Chapter Text
The sound of boots pounding the wooden floor downstairs made a young Jim Street quiver in fear and dread. Ice cold hands of fear gripped his heart and made it painful to breathe.
His uncle was home from work.
Street threw off his bed covers and silently ran to his closet. He carefully closed the door behind him and tucked himself into the dark corner that was concealed by his winter coat.
The stairs creaked as his uncle drew closer.
Covering his mouth, Street tried desperately to keep quiet as tears began to pour down his face.
His bedroom door slammed open. The doorknob knocking into the wall. Street flinched, unable to quiet a barely audible whimper from escaping.
The house fell silent.
He only sounds being his shaky breaths and the rapid thumping of his own terrified heart.
Just as a tendril of hope seeped into his heart that his uncle may have left, the closet door was thrown open. His uncle snatched him from his protective corner without warning.
“NO PLEASE!” Street screamed as he was heaved up by his shirt and tossed onto his bed.
His uncle laughed and undid his belt.
Nevermore has Street wished to be back with his mother and abusive fatter than at that moment.
Street woke up panting in fright, confused at his surroundings. Frantically, he searched the room for any signs of his uncle, but he was alone. He wasn’t in his old house. He was safe.
Wiping his sweat face, Street pushed himself upright. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
Almost sixteen years later, he still couldn’t forget what his uncle did to him after his mother went to prison. Buck had saved him from that too, but the damage had already been done. He never reported it. Never told anyone. Even Buck didn’t know for sure what happened. Yeah, the cop suspected, but never caught Street’s uncle in action.
The memories made Street want to throw up. So, he shook his head and tried to expel the images from his mind.
Well, he wasn’t going back to sleep now—great, he’ll be operating in five hours of sleep tomorrow at work. Not his worst time, but surely not ideal.
Street heaved a sigh and rolled out of bed. Frustrated at himself, he threw in a long-sleeved shirt and shuffled into the kitchen. He quietly opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.
He didn’t want to disturb Luca, who was sleeping on the couch. Luca’s been living with him for three months, so they were practically roommates now.
It was nice, having someone there after a night like this. Having someone vibrant and joyful to take his mind off life after a long, difficult day at work.
After Street took a sip of his water and stole the entire box of pop tarts—s’mores (they were Luca’s, but what he knew wouldn’t hurt him)—from the cabinet. He padded over to the couch and sank down to the floor in front of it.
Luca was sprawled out like a freaking starfish. His head was facing the back of the couch. The blonde usually slept like a log, so as long as Street turned the volume down and Luca didn’t turn over, then he should be all set to watch tv.
Maybe he could find a movie…yeah, probably not at four o’clock in the morning. Instead, he pulled up one of their recorded shows to watch. This will finally give him a chance to catch up on all the shows he’s missed while at work. Luca got him started on the Flash and Arrow, so he’s a little obsessed now.
He was about halfway through his second episode of Arrow when Luca muttered something in his sleep then turned over—only to roll right off the side of the couch.
Somehow—much to Street’s amazement—Luca landed directly on his back.
Street watched frozen as Luca slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the source of light.
“I thought I turned that off,” the blonde muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. He groaned and shifted, “How did I end up the floor?”
“Hey,” Street said.
"OH MY GOSH!” Luca shrieked, lurching to a sitting position. “STREET, what the—Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” Luca continued to yell, holding a hand to his chest.
“Sorry,” Street chuckled, trying without success to sound somewhat apologetic.
“Liar,” Luca quipped, climbing to his feet and plopping down onto the couch, “you enjoy my pain and suffering.”
Covertly, Street took a bite of one of Luca’s pop tarts and joined the blonde on the couch. “Depends on the day. And it’s not my fault that you sleep like a starfish.”
“I knew it!” Luca propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. “All right, two can play at that game.”
Luca gave a mischievous grin that made a Street nervous, “So why are you up, Street? Because I know for a fact that you do not sleep like a starfish or fall out of bed. You like to curl up like a puppy in the middle of your bed.”
Street rolled his eyes, “Shut up.” He shrugged, trying to brush the question off, “I just couldn’t sleep.”
Luca turned sideways and raised a single eyebrow, “Oh really?”
Street narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “Yeah, really…Why do you care?”
