Chapter Text
It was a normal day at the precinct. Well, as normal as any precinct could be when you had characters like Jake Peralta and Gina Linetti.
“Gina!” Jake yelled, walking confidently into the precinct with a handcuffed perp in hand. Gina did not deign to respond to Jake, did not even look up from her phone, seeing as her friend usually had nothing interesting to say. Jake, undeterred, plopped his perp down into the chair next to his desk, giving him a don't you think about moving look, before walking over to Gina’s desk.
“Ginaaaa” Jake said in a sing-songy voice, now standing directly in front of Gina. Gina glanced up to show her approval of his dedication to pizazz, before returning her attention to her phone.
“What do you want girl,” Gina replied, thumbs moving at the speed of lightning as she typed out a new tweet. She was paying attention to Jake, but she couldn’t make it that easy for him. After all, she had an image to maintain and couldn't be caught caring about things that did not involve dance or her 17-step plan for fame, in which she currently was on step 6.
“Well, girl,” Jake said with a hint of sass, before dipping into a whisper “you will be happy to know that our super-secret-extra-fun addition to the precinct will be getting delivered today.”
Gina’s head snapped up and she put her phone down. Which meant this was a big deal.
“You’re joking!” She whisper-yelled.
“Yeah I am,” Jake admitted, frowning. Gina gave him a look, Jake broke out into a smile, “Kidding, just practicing my acting skills. It's arriving today and you better be ready because it's going to be fantastic.”
Gina and Jake, in a moment of drunk hysteria during one of their monthly sleepovers, ordered a huge claw-machine to the precinct. Sure, it was $300 and sure, they could definitely not afford it, but it was 3 am and they were convinced this was the best idea ever.
“Think of the money we will make off of all of those criminals,” Gina slurred, taking another sip from her homemade, dangerously strong long-island iced tea. Jake giggled, spilling his rumchata and root beer mixed drink on the couch (not that he noticed).
“But do you think they will have time to play?” Jake sounded genuinely concerned in his drunk stupor. He suddenly bolted up, nearly falling over from the speed, “Gina, what if we made a law that said that every person being charged had to play our claw-machine before going to jail?”
“Girl, you are a genius.”
Now it was three weeks later, and Gina and Jake were thanking their drunk selves for their stroke of brilliance. The precinct had had a week of low morale after a series of violent crimes in their district. This was exactly what they needed.
Gina gave Jake a high five and he returned to his desk where his extremely well-behaved perp was still waiting to be processed. Jake sat for a moment, daydreaming about what prizes would be waiting for him in that claw-machine. He vaguely remembered the ebay description saying something about the prizes being super old but he still had hope that they would turn out to be super awesome. Like pokemon cards. Or silly bands!
“Jake!”
Jake was forcefully taken out of his beautiful daydream by something even more beautiful. Amy.
“Yes, darling, lovely girlfriend who I adore?”
Amy rolled her eyes, “Jake, I’ve been calling your name for a good thirty seconds now, what on earth were you and Gina talking about?” Good ol’ classic Amy, hating to be left out.
“Amy, I have no idea what you are talking about, I do not know anyone by that name,” Jake turned his extremely innocent eyes towards Amy. Amy scoffed.
“Ok, as long as it is not another one of your ‘pranks’ which are actually not pranks because no one laughs,” she deadpanned. Jake dramatically clutched his heart.
“Amy, that is deeply hurtful. Charles laughed at my last prank!”
“Charles laughs at anything and everything you do. He is not a measure of your humor.”
“I happen to think Jake is very funny,” Charles butted in from where he stood near his desk, “are you ready to go Amy?” Charles pushed in his chair, shrugging on his coat before walking over to Jake and Amy.
“See Amy! I’m hilarious,” Jake grinned, “where are you two off to?”
“We have a potential lead related to the Antoine case near Samson and 5th. Captain is sending us to investigate,” Charles said, “and there is an extravagant Ethiopian restaurant near there that I would love to get a glimpse of.” Amy put on her jacket, stuffing her gun into its holster, and put her badge around her neck.
“Aw, no fair!” Jake whined, “you’re telling me I am stuck here processing perps while you guys get to witness all of the action? Betrayal,” Jake heaved a gigantic sigh and slumped in his seat. Charles gently patted Jake on the back.
“Trust me Jake, there is nothing glamorous about knocking on doors and talking to neighbors,” Amy said, crossing her arms, “I seriously don’t know why the captain is sending us out today with this many perps in the holding cell.”
All three of them peered over at the overflowing holding cell. This must be some kind of record, Jake thought. There were guys taking up every place on the bench, along with some standing or sitting on the floor. Along with these dozens of criminals, Terry and Rosa were both sitting at their desks, speaking to some civilians.
Jake turned back around, giving Amy a concerned glare, “Um, is this the real Amy? When have you ever questioned your precious idol's orders?” Amy’s cheeks flushed.
“Oh, I mean Captain Holt must have a great reason, he is the best captain of the NYPD after all,” Amy stammered, “Charles, lets go.” Amy hastily leaned down and kissed Jake on the cheek before rushing out the gate to the elevator. Charles wagged his eyebrows at Jake before giving an enthusiastic wave and following after Amy. Jake smiled good naturedly, oh how he loved those two. He loved them almost as much as he loved teasing them.
