The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM. Or Flashpoint. Or Rookie Blue.

Chapter Twenty-Four- Define Marked

marked (adjective): clearly noticeable; evident.

A shower. No. Good coffee. No. Tacos. From that late night food truck by the precinct. His mom's steak. It was late though so that was out. Crepes. From that fancy brunch place by the park. He'd need a shower though. Troy's thoughts raced behind closed eyelids in the backseat of Will's department SUV. Outside, lights flickered as red and blue police lights rotated. Troy shifted to adjust his hands still handcuffed behind his back.

"Want the key?" Will asked from the front.

"Nah," Troy sighed. "Its fine. What are we waiting for?"

"Precinct is trying to clear booking so we can get you in and out quick." Will looked at him through the rearview mirror.

"Who's running interview point?" Troy asked, looking out the window to see Gabriella on a cell phone with her back to him. Even with a helmet on, he knew it was her.

"Ford and Mac," Will said. "The States Attorney office sent over reps too for the interviews."

"Speedy, speedy," Troy murmured. He closed his eyes again. The front passenger door opened and someone climbed in. He didn't bother to open his eyes and see who. He already knew. She murmured something to Will and then clicked her seatbelt in place. "I'm awake," he told her with a tired grin. "You don't have to whisper."

"How are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"I'm hungry," he told her, opening one eye and catching her gaze in the rearview mirror.

"I've got half a protein bar," she told him. He seriously considered it for a moment and then grimaced.

"Yeah, no," he decided. He closed his eyes again. "I'll wait."

"I've also got enchiladas in my fridge," she told him after a moment, voice suggesting it was a thought that just came to her. Like she just randomly decided to make his favourite Mexican food. Like she had just been wracking her brain for some food she had stashed somewhere. "I may have Mexican hot chocolate too."

"Fuck you," he told her with a grin. "This is harassing the prisoner. I call police brutality."

"You know, some people may think you picked up that foul mouth while undercover," Gabriella told him, "but I know better."

"I know a few things about your mouth too," Troy reminded her. Something smacked his leg.

"And that's enough," Will told them. "You can continue this dirty conversation later. When you're home. And not in my truck. Where I have to listen."

Troy chuckled and leaned his head back. His wrists hurt but he could handle it. Looking out the window, he tried to gage where they were. The night was dark, lighted neon signs blurring in his vision as they rushed by. The streets were nearly empty, even all night diners empty. His mind drifted from enchiladas and back to crepes. And steak. Gabriella interrupted his thoughts.

"Do you want me to call your parents?" she asked quietly.

"Not yet," he told her. "We'll go when I'm done."

She nodded and turned back to the road in front of them. Will navigated the roads with grace and ease. The roads imprinted in his mind from training exercises. It was the nature of the job. Troy understood that. The way things became habit and second nature. The way everything was planned like a mission. Everything executed with precision. Plans A, B, C and all the way to Z considered options. Through half lidded eyes, Troy watched as Gabriella scratched at her hair, loosening the tight braid that had been under her helmet. He grinned, silently watching her.

"Central to all available units," the radio crackled up front. Gabriella turned it up. "This is a city wide alert for a black SUV with New Mexico tags reading Delta Julie Alpha-."

"That's Ramirez," Troy said, shifting to lean forward. He tugged his wrists, shoulders screaming as his heart pounded. "Fuck!"

"Are you sure?" Will asked. Gabriella was already on the phone, her fingers adjusting the dials of the radio, seeking other channels with more information. She paused at one point, listening, before someone picked up on the phone.

"I'm sure," Troy growled.

"—Last spotted southwest of Charleston Av," the radio buzzed. "Please be advised the suspects are armed and dangerous."

"It's Ramirez," Gabriella said, throwing her phone at the dashboard of the vehicle. "Fuck!" Will gave her a look, eyebrow raised. Troy rolled his eyes. "What!?"

"Nothin'," Troy replied. "I'm going to need an explanation."

"I don't have one," Gabriella told him. "Ramirez was Grey's responsibility. He had this. He knew every detail. He planned for his whole team. He picked his team. I don't understand."

"Give me something," Will barked at her, spinning the wheel to the left. "Where am I going?"

"We're going to the station," Gabriella told him. "He needs to finish this."

