Mac, Stella, and the weather
- Thread starter Jade_Nolan
- Start date
Jade_Nolan
CSI Level One
^^ wow! Thank you!!! 
And yes, here are the next couple chapters. Sorry about the delay, final exams kinda sucked the life out any other projects.......... Hope you guys like them!!
Chapter 5
“Come on, come on!” Danny hit the steering wheel in frustration as he tried to worm his vehicle through the mass of squad cars and other official vehicles that had all but blocked off the road leading to the alley. But it was pointless. Swearing to himself, Danny gave up. Throwing his car in park and grabbing his case off the seat next to him, he jumped out.
His heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest as he ducked under the police tape cordoning off the end of the alley. His eye caught the blood covered asphalt where Mac had been shot, and his heart which had been racing a mile a minute thudded to a painful halt. He felt as if he’d been hit with a ton of bricks.
-----------
He had been processing a scene only a couple miles from the convenience store when Flack had called him asking if he would be able to clear.
“Sorry man. This is a weird one. I’m going to be here a while.” He looked at his victim, a young woman sitting cross-legged and naked in the middle of a chalk design that had been drawn on the floor of the otherwise empty room. “Have you tried Sheldon or Stella?”
“Yeah, they can’t clear either.” Flack paused and Danny could hear him grimace on the other end of the phone. “He’s gonna kill me Danny.”
Danny grinned, “Nah, seriously injure you maybe, send you to the hospital for a few days, make you wish he had, but not actually kill you. Don’t worry, I’ll send you flowers!”
“Shut up Danny!”
Danny laughed, “See ya Don!”
“Yeah, yeah, see ya.”
Danny chuckled, “Bye!”
Laughing to himself, he turned his attention back to his crime scene and sighed. Yeah, he was going to be here a while.
A couple hours later he was finally wrapping things up when he heard Flack radio in pursuit of a suspect, requesting backup for himself and for a second pursuit with Detectives Taylor and Bonasera. Stella must have been able to make it over there at some point to help Mac.
Danny shook his head in disbelief, “What, is it a full moon too?!”
The uniformed cop helping him chuckled, “Tell me about it!”
Then Stella called “Officer down!” and Danny froze, staring at the radio. His heart stood still in his chest. It couldn’t be, he told himself, trying to rationalize that the officer hit could have been anybody. But he knew it wasn’t.
Stella’s phone call to him had confirmed his worst fears.
----------
Danny looked up as Flack’s angry voice cut through his momentary daze. Don was being pulled off a handcuffed youth by a fellow detective and a uniformed cop. A sergeant hauled the young man to his feet unceremoniously and all but threw him in the back of his squad car. Danny hurried over. Flack was pacing back and forth, face livid, and Danny noticed sickeningly that his shirt was covered in blood.
“Don! Don, you ok?!”
Flack nodded wordlessly, still too furious to speak. He noticed Danny looking with concern at his shirt. He shook his head, “It’s not mine.”
Danny swallowed hard, “Mac?”
“Yeah,” Flack said shortly, still glaring murderously at the young man he had had to be physically dragged off. Danny followed his eyes, and the teen smirked at both of them through the window of the squad car he was sitting in. Danny felt his blood start to boil.
“That him? He the one who shot Mac?”
Flack shook his head and sighed wearily, “No. He was his accomplice in the robbery. I caught up to him just as Stella called on the radio. He’s not saying anything.” He glowered darkly, “Yet.” Danny could barely keep a lid on the rising tide of anger growing in his chest as the youngster smiled cockily at them. His voice shook as he spoke, “What the fuck is he laughing about?!”
“At this point, I don’t even wanna know,” Flack said.
Danny nodded mutely, seething. He took a few seconds to indulge in his fury and then slowly squelched the flood of adrenaline that was racing through his brain. It exited his system as he took a longer more detailed survey of the scene. He was left feeling sick to his stomach. Readying his camera, he turned to Flack, “So what went down here, Don?”
Sheldon showed up about 10 min later, and together they meticulously processed every detail of the scene. Danny could see him slightly shake his head, and his lips pressed tight together as he photographed the spot where Mac had lain. Danny felt his stomach plummet again. Of anybody there, Sheldon was the only one who could piece together exactly how badly Mac might be injured.
“Come on Sheldon,” Danny said quietly, “How bad is it?”
Sheldon met his eyes, and Danny did not like the look in them.
“My best estimate based on the amount of blood on the ground and Stella’s jacket, is that he lost close to a liter here on scene, let alone internal and before he gets to surgery.” His voice trailed off.
Danny nodded, “Well, if anybody’d make it, it’d be Mac. Come on, let’s finish up.”
All six shell casings were near the fence, and the bullet that had gone through Mac was embedded in a dumpster at the entrance to the alley. Danny held it up triumphantly; it had been a bitch to find. “9 mil standard round.” He turned to Sheldon, “Get anything off the fence?”
Hawkes waved three print stickers, “Right here. Got two actual fingerprints and a palm print.”
“Great! Let’s get all this back to the lab, and track this bastard down!"
Chapter 6
Stella walked numbly though the hallways toward the surgery waiting lounge. It sounded so nice: a waiting lounge. Nice way to try to sugar coat what it really was: a space meant to try to contain relief, despair, grief and hope. Nobody there really cared about the new waterfall wall, the large salt water fish tank or the soft repetitive music that was supposed to be relaxing. Stella sank wearily into one of the chairs, the trauma surgeon’s words echoing in her head…
“…dangerously close to his heart…lost massive amount of blood…lung collapsed…”
She closed her eyes. It seemed a lifetime ago that they had been standing in sun by his truck, Mac smiling warmly at her and somewhat embarrassed. He had actually asked her out. After all this time. She had been so happy, she could hardly think straight. She looked down at his badge that she cradled protectively, and ran her thumb over the numbers: 8433. She knew them as well she did her own badge number. They had been friends and cared for each other as only true partners could. When they had first started working together, Stella had wondered if her new partner could actually speak at length about anything outside of work. But he had a quick and ready smile, and they had become fast friends, trusting each other implicitly.
