Disclaimer: Own nothing.

Sorry if anyone has done something similar!

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Jamie Reagan heard the gunshot echo across the almost - empty grocery store.

He almost knocked himself out on the lid as he pulled his head out the chest freezer, dropping the frozen petit pois back into the frozen depths. He held his breath, heart bounding, bright eyes scanning the empty aisle for the threat.

Shit. He thought. Shit shit shit.

Snapping his head out of the shock and the ringing in his ears, he swivelled around, looking desperately for an emergency exit, and or any method for a quick escape.

Somehow, throwing a bag of rock hard, frozen peas at a glass window didn't seem as though it would work. Christ.

The only exit he could remember seeing was one in the far corner of the store, parallel to the front doors where he assumed the gunshot was sourced. He was backed up in the frozen section, his hands going blue as he clung to the edge of the freezer.

He tried desperately to reign in the panicky thoughts, to think about everything his family had told him about hold-ups and burglaries.

But he couldn't think.

Jamie wasn't even meant to be here right now – he was running a last minute, Saturday night panic shop that his mother usually performed each week, and was only fulfilling it this time because both his parents had been drinking wine all night. Danny was working, Joe was out with friends.

Jamie had almost been tempted to sneak out the back door and hide in the old tree house to avoid the twenty – five minute walk to the closest store that was still open at 10:45 at night.

But Ma had caught him, with a look in her eye that meant Jamie had to do it.

Sixteen years old, in a freaking amateur store robbery.

This was gonna be one to tell the kids.

His ears perked up as he heard shouts and cries across the warehouse, his heart increasing in tempo. If he could hide, at least until the cops – if the cops – arrived, he could stay out of the way, out of trouble…

"Hey! Hey kid!"

Damn it all to Hell.

Jamie slowly turned to face the voice, almost tempted to laugh at the uncovered face and the panicked bearer. A tall guy, about the same age as Joe, eyes wide with apprehension – and a nine millimetre in his gloved, right hand. "Put your hands up, kid."

Slowly, without raising his head, Jamie let go of the freezer, breathing shakily as the freezer lid banged shut, making him flinch.

The guy's gun quivered in his hand.

Closing his eyes, the teen raised his hands above his head, moving to brace them on the back of his neck as the guy came up behind him. He felt the cool barrel of the gun press through his winter layers and onto his spine, making him shudder.

"Don't give us any trouble, and you'll be home in one piece."

Jamie swallowed.

He was pushed forwards roughly, and he stumbled on his own feet. "Kid, don't mess with me. I'll spread your brains across the glass for the whole world to see."

Bullshit, Jamie thought, you're just as scared as I am.

He risked a look around the store as they passed through. Small piles of abandoned shopping scattered the aisle, and a few bullet holes peppered the ceiling – the shots he'd heard not five minutes earlier – and the cashier desks were empty. He risked a look out the window.

The gun jabbed him hard in the back. "Eyes up front."

He made it the rest of the way without his brain matter going anywhere, and both he and his captor joined a small group of customers and staff, and two more hooded men, not too far from the back office and the oh –so – unfortunately positioned fire exit. "That's it?" one asked, nodding at Jamie. A short, skinny guy, a hat pulled low over his pale face. He had hard eyes and thin, raw lips. Jamie kept his head low.

"No one else."

"You're sure? I don't want a repeat of last night, Tommo."

I'm sure! I checked the whole damn place. No one in the staff room either," Jamie's captor, Tommo, insisted.

The pale guy nodded, his arms crossed at his chest. "Get his wallet."

Tommo reached into Jamie's jeans pockets, and then tugged his wallet out of the coat pocket. It was emptied as Jamie sank to his knees, a gun still trained on him.

"We have… We have a Jamison Reagan, Riverside High School," he quoted from the single I.D card in the cardholder, "Twenty dollars in cash and… forty two cents," Tommo counted, throwing the empty wallet onto the ground.

The third guy, a nervous, twitchy character, looked twice at Jamie. "Reagan?" he asked, "Like… like the president?"

"Shut up, Sean. Go empty the cashiers, keep 'ya busy," the leader ordered, staring at the four quivering hostages on the ground. "We'll take care of these."

Jamie swallowed.

Where the Hell are my damn brothers when I need 'em?

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Across town, in an empty, dark office, Danny Reagan sat alone, poring over a pile of papers that had meant absolutely nothing when he'd started reading them and meant even less now.

He rubbed his head in frustration, thinking of all the things he'd rather be doing right now rather than freakin' paperwork.

"So this detective life," he mumbled to himself, leaning back in his seat.

God, how he missed the days of being a rookie… long nights out on the town, bad takeaways and cheap beer in ratty, run down, familiar apartments, ladies sure had a thing for uniform…

Those days were long gone.

His time was split now between caring for his girlfriend, taking on a new role in his ageing brothers' lives; worrying about Joe, worrying about Jamie – who was about as streetwise as a cute yellow rubber duck – wandering the streets of Brooklyn, and most of all, work.

He scrubbed his face in his hands, and sighed.

His cell phone rang.

He opened one eye, peeking through his fingers as the chunky, pain-in-the-ass; piece-of-crap shuddered on the table, moving a few inches each time, closer and closer to the edge…

Danny answered it as it made its descent to the floor. "Reagan," he said tiredly.

"Hi sweetie, it's your mom," a gentle, familiar voice breezed down the line.

The lines on Danny's face softened. "Hey Ma, you okay?"

"Everything's fine, just fine. Are you coming over tonight?" She sounded nervous, tense.

Danny checked his watch, and then looked again at the stack of papers on his desk. "Sure."

"Great," she went on, her voice lighter. "Could you do me a favour? Drive through town, would ya? Jamie's walking home from there, I sent him to the corner store to fetch-"

"Fetch frozen peas?" Danny smiled.

"Sure did. We're a full house tomorrow for lunch so I want to up early to get started... But he's taking his time. Keep an eye out, would you, sweetie? In case you catch him."

"Of course, Ma. See you as soon as I can."

Throwing the cell back onto the desk, he quickly began pocketing all the things he'd need for the one day he wouldn't be here.

He relished the thought of a free Sunday - of a free Saturday night – and quickly switched off the lamp. The room fell into darkness.

God help anyone who robbed Danny Reagan of his free Saturday night.

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First Blue Bloods fic.

Please keep in mind I've only seen a few episodes the show (Will Estes, I think so) so sorry if anything is wrong!

Let me know what you think and I'll update asap :)