Riptide

Pairing: Same as show

Spoilers: Post 1x03 To Serve and Protect (good episode, right?)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Good job, Fox.

Rating: T/Pg-13. Some blood, gore (it is a mob/doctor show), language.

A/N: Just started watching "Mob Doctor" and am so beyond intrigued. So...when I should've been working on other projects, I typed out this little thing. There will be chapters, I just want to get more of "No Sunlight" out of my system before I return to this.

In retrospect, she mused, she should've known something like this would happen. Bad things tended to happen to bad people, and she worked with the worst. It was strange. There should've been more pain. There was certainly enough blood. Part of her registered that that was a bad thing: someone was bleeding out. Me, she reminded herself. The human body was a wonderful thing, she thought, as she closed her eyes. It was keeping her from feeling the wounds the bullets had created as they tore through her slender form. As she sank to the ground, she barely felt the impact with the asphalt. There was yelling. Why was there yelling? Someone shook her and she opened her eyes to look up into Nate's eyes, filled with fear.

"Grace!" Her name filled her ears. "No! C'mon, sis…" he muttered as she closed her eyes again. She had been sucked in, pulled into the mob lifestyle, first by her father, then by her brother and lastly, by herself. The mob was a riptide and she had just become one of its many victims.

It was routine. It was normal. One of Constantine's underlings had gotten injured and he had called Dr. Grace Devlin. Franco had made arrangements with Grace to meet him, a few enforcers and the patient in an abandoned airplane hanger. The airport, if one could call it that, was tiny, and really only had a use when Joseph Moretti, and later, Constantine, had need of it.

Grace sighed as she drove her silver Jeep onto the small airplane runway. Another life, and this might've been fun: able to cruise a runway as quickly as possible, achieving speeds that would've caused an accident or earned her a speeding ticket certainly. As it was, she was here for a different purpose, as she tried to constantly repay the debt she owed Constantine. There were only a few hangers out here, their shiny metal siding reflecting the sun, winking at her from the darkness. Luckily, she had just finished her shift, so there were no made up excuses she had to concoct to cover her absence from the hospital. She had really wanted to get into bed and sleep, but that would have to wait.

She mentally double-checked the number on the hanger with the one Franco had given her, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. She frowned as she waited one minute, two, and still the doors remained closed. Growing impatient, she honked. The doors didn't open. Rolling her eyes, Grace punched the seat belt release and got out, leaving the Jeep's door open. She intended to pound on the doors until Franco got the message, if she wasn't able to open them herself.

Grace had bothered to half-change. She wore comfortable dark jeans, the pink and gray Nikes she favored when on shift, and her dark blue scrub top. Despite the strong wind flattening her clothes to her body, it was a warm day and the sunlight radiated from the asphalt in waves. She resisted the urge to stomp as she made her way over to the doors, covering the short distance between the doors and her Jeep in a few long strides. She could hear the sounds of yelling, and smirked slightly. Maybe the situation wasn't as under control as they normally were? She shook her head, letting the smirk fade away. Constantine wouldn't like that, nor would he stand for it. Sure enough, she heard his voice, barely raised, telling the yeller to relax. She held her hand flat and pounded on the door. She did it quickly, and loudly, to keep the warm metal from burning her. That'd be all she needed. The voices cut out. A few moments passed in silence then the screech of metal that protested its opening and a portion of Franco's face filled a crack. She saw the way his eyes squinted as he smiled at her.

"It's just Grace," he called over his shoulder. His hands filled the space where his face had been and he pulled the door open a few more inches.

"Sorry," he called to her. "The pulley system's broken on this side. Hold on," he commanded. All of him disappeared and then she heard the sounds of grunting, the clink of a chain, and the groaning of metal as the opposite door was opened.

"Get your Jeep," Franco ordered her. She raised an eyebrow at his tone and he offered her a slight smile. She knew it was important for him to maintain at least the appearance of superiority over her in front of the others. She shook her head and turned on her heel, a ghost of a smile gracing her features.

Grace saw the car racing towards them. It was black, a newer model of Chrysler's 500, and it was heading straight for her Jeep. It wasn't alone, she had time to register, before her eyes widened and she found herself sliding across the hood of her Jeep, Duke boys style, to avoid getting crushed by the 500. Her Jeep did a good job of protecting her as she landed by the passenger side. The screech and crunch of metal met her ears as the 500 impacted at an angle with the Jeep. She was already back on her feet and moving as the Jeep's mangled body swung towards her, the impact of the crash spinning it. It missed her by inches. Grace pushed off the ground and sprinted, using her natural athletic prowess to seek shelter inside the hanger where she knew men with guns would be. She heard the other car's engine roaring. The noise barely made an impact; the sound of her heartbeat already filled her ears.

Logan was already working on shutting the door. Constantine yelled at him to leave the door open for Grace. It was amazing, Franco had time to think, of how the man could adapt to situations. Franco pulled his gun, a Glock 45, and aimed it out of the other opening, trying to get a clear shot as he watched Grace sprint towards the hanger.