Stella smiled remembering how happy Mac had been back then. There had been a standing invitation for dinner after their shift at his and Claire’s apartment. She had become quite good friends with Claire as well. She had laughed easily, and was as outgoing as Mac was reserved. Stella had never seen a happier couple.
Then the light had been extinguished from his soul, and Stella had feared it might never be relit. He had closed himself off from everybody, constantly working himself to the point of breaking. But he had never shut her out. Despite all the walls he built around himself, she had always managed to break through when necessary. He had only ever allowed himself to show his exhaustion to her eyes only, however brief the moment was.
Despite the different people and experiences that had passed through both their lives since then, their friendship had only deepened, Mac still only letting his guard down with her, and she only really completely trusting him. But the stars had never really aligned she thought bitterly, until now. Now, when he lay possibly dying in surgery. She hadn’t even actually told him ‘yes’, tears filling her eyes again, and now she might not get to. Angrily, she shoved the thought aside. He’d been through countless engagements as a Marine; and as part of the NYPD he’d been in two explosions, taken hostage twice and left for dead in a sinking car. Now was not going to be the time his luck ran out. “Come on Mac,” she whispered, “You can make it.”
----------------
“He’s intubated and ready,” the anesthesiologist said. “But his pressure’s barely holding.”
“All right, let’s get that bleeding stopped first before even thinking about removing the other two bullets.”…
…”Hang another two units!”…
…”Pressure’s still dropping: 49/20!”…
…”I’ve lost pulses!”…
…”Dammit!! CPR, Epi, now! Let’s open his chest and get an internal pacer on!”…
-----------------
Stella looked up at the clock. Four hours twelve minutes, and still no word.
-----------------
…”Still no pulse…”
…”Increasing joules…”
…”Still nothing…”
----------------
“Detective Bonasera?”
Stella looked up, heart thudding painfully. The trauma surgeon from the ER was standing in front of her, face somber and drawn.
“How is he?” she managed to ask, fear of the worst nipping at the edges of her sanity.
The surgeon sat down next to her. “Not good,” he said softly. “He made it through surgery, but…”
Stella felt the color drain from her face, “But what?”
“We had to restart his heart twice, and he lost nearly a third of his blood volume, not counting what we were able to replace. The next 24-48 hr will be the most critical. With that kind of blood loss, he’ll most likely decompensate further in that time frame.” He paused, “I’m sorry, we’ve done what we can, but I’d be surprised if he makes it.”
Stella couldn’t speak. There was thunderous roar in her ears as she tried to process his last statement, “…surprised if he makes it…surprised if he makes it…”
“Here,” the surgeon said quietly, handing her a small bag. “We did manage to get both.”
Stella nodded mutely, taking it mechanically. “Where is he?” she managed to ask.
“He’s in the surgical ICU. I’ll take you up there.”
-----------------
Any last shreds of the non-realism of what had happened were disintegrated as Stella stood in the doorway to Mac’s room. He lay, eyes closed, his chest rising slowly and evenly with every quiet whoosh of the vent. She walked slowly over to him, taking in the myriad of monitors, IV bags, and lines that surrounded him. She sat down next to him, taking his normally strong hand in hers. His face was peaceful and belied the seriousness of his condition. She smiled at him through her tears and gently ran her fingers through his hair.
“I’m here, Mac,” she said. “Told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” She put her forehead down on the pillow next to his, and the tears finally spilled over, uncontrolled. “I love you Mac. I always have.”
-------
Images and scenes zoomed past him at frightening speed. He was standing alone in a barren landscape, a huge chasm in front of him, separating him from the events on the other side. He watched helplessly as he saw the towers fall again...his fellow Marines dying next to him more times than he ever wanted to remember...Don being caught in that explosion except this time he couldn’t save him…
He felt the pain of each event slicing through him like barbed knives, tearing him to pieces. It continued on relentlessly. The pain was unbearable. He fell to his knees begging it to stop…but it didn't.
Then a woman’s voice cut through the maelstrom, calming his racing heart and cooling his tortured, helpless body. It stilled his mind, and the images faded into the distance. He felt a complete sense of peace come over him. It wrapped him protectively, and he fell, exhausted, in its embrace.
And yes, here are the next couple chapters. Sorry about the delay, final exams kinda sucked the life out any other projects..........
Hope you guys like them!!Chapter 5
“Come on, come on!” Danny hit the steering wheel in frustration as he tried to worm his vehicle through the mass of squad cars and other official vehicles that had all but blocked off the road leading to the alley. But it was pointless. Swearing to himself, Danny gave up. Throwing his car in park and grabbing his case off the seat next to him, he jumped out.
His heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest as he ducked under the police tape cordoning off the end of the alley. His eye caught the blood covered asphalt where Mac had been shot, and his heart which had been racing a mile a minute thudded to a painful halt. He felt as if he’d been hit with a ton of bricks.
-----------
He had been processing a scene only a couple miles from the convenience store when Flack had called him asking if he would be able to clear.