"No," Troy replied. "We're going after Ramirez."

"You need to be at the station. You can't be a cop right now, Troy. You need to give your statement and get out."

"Bellefontaine, you're going to head North. There's a salvage yard just off the highway." Troy turned to Gabriella before she continued her argument. "Brie, we need Ramirez. Without him, we've just disabled the dragon. Not killed it. Every drop of work you've put into this will be for nothing if you let him slip away now."

"How do you know he's at this salvage yard?" She asked, bringing up intel on her phone. "You've never mentioned it."

"It's not a Diablos property. Has zero connection to them as an affiliation." Troy shifted in the seat to look into the backseat of the SUV. He couldn't see anything. It wasn't a surprise. Usually a criminal would be in his place. "That's why its never been mentioned. Just a salvage yard. But, it has a truckyard that accepts empty containers once their unloaded. It's also big and filled with places to hide."

"So Ramirez knew we were coming and hid in the truck from his warehouse and let it drive him out without us noticing?" Gabriella summed up. "Great."

"Right, man," Troy directed Will, eyeing street signs leading to the highway. "Of course he knew we were coming, Montez," he drawled. "He's not stupid. People have been dropping around us like flies. You've got escaped girls spilling their guts. You've got trucks that got stopped. Lia's second in command is arrested after six months. He knew we were coming, just not the particulars."

"But specifically today," Gabriella insisted. "What gave away today?"

"Maybe he saw a car, maybe he saw a van, maybe he got a tingly feeling," Troy snapped. "When we find him, you can ask him." He rolled his eyes and wiggled. "I'm going to need a key to these now."

"You're not going in the yard," Gabriella told him.

"Um, yeah, I am," he said slowly. "I know the yard, you don't. Easy deduction."

"You're a criminal suspect and witness to a gang takedown," Gabriella retorted. "You don't get to frolic around. People notice. People who will put bullets in your head."

"They will also shoot people sitting in SUVs waiting to give their statements." He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"We've got backup coming," Will informed them. "We need a plan. Or we need to know Ramirez's plan."

"You said you know the yard?" Gabriella asked reluctantly.

"Yup." His lips popped on the word. "Autobody shop, salvage area, cranes, old shipping containers. It's a corn maze of metal."

"This is Montez," Gabriella called over her mic, ignoring the scanner. Troy agreed. Probably being listened to. "I'm going to need two units at every exit at Stapleton's Salvage at exit 42. Not just official exits. Every single escape point."

"What's your plan, oh tactical expert," Troy drawled.

"We're going through the front as heavy as possible. Fan out, go fast and steady." Gabriella dug out a key from her pocket. "Make a choice. Cop or cover?"

"Always the cop," Troy told her. She tossed him the key and he caught it in cuffed hands. He fumbled, twisting his wrists to relieve the pressure. Clicking open, one wrist cuff dangled while he freed the other. He put them and the key in his pocket. "How prepared are we to go in heavy?" he asked Gabriella as they pulled up to the salvage yard.

Flood lights poured light everywhere, lighting the area enough to mistake it for noon. Far off, light was dawning as a hint of pink. Police vehicles screamed and wailed as they entered the parking spaces. Troy took note of vantage points, roofs, and doorways that he could see. Police officers were throwing open trunks to grab gear and weapons. Vans and heavy artillery vehicles were pulling in.

"Very prepared," Gabriella told him. She let him out of the backseat and the led the way to the rear of the SUV. The door swung up and Gabriella reached in.

Gear hit Troy in the chest. Shedding his jacket, he strapped on a Kevlar vest and a helmet. Gabriella passed him goggles which he slid up, not needed yet. A utility belt came next, packed with ammo. Then she handed him a side arm. He checked the barrel and the chamber before clipping it in place. Will hooked him up with a microphone and ear piece as more vehicles arrived. When Troy turned back to Gabriella, she had a grin on her face. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her hands.

"How'd you know?" he asked, shaking his head as he took the rifle in her hands.

"A conversation with Ford one night at The Shield. He was telling training stories." Gabriella handed him the weapon and watched as he took note of its weight. His hands smoothed over it. He checked it over and clicked the safety off and on again. "I hear you're a good shot."