Luca lifted a shoulder, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I heard you shouting in your sleep an hour ago. And I know that for a fact because I had woken from a dream and turned over. Then a few minutes later, I heard you rummaging around in the kitchen. You’re the loudest person I know by the way.”
“You’re the loudest person you know,” Street mumbled, pulling his feet up on the couch. They were approaching treacherous terrify, and it was starting to make him uneasy.
“Stop trying to change the subject,” Luca nudged his side, “You have a nightmare too?”
Street glanced up at him in surprise.
Luca shed a small smile, “You think you’re the only one with issues? I’ve had my fair share of nightmares too, including this morning. Though, usually, I don’t remember mine. I just wake up feeling scared for no reason.” Luca cast his gaze down to his hands.
Street cleared his throat, “And this morning?”
"It was about an old case. I couldn’t save one of the victims in time,” Luca’s voice cracked, but he coughed and regained his composure.
Shifting on the couch, Street took a deep breath, “Mine as about my uncle.” That caused Luca to turn and look at him, but Street keep his eyes firmly fastened on the tv screen. “After my mom killed my father, I was thrown into the foster care system until they discovered that my uncle was living in town. For months, I was forced to live with him. He…”
Tears blinded his vision and Street clenched his fists to redirect the anger and shame. He swallowed and continued, “He used to come into my room after he got home from work. I’d try to hide every time, but he’d find me and t-throw me onto the bed…”
Street choked on fresh tears and wiped at his face in frustration. He’s never stated what happened to him out loud before and it was too much to bear.
“Street, he didn’t—“ Luca started to ask, but stopped in shock when Street looked over to him. The kid’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears. The grief and shame were prevalent in his expression, giving Luca his answer.
Luca’s face turned red with anger. He sprung his feet and paced, trying to expel his inner rage. “That coward! He deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his life!”
Luca kicked the couch, causing Street to jerk away instinctually. “Luca,” his name came out almost as a whisper since he was so emotionally drained. Street reached for the blonde, wanting to prevent him from tearing up the house or worse. “Luca,” he said a little louder.
The blonde kept clenching his hands, but he huffed out a breath and turned back to Street, who looked so young curled up on the couch.
"Tell me that he’s in jail or dead,” Luca practically pleaded. Rage and sympathy in his blue eyes.
Street shook his head, chasing his unsure tears to drop down his cheeks.
As if the anger melted away, Luca moved to wrap a solid arm around his teammate, someone who was like his younger brother. “I’m so sorry.”
Street wiped his tears away, “He skipped town shortly after Buck began coming around the house more often. It must have spooked him, so he took off, causing me to be forced back into the foster care system. He wasn’t located because I never told anyone. And haven’t seen him since that day.”
Luca and he sat in silence, idly watching the tv flicker between brightly colored, useless commercials. Even though the blonde wasn’t talking, his presence surrounded Street in a comforting cocoon. He had never had someone like Luca before, someone that was like an older brother. Tan was the annoying brother that joked around with him and teased him. Chris was his older sister—by just a few years—but she gave him guidance and advice when he needed it. Deacon was somewhere between an older brother and a good father, and Hondo was sort of in that spot too. Luca, though, he was pure older brother, who always gave the warmest hugs and best laughs. They really were like a family.
"Hey, wanna watch the Flash until we have to start getting ready for work?” Luca asked as an ad for Crest toothpaste played on screen.
Grateful for the change in topic, Street shrugged, “Sure.” He fetched the remote from where it had previously been discarded on the coffee table.
He’d just turned on the show, so the dialogue hadn’t yet started when Luca spoke again. “Street.”
"Yeah?”
“You know I won’t let him hurt you again, right?”
Street sighed with something akin to relief, “I know. Thanks.” He threw the blonde a thankful smile that was returned before picking up the box of pop tarts from the floor. “You want one?” Street offered one of Luca’s own pop tarts to him.
“Sure—wait…These are my pop tarts! Why are you eating my favorite pop tarts?!” Luca snatched the box and cradled it to his chest like a newborn baby.
“Because they are delicious!” Street argues, taking a large bite of his pop tart that hadn’t been taken away from the elder. When Luca confuses to give him a betrayed face, Street rolled his eyes and acquiesced. “I’ll buy you another box, just grab one and watch this with me.”
