None of these characters belong to me, I am merely borrowing them.

A giant thank you to my Beta, IrrelevantBeings, and idea soundboard TatumTots. Without your patience for my excessive semicolon use and random spurts of inspiration throughout the day, I wouldn't have gotten any of this onto the page.

Lethal Weapon: Many Days More

"Attention all units we have a 999, shots fired. All available units please respond. I repeat, shots fired, all available units respond."

The words fell heavily around him as he pushed the rising terror mounting in his chest aside. Every officer of law enforcement, from Detective to Captain, felt the weight that combination of numbers held. 999 - Officer down.

Roger forced his foot to the ground. He had met this sensation many times before. The dread that had accompanied each call for backup, every alert of shots fired, that frightening combination of the number nine, and in each instance, he had fought the overwhelming sensation that his partner was on the wrong end of the call.

Of course, a man like Martin Riggs could do that to you, instill a fear that lingered in the recess of your mind that one day he wouldn't make it back. How many buildings could one leap before falling? How many bullets could a man dodge before one finally found its home? Roger took solace in that the man was so skilled he was almost untouchable. He was a lethal weapon and men like that didn't rest on the other side of the call. He clung to that knowledge, held it as close to his chest as possible without suffocating. Riggs was gone, he was on his way to Texas. He had finally moved on from a life on the edge of dying and had found something worth living for. It couldn't possibly be him.

The location of the call rang home. A location all too familiar, a place he knew. A place Riggs had every right to be and yet caused Roger such fury at his partner's freedom to be there.

You stupid son of a bitch, you were supposed to be gone!

He pushed harder on the pedal.

Roger pulled up next to the abused, cream and orange, two-toned F-350. The bullet holes littering the side displaying a few new patches. He scanned the solemn expanse, his eyes fighting to remain on the safety of the vehicle as he once again pushed his apprehension aside. It could all be coincidence, Riggs could have been first on scene. The infinite possibilities flooded his mind as he grasped at the elusive straws, his instinct screaming in rebellion.

Every muscle in his body urged him into motion, attempting to propel him to where he knew he had to go. The only place that this could end; the place it began. He forced the impulse away and proceeded with caution, knowing the shooter could still be in the vicinity, it could make the difference between salvation or execution.

The intangible wall that struck his chest as he approached Miranda's grave physically forced him back a step. A too familiar form lay still, a bloodied shirt discarded beside him. Roger quickly cleared the space between them with inhuman speed, landing hard on his knees beside Riggs' blood-stained body. He barely registered the two figures he had sideswiped as he had charged to the ground. Someone was talking. The elusive sounds rolled around him. He eyes captivated by the motionless body before him.

"pressure"

"Bleed out"

"The wound"

Reality snapped him back into the moment with a surreal thud. He recognized it as his thumping heart. The man above him was telling him to keep pressure on the wound.

His lips moved, but no sound escaped. He forced the man's button-up to Riggs' chest and maintained pressure.

"No, no, no, no, no! You don't get to do this! You don't get to die today, Riggs!" He had yelled it, but the words came out too softly. The gentle breeze that scooped them up and spat them out as a whisper a tender plea. He worried that his partner wouldn't hear him.

"Riggs! Not today, not now, not like this…" his voice firmer this time, the words one last desperate bargain.

Roger could feel the slow rise and fall beneath his blood-soaked fingers. Labored breaths broke through his addled mind. He realized his own was held deep within his chest, these belonged to his partner. He recognized the fragility of each ragged sound. Roger attempted to pull his mind from the panicked semi-focused state to which it had escaped as the call of sirens registered somewhere in the distance.

"Stay with me, Riggs. For once, do as I ask." His efforts so consumed on keeping the oozing red from spilling out the Texan's chest he didn't notice the paramedics take up the space beside him. He was pulled aside as more capable hands took over his work.

He sat there for a moment, unable to move. He felt rough denim drape across his skin and looked up to see a small woman placing her jacket over his shoulders, he was barely aware that he was shaking. She offered a solemn look of understanding as she stepped back to the man who had been keeping Riggs alive before he had arrived. Had she been behind him all along? He grasped the sleeve of the jacket, smearing blood along the small cuff as he gripped tightly for purchase. For something to pull him from the abyss.

"You should go with him," a small voice suggested. Roger realized it had come from the young woman. He nodded his thanks to the two strangers and stepped into the back of the ambulance before the paramedics had time to object.

His body jerked into motion with the movement of the vehicle, his eyes lingering on the place his partner had fallen before slowly drifting to the man lying still on the gurney, a paramedic working to keep him alive.

He had to make it, Roger wasn't ready to face anyone if he didn't.

Authors Notes:

"Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models." – Sherlock

Martin Riggs was a character that imbued in me a love for the selfless, brave, unpredictable, and loyal. In my eyes, these traits are beauty incarnate. Not a physical quality, but a collection of attributes that can bring beauty to all.

As a child, watching the crazed detective accomplish death-defying feats to protect those he held dear with no care for his own wellbeing sparked what would grow into an undying passion for not only the buddy cop genre but my part in bringing them to life through the page.

Clayne Crawford's addition to The Lethal Weapon Universe revived the passion I had first experienced at the original character's hands. His revitalized, modern take on the classic persona renewed appreciation for old fans and brought the man to life for those new to the Lethal Weapon fandom.

Lethal weapon without Martin Riggs is akin to Die Hard sans John McClain or Supernatural void of Dean Winchester.

I write for those that share my sorrow in the beloved character's passing and wish to remain in the blissful first step in the grieving process, denial.

This collection of stories will continue from the season two finale: One Day More. I plan to continue each installment as a chapter fic to make up for the lack of additional seasons featuring Clayne Crawford as Martin Riggs. All reviews and alerts are encouraged and appreciated.