triggers: detective au, curse words, angst, mentions of violence in the work place, overall sad theme words: 2.4k
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Nolan had been growing close to you. He would reach out to you now and then, come visit you at work, drop by your house to make sure you're doing well. He wanted to make sure that your head was on straight after the trial- the brutal trial. Maybe it was just him, but it would take him a while to get over being accused of murder.
He kept a modest distance from you, though. He didn't want to make it seem like he was stalking you (which he was). Nolan would sometimes spot you at the grocery store, the one that was twenty minutes from where he lived and five minutes from your house. He didn't say anything to you, he would just sometimes stare at you for a little too long as you shop. Yeah, he's not stalking you.
Sitting at his desk he waits for Travis to finish up his paperwork so they could go out to get drinks. It's what the pair did at the end of every week, they got a couple of beers before heading home for the weekend. It was routine.
"Hey Pat, I'll meet you there I don't think I'll be done for another thirty minutes," Travis said from his desk, typing on his desktop. Nodding his head Nolan turned off his computer and put on his jacket, sliding his phone into the pocket of his slacks.
"Wait just a second fellas," Lieutenant Gordon started, "there's a hostage situation at the ER we're being called out." Travis stood up and put his coat on, but Nolan was just the slightest bit confused.
"Wait we're homicide, has someone been killed?" Nolan asked, following the Lieutenant out of the office and down the stairwell.
"Not yet."
-
It was on the way to the ER with sirens blaring that Nolan realized this was the ER that you worked at. He felt panic rush through his veins when the thought you possibly being injured, or worse, popped into his brain. White knuckling the steering wheel the entire drive, he pulled out his phone to dial your number that he had memorized by now.
"You've reach Y/N, sorry I can't get to the phone right now..."
"Fuck!" Nolan cursed, slamming his phone against the steering wheel. Pulling into the parking lot that was already filled with several police cars and other response vehicles, he calls you again to see if he can get a response.
Hearing you pick up the phone he let out a sigh of relief, "please tell me you're okay." He mumbled, watching officers scramble around the parking lot. He kept his gaze on the front doors to the ER, trying to see if he can see anyone walking around through the tinted glass doors.
"I'm trying to sneak out the back," you whispered. Nolan felt another wave of fear run through his body. "There's a door that I can go out that won't set off the alarms."
Nolan closed his eyes, silently praying to whoever would listen that you would be okay. Hearing you struggle to open the heavy door, letting out a string of curses, he takes a deep breath when he hears you say that you're outside.