Luca huffed petulantly and claimed a pop tart package for himself.
The two sat there for another two hours watching the Flash and snacking until they realized the time and frantically scrambled to get ready for work. Surprisingly, they weren’t late, and if they were more relaxed around each other than usual, that was their business.
—//—
Two weeks after their impromptu Flash marathon and nightmare confessions, they had completely forgotten the whole ordeal. They just confused with their regular routine of catching bad guys. Everything was fine.
Street should've known it was too good to last.
Currently, he was situated on top of the metal kitchen counter at work next to Chris, watching Luca, Tan, and Deke toss around a nerf football while Hondo transferred his notorious chicken soup into bowls.
They were taking a lunch break from their training since they were off official work for the day.
"Man, that smells divine!” Luca moaned and rested a hand on his supposedly ‘empty’ stomach.
“I get first dibs!” Tan announced, throwing the nerf football directly towards Luca’s stomach.
The blonde huffed in laughter but still caught the football. He launched it over to Deacon, making sure it wouldn’t hit any appliances in the kitchen.
“Why do you get first dibs? I helped carry the pot inside,” Deacon argued.
"And who’s the cook, who is also preparing it right now?” Hondo interjected with a proud grin.
A strong knock came from the door and an officer stuck his head in, “Excuse me, sergeant. But I have a visitor for Jim Street.
Street looked over in confusion. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intrigued by who it might be. The team raised their eyebrows at him expectantly, and he shrugged.
Hopping off the counter, Street jogged over to the officer just as the visitor pushed through the kitchen door. “James, my boy!”
Street froze in place, a couple meters from the door. He knew that voice. No. No. It couldn’t be possible.
The stocky, brunette man opened his arms and grinned a wide, sick grin. He was in greasy, oil stained clothes as if he had just come from work. He looked disgusting to Street’s eyes.
“I haven’t seen you in years. Come here and give your uncle a hug,” the man smirked, probably at the subconscious fear in Street’s stare.
Street stumbled backward a few steps, gaping wide-eyed at the demons from his past. He felt sick. His uncle needed to leave. He needed him to be gone. Street trembled with his rising fear. It was like he was twelve years old again, waiting in his closet for this monster to return.
Suddenly, his uncle reached a hand out towards him as if to grab him.
The next thing Street knew was that someone moved in front of him, blocking his uncle from touching him. The back of a familiar blonde head blocking his view of his uncle.
“Don’t touch him,” Luca spit out, tense as a live wire.
At those words, it only took seconds for the rest of the team to surround him like a small army.
Hondo and Tan flanked Luca’s side’s while Chris and Deacon stood directly behind them next to Street, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice even though they had no idea what was happening. All they knew was that his uncle was a threat.
“Excuse me?” His uncle asked, bewilderment and frustration clear in his voice. Street could imagine him clenching his jaw or puffing out his chest.
Street sucked in a shaky breath, and Chris slid her hand into his, offering her silent support.
“I said don’t touch him,” Luca repeated. Voice lower and deadlier than Street had ever heard before.
“What do you want with Street?” Hondo spoke up, trying to maintain a non-violent atmosphere while barely concealing his own flash of protectiveness.
Street couldn’t see his uncle’s face thankfully due to Luca’s strategic positioning directly in front of him, but he can only imagine his facial expression due to the cynical chuckle that echoed throughout the room. Street shivered at the horribly familiar sound, and Chris squeezes his hand tighter.
“I’m here to catch up on old times, but that’s really none of your business. What are you his keepers? I’m surprised you still want him even though he’s so disobedient.”
Street was going to be sick.
His uncle should’ve stopped there, but even years later, he didn’t know when to quit. “He’s also not very quiet in bed—“
Luca lunged forward in a blind rage and slammed Street’s uncle against the wall. The rest of the team stood in shock, both at the revelation and Luca’s actions.
“Shut up! You don’t get to say another word after what you did to him! You should be in jail!” Luca yelled.
His uncle gave a sadistic grin, “Oh, so you do know.” The man glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the team, his eyes shined with realization and excitement. “Oh, this is too good. You’re the only one who knows, aren’t you? Can’t say I’m surprised. For the few months I had Street, I taught him to keep quiet.”
His uncle broke his gaze away from Luca’s challenging stare and searched for Street.