“Sorry man. This is a weird one. I’m going to be here a while.” He looked at his victim, a young woman sitting cross-legged and naked in the middle of a chalk design that had been drawn on the floor of the otherwise empty room. “Have you tried Sheldon or Stella?”
“Yeah, they can’t clear either.” Flack paused and Danny could hear him grimace on the other end of the phone. “He’s gonna kill me Danny.”
Danny grinned, “Nah, seriously injure you maybe, send you to the hospital for a few days, make you wish he had, but not actually kill you. Don’t worry, I’ll send you flowers!”
“Shut up Danny!”
Danny laughed, “See ya Don!”
“Yeah, yeah, see ya.”
Danny chuckled, “Bye!”
Laughing to himself, he turned his attention back to his crime scene and sighed. Yeah, he was going to be here a while.
A couple hours later he was finally wrapping things up when he heard Flack radio in pursuit of a suspect, requesting backup for himself and for a second pursuit with Detectives Taylor and Bonasera. Stella must have been able to make it over there at some point to help Mac.
Danny shook his head in disbelief, “What, is it a full moon too?!”
The uniformed cop helping him chuckled, “Tell me about it!”
Then Stella called “Officer down!” and Danny froze, staring at the radio. His heart stood still in his chest. It couldn’t be, he told himself, trying to rationalize that the officer hit could have been anybody. But he knew it wasn’t.
Stella’s phone call to him had confirmed his worst fears.
----------
Danny looked up as Flack’s angry voice cut through his momentary daze. Don was being pulled off a handcuffed youth by a fellow detective and a uniformed cop. A sergeant hauled the young man to his feet unceremoniously and all but threw him in the back of his squad car. Danny hurried over. Flack was pacing back and forth, face livid, and Danny noticed sickeningly that his shirt was covered in blood.
“Don! Don, you ok?!”
Flack nodded wordlessly, still too furious to speak. He noticed Danny looking with concern at his shirt. He shook his head, “It’s not mine.”
Danny swallowed hard, “Mac?”
“Yeah,” Flack said shortly, still glaring murderously at the young man he had had to be physically dragged off. Danny followed his eyes, and the teen smirked at both of them through the window of the squad car he was sitting in. Danny felt his blood start to boil.
“That him? He the one who shot Mac?”
Flack shook his head and sighed wearily, “No. He was his accomplice in the robbery. I caught up to him just as Stella called on the radio. He’s not saying anything.” He glowered darkly, “Yet.” Danny could barely keep a lid on the rising tide of anger growing in his chest as the youngster smiled cockily at them. His voice shook as he spoke, “What the fuck is he laughing about?!”
“At this point, I don’t even wanna know,” Flack said.
Danny nodded mutely, seething. He took a few seconds to indulge in his fury and then slowly squelched the flood of adrenaline that was racing through his brain. It exited his system as he took a longer more detailed survey of the scene. He was left feeling sick to his stomach. Readying his camera, he turned to Flack, “So what went down here, Don?”
Sheldon showed up about 10 min later, and together they meticulously processed every detail of the scene. Danny could see him slightly shake his head, and his lips pressed tight together as he photographed the spot where Mac had lain. Danny felt his stomach plummet again. Of anybody there, Sheldon was the only one who could piece together exactly how badly Mac might be injured.
“Come on Sheldon,” Danny said quietly, “How bad is it?”
Sheldon met his eyes, and Danny did not like the look in them.
“My best estimate based on the amount of blood on the ground and Stella’s jacket, is that he lost close to a liter here on scene, let alone internal and before he gets to surgery.” His voice trailed off.
Danny nodded, “Well, if anybody’d make it, it’d be Mac. Come on, let’s finish up.”
All six shell casings were near the fence, and the bullet that had gone through Mac was embedded in a dumpster at the entrance to the alley. Danny held it up triumphantly; it had been a bitch to find. “9 mil standard round.” He turned to Sheldon, “Get anything off the fence?”
Hawkes waved three print stickers, “Right here. Got two actual fingerprints and a palm print.”
“Great! Let’s get all this back to the lab, and track this bastard down!"
Chapter 6
Stella walked numbly though the hallways toward the surgery waiting lounge. It sounded so nice: a waiting lounge. Nice way to try to sugar coat what it really was: a space meant to try to contain relief, despair, grief and hope. Nobody there really cared about the new waterfall wall, the large salt water fish tank or the soft repetitive music that was supposed to be relaxing. Stella sank wearily into one of the chairs, the trauma surgeon’s words echoing in her head…
“…dangerously close to his heart…lost massive amount of blood…lung collapsed…”
She closed her eyes. It seemed a lifetime ago that they had been standing in sun by his truck, Mac smiling warmly at her and somewhat embarrassed. He had actually asked her out. After all this time. She had been so happy, she could hardly think straight. She looked down at his badge that she cradled protectively, and ran her thumb over the numbers: 8433. She knew them as well she did her own badge number. They had been friends and cared for each other as only true partners could. When they had first started working together, Stella had wondered if her new partner could actually speak at length about anything outside of work. But he had a quick and ready smile, and they had become fast friends, trusting each other implicitly.
Stella smiled remembering how happy Mac had been back then. There had been a standing invitation for dinner after their shift at his and Claire’s apartment. She had become quite good friends with Claire as well. She had laughed easily, and was as outgoing as Mac was reserved. Stella had never seen a happier couple.
Then the light had been extinguished from his soul, and Stella had feared it might never be relit. He had closed himself off from everybody, constantly working himself to the point of breaking. But he had never shut her out. Despite all the walls he built around himself, she had always managed to break through when necessary. He had only ever allowed himself to show his exhaustion to her eyes only, however brief the moment was.