“That your girl?” Jake jumped, having nearly forgotten the suspected criminal sitting next to him. Jake glanced at him quickly, trying to decide whether it was best to lie or not. The guy looked at him expectantly.
“Uh, yeah” Jake answered after a second, reaching for the form he had to fill out before he could surrender the guy to the holding cell with the other criminals. He grabbed his pen, squinting at the questions he had read a thousand times yet seemed to forget every time he had to ask them.
“Ok, what is your first and last name-”
“I didn’t strike you as the type.”
Jake looked back up at his perp, actually examining him for the first time since he brought him in. He was older than Jake, but not by much, with gray hair speckled amongst dark brown. He remembered him being slightly taller than Jake, with a strong build. Yet, Jake did not struggle to take him down. His dark, gray eyes held an unnerving confidence as he stared at Jake. He was leaning casually in the chair, seemingly unbothered by his situation.
Jake gave an awkward chuckle, clicking his pen a few times, “Anyways, your first and last name?” The faster Jake finished this form, the less time he had to spend in this guy's presence. Weird perps came with the territory of being a detective, but it didn't make coming across them any less uncomfortable.
“You’re much prettier than her.” Jake gripped his pen as his heart gave a little jolt of disgust. Or fear? He wasn't sure. How anyone could ever compare him to Amy was beyond him. Sure, he was not ugly, but Amy was radiant. Jake forced what he hoped looked like a playful smile.
“I’m sure she would agree. Now let's get this done so you can be on your way-”
“It’s Jake right?” Jake inhaled a deep breath, now irritated, this guy was clearly not going to cooperate.
“First and last name?”
“You have something I want.” The perp sat up in his chair, pivoting until he was facing completely towards Jake. Before Jake could answer, the perp used his legs to grab one of Jakes, yanking Jake towards him. Caught off guard, Jake dropped his pen in favor of holding on to the armrests of his chair so as not to fall onto the perp.
There had been a few moments in Jake’s career when he had forgotten the authority granted to him by his title.
In his first year as detective, he found himself working on a case involving domestic violence. When leading the raid on the apartment, he found himself face to face with the prime suspect. The dad. Overwhelmed by memories of his own childhood, he froze. It took seeing one of the man's children hiding behind him to snap him out of his stupor. He wasn’t powerless anymore. He arrested the man. The next day, he quietly asked Terry to avoid handing him cases about domestic violence.
A few years later, there had been another moment when he had gotten separated from Rosa during an undercover mission. They had been investigating a few men that were suspected of dealing dangerously addictive and occasionally deadly drugs. Jake went to follow one of the suspects leaving from the venue when suddenly he was seized from behind. This was an instance where he remembered his detective status far too late.
Rosa found Jake eventually. He barely remembered Rosa tackling the man, laying into him with a fervor he had never before witnessed. What he did remember was how gentle her hands were on his shoulders, helping him sit up, in comparison to her viciously angry eyes. He came back to himself a few hours later, and vowed to be stronger, to prevent that from ever happening again.
Jake gasped at the man's sudden strength, daring to take his eyes off the perp to try and alert someone else without further agitating this man. He quickly surveyed the precinct, seeing Holt in his office glance up at the noise his chair made when it scraped across the floor. Jake saw Holt give him a confused look before standing from his chair. Jake, in a sudden realization that he was a detective, turned back to the perp and began reaching for his gun.
This was when all hell broke loose.
Before Holt could help Jake, the civilian Terry was interviewing whipped a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Terry. Simultaneously, the civilian at Rosa’s desk did the same. The dozens of men in the holding cell took this as their cue to break down the door separating them from the rest of the precinct. They filed out quickly, using their numbers to overpower any other remaining workers.
Two went for Holt who, upon seeing the situation, had made an attempt to send out an SOS message to Rosa and Charles as well as the 98th precinct in the few seconds before he knew he too would be seized.
Gina was pulled up from below her desk, where she was trying to hide. She held her hands up, wincing, as one of the perps threw her phone to the ground and crushed it beneath their boot. It took everything in her not to yell at the guy.
Jake's perp let go of Jake's leg and instead kicked the gun Jake had just pulled from his holster out of his hands. Before Jake could react, a few of the guys from the holding cell grabbed him, restraining him. Jake squirmed, trying to loosen their grip. The guy on his left, cuffed him over the head. Jake groaned. Maybe it was smarter to figure out the situation before trying to fight back, he thought. He was desperately trying to calm his rising panic at the slight soreness in his head, at the impossibility of the situation.
The guy on his right reached into his pockets, and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs. He threw them to his pal who then unlocked the handcuffs around the creepy perps wrists. A silence fell over the precinct. Every detective and worker had been subdued in one way or another. Jake tried to slow his racing heart as he surveyed the precinct the best he could while in the grip of the two criminals. How thought out was this, he wondered, in shock.
He dragged his attention back to the perp in front of him, who was staring at him with a smug look, watching his reaction. The perp stood up, flexing his newly freed hands. His height was much more threatening than before. He leaned towards Jake and whispered in his ear.
“Told you you had something I wanted, pretty boy.”