Street was never so glad that his team had partially concealed him from his uncle’s view. He knew he’d lose it if he directly looked into his uncle’s gaze. His eyes piercing into his as they had all those years ago.
Nevertheless, Street knew what was coming, and he didn’t want to have to see his ugly mug while he told it. Told his biggest secret.
“Well…for those who don’t know—"
“Shut. Up.” Luca threatened, cutting odd Street’s uncle for a second only.
“James deserved it. I remember the first day.” His uncle cackled as if remembering a hilarious past story, and Street closed his eyes, trying to block out the onslaught of memories.
(WARNING: TRIGGERS AHEAD)
His uncle continued, “I came home from work and he was sprawled out on his bed, clearly asking for it. I had to tie him up with my belt to keep him still. He screamed so loud, I was relieved that the neighbors moved out the previous week. After that first time, he tried to hide in the closet when I’d get home, which only made the foreplay more exciting for me.”
(END OF TRIGGERS)
Street flinched violently at crude words and cast his gaze to the ground as he felt, rather than saw, his team prickle at the scathing comment.
The next thing he heard was the sound of his uncle shouting in pain. He felt a gust of air as his team moved.
Street’s eyes flew open only to find Luca being restrained by a very reluctant Hondo and equally pissed off Tan, who were both glaring daggers at his uncle.
Luca had just punched his uncle. For him.
“Don’t say that about him, you scumbag! He was just a kid!” Luca hollered, fighting Hondo and Tan’s hold.
Hondo pushes Luca backward until there was a safe distance between Street’s uncle and the blonde. “Luca! Not here.” He commanded, wanting to prevent a lawsuit or a commotion while in the department building.
His uncle sneered, wiping the blood from his split lip. “That’s right, keep your dogs under control.”
At that comment, Hondo locked his jaw and spared a subtle glance towards Street, who nodded in silent agreement do whatever you need to do.
With the go-ahead, Hondo stalked up to Street’s uncle until he was towering over the other man. “No one disrespect or hurts my family, so I’ll give you one chance to leave before you go around with me. Go now and don’t ever bother Street again.” Hondo crosses his arms, flexing his muscles to send the message through.
His uncle only scowled at Hondo’s orders and looked over the sergeant’s shoulders into Street’s eyes. “So…this is how you treat family now?”
Street stood up straight and lifted his chin. With complete confidence, Street stated, “You were never my family.”
Flames rose up in his uncle’s eyes, but Street forced himself not to look away. Not to let him win again. The two had their silent showdown until his uncle nodded jerkily. “We’ll see about that. Goodbye, James.”
His uncle broke his gaze and stalked out of the room without another word.
For minutes, no one took their eyes off the door, thinking that if they stopped staring that he’d walk through it again.
Street couldn’t believe that that just happened. He’d just faced off with the monster of his nightmares and told him off (with much help but still). His horrific past had also been outed to his entire team. And to top it all off, his team had just been made targets of the most vicious and cruelest person Street knew. Idiots!
When his team began to turn towards him—probably to ask if he was alright. He panicked.
Pulling out of Chris’s hold, Street turned around and sprinted towards the door on the opposite side of the room.
“Street?”
“Kid!”
“STREET!”
He ignored their yells and fled the room, the kitchen door slamming against the wall. He weaved through the various people in the hallways and tried to gather distance between himself and the team.
He couldn’t leave because his uncle could still be outside the building. Crap he could still be inside. Where could he hide from both his team and uncle?
Thinking quick, Street altered his course to go downstairs to the basement. The gun range was perfect. Most teams were gone on jobs, so not many people would be there. He flippantly told the staff minding the gun range that he was going to practice. He grabbed a few clips and set up at the very end of the line in the corner. Furthest from the door.
The laid out the clips and gripped the edge of the surface in front of him. He breathed as images swept across his mind that he blinked away quickly. He felt like he was drowning. Pushing it aside, Street unloaded clip and clip into the dummy at the end of the course. The bullets rang in his ears, providing a helpful distraction.
As soon as he ran out of clips though, he fell apart. Laying down the equipment, he tucked himself into the cubicle and curled up. His hands were shaking and jerking with excess energy. Fine tremors electrified them continuously. Years of abuse and training have calloused his hands in some places, but his palm gave away his youth. He’s gone through so much, too much for someone his age to bear.
