Chapter Text
There was no time to think.
The only thing Mr. Pink knew was that he had to get away from the warehouse fast and, ideally, alive. He hugged the black leather bag of diamonds tightly as he ran out the door just as more police cars arrived at the scene. There was no point in counting them as they were definitely too many for him to handle on his own, so trying to shoot at them wasn't an option, only to run. A few cops immediately jumped out, screamed and pointed their guns at him, commanding him to get on the ground. Even if he had had any intention of obeying them, he couldn't make out what they were saying. It was nothing but a blurry mixture of the sounds of sirens and voices, including his own in his mind louder than everything else around him, telling him to just fucking run.
Loud shots soon joined the already agonizing soundscape. As he headed for the nearest car, praying he'd be able to start it, a sharp pain hit his left arm, making him gasp and cry out. He stumbled forward, dropping the black bag. The car right in front of him prevented him from falling to the ground. Just for a split second, the pain made it feel as if time stopped and the fog in his head cleared. His right hand shot up to hold the wound on his left arm as he yelled and cursed at the cops. "Don't shoot, I got shot, goddammit." For the first time, he looked up at the crowd of cops in front of him. Some ran inside the warehouse while others ran towards him, their guns still pointing at him.
Pink could feel the wound starting to leak blood but for now he had to ignore the terrible pain. His mind shifted back to the previous haze. He struggled to pick up the bag due to his hands sweating as bullets flew past his head. In this moment he didn't even realize how many times he must have escaped death. When he finally managed to grab the loot he ripped the car door open, threw the bag to the passenger's seat and jumped behind the wheel. He didn't even bother closing the door when he tried starting the car and for the first time all day, he seemed to have a little luck on his side. The car jolted forward right away, knocking down two cops with the opened door. Pink only closed it as he turned onto the street with the cops running after him and shooting at the back of the car just like when he was running away from them before, except now they were harmless to him, almost.
His gaze kept switching from the road to the rearview mirror, making sure no cars followed him. The street bhind him was quiet. In a rush of adrenaline and anger that had been building up inside him all day, Pink repeatedly punched the car's dashboard while screaming "Fuck!" at the top of his lungs, until he lost control of himself so much the car started to swerve. Straightening his back, he put both hands to the steering wheel and bit his lip, trying to contain his emotions. He took a minute to slow down his breathing and started to focus on the road again.
They were still almost empty but he wasn't safe yet, he was convinced the cops would show up behind him any second. The pain in his arm became stronger, making it harder for him to ignore it and concentrate on his surroundings. He whined, squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth but soon it became excrutiating to the point his hand went numb, so he dropped it to let it rest on his lap, using only his right hand to steer. The fabric of his stupid cheap suit was soaked in blood and stuck to his skin, the feeling was disgusting. All he wanted to do was rip it off, lie down and give in to his panic. Have this fucking day be over and put all this bullshit behind him.
Not now.
Minutes went by with no one following him, allowing him to adjust to the quiet. What felt like the first time all day, no sirens or alarms could be heard and no flashing blue and red lights covered the streets, it was almost unsettling. It gave the ringing in his ears a chance to finally wear off and when he was about to turn the radio down to listen for sirens, he realized it had been playing that stupid 70s radio station they talked about earlier during breakfast. Free Bird's five minute solo played along since the second he started the car. It made him think of Mr. Brown and how he used to tell him in too much detail how cool a combat scene in a movie with that song would be, that he might try to write something like that sometime after the heist, when he's got the money to make his first film. Pink thought it was a silly idea and hated himself for thinking of this now but it somehow made him smile, until he remembered what White told him. Brown was dead, he'd never get to make his stupid movie and they'd never get to run away from L.A. together.
Even though it seemed nearly impossible, Pink immediately tried to shut these thoughts down, he'd have time to worry about it later. In his head, he kept telling himself to shut up and focus but more questions and fears just kept coming. He was feeling every possible emotion at the same time and had no idea if he was going to have a panic attack or not, if he was just going to crash the car into the nearest wall and all this would be over, or not.
Fucking focus.
Somehow, he managed to control himself. When he still couldn't see or hear any police cars, he was finally able to come up with some sort of plan and decided to go back to his apartment one last time to get his bag of clothes for a start. Of course, he originally hoped everything would go by Joe's plan and he'd get to stay in town just a few more days until Joe had the money for the diamonds and then get the hell out of here, but he packed the bag in case something went wrong and he'd have to leave right away, just to be sure. Now he was glad he did so.
Sometimes he was grateful for his paranoia. Everyone made fun of him for it and now he was the only one getting out alive. Strangely enough it made him feel good about proving them wrong, he really was the only fucking professional and if he was being absolutely honest in this moment, he even lacked any sort of empathy for them. Fuck them, it was their own damn fault.