Despite the different people and experiences that had passed through both their lives since then, their friendship had only deepened, Mac still only letting his guard down with her, and she only really completely trusting him. But the stars had never really aligned she thought bitterly, until now. Now, when he lay possibly dying in surgery. She hadn’t even actually told him ‘yes’, tears filling her eyes again, and now she might not get to. Angrily, she shoved the thought aside. He’d been through countless engagements as a Marine; and as part of the NYPD he’d been in two explosions, taken hostage twice and left for dead in a sinking car. Now was not going to be the time his luck ran out. “Come on Mac,” she whispered, “You can make it.”
----------------
“He’s intubated and ready,” the anesthesiologist said. “But his pressure’s barely holding.”
“All right, let’s get that bleeding stopped first before even thinking about removing the other two bullets.”…
…”Hang another two units!”…
…”Pressure’s still dropping: 49/20!”…
…”I’ve lost pulses!”…
…”Dammit!! CPR, Epi, now! Let’s open his chest and get an internal pacer on!”…
-----------------
Stella looked up at the clock. Four hours twelve minutes, and still no word.
-----------------
…”Still no pulse…”
…”Increasing joules…”
…”Still nothing…”
----------------
“Detective Bonasera?”
Stella looked up, heart thudding painfully. The trauma surgeon from the ER was standing in front of her, face somber and drawn.
“How is he?” she managed to ask, fear of the worst nipping at the edges of her sanity.
The surgeon sat down next to her. “Not good,” he said softly. “He made it through surgery, but…”
Stella felt the color drain from her face, “But what?”
“We had to restart his heart twice, and he lost nearly a third of his blood volume, not counting what we were able to replace. The next 24-48 hr will be the most critical. With that kind of blood loss, he’ll most likely decompensate further in that time frame.” He paused, “I’m sorry, we’ve done what we can, but I’d be surprised if he makes it.”
Stella couldn’t speak. There was thunderous roar in her ears as she tried to process his last statement, “…surprised if he makes it…surprised if he makes it…”
“Here,” the surgeon said quietly, handing her a small bag. “We did manage to get both.”
Stella nodded mutely, taking it mechanically. “Where is he?” she managed to ask.
“He’s in the surgical ICU. I’ll take you up there.”
-----------------
Any last shreds of the non-realism of what had happened were disintegrated as Stella stood in the doorway to Mac’s room. He lay, eyes closed, his chest rising slowly and evenly with every quiet whoosh of the vent. She walked slowly over to him, taking in the myriad of monitors, IV bags, and lines that surrounded him. She sat down next to him, taking his normally strong hand in hers. His face was peaceful and belied the seriousness of his condition. She smiled at him through her tears and gently ran her fingers through his hair.
“I’m here, Mac,” she said. “Told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” She put her forehead down on the pillow next to his, and the tears finally spilled over, uncontrolled. “I love you Mac. I always have.”
-------
Images and scenes zoomed past him at frightening speed. He was standing alone in a barren landscape, a huge chasm in front of him, separating him from the events on the other side. He watched helplessly as he saw the towers fall again...his fellow Marines dying next to him more times than he ever wanted to remember...Don being caught in that explosion except this time he couldn’t save him…
He felt the pain of each event slicing through him like barbed knives, tearing him to pieces. It continued on relentlessly. The pain was unbearable. He fell to his knees begging it to stop…but it didn't.
Then a woman’s voice cut through the maelstrom, calming his racing heart and cooling his tortured, helpless body. It stilled his mind, and the images faded into the distance. He felt a complete sense of peace come over him. It wrapped him protectively, and he fell, exhausted, in its embrace.
Last edited:
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
ack more more!
Jade_Nolan
CSI Level One
Chapter 7
“I’m going to ask you again: what’s the name of your partner?” Flack asked, leaning across the table towards the 18 year-old sitting across from him.
The youth leaned right back towards him, looking him in the eye and daring him to retaliate, “And I told you, I ain’t saying.” He leaned back cockily, “You think I was born yesterday? You think I’m going to buy that bull-crap about getting a better deal if I cooperate? I ain’t sayin’ a word!”
Flack could feel his temper rising. “A cop was shot,” he spat out.
The teen leaned back across the table, “Yeah? I’m guessing it wasn’t just any cop either was it? Had to be someone pretty special to get you this worked up.” He smirked, “Your boyfriend maybe?”
Flack stood, shaking with anger, “get.him.out.of.here.” he managed, addressing the uniformed officer who was with him. Flack turned away, unable to look at the teen without being afraid of seriously injuring him.
“F***ing cop got what he f***ing deserved.”
Flack snapped. He launched himself across the room, grabbed the young man by the front of his shirt, turned and slammed him face first into the wall.
“Listen to me, you little piece of shit, I would like nothing more than to take off this badge and beat you to an inch of your life.” For the first time, a dawning look of fear and realization of the true seriousness of his situation came across the face of the teen as Flack spoke deadly quiet in his ear, “And you better get down on your knees and pray that Mac Taylor does what he does and lives, because if not, badge or no badge, I will see that neither you or your partner ever see the light of day again. But right now, your worthless ass just isn’t worth my time.” Flack let him go with utter disdain. “We’re done,” he said, walking out of the room.
------------
Danny took off his glasses and rubbed his face in frustration and impatience and he watched AFIS scan through the thousands upon thousands of prints it had in its system. It wasn’t taking any longer than usual, he knew, but that knowledge didn’t prevent him from being seriously tempted to hit the computer in an attempt to make it work faster. Matters were only compounded by the fact that he still had his original crime scene to analyze.