"When it counts is what matters, right?" he asked her. She looked at him and it cut through. The metal of the gun was warm in his hands and her eyes burned straight to his core as the red and blue lights flickered in their depths. He drank her in after so long without her. Ten years seemed like seconds compared to the past few months. He had wanted her every day. He found himself taking second looks at people on the street. He caught himself from calling. Shadows and light crisscrossed her face as he shifted the gun into one hand.

"What?" she asked softly, eyes darting as she searched for something.

His throat was dry. His voice would stick. He knew it. His hand itched to brush her hair back like he used to but it was under the dome of her helmet. His fingers settled on the straps of her vest and he tugged. Her hand wrapped around his and held it for a moment. A moment was all he needed. He crossed their unspoken boundary. He forgot about time and space and thinking things through. He ignored the doubts and the regrets and the hesitations.

He pressed his lips to her exposed cheek.

"You ready?" he whispered, pulling back.

"Very."

The strap of her helmet dug into her chin uncomfortably. A strand of hair tickled her neck no matter how many times she swiped at it. She had something in her boot and the underwire of her bra was digging in. She wanted a shower and a massage and to sleep for days. She couldn't remember if she took her birth control that morning or if she had turned off the light in her bedroom. She needed eggs and fruit at the grocery store, and laundry detergent from Costco.

Every possible thought raced through her mind as she listened to Sam dole out instructions. Every thought to distract her from the one that kept resurfacing. Troy had kissed her. Sort of. Kind of. It was a kiss. Technically. Not exactly what she had in mind on those nights she woke from dreams. Or nightmares depending on her mood. But it wasn't a hug. She shook herself as he appeared in front of her, looking thoughtful and pensive. His jaw tight and the pulse beneath his eye obvious in the dark.

They didn't need words. She knew the patterns and the hand signals. She knew the feel of steel in her gloved hands, and the sounds to listen for. More importantly, she knew her partner. He held his weapon with ease, never showing a flinch or a tremble as they moved silently through the shadows. His shoulder flexed under his thin t-shirt and the vest. Where she had layers of protection, he had shed it all. Almost. She had won the argument about a helmet fairly easily. Without a word, actually. She considered that for a moment as they ducked around a shipping container and surveyed the area.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her quietly, adjusting a gear pouch. Gabriella wanted to adjust her bra.

"That I should have brought those enchiladas with me," Gabriella griped, gun levelled ahead of her as she tracked their route in her mind.

"I'd say you're bluffing," Troy whispered, "But it wouldn't surprise me if you are actually concerned about food."

"If you keep going," she warned, eyebrow raised, "I will eat every one of them myself." She paused, knowing he was smirking. "And make you watch."

"It's good to be home, Montez." Troy looked over his shoulder and winked at her. Gabriella resisted the urge to hit him over the head with her gun.

They continued in silence, Troy's flashlight leading the way with its small blue flicker. The force had broken into teams. Teams encircled the outside of the compound and teams searched inside the property. Troy and Gabriella had discussed specific targets and settled on the autobody garage and office building at the far end of the yard. All roads led there. Literally. In fact, as Gabriella had quickly figured out, all video feeds led there as well. Ramirez would know they were coming. It was the most logical plan. If he was hiding out in the salvage yard, he had a thousand and one places to do it. But he wouldn't know what was coming.

"This is team 28-05", Grey called over the mics. Gabriella locked eyes with Troy when he glanced back at her. They paused, waiting for the rest. "We think we found the truck and trailer from the warehouse. It's empty."

"28-05," a sergeant relayed, "Secure the truck and wait for forensics." Gabriella checked her watch and glanced towards the lightening sky.

"You were right," Gabriella told him. "He's in the shop."

"Slow and easy," Troy reminded her and she felt her cheeks burn and her adrenaline rush. "Slow and easy. Just because he's there doesn't mean he wouldn't be prepared. And it doesn't mean surrender."

Gabriella nodded and adjusted her grip. He was right. They needed to be careful. This wasn't an ambush. This was poking the bear. An angry bear, with a lot to lose, and very likely plotting an escape even with three police divisions in the vicinity. She checked their position again as Troy checked all angles before leading them past another row of containers. Gabriella glanced up and to her left, the rough metal brushing by her right shoulder as they passed.

