narry storan one shots.

one way out.

CREDIT GOES TO: NIALLERITDIDNTHAPPEN ON AO3.

It was well past three in the morning by the time Niall dragged himself up to his apartment, slumping against the door as it clicked shut behind him, not even bothering to reach for the light switch as he dropped his backpack to the floor. He hung his head and closed his eyes there in the dark, promising himself he'd move after five seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty. Okay, maybe thirty. Okay, maybe a minute.

His back ached, his limbs were heavy and his eyelids even more so, drooping closed behind glasses that had slipped right down to the tip of nose, aided by a thin layer of sweat that had formed all down the flushed skin of his face the moment he had left the hospital and stepped out into the city streets, sticky with humidity in the air and puddles all along the sidewalks.

Despite his exhaustion and the fact that he could very well have fallen asleep right there, leaning against the door of the apartment, he pushed himself forward and reached for the hem of his scrubs, peeling the pale green shirt off his sweaty torso and yanking it over his head. As he freed his arms from the fabric, he began nudging off his shoes one after the other, not realizing how vehemently his feet had been screaming for release until they were completely bare against the cold ceramic tile of his entryway.

His pants were quick to follow, and when he had finally shed every layer he scooped dirty scrubs, socks and shoes into his arms and walked blindly through the dark and into his bedroom, every step slow and wince-inducing after the mayhem of the shift he thought would never end.

-

A six-vehicle pile-up that included two cabs, one 18-wheeler, a compact car, an SUV and a bus full of civilians. Teens. Elderly. Mothers and babies and all of them thrown like rag dolls against glass windows and metal poles as the cars collided in the midst of, of all things, a fist fight in the middle of Times Square. But of course, it was not your run-of-the-mill, everyday fist fight.

Explanation only amplified the absurdity of it all, as Niall discovered when Liam had broken rank from his fellow NYPD officers and pushed his way through the chaos in the Emergency Wing, pulling Niall aside to let him know what the hell had actually happened as an avalanche of admissions flooded the hospital.

"Your man in the mask tried to stop it," he'd said, leaning in close so that no one would hear, though there was no chance of that anyway among the oppressive barrage of nurses and doctors yelling for backup, children crying, mothers wailing, police officers barking into radios and sirens blaring from outside, heralding the endless onslaught of ambulances to come that night.

Niall tried hard to keep his eyes focused and his expression calm as he helped patient after patient onto stretchers, hands quick and efficient but gentle as he directed each admission with diligent precision, but Liam's words ignited a flame of fear in his chest that caused his throat to swell uncomfortably.

"Tried?" he asked, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to where Liam stood, still hovering close to Niall's ear.

"It was... it was unlike anything I'd ever seen, Ni. Every blow they landed on each other was like... was like a crash of thunder, or, or an earthquake shaking the ground, tearing up the concrete where they stood from beneath. Lightning from their hands, surges of electricity from the lights and signs sending these... these shockwaves through the air... they're... they're not from this world."

Niall could hear the disbelief in Liam's voice, mixed with resignation that this kind of crime, this kind of disaster, was the new normal. "And he tried," Liam continued, "he tried to stop them, but... but..."

Digesting Liam's words was making Niall feel sicker by the second, but he didn't let his eyes falter as he reassured the weeping parents of the unconscious child he'd strapped to the stretcher in front of him, a caring hand on the mother's arm as he instructed the father to follow the nurse to the OR. As they scurried away, there was a miraculous if brief lull in the tidal wave of patients where he turned to Liam directly, eyes finally betraying him as he asked, "But what?"