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
Did it always take this long? He sighed. The most surreal part of the familiar process had been collecting the blood sample from the bullet he had recovered from the dumpster and sending it off to DNA for identity confirmation. Confirmation that it was Mac Taylor’s. He shook his head as he put his glasses back on. None of them had heard from Stella either. At this point, Danny prayed that no news was good news.
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
Just as he really was about to hit the computer, those two glorious words popped up: ‘Match Confirmed’ and he had a name: Linus Lorenzo. “Boom!”
Danny printed the sheet triumphantly, dialing Flack’s number to let him know they got a hit. Miss Naked would have to wait.
------------
With a promise to be back as soon as she could, Stella had left Mac’s room and walked out to the family waiting room to call Don. She supposed she should have called earlier, but even now she had very little definitive information to give anyone.
”We really won’t know for the next 24-48 hr,” was all anyone could, or would, tell her.
“Don?...”
It’s funny how one’s emotions can change in a split second. Literally. And by the smallest of things. In this case it was the name on his caller ID: Stella Bonasera. His vindictive sense of triumph and hope that Danny’s call precipitated, evaporated in an instant. His phone buzzed in his hand as bottom dropped out of his stomach. Much as Flack tried to tell himself otherwise, he knew just how badly Mac was injured; and as superhuman as the man seemed at times, there was a very real possibility………he shoved that thought aside as he took a deep breath and answered his phone.
“Hi Stella. How is he?”
“He made it through surgery, but…….” her voice caught. Clearing her throat she continued, “it was close, and they’re not even sure if…” She was unable to say it.
On the other end of the phone, Flack felt a rock settle into the pit of his stomach. Although, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he had been expecting to be going after Mac’s murderer, not attempted murderer.
“Stell, he’s in the best hands possible, and…”
“I know, I know. If anyone can beat this, he can. Look, I’m going to head back to the lab, drop off the bullets they got out of him. You guys all set?”
“Yeah, Danny got a hit off the fingerprints they got on scene. We’re headed over to this guy’s address now.”
Stella nodded, eyes flashing, “Do me a favor Flack, save a piece of him for me.”
Flack smiled tightly as he met Danny at the door and they jumped into his car, “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”
-------------
She was gone, and he was alone. Alone in that barren landscape of pain and tortured memories. He shrunk inside, terrified of their return. His body hurt enough as it was. It was pointless to fight it, but he did, clinging onto the faint whisper of her voice that was left floating almost beyond his grasp.
Slowly, inexorably, they closed in around him.
He shook. This time there was no chasm separating him from them. The images and pain cut straight through his already raw and injured body, slicing him to ribbons as they swirled ceaselessly and viciously around him. He tried to hold on to the faint thread of her voice, but it was gone. He begged for oblivion, for even a modicum of relief to no avail.
Horrible alternate realities merged with the real ones until he could no longer distinguish between the two. It was too much. He fell, unable to take any more. ‘Please’, he whispered, ‘let me go.’ He was stripped, finished. He had nothing left. As blessed darkness started to close in on the edge of his vision, he felt no fear, just the profoundest relief.
It would finally be over.
--------------
Stella walked slowly into Mac’s empty office. She had dropped the bullets off with Sheldon, and had headed up here to leave Mac’s gun in its usual resting spot. She laid it gently in the top right-hand drawer of his desk, and looked around at the familiar space. His quiet yet powerful presence hung on the air, and Stella half expected him to walk through the door at any second, hanging up his jacket and asking for updates on the convenience store shooting.
She sank wearily on the small couch against the wall, leaning her head on her hands. The sun had disappeared behind the skyscrapers outside his office windows stealing with it any last shred of warmth that might have remained. Stella sat there, too mentally drained and emotionally exhausted to do anything else.
Her phone ringing snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked at it hurriedly hoping it was Flack with the news they had caught up with Lorenzo. But it was an unknown number. Stella sighed and answered it,
“Detective Bonasera.”
“Dectective? This is Marcia from Trinity hospital. You left your number as contact information for Mac Taylor?”
Stella felt her heart skip several beats, “Yes.”
“I’m afraid he’s not getting better. You might want to come over.”
There was a horrible ringing in her ears. “What, what do you mean ‘he’s not getting better’?” she managed.
“His oxygen levels dropped again and we had to place a second chest tube. Also, we can’t keep his blood pressure up and his kidneys are starting to fail. If their function doesn’t improve soon, he’ll have to go on dialysis and even then……...he’s not looking good. I’m sorry.” The lady called Marcia spoke softly and apologetically.
Stella nodded, too numb for several seconds to speak. “I’ll be right there,” she finally managed.
“I’m going to ask you again: what’s the name of your partner?” Flack asked, leaning across the table towards the 18 year-old sitting across from him.
The youth leaned right back towards him, looking him in the eye and daring him to retaliate, “And I told you, I ain’t saying.” He leaned back cockily, “You think I was born yesterday? You think I’m going to buy that bull-crap about getting a better deal if I cooperate? I ain’t sayin’ a word!”
Flack could feel his temper rising. “A cop was shot,” he spat out.
The teen leaned back across the table, “Yeah? I’m guessing it wasn’t just any cop either was it? Had to be someone pretty special to get you this worked up.” He smirked, “Your boyfriend maybe?”
Flack stood, shaking with anger, “get.him.out.of.here.” he managed, addressing the uniformed officer who was with him. Flack turned away, unable to look at the teen without being afraid of seriously injuring him.
“F***ing cop got what he f***ing deserved.”
Flack snapped. He launched himself across the room, grabbed the young man by the front of his shirt, turned and slammed him face first into the wall.