"Clear," Troy whispered to her, using hand signals to notify other teams following their grid pattern. "This is team 28-11," he called into his mic. "We believe the suspects are in the autobody shop. Do we have confirmation?"

"We have movement inside," a voice replied in Gabriella's ear, "But not confirmation."

"When I give the go ahead," Gabriella said, "I need someone to cut the power to the building and the video surveillance."

"Ready when you are, Montez," Tanner called through the mic. "Already isolated the cables."

Troy nodded and indicated the row of containers was ending. Gabriella looked up and realized they were exiting the container portion of the yard and entering the salvage area. Smashed and totalled cars were piled around them. The evenly spaced rows of the containers gave way to piles of salvage that only the employees could categorize. Eyes open, ears straining, Gabriella followed Troy through the maze of metal.

Stifling a yawn, Gabriella paused for a moment to refocus. It had been more than twenty-four hours since she had slept. The last thing she had eaten was half a bagel and a handful of blueberries. She had left her half of a protein bar in the truck. The makeup left from her quick undercover moment at the club felt sticky on her face. Her hair itched. Her cheek tingled. She shook her head and caught Troy giving her an odd look.

"What?" she mouthed, not trusting their voices to the mics.

He shrugged and looked ahead again. Gabriella picked up the pace and came up behind him, gun lowered at the ground while his was pointed across the empty space in front of them. Gabriella shifted back to focus and adjusted her mic. Looking at Troy's field of vision, she took note of where they were and matching it to the map she had memorized earlier. Less than a hundred yards ahead of them was the back entrance to the body shop. Five large double garage doors faced them. One was open. Beside the last one was a set of fire escape stairs leading to a door on the second level.

"This is 28-11," Gabriella called into her mic. "Bolton and I are going to breach through the second floor door on the south side."

"28-01 and 28-09 will back them up," a voice skipped over the frequency.

"We're ready to take the north side," Luca replied.

As all of the other teams checked in, Gabriella checked her gear and her weapons. Troy did the same while keeping an eye on their target. When he reached up to tighten his helmet, Gabriella reach a hand out and tugged on his vest. Frowning, she pulled the straps harder, glaring at him as she tightened them. Then she double checked the other five.

"The plan is to not die," she whispered.

"Right," he told her. "It fits in with the plan to take the stairs, blow open the door, and arrest Ramirez."

"Bolton, I'm really not in the mood right now," Gabriella told him. "I just want this over with so I can go home and shower. And you can shower. Because God knows where you've been."

He winked at her. Rolling her eyes, Gabriella hoisted her rifle and motioned for Troy to step aside. They crossed the remaining distance between them and the building quickly. Dawn was spreading over them. The surprise of night and the dark was no long an asset. Behind them, team members spread out, heading for the garage doors and the lower level of the building. Gabriella took the lead up the stairs, weapon trained on the windows, eyes searching for movement. Troy covered her from behind.

The stairs creaked with her first step and she cringed but kept going. When they reached the landing outside the door, Gabriella pulled her goggles into place. She waited for Troy to do the same before trying the door knob. It was locked. Not a surprise. She turned and kicked the door in. The place hadn't been built for security. As soon as the door swung open, she rolled in a flashbang charge and ducked. The upper floor rumbled and cracked like thunder and the windows exploded with light. The ear pieces in place kept both of them from becoming completely disorientated. Below them, similar flashes and bangs were occurring throughout the first floor garage.

Through the door, weapon left, weapon right, ten steps forward and check the office space. Desk, chair, filing cabinet, photocopier. Nothing. Second door is unlocked, leads to bathroom. Empty. Third door, Troy first, weapon left, weapon right, back to back, check the storage closet. Kitchen space. Table, chairs, counter, freezer. Empty. New door, wide open, dark hallway, flashlight up. Even breaths. Balance the light and the rifle. Storage space. Racks and shelving everywhere in even rows. Parts and boxes piled high. Line of sight blocked. Hand signals. Split up. She'll go left.

Gabriella moved slow and steady, weapon drawn through the room. They were silent, listening for anyone else. Her own heart sounded like the loudest thing in the world. In her ear, she listened for those downstairs. It was quiet until it wasn't. Voices and yelling erupted over the microphone. Gunshots and directions. Police identifications as they yelled for people to drop their weapons. Gabriella noted that two people were being pursued. That left two more.