He sighed and took a left turn to get to his place, trying to avoid getting too close to the diamond store he just robbed a few hours ago, that area was probably still swarming with cops. After driving for a few minutes and blankly staring at the road in front of him, something suddenly caught his eye, making him hit the brakes so hard the bag next to him flew off the passenger's seat. In a drive way next to the road stood a police car with seemingly no one around. When he squinted his eyes to look closer, he noticed that the windshield was broken and two cops sat inside, motionless. He moved his own car a little more forward, not taking his eyes away from the scene. Now that he was able to look around the cop car he spotted something else that seemed even more interesting. For a second he tried to decide if he should take the risk of running into cops to go investigate but the scene was absolutely quiet. He got a weird feeling in his stomach he should check out the place.
For fuck's sake.
He sighed and parked his car by a fence next to the road, got out and tightly grabbed his gun with both hands, wincing at the pain in his left arm. As he slowly approached the police car he was reassured the cops inside it were dead, their faces and torsos covered in bullet wounds. He scrunched his face and squeezed the gun in his hand. Slightly crouching behind the vehicle, he peeked around the corner to look at what made him get out of the car in the first place. It was the unmistakable ugly yellowish green colour of the getaway car Joe chose for the job, this had to be it.
Pink's heart sank. He looked around, wondering how there were no alive cops around at the scene. Maybe they hadn't found it yet? No idea, it didn't matter. He took a deep breath and after one last look around, ran to the car. Only now he saw it was crashed into another one in front of it. Someone was still in the driver's seat.
Shit.
The door was half opened, an arm and a leg hung out of it, dressed in a cheap black suit, just like Pink's. A wave of nauseousness came over him.
Shit, it can't be him.
When Pink opened the door all the way, Mr. Brown almost fell out of the car. Almost. It wasn't Pink who stopped him from falling, it was Brown himself. He sat upright in his seat, his arms visibly shaking and looked up at the other man with a scared look in his eyes, like a startled animal.
It's him. What the fuck.
"Brown?!" was all Pink managed to say as he looked him up and down. A big red hole was now in the place where his large forehead used to be, dark brown strands of hair stuck to it. Streams of blood grew down his face like a tree's roots. His eyes were red and swollen, a mixture of blood and tears ran down his cheeks. Brown was too weak to keep looking at the other man, he was clearly struggling to hold his eyes open. Only when Pink shook his shoulder his eyes shot open all the way for a second.
"Jesus Christ, you're alive!" Pink couldn't help but chuckle.
"I am?" Brown's voice was shaky and quiet, his eyes fell shut again. Pink realized he wouldn't be alive for long if he didn't get help now. "Let's get outta here." He secured his gun in his belt before grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him out of the car, making Brown whine but barely moving him an inch. "Come on, man, help me a little here." Brown slowly moved his legs with a groan to get out of the car as Pink carefully helped lifting him out. "Shit, they told me you were dead." He put his injured arm on his back to support him while walking, trying to speed their pace up but at the same time not having him pass out. He kept turning his head around to check for cops but the streets were still weirdly empty.
There was so much both of them wanted to say right now to break the silence, just fall into each other's arms and cry about how happy they are to see the other one alive but nobody actually said anything. It all felt too surreal and the clock was still ticking. Later.
When they reached his car, he held Brown by his shoulders to sit him down onto the passenger's seat and stuffed the bag of diamonds into the footwell. As Pink made sure he was sitting safely he noticed Brown's body going more limb and his head starting to tilt down. He quickly put his hand on his cheek to hold his face up and looked into his half shut eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ, you look horrible. Can you make it?" Brown was clearly struggling to stay conscious, having his face shaken made him look up and nod slightly. He also opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a cracked hum. Pink looked up at the streets, still nothing, then back at him. "Okay, listen. I'll get us out of here. We're going to my place, I'll take care of your wounds and then we're leaving town." With his eyes closed, Brown nodded along to Pink's words, still trying but failing to respond verbally. "You have to stay awake, don't pass out or I won't be able to get your fat ass up to my apartment." Finally, he managed to smirk and mutter "Yeah."
Pink squeezed his shoulder one last time, then shut the door and ran to the other side of the car. As he started it he mumbled under his breath "I'm not fucking letting you die too."
The drive was quiet, which was unusual for Brown but not surprising, considering the giant hole in his head. There was a strange tension between them created by the urge to just break down together and cry. Pink kept looking over at him and asked for a life sign. After a while Brown seemed to have gotten annoyed with it and tried to talk to make him stop asking, however he noticed his voice was too hoarse for Pink to understand anything of what he was trying to say. He was too busy focusing on driving and inspecting Brown's wound for a conversation anyways. He was concerned about it to the point he almost forgot about his own injury but he didn't want to judge the gravity of it before not having taken a closer look at it. At least he was sure it wasn't a bullet wound, which soothed his worries a little.
Of course, Brown's condition still seemed pretty bad but when he found him alive, Pink made a promise to himself not to let this stupid job take any more lives, neither his own or his best friend's. He was going to take care of this and fucking fix everything.