“Listen to me, you little piece of shit, I would like nothing more than to take off this badge and beat you to an inch of your life.” For the first time, a dawning look of fear and realization of the true seriousness of his situation came across the face of the teen as Flack spoke deadly quiet in his ear, “And you better get down on your knees and pray that Mac Taylor does what he does and lives, because if not, badge or no badge, I will see that neither you or your partner ever see the light of day again. But right now, your worthless ass just isn’t worth my time.” Flack let him go with utter disdain. “We’re done,” he said, walking out of the room.
------------
Danny took off his glasses and rubbed his face in frustration and impatience and he watched AFIS scan through the thousands upon thousands of prints it had in its system. It wasn’t taking any longer than usual, he knew, but that knowledge didn’t prevent him from being seriously tempted to hit the computer in an attempt to make it work faster. Matters were only compounded by the fact that he still had his original crime scene to analyze.
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
Did it always take this long? He sighed. The most surreal part of the familiar process had been collecting the blood sample from the bullet he had recovered from the dumpster and sending it off to DNA for identity confirmation. Confirmation that it was Mac Taylor’s. He shook his head as he put his glasses back on. None of them had heard from Stella either. At this point, Danny prayed that no news was good news.
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
‘No Match’
Just as he really was about to hit the computer, those two glorious words popped up: ‘Match Confirmed’ and he had a name: Linus Lorenzo. “Boom!”
Danny printed the sheet triumphantly, dialing Flack’s number to let him know they got a hit. Miss Naked would have to wait.
------------
With a promise to be back as soon as she could, Stella had left Mac’s room and walked out to the family waiting room to call Don. She supposed she should have called earlier, but even now she had very little definitive information to give anyone.
”We really won’t know for the next 24-48 hr,” was all anyone could, or would, tell her.
“Don?...”
It’s funny how one’s emotions can change in a split second. Literally. And by the smallest of things. In this case it was the name on his caller ID: Stella Bonasera. His vindictive sense of triumph and hope that Danny’s call precipitated, evaporated in an instant. His phone buzzed in his hand as bottom dropped out of his stomach. Much as Flack tried to tell himself otherwise, he knew just how badly Mac was injured; and as superhuman as the man seemed at times, there was a very real possibility………he shoved that thought aside as he took a deep breath and answered his phone.
“Hi Stella. How is he?”
“He made it through surgery, but…….” her voice caught. Clearing her throat she continued, “it was close, and they’re not even sure if…” She was unable to say it.
On the other end of the phone, Flack felt a rock settle into the pit of his stomach. Although, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he had been expecting to be going after Mac’s murderer, not attempted murderer.
“Stell, he’s in the best hands possible, and…”
“I know, I know. If anyone can beat this, he can. Look, I’m going to head back to the lab, drop off the bullets they got out of him. You guys all set?”
“Yeah, Danny got a hit off the fingerprints they got on scene. We’re headed over to this guy’s address now.”
Stella nodded, eyes flashing, “Do me a favor Flack, save a piece of him for me.”
Flack smiled tightly as he met Danny at the door and they jumped into his car, “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”
-------------
She was gone, and he was alone. Alone in that barren landscape of pain and tortured memories. He shrunk inside, terrified of their return. His body hurt enough as it was. It was pointless to fight it, but he did, clinging onto the faint whisper of her voice that was left floating almost beyond his grasp.
Slowly, inexorably, they closed in around him.
He shook. This time there was no chasm separating him from them. The images and pain cut straight through his already raw and injured body, slicing him to ribbons as they swirled ceaselessly and viciously around him. He tried to hold on to the faint thread of her voice, but it was gone. He begged for oblivion, for even a modicum of relief to no avail.
Horrible alternate realities merged with the real ones until he could no longer distinguish between the two. It was too much. He fell, unable to take any more. ‘Please’, he whispered, ‘let me go.’ He was stripped, finished. He had nothing left. As blessed darkness started to close in on the edge of his vision, he felt no fear, just the profoundest relief.
It would finally be over.
--------------
Stella walked slowly into Mac’s empty office. She had dropped the bullets off with Sheldon, and had headed up here to leave Mac’s gun in its usual resting spot. She laid it gently in the top right-hand drawer of his desk, and looked around at the familiar space. His quiet yet powerful presence hung on the air, and Stella half expected him to walk through the door at any second, hanging up his jacket and asking for updates on the convenience store shooting.
She sank wearily on the small couch against the wall, leaning her head on her hands. The sun had disappeared behind the skyscrapers outside his office windows stealing with it any last shred of warmth that might have remained. Stella sat there, too mentally drained and emotionally exhausted to do anything else.
Her phone ringing snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked at it hurriedly hoping it was Flack with the news they had caught up with Lorenzo. But it was an unknown number. Stella sighed and answered it,
“Detective Bonasera.”
“Dectective? This is Marcia from Trinity hospital. You left your number as contact information for Mac Taylor?”
Stella felt her heart skip several beats, “Yes.”
“I’m afraid he’s not getting better. You might want to come over.”
There was a horrible ringing in her ears. “What, what do you mean ‘he’s not getting better’?” she managed.
“His oxygen levels dropped again and we had to place a second chest tube. Also, we can’t keep his blood pressure up and his kidneys are starting to fail. If their function doesn’t improve soon, he’ll have to go on dialysis and even then……...he’s not looking good. I’m sorry.” The lady called Marcia spoke softly and apologetically.
Stella nodded, too numb for several seconds to speak. “I’ll be right there,” she finally managed.
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
fix it!!!!!