She nearly thought the sound was in her mic until she whirled around and threw another flashbang. The storage room erupted in white light and Troy yelled her name. The person behind her was illuminated to make him look like a black cutout against the white background. It was like trying to identify someone in the glare of a strobe light. It wasn't Troy. That was all that mattered. She fired her raised weapon. The shadow ducked. The dots were fading and this time she knew it was Carlos Carlotta raising a gun at her. She fired again. This time he went down. Troy was already over him, two fingers to his neck. Shaking his head, he confirmed what she knew. Kill shot.

She let her breath out. There was a flicker of movement behind Troy and Gabriella raised her gun and fired. They ran. Troy was behind her, yelling into his mic. Gabriella held the lead, winding through the storage room. She paused at the end of a row, slamming her back against a metal post as she backpedaled to safety. A bullet hit the shelf above her. Troy's breath was in her ear. She shoved him down as another bullet sparked above them. Twisting, she raised her gun and fired towards the door. Another bullet and then footsteps.

They followed. Past the last shelf and through the open door. On the landing of the stairs that led to the garage, Gabriella swung her weapon left, right and then down. The first floor was a swarm of people and smoke. He wasn't going there. Troy tapped her shoulder and she turned, seeing another staircase tucked behind the door. It led up. Troy pushed past her and aimed his weapon up. Footsteps pounding on metal. He fired. Nothing.

"Roof?" Gabriella asked.

"Crane," Troy replied.

She followed him in the stairs. They went slow, pausing to sweep their surroundings. Near the top, Troy turned and pressed her close to the railing. A bullet hit a stair. Troy returned the shot. They kept going. A door at the top slammed shut and Gabriella took a breath before hurtling herself towards the exit. She stood opposite Troy on either side of the door as he mouthed a countdown. They went through the door together. Sweep left. Sweep right. Sweep up. Gabriella shut the door with one hand behind her. Eyes forward, she tried to get her bearings.

"What do you know about cranes?" she asked Troy.

"They lift things?" he replied sarcastically. "I can operate them, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure we knew the same thing," Gabriella told him.

"Of course you know how to operate a crane," Troy muttered.

"I'm an engineer," Gabriella reminded him. "I know things."

"Do you have eyes on him," Troy asked, shifting the topic.

"If I did, you'd know," Gabriella said, rolling her eyes.

"This is Bolton," Troy called into his mic. "We're on the roof of the autobody shop. It leads to one of the cranes. We could use some backup."

"He's climbing," Gabriella called, pointing up.

"Fucking hell," Troy groaned. "Carlotta's climbing the rigging for the crane."

"I'll send some officers your way." Sam's voice crackled over the mics.

"Do you have Ramirez?" Gabriella asked.

"Bellefontaine and Tanner are chasing him down," Sam told her. "We've got two suspects contained on the first floor."

"I guess we just sit—" Troy's words were cut off by the sound and spark of bullets hitting the steel structure of the crane beside his head. Another hit the ground. Another hit the brick beside Gabriella's head.

She dove at Troy, shoving him out of the way and rolling towards the wall of the building near the door where the overhang of the roof shielded them from Carlotta's view. And bullets. Troy winced as he crouched beside her. Gabriella pulled out bullets and refilled the cartridge in her gun. She offered some to Troy but he had his own. She clicked them in place, and took the safety off. In her ear, their backup responded that there were officers on the ground, and under the crane. Callum and Aaron entered through the door and kept to the shadows.

"You guys good?" Aaron asked, eyes to the sky.

"Yeah. We're fine. You bring a harness?" Gabriella asked him.

He passed it over without a word. Gabriella handed over her weapon and slipped into the harness. Clipped and tightened and ready to go, she took her rifle back and aimed it up. Aaron was already readying ropes. Gabriella walked Callum and Troy through the strategy. She and Aaron were going to climb. They would cover them. So would those on the ground. They would climb and clip as they went. Either Carlotta would start climbing down, or Carlotta would surrender.

"Or Carlotta fires and someone puts a bullet in him," Troy reminded her.

