Hostage | Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Twenty-Nine

Fawn

"Fawn Hamilton, here to see Jake Peralta," I announce to the hospital receptionist, who quickly types something into her computer and nods her head in approval. Before she can give me the name of his room, I shake my head and tell her that I know where it is due to my regular visits, something she wouldn't know as I have never seen her in the reception until now. She nods her head again and hands me a 'VISITOR' sticker, which I place on my black turtleneck as I walk into the hospital hallway. 

I find myself outside Jake's room almost within seconds, despite it being a few floors above the ground level I entered on, and my heart is in my chest as it always is in this building. As I make my way into Jake's room and my eyes fall on my dear friend, still comatose in bed, I realise that saying goodbye for a second time is going to be even harder than it was last time. But I have to do it. I cannot, for the life of me, continue thinking about him every second of the day. 

"Hi Jake," I whisper as I reach his bedside, despite the fact that he obviously cannot hear me, "I'm leaving again and... you can't say anything in response and you can't try to stop me, so it's just like history repeating itself, huh?... I'm sorry, I shouldn't make jokes beside you whilst you're like this, it's not right. I have to leave. I have to because I can't... I can't do this anymore. I can't just sit around and wait for you to wake up, I can't have you on my mind every time I have nothing to do and... I just can't. I'm sorry, but I need to leave."

I barely manage to swallow my choked sob behind my lips, the sensation of tears trickling down my cheeks angering me. 

"See? If I stay here and continue to think of you, I'm going to drive myself and those around me mad because of how much I love you. I doubt you were or have ever been aware, but I have loved you ever since our prom night in high school and despite trying so hard to push the feelings away, they've always been there. Sometimes in a more duller and quiet state, but still there. That's why it's so hard for me to stay in Brooklyn and why I haven't been able to get back to work properly... I don't have the courage to when you're here like this and-- for fuck's sake."

My knuckles wipe away the tears that seem to continue falling down my face as I turn away, paired with the slight quiver I start to feel in my lips. When I turn back and see Jake's face, I abruptly stand and push away my chair, knocking it off its legs. 

"I have to leave. Goodbye, Jake," I whisper as I pull something out of my jacket pocket, which I press a graceful kiss on and then place on top of Jake's stomach, the last trace of myself that I will leave in Brooklyn. Then, I rush out of the room, a sob threatening to leave my lips, one that I push down as I travel towards the exit. As soon as I step outside of the hospital and turn around the corner, a heartbroken sob falls out of my mouth; a mixture of a tear-filled cry and a crushed scream. Covering my mouth does no good, so to get everything out of my system, I let out an agonising scream of pain that makes my throat ache with soreness.

After that, I push all my emotions away to the back of my brain and mentally lock them away there, leaving them all behind so I can further prepare to leave New York. Once I arrive back at my apartment, I grab my army regulated backpack and pack the few necessities inside that I need - including my uniform - before then heading to the bathroom and grabbing my electric razor. I shave and shave away at my head until it is down to a buzzcut, all my hair scattered in the sink, and throw all my jewellery into a small holder in the nearest cupboard. 

Then, I grab bin bags and throw any other personal belongings in the house - clothes, makeup, jewellery, watch etc. - inside, tying the bags up once they are completely full and leaving them in the hallway, ready to be thrown away. When I pull out my phone, I see text after text from several people from the precinct: Boyle, Diaz, Santiago, Jeffords and even Holt, but I barely glaze over the first one before I smash it, hard, onto the tiled floor. The screen is shattered and after digging around inside, I destroy every last part of it, before throwing it into the final bin bag. 

They can't have any way to track me.

I sling my backpack onto my soldiers, hold the bin bags in my hands and retrieve my motorcycle helmet, before proceeding to walk outside my apartment door and I lock it behind me. For extra good measure, I snap off half the key inside the lock. As I make my way down my apartment complex, I discard the bin bags into the garbage bins that should be emptied by tomorrow morning, so I don't have to worry about anyone tracking or attempting to contact me. Rid of all my belongings and everything that will remind me of him... I pull out the key to my motorcycle and once I'm stood beside it, I insert it and start the engine, a satisfying rev coming out.

Sliding down my helmet, I take a final glance up at my apartment complex, but a brief one at that. Then, I haul myself over my vehicle and after one kick of my foot, I move away and start making my way towards the busy streets of New York City. Making my way there for one... last... time.

Goodbye, New York.

Goodbye, Nine-Nine.

Goodbye... Peralta.