Bonasera-Taylor
Prime Suspect
sweet keep this up!
Jade_Nolan
CSI Level One
Here ya go! Next part!!
-----------------------
Chapter 8
Flack pounded on the 3rd story apartment door. It was the last one on the left. Why was always the last one on the left……on the 3rd floor?
“NYPD, open up!”
There was no answer.
Flack looked at Danny who nodded as he drew his gun. A well placed kick broke in the flimsy door and Danny rounded the corner into Lorenzo’s apartment. He was met by the butt-end of a fire extinguisher that crashed into the side of his head. Dazed and knocked to the ground, Danny tried to shake the ringing from his head as Lorenzo dashed for an open window and the fire escape. Swearing, Flack dodged a chair the suspect threw behind him as they crossed the apartment. Danny ducked as it skittered towards him. Blinking blood out of his eye, he looked back up in time to see Flack knock Lorenzo to the ground.
Holstering his gun, Flack dug his knee into Lorenzo’s back as he wrenched the suspect’s arms back towards him and fastened the cuffs, tightly.
“Linus Lorenzo, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder and shooting of a New York police officer, assault of a police officer, robbery with a deadly weapon, and evading and resisting arrest.” Flack bit out the words as he hauled the suspect to his feet and continued with the familiar recitation of the prisoner’s rights.
Handing him off to two of the uniformed officers who were with them, Flack hurried over Danny who had gotten to his feet and was trying to stop the bleeding from a nasty cut above his eye.
“Danny, you ok?” Flack asked him, concern and worry stamped on his face.
Danny nodded, then closed his eyes as the movement caused a wave of dizziness to wash over him. “Yeah, yeah, just stunned me a bit.” He took his hand away from the cut above his eye, and it started to trickle blood again. “Bastard broke my glasses.” Giving a small laugh he pressed his hand back against the cut and winced, “Lindsey’s been telling me I should get contacts. Says we wouldn’t have to worry about them getting accidently smooshed when we……” he stopped short.
“Oh do go on Danny, please!” Flack said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “When we……?”
Danny felt his face heat. “Never mind,” he said with a quick shake of his head. He swore as the sudden movement threw the room out of focus and made it spin uncontrollably. His knees buckled as he lost his balance.
Flack caught him as he fell, and lifted him back to his feet. “Whoa, easy there!” He threw Danny’s arm around his shoulders and steadied him. “Come on, let’s get you get to a hospital.”
Danny squeezed his eyes closed in an effort to make the room stand still. He peeked them back open, but the damn room still persisted in its circular motion. “Yep, probably a good idea,” he said.
Flack helped him down the stairs and out to their car, “Now, what were you saying again about Lindsey and contacts?”
Danny glared at him. Flack grinned.
---------------
Stella felt a wave of almost paralyzing fear as the elevator doors opened onto the Surgical ICU floor. She was no medical person, but had glossed over enough lines herself to recognize when someone else was doing so. The nurse who had called her had let her know what was going on and that Mac had taken a turn for the worse; but she had stopped short of telling the whole truth. None of them expected him to live.
Stella gently lowered the side rail on his bed as she sat down next to him. There was a difference in him that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was as if an invisible energy had disappeared. She picked up his hand and kissed it gently. Stroking a single damp wave of hair off his forehead, she smiled. She had good-naturedly ribbed him a few weeks ago that he wasn’t in the military anymore and didn’t need a haircut every other day, and that she had liked it when it was longer. He had, in typical Mac fashion, gotten all squirmy and quickly changed the subject. But apparently, her comment hadn’t been lost on him. “I’m here Mac. I’m back,” she told him softly.
-------------
“Are you still dizzy?” the Dr. asked him.
Danny spoke from underneath the blue, sterile cloths that covered his entire face minus his cut. Well, they had been sterile out of a package before the Dr. started stitching him up.
“A bit. Not bad.” He could hear Lindsey fidget beside him. Flack had insisted on calling her.
“Well, your CAT scan came back negative, so you escaped with just a concussion. I am going to write in your discharge instructions not to go back to work for a few days though.”
Danny bit his tongue. Right, like that was going to happen. Although he had a sneaky suspicion that between Flack and Lindsey he wasn’t going to have much of a choice in the matter. He blinked at the sudden light as the Dr. removed the blue cloths from his face.
“Good as new. You’ll want to make an appointment with your own doc to get those removed in about 10 days.”
Danny slowly sat up. The dizziness was going away, but he was left with a residual sick feeling in his stomach. “So how many doc?”
“Seven. You might want to think about getting contacts for on the job.”
Flack snorted, trying to hide the huge grin that had appeared on his face.
Lindsey turned, “What?”
Danny pointed at him, “Not a word Don. Not a word!”
“Sure, Danny, sure!”
“What?!” Lindsey asked, suspicion growing on her face. “What is he talking about?” She looked between Danny’s furious eyes and red face and Flack’s barely contained amusement. Suspicion changed to horror, “Daniel Ryan Messer, just what did you tell him?”
“I…”
Lindsey pointed at him, “You, are so dead!”
------------------
Stella had called Don shortly after getting to the hospital to let the team know what was going on, and at one point or another they had all come up. Flack, with a still somewhat unsteady Danny who was being assisted by Lindsey, had filled her in on the case’s progress. They had finally found Lorenzo’s gun, ditched three blocks from where Mac had been shot, and ballistics had confirmed a match the bullets from the convenience store’s owner as well as the ones with which Mac had been shot. The store owner’s wife and the customer had been killed with a different gun: Lorenzo’s teen accomplice.
