Chapter 15: Jackson's Near Miss #2
Friday, June 1, 2018 - Commercial District, 10:47 AM
The traffic collision was minor. Fender bender at an intersection, two drivers exchanging information while uniformed officers documented everything. Standard Friday morning in LA.
Lopez and I were three blocks away handling a shoplifting report when my danger sense fired.
Not about the store. Not about our location. Somewhere else. Distant but urgent, pulling my attention east like a compass needle finding north.
Jackson.
The sensation was identical to the warehouse ambush six weeks ago. Specific, directional, building pressure that screamed one name.
"Lopez." My voice came out tight. "We need to back up West and Jackson."
She glanced from the store manager to me. "They're handling a traffic collision. Routine call."
"Something's wrong."
"Mercer—"
"Please." I grabbed her arm. "Trust me. Something is very wrong."
Lopez read my expression. Whatever she saw there made her decision.
"Grey, 7-Adam-19 requesting permission to assist 7-Adam-15 at traffic collision, Olympic and La Brea." She was already moving to the shop. "Mercer has concerns about the situation."
"Approved," Grey's voice crackled. "All units, 7-Adam-15 may need backup."
We drove fast. Lopez didn't ask questions, just navigated traffic with the lights and sirens clearing our path. My danger sense intensified with every block.
Please let me be wrong. Please let this be a false alarm.
But I knew it wasn't.
Jackson West's POV
The driver who'd caused the accident was nervous. Too nervous for a simple collision. His hands shook when he handed over his license.
"Sir, have you been drinking?" Talia Bishop asked.
"No. Just... just shaken up from the accident."
My chest tightened. Something was off. The other driver—the victim—stood by her car, giving Officer Chen her statement. Everything seemed routine, but—
The nervous driver's eyes kept flicking to his car. To something inside.
"Sir, is there anything in your vehicle I should know about?"
"No. Nothing."
He was lying. I could see it in the sweat on his forehead, the way his weight shifted like he was preparing to run.
"I'm going to need you to step away from the vehicle."
His hand moved to his waistband.
Gun.
"GUN!" I shouted, reaching for my own weapon.
Everything happened too fast. The driver drew. I was exposed, standing in the open, wrong position, no cover. The barrel swung toward me.
This is it. This is how I die.
"JACKSON, DOWN!"
Ethan's voice, screaming from somewhere behind me. I dropped without thinking, muscle memory from training overriding conscious thought.
Gunfire. The sound cracked through the morning air. The driver's weapon discharged—the round went where my chest had been two seconds earlier.
Return fire. Lopez and Mercer, positioned at angles, weapons drawn. The driver dropped his gun, hands up, surrendering before more shots could be fired.
Angela Lopez's POV
Mercer had known. Two blocks away, with no information except "something's wrong," he'd known Jackson was about to be killed.
I secured the suspect while Bishop and Chen checked Jackson. No injuries. Pure luck—or Mercer's impossible instinct—had saved him.
Tim Bradford's shop pulled up, followed by three more units. The scene became organized chaos of documentation and processing.
Armstrong emerged from his car, surveyed the situation. "Everyone okay?"
"West almost got shot," I said flatly. "Mercer's instinct saved him."
Armstrong walked over to where Mercer stood with Jackson. I followed, listening.
"Mercer's got a sixth sense for West being in trouble," Armstrong said, tone light. "You guys psychically linked or something?"
Jackson laughed, still shaky with adrenaline. "Man, I don't care how he knows. I'm just glad he does."
But Armstrong's eyes lingered on Mercer. Calculating. Evaluating.
I filed that away.
Ethan's POV - Later, Locker Room
Jackson found me at end of shift. The locker room was empty except for us.
"Second time," he said.
"What?"
"Second time you've saved my life. Warehouse. Now this." He sat on the bench across from me. "I owe you twice now. That's a debt, man."
"No debt." I closed my locker. "That's what partners do."
"We're not partners. Not officially. You rotate TOs. I'm with Bishop full-time." He leaned forward. "But you somehow always know when I'm in danger. How?"
Because I watched you die in a TV show. Because I know your eventual fate and I'm terrified I'll miss the moment that actually kills you.
"I pay attention. You're my friend. When something feels wrong, I react."
"Twice, Ethan. Two times in six weeks you've known I was in lethal danger before anyone else." His voice dropped. "What are you?"
The question hung between us.
"I'm a cop trying to keep his friends alive," I said finally. "That's all."
Jackson studied me for a long moment. "Okay. I won't push. But Ethan? Whatever this is, whatever you're doing—thank you. I have a future because of you. I won't forget that."
He left. I sat alone in the empty locker room, hands shaking from adrenaline crash.
Two saves. Two close calls. How many more would there be before the real one—the fatal one from canon Season 4?
I can't watch him every second. Can't always be there. Eventually, my danger sense won't warn me in time.
Saturday Morning, June 2, 2018 - Ethan's Mansion, Home Office
I opened the Armstrong file. Added new entries.
Date: June 1, 2018 - Traffic collision shooting. Armstrong responded to backup call. Made comment about "psychic link" between myself and Officer West. Delivered as joke but observation was accurate—I do seem to sense West's danger specifically. Armstrong present at multiple "lucky" incidents now: Day 1 knife call (he was at station), warehouse save (he heard about it), cold case solve (he commented), this incident (he was present). Pattern forming. Is he watching me? Does he suspect something?
Action: Be more careful around Armstrong. Limit unusual behavior when he's present. Continue documentation.
I sat back, staring at the screen. Armstrong was dirty. I knew it from meta-knowledge. My lie detection and danger sense confirmed something wrong with him. But he was also observant. Paying attention to my pattern of impossible luck.
If he figures out I'm not normal, what then? If he realizes I'm a threat to his plans?
I added one more line:
Armstrong is dangerous. Not just to Andersen and Lopez. Potentially to me if he perceives me as obstacle. Maintain cover. Stay alert.
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