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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years ago

Note

probz has to be an au bc wouldn't fit the canon jake and amy but something like one of them plans on leaving but has a nightmare of losing the other and rethinks and decides against it

(in fear of risking this to be an invite for all those cheating/breakup/badend anons to come my way... DO NOT. I WILL DELETE YOU.

Also kind of sorry anon because I twisted your ask into so many directions that it’s not anywhere close to what you originally wanted, but it is what it is. They won’t ever think of leaving the other and have no need to decide against it. But we can do nightmares on this blog, oh yes we can.)

Amy sits in her bed, darkness around her safe for the occasional flash of a car's headlights on the street below. She's shaking, she realises, not from the cold, because she's tightly wrapped in her warmest blanket. Her heart is racing, her body is shaking, and she can feel the tears starting to well up in her eyes.

-*-

It had all turned into a miserable mess.

Amy had expected as much - but the trajectory it had taken was not really the one she'd calculated for.

They had tried. They really had. Well, as much as you would try for a six day relationship.

Jake's speech had been sweet, and weirdly touching, and for a few days, she'd agreed with the sentiment... but sometimes things just don't work the way you want them to.

In her defense, which she repeated to herself every time the guilt came nagging back, she had broken it off before the demotion. That wasn't her fault, but entirely the Vulture's doing, who'd given Jake a lopsided grin and a shrug and a "So sorry bud, the paperwork was already in, how was I supposed to know Santiago would drop you like a hot potato?"

(Jake was actually the one who'd told her that. That it wasn't her fault. That he wasn't holding it against her.

It didn't help much, when she walked past the uniformed officers and detectives alike, giving her blank stares and mumbling something about 'being too good for the little people'.)

Sometimes she even thought the demotion was kind of the only good thing about the whole mess. At least it meant he didn't have to work with her. Didn't have to look up from his desk to see her, every time, the woman who broke his heart and pretended like they could keep being friends.

She'd begged for exactly that, after her little speech, without a laptop or notes or anything, but much more heartfelt than any other breakup speech she'd prepared before. She'd repeated how much she valued Jake's friendship, and how she didn't want to lose it to a hopeless romance, and how she was hoping they could fight for that, instead. Against all odds.

"Of course." Jake had said, with a smile that she now realises never reached his eyes. "Always, Ames."

And then he'd packed up his desk, handed his detective badge to a grinning Vulture, and moved downstairs.

They hadn't spoken since.

Charles wasn't speaking to her, either, for obvious reasons. She wasn't sure how much she trusted his rants about 'destroying someone's soul', but she was sure the base of it was at least true, even if Jake would never tell her so.

Rosa was on her side, but she wasn't quite sure if that was only because of some female-bro-code she stuck to. She could get her updates, at least, little mentions of 'Peralta doing alright' every once in a while, the last lifeline she still had to him.

A line she thinks she probably doesn't deserve anymore.

-*-

There’s a load of commotion when she walks into the precinct today, the ground floor in a hurried mess she’s never seen before - and this is a police station, after all. She gives Rosa a questioning look when she walks past her from the elevator, noting the bullpen seems to have drawn all of the quietness from downstairs into itself for a complete, deafening silence.

“What’s going on?” Amy asks, softly, just as quietly as the room is, as she leans onto Rosa’s desk and also realises that her friend is refusing to meet her eyes.

“There’s an active shooter situation five blocks down.” Terry explains instead from halfway across the room, and Amy nods.

Charles’ desk, the one that usually has the radio stationed on it immediately for these kind of situations, is empty.

Rosa’s voice cuts through Amy’s thoughts like one of her many knives.

“Jake’s responded to it.”

-*-

She doesn’t know how she got where she is now. She’s not allowed - she’s meant to stay at the precinct, wait for news, do her job. But she’s running instead, running and running and running towards the only thing she can see, the bright red and blue lights flashing into her eyes, the noise and hustle of police and first responders around her as they all seem to part for her.

She’s running, she’s racing, and suddenly she’s not.

Suddenly, she stands very, very still.

There are gloved hands all over Jake, administering things, poking things into him, pressing on his chest, holding his head-

There is so much blood. Amy can feel the smell seep into her nostrils, overpowering everything else. Jake’s smell, the smell she still remembers from her pillows and from good morning hugs and first coffees, overpowered by the stinging, putrid scent of blood.

She wants to get closer, but she can’t. People are running past her, in front of her, against her as she tries to step forward. She can’t reach him, can’t touch him, can’t hold him to tell him that everything’s alright, everything will be fine, everything-

She can’t hear any of the machines. She can’t tell if there’s a heartbeat or a flat line or anything, really, she can’t hear anything except for Jake’s voice. Jake’s voice, deep in her head, repeating the last thing he’s ever said to her.

“Always, Ames.”

-*-

There’s a light at the bottom of her bedroom door, soft and faint. There’s little noises, careful and quiet.

She jumps out of bed without a single care about cold floors and naked feet to follow them.

Jake is squatting in front of one of her kitchen cabinets, but he lifts up as soon as he notices her in the doorway.

“I tried to be quiet!” He defends himself immediately with a slightly guilty look on his face, expecting to be scolded for pottering around her kitchen at 3am, probably. “But you have, like, no snacks anywhere, Ames. What do you even do for midnight cravings?!”

She lets out a little whine he doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s still rambling.

“I know going through your cupboards after like, three weeks is probably a no-go, so I’m sorry, but you know I get really snacky and I thought maybe you had at least some trail mix or something somewh-”

He goes silent as she crashes into him, wraps her arms around his waist and presses her tear-streaked face into his chest. She can feel him hug her just as tightly, his breath buried deep in her scalp as he whispers.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright. What’s wrong? What hap-”

“I’m sorry.” She whines through sniffles and tears slowly ebbing. “I’m so sorry, Jake.”

“For... what?” His voice is hesitant.

“I broke your heart and you got demoted anyway and we weren’t even friends anymore and then you got hurt and you-I think you died- I’m-”

He pulls her in closer, tighter, one hand on the back of her nape to press a kiss to her forehead as he holds back a relieved smile.

“A nightmare?”

Amy nods, letting go of him just enough to wipe her tears away, and he helps her with that right away.

“It’s okay, Ames. Just a dream. I’m not dead and I’m not hurt and I’m still a detective, and we’re best friends for life, but don’t tell Charles that.” Jake smiles and she tries to echo it. “And you didn’t break my heart.”

“I won’t. I won’t ever, Jake, I swear.”

“Well, I sure hope so.” He laughs softly as he pulls her back into a hug. “Did I at least get a really good breakup speech in your dream?”

“I didn’t even take any notes for it.”

“You shoulda known it was a nightmare right then and there, Ames.”

She giggles, her face hidden into his shoulder as she feels the exhaustion of such a rapid wake-up and dash finally catch up with her. Jake’s already steering her back to the bedroom with careful steps, and he tucks her in on one side before slipping under the covers as close as he can on the other side to warm her up again. She sighs into the embrace, a feeling so comforting and cozy and safe, she can’t imagine how she’s managed to miss out on it for a good thirty years. She can’t imagine losing it ever again, either, even after just a few weeks of it.

He pecks one more kiss to her temple before settling down fully, and she can feel the rumble of his stomach against her own belly.

“I’ll buy some trail mix tomorrow.” Amy whispers. “Put it into the bedside drawer.”

“Dreamgirl.” She hears with a snicker, but she’s already drifting off.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #meine kritzelei #ficlet #fic

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