue frowned.

"What?" one of them asked with a snort and a chuckle, "No sarcastic pun or witty catch phrase, Peralta?"

Blowing out a near mute sigh, Jake calmly shook his head and carefully handed over Strowman and the bloodied knife to the two officers, "Just get him out of here."

The very second that the criminal and his weapon were in the safe hands of his back up team, Jake twirled around on the spot and started in a slow jog back towards the jewellery boutique. He could hear his two team mates reading Strowman his rights. It would be them to write the arrest report, and probably them who would earn a lot of the credit for bringing the repeat offender in. But Jake didn't care. Now that the case was closed, he had something much more important on his mind.

Images of Amy and harsh memories of their stupid, immature argument were beginning to flood Jake's brain as he rounded the corner and spotted the fire door he had exited through. All he wanted was to be back by Amy's side, riding with her to the hospital, holding her hand the whole time, apologising to her for being such a jerk... and absolutely assuring her of just how much he loved her.

He had almost completely formed the most sickeningly sweet apology that he could possibly muster, when Jake suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. His collaring of Strowman might have been one of the fastest of his career, but Jake apparently still hadn't been quick enough as he arrived at the street corner just in time to see a New York ambulance tearing away up the street and out of sight.

Jake cursed out loud and kicked the dumpster in the alley in frustration. He barely even felt the dull pain in his foot from doing so as he reached for his radio once more.

"Captain, do you copy?"

There was only two or three seconds of silence before the deep, monotone voice of Captain Holt echoed through the receiver in the radio, "Copy, Peralta," Raymond responded, "What happened, what's your location?"

Ignoring the questions from his C.O., Jake ran a hand back through his hair, "Have you heard anything from the medical team that took Santiago?"

"Yes, Sergeant Jeffords and I are following behind them right now," he explained, "She's on her way to the hospital in Fort Greene."

Jake didn't even hesitate as he spoke one final sentence before switching off his radio. It was go time again.

"So am I."

-x-

Hello to all those reading, and thank you for doing so! I'm new to writing for the B99 fandom, and I am (obviously) completely obsessed with Peraltiago :)

I'd love to hear what you all thought, and whether you think Amy is going to be okay, and how you think Jake might react to what's happened. Please review!

Stay tuned for the next instalment, and feel free to go back and read my other B99 story - a oneshot entitled Double Noice based during the S3 episode 'The Cruise'. I really appreciate the support :)

Till next time guys,

Reneyyyyyy x