Time seemed to slow down. Later, Grace would think about adrenaline and how it effected the body. Now, all she could do was gasp for oxygen as she pushed herself to get to safety. She heard the impossibly loud crack of guns being fired and sincerely hoped it was Franco or one of Constantine's other men. The first slug hit her in the back. The impact punched into her, but it wasn't like the movies. She wasn't thrown to the ground. It just hurt. She twisted around, wanting to see the person who was shooting her. This bullet embedded itself into her left shoulder with a bite that made her entire arm go numb. More loud explosions as someone returned fire. She had gone deaf to the world; her ears heard the sound of the blood pumping in her body as she threw herself into the hanger.

Grace looked around and found Constantine's face. It peered at her from behind the engine block of a dark SUV. He gestured to her to get over there, beside him. When he yelled, he didn't make a sound. She smiled slightly and took a faltering step towards him. The men were still firing and didn't see her go down. She remembered falling to her knees. Was Nate here? Probably. She prayed quickly, as she sank to the asphalt, that God would keep him safe because it was looking like she was no longer going to be able to. With that last sad thought, she closed her eyes as her brother broke cover and ran to her side.

Constantine's men had fired too accurately. As Franco, Logan and Nate broke cover to move on the vehicles, they could tell that the driver of the first vehicle, the one that had impacted with Grace's Jeep was either dead, or well onto his way. The driver was a skinny white guy, a prison tattoo climbing its way up his neck, despite the cheap, dark suit he wore. It was currently stained with small drops of blood as he slumped over the wheel. There was no passenger. More of Constantine's men emerged and surrounded the first vehicle, holding it.

As one, Nate, Franco and Logan moved to the second vehicle. It had ground to a stop as Logan's Uzi had filled the engine block with lead. As Franco recognized one of the men, his eyes filled with fear. It was one of the other men that still knew Moretti was alive. Recognition filled the eyes of the other man, Petey Wheeler, as he gazed painfully at Franco. Franco opened the door further, noting that the passenger was dead, bleeding out from multiple gunshot wounds.

Franco spit on Petey. Petey's eyes widened and he coughed, blood covering his hand. "Maybe, Petey, ya moron, if you hadn't shot the doctor, she could've saved your life," he growled. Franco reached into the driver's side door and grabbed Petey by the collar.

"Who ordered the hit? Who even knew we were here?" He demanded, shaking Petey.

"Who do you think?" Petey chuckled. "He wants him dead. And her…the doc's just a bonus," he sneered, coughing. Franco put his Glock to Petey's head and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was loud as it filled the car, gray matter spattering the seat. Franco was breathing heavily. Fear from almost getting caught, fear for Gracie, and adrenaline were all taking their toll.

As Nate watched Franco raise the gun, he tried to stop him. He didn't understand. Who was the man in the hanger? And who had wanted him dead? The doctor that was shot…Nate's eyes widened and he couldn't help it. He broke ranks and ran back into the hanger. Constantine was frozen, starring down at Grace's form. Blood covered the asphalt in drips and then in a lake around her still body. Nate's guts twisted, his heart stopped, and he picked her up, shaking her, hoping against reality that she would open her eyes.

Constantine was at his shoulder. "What do we do, Nate?" he asked sorrowful.

It was a test, maybe. Nate didn't care. It was his fault Grace was in this mess, no matter what he might tell himself, no matter what she had told herself. "Get Ro. She'll help and she'll keep her mouth shut," he said, holding Grace gently as he watched her eyes close again.

"Okay," Constantine said, leaving the young man alone with his grief and his bleeding sister.

They returned to the hanger. Franco looked at Constantine. "It was Petey Wheeler and two others I don't recognize," he said. "Petey said 'he wanted him dead' and Grace…Grace was just a bonus."

Constantine looked at the younger man before him. Franco's eyes were full of fear, his features twisted with anger. Constantine's eyes were cold and flat.

"Who, Franco? Who wanted him dead?" A sharp nod of his head, indicating the table, and the dead mobster. He wouldn't've been dead if Grace had gotten to him in time, but…this had happened.

Franco shook his head. "Moretti's dead. He's the biggest fish that would've had an issue with Betrelli. He's the only one I know who had a beef with Gracie." His eyes traveled to where Grace lay, clutched by her brother.

"Oh, God, what about Gracie?" He asked, eyes sorrowful.

Constantine was quiet for a moment, eyes still bottomless pools. "Take Logan and pick up Ro. Do it quietly, no mistakes."

"She needs a hospital," Nate called, his back to the group. His voice was strangled with grief.

Franco closed his eyes, counted to five, as Constantine shook his head. "You know we can't take her, Nate. Go to the hospital and get Ro," he commanded, turning his attention back to his lieutenant. "Tell her what she needs to know to get the right supplies. Tell her…" he hesitated. "Tell her what she needs to know."

Franco nodded. He gestured and the doors to the hanger were opened. Logan climbed into one of the SUVs and drove quickly.

While they were gone, Constantine's men cleaned up the scene, made arrangements to have the vehicles destroyed and got rid of Betrelli's body. Plates and VIN's, which were found on one of the SUV's, were provided to their police contacts. Grace's Jeep was pulled into a spare hanger, to be disappeared in the middle of the night and replaced with something better…if Grace survived. Otherwise, it would be staged to look like some junkie had gone after the doctor for access to her medical supplies and prescriptions. Constantine had a plan for everything, even the unplanned. And Gracie getting hurt…maybe even dying…had never been planned for.

A/N: Hope you liked it. Please REVIEW! I have some plans for all of our crew here, MWAHAHA!