"Worst case scenario," she told him.

"I think tonight is edging towards fulfilling worst case scenarios," he replied. "Be careful."

"Always," she told him. She held his gaze, goggles making her vision slightly altered. Troy had already ditched his goggles elsewhere. His hand patted her shoulder, but it lingered slightly and squeezed. Just enough to close the distance. Just enough to let her know. Just enough that Callum smirked. "Campbell, I promise to try and not take you with me this time."

"Appreciated," Aaron told her.

Safety on, rifle over her slung across her back, Gabriella started climbing. They went quickly, clipping and securing the rope as they went. Somewhere down below, the slack ends of their lead ropes were secured to rings driven into the roof. Eyes up, focused on where they suspected Carlotta was laying low and panicking, Gabriella kept hands and feet moving. Foot, foot, hand, push. Repeat. Below her, the salvage yard sprawled out in a mix match of uneven piles mixed with organized rows. Further out, she could see the freeway and the edge of an Albuquerque suburb. The sun was at her back, shadows still stretching through the yard. Eyes back to the operator's box suspended above them. She tried to remember to breathe.

In the end, it was quite anticlimactic. Realizing that two tactical officers were coming at him while almost a hundred feet above the ground, Carlotta made the rational choice to surrender. Gabriella and Aaron stayed on the rigging while he tossed weapons to the ground and then Gabriella threw him a safety line and made him climb down alone. Troy was waiting at the bottom when Carlotta's feet hit the roof, and he was on the ground in seconds. Troy roughly cuffed his hands behind his back and then hauled him to his feet. Carlotta spit in his face. Troy elbowed him in the mouth. Callum frog marched him from the area while Troy waited for Gabriella and Aaron to reach safety.

"Nice job," he told them, keeping the ropes untangled as they stepped onto solid ground.

"Thanks," she told him. "Where is he?"

"LaPierre took him down to a squad car. Maybe your SUV? I get to sit up front now." Troy gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"He knew, huh?" she asked softly.

"Right away," Troy told her. "I wouldn't kiss me, if I were you. His DNA is on my face."

"What about his face?" she asked.

"I think he may have slipped coming down the crane." Troy shrugged. "Too bad we don't have ice."

"You're expecting a lecture," Gabriella acknowledged. "But I'm tired. And he pissed me off. And those rungs were slippery."

Troy smiled and helped them gather gear. Ropes were coiled, clamps were tucked away. Gabriella left her climbing harness on, as did Aaron. Troy took her backpack from where they'd tucked it away and slipped it on. His rifle he kept gripped between two hands. All his gear would need to be catalogued to his name for ballistics and forensic reports. Gabriella pulled her googles up to rest on her helmet. Troy knew she was itching to take it off but protocol said otherwise. His hair was sweaty under his helmet and the strap dug into his jaw.

They left the roof in silence, taking heavy steps back down to the second floor and then continuing to the garage floor. Investigators and forensic officers were already combing over everything. Yellow markers and photographers were spread out. Dan has his helmet under his arm as he talked into a cell phone and directed those around him. Troy searched for those from his precinct. Dan put the phone away as they approached.

"Bolton, nice work," Dan said, slapping Troy on the back.

"Thanks, sir," Troy told him.

"There's a team back at the station prepared to debrief with you but—" Dan was cut off by Gabriella.

"Troy, we have to go. Now." She had disappeared to check on Carlotta but was now running towards him. "We need to go. Ford says they can take your initial statement at the hospital. Come on."

"Hospital?" Troy asked, confused. He looked at Dan who just looked tired and guilty.

"You didn't tell him?" Gabriella asked, voice stressed.

"Bolton, headquarters needs your statements. Half of the people we arrested tonight will go before a judge today. They need everything they can to keep them from making bail," Dan insisted.

"What the fuck?" Troy asked, still not getting answers. Sometimes Dan played the white shirt role too well and missed the big picture. Troy didn't like Gabriella's tone and he didn't like how Dan was deflecting.

"Bennett took a bullet," she told him, glaring at Dan. "It's bad. Ford is on his way to the hospital to get statements."

"Bolton-," Dan tried again.

"Whoever needs to find me, can find me at the hospital. Montez, let's go." Troy turned his back and ran for the SUV.