Friday Barnes one shots

Taking the blame

Idk when this is set but it is after Ian and Friday start dating.
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The officer pulls Fridays arms behind her back and cuffs them.

"You can't be serious!" I yell at the officer in front of me. "Look at her! She's barely up to my chin and you're trying to accuse her of taking down a fully grown man? You're out of your mind!"

The officer puts a hand on my chest and pushes me back. "Watch your tone young man or you'll go to the station with her."

The urge to punch this man in the face was growing bigger by the second.

I reluctantly stepped back. Getting arrested too wasn't going to help anyone.

"Fine. Just let me talk to her." I say, trying to be as calm as possible.

The officer shakes his head. "Nobody is going to talk to her."

"Why the hell not?!"

The officer raises his eyebrows, hand resting on one of the unlocked cuffs hanging from his belt.

Bernie comes over from the car. "What happened?"

I turn to him. "They're accusing Friday of taking down a fully grown dude and they're not letting anyone talk to her!"

Bernie frowns, and looks at the officer. "Have you seen her? A fly could beat her in a fight, you think she took down him?"

The man in question is tall and well built. He's currently sitting on the steps of the cathedral, a blood soaked cloth held to his nose.

The officer shrugs. "That's what he tells us."

Bernie sighs, annoyed. "Ok, well why can't anyone go closer than 4 meters to her?"

The officer glances at his co-worker. "It's protocol."

Bernie and I share a frustrated look.

Bernie starts talking with the officer.

I look around.

The square is covered with people, some have phones out and are recording the cop cars and the man on the steps. Others just watch, intrigued.

My eyes land on Friday.

The officer who had cuffed her is standing close, talking into his walkie talkie, head turned in the other direction.

He can't see how hard Friday is breathing or how pale she is.

Her lips move, muttering words to herself. The same ones over and over.

Oh god. She's having a panic attack.

I step forwards. The officer goes to put his arm out to block me but I duck under it and run towards Friday.

"Grab him!" The officer yells.

The officer who cuffed Friday lunges forwards and grabs me around the middle, pulling me back.

I was so close.

"Please." I yell, pulling against him.

Friday looks as though she's about to pass out in the middle of the square. What if she hits her head? She could get hurt.

"Please. Please. She's having a panic attack!" I yell.

The officer holding me stops pulling me back but doesn't let go.

"Please." I say, hoping he will let me go. "Just let me help her."

He looks at Friday, then, after a second, he lets me go.

I run to her. She's staring at the ground, eyes wide and scared.

I fall to my knees in front of her so she can see me.

"I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die." She whispers.

I put my hands on her arms, "you're not going to die. You're going to be ok, I promise. I'm right here."

She stops whispering and meets my eyes.

"You're ok. I'm right here." I say.

After a moment I stand up, pulling her to my chest.

"Uncuff her." I say, watching the officer who had cuffed her in the first place.

"I can't do that." He says sympathetically. "I'm not allowed."

"But she's clearly distressed. If you uncuff her she can calm down." I say. I can feel her tears soaking my shirt. I hold her tighter.

The officer looks around. None of the other officers are watching.

He steps forwards and unlocks the handcuffs.

Friday grabs onto me, gripping my shirt.

"You're ok." I whisper into her hair. "You're ok. Just take deep breaths."

I take her over to the steps of the cathedral and sit her down.

The officer had followed us over and hands her a bottle of water.

She hiccups.

I crouch next to her and put a hand on her knee.

The officer next to us gets pulled to the side by another person in uniform.

"What are you doing?" The second man yells. "You were specifically told not to uncuff her."

They argue, going back and forth.

Friday taps my shoulder and I turn to her. "I didn't do it." She says, her voice horse.

"No, you didn't." A voice says.

I turn.

A young boy with a mask over his face and a hood pulled over dark hair standing at the top of the steps, looking down at us. "I did."

"Who are you?" I ask.

The boy tilts his head. "That doesn't matter."

He makes his way slowly down the stairs.

When he gets to Friday he puts a hand under her chin and tilts her head up. "Thanks for taking the blame though. I owe you."

I stand up, but he's gone.