Life continues to beat him down until he had no choice but to rise up—that was when he first joined the force, followed soon after by his acceptance into S.W.A.T. All good things had to come to an end though, right? At least that’s what his experiences have proven.
Surely, his team wouldn’t want someone as broke as him on their team. Someone who had too many scars to count.
He lost track of time. For all he knew, he could have been sitting there on the floor of the gun range for hours, staring at his hands. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that he rejoined reality.
Street didn’t bother glancing up. He knew without looking that the person was Hondo. Who else would it be?
Hondo sighed and walked over to him, sitting down across from him with his legs outstretched. He folded his hands and placed them in his lap but didn’t say anything for a few minutes.
“Did I ever tell you about Lucy?”
Street flicked his eyes up to meet Hondo’s, but the older man was looking away as if lost in his own memory. “No.”
POSSIBLE TRIGGER IN NEXT PARAGRAPH:
“We got a call about these men, who had kidnapped a young girl—just turned twenty. She had been walking home from her waitressing job at a restaurant downtown when she was grabbed. She was smart and sent out a distress signal from an app on her phone, but we still didn’t reach her in time. By the time my partner and I reached her, they had gang-raped her and beat her almost beyond recognition. She survived though.”
Street sucked in a shaky breath.
Hondo wrung his hands, “We were too late…and because of that, she’s suffering from fear, paranoia, and love, the rest of her life.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Street blurted. His voice quiet but it seemed to resound in the empty gun range like an invisible bullet.
Hondo pauses and glanced over at him. This time Street don’t shy away from the eye contact. “Sometimes, it doesn’t feel that way,” Hondo admitted.
“The only people to blame are the sickos that did that to her. It was their fault alone, so there was nothing you could do.” Street assured with more confidence. Anger flashed through him, and he curled his shaking hands into fists before releasing them.
Hondo nodded, “Then why can’t you apply the same concept to yourself?”
“What?” Street scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.
“What happened to you as a kid and wasn’t your fault, it was your uncle’s. So why would you think that we would see you any differently or kick you off the team?”
“How did you— “
Hondo just gave him that look, and Street rolled his eyes. Of course, Hondo would figure it out before he did. “Should’ve known,” Street muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose to prevent his headache from spreading. Street dropped his hand, “It’s a force of habit, sorry. But what happens if I freeze up like I did up there while I’m on a job?”
“We’ll be there for you.”
“A second lost could mean someone being alive or dead.”
“Good thing you have five of us backing you up,” Hondo stayed nonchalantly.
Street sighed, letting the issue go for now since he knew that the elder wouldn’t budge. “For the record…I was going to tell you guys eventually. I definitely didn’t want it to happen like that because now you’ve all put yourselves in danger and I—“
“Woah wait a minute. Danger? Kid, have you seen us? I’m pretty sure we’ll be fine if he decides to come after us.” Hondo sits up, resting his elbows on his knees.
Street groaned and rubbed his hands over his buzzcut, “I know. I just don’t want you guys to have to deal with him or to accidentally get hurt because of me.”
“Not you. Him.”
Street huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Whatever.” He slouched back against the wall.
Hondo chuckled, “You ready to stop sulking now? Because I’m sure Luca and the others would like to see you. Luca’s probably about to tear a face muscle by now.”
Street let out a burst of laughter—Hondo echoing him. He can totally imagine that happening to Luca though. Despite his carefree appearance, Luca worries way too much.
“Want me to call them and say that they can come down now?”
Street nodded, and Hondo gave the rest of the team the go-ahead to come down to the range. It only took a couple minutes for the rest of the team to storm the gun range, Luca in front.
“Street! Are you okay?” Luca asked frantically, pulling the younger to his feet and wrapping him in a large hug.
“How are you holding up, man?”
“We’re here if you need us.”
“Kid, I’m glad you’re okay.”
As the others asked their questions, Street just soaked up the comfort and concern. After the day he’s had, who could blame him?
Finally, once Luca released him. He was replaced by Chris then Deacon then Tan. Even Hondo got up and clapped him on the shoulder, trading a kind smile.
This was his real family. He let go of his old, messed up family, and replaced it with protective soldiers that accurately cared about his well-being. Looking around at his team, he couldn’t be happier with that choice.