With promises all around for calls on any updates, and a further promise from Danny not to go into work tomorrow, Stella found herself alone with Mac again. She sat with him. Never letting go of his hand and gently running her fingers through his hair, she talked.
“Remember our first shift together, Mac? You said hardly anything and kept giving me these funny looks because I was all nervous and talking too much. Then we had that girl that got stuck between her couch and the wall? Someone called it in as a domestic assault and we busted in all ready for a takedown, only to find that she had tried to rearrange her furniture while drunk and half-naked and was simply pounding on the wall and shouting help when the couch had tipped over. I’ll never forget that initial split-second look on your face when we realized what was going on. You were all highly professional, of course, and even moved the stupid thing to where she had been trying put it in the first place. Then we cleared, and you couldn’t stop laughing about it the rest of the day. Well, not 'laugh out loud', but you'd randomly start grinning for no apparent reason. ” Stella smiled through the tears that had collected in her eyes again.
She sat and held him as she talked quietly through the hours.
-------------
Stella didn’t budge from Mac’s side the entire night. Every couple hours more labs were drawn, IV bags were re-hung, and med levels adjusted. There was a sense of anticipation, and not in a good way. It was as if everyone was waiting for a pending catastrophe that never seemed to come. His nurse was a quiet, attentive young man who explained that, for the moment they were being able to maintain Mac’s blood pressure with ‘pressors’. While not great, his kidney function had stabilized, but his left lung had partially collapsed, necessitating the placement of the second chest tube.
“He’s actually stabilized quite a bit since you’ve been here,” he told her as the wee hours of the morning wore on. And Stella dared to hope.
-----------------------
Chapter 8
Flack pounded on the 3rd story apartment door. It was the last one on the left. Why was always the last one on the left……on the 3rd floor?
“NYPD, open up!”
There was no answer.
Flack looked at Danny who nodded as he drew his gun. A well placed kick broke in the flimsy door and Danny rounded the corner into Lorenzo’s apartment. He was met by the butt-end of a fire extinguisher that crashed into the side of his head. Dazed and knocked to the ground, Danny tried to shake the ringing from his head as Lorenzo dashed for an open window and the fire escape. Swearing, Flack dodged a chair the suspect threw behind him as they crossed the apartment. Danny ducked as it skittered towards him. Blinking blood out of his eye, he looked back up in time to see Flack knock Lorenzo to the ground.
Holstering his gun, Flack dug his knee into Lorenzo’s back as he wrenched the suspect’s arms back towards him and fastened the cuffs, tightly.
“Linus Lorenzo, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder and shooting of a New York police officer, assault of a police officer, robbery with a deadly weapon, and evading and resisting arrest.” Flack bit out the words as he hauled the suspect to his feet and continued with the familiar recitation of the prisoner’s rights.
Handing him off to two of the uniformed officers who were with them, Flack hurried over Danny who had gotten to his feet and was trying to stop the bleeding from a nasty cut above his eye.
“Danny, you ok?” Flack asked him, concern and worry stamped on his face.
Danny nodded, then closed his eyes as the movement caused a wave of dizziness to wash over him. “Yeah, yeah, just stunned me a bit.” He took his hand away from the cut above his eye, and it started to trickle blood again. “Bastard broke my glasses.” Giving a small laugh he pressed his hand back against the cut and winced, “Lindsey’s been telling me I should get contacts. Says we wouldn’t have to worry about them getting accidently smooshed when we……” he stopped short.
“Oh do go on Danny, please!” Flack said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “When we……?”
Danny felt his face heat. “Never mind,” he said with a quick shake of his head. He swore as the sudden movement threw the room out of focus and made it spin uncontrollably. His knees buckled as he lost his balance.
Flack caught him as he fell, and lifted him back to his feet. “Whoa, easy there!” He threw Danny’s arm around his shoulders and steadied him. “Come on, let’s get you get to a hospital.”
Danny squeezed his eyes closed in an effort to make the room stand still. He peeked them back open, but the damn room still persisted in its circular motion. “Yep, probably a good idea,” he said.
Flack helped him down the stairs and out to their car, “Now, what were you saying again about Lindsey and contacts?”
Danny glared at him. Flack grinned.
---------------
Stella felt a wave of almost paralyzing fear as the elevator doors opened onto the Surgical ICU floor. She was no medical person, but had glossed over enough lines herself to recognize when someone else was doing so. The nurse who had called her had let her know what was going on and that Mac had taken a turn for the worse; but she had stopped short of telling the whole truth. None of them expected him to live.
Stella gently lowered the side rail on his bed as she sat down next to him. There was a difference in him that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was as if an invisible energy had disappeared. She picked up his hand and kissed it gently. Stroking a single damp wave of hair off his forehead, she smiled. She had good-naturedly ribbed him a few weeks ago that he wasn’t in the military anymore and didn’t need a haircut every other day, and that she had liked it when it was longer. He had, in typical Mac fashion, gotten all squirmy and quickly changed the subject. But apparently, her comment hadn’t been lost on him. “I’m here Mac. I’m back,” she told him softly.
-------------
“Are you still dizzy?” the Dr. asked him.
Danny spoke from underneath the blue, sterile cloths that covered his entire face minus his cut. Well, they had been sterile out of a package before the Dr. started stitching him up.
“A bit. Not bad.” He could hear Lindsey fidget beside him. Flack had insisted on calling her.
“Well, your CAT scan came back negative, so you escaped with just a concussion. I am going to write in your discharge instructions not to go back to work for a few days though.”
Danny bit his tongue. Right, like that was going to happen. Although he had a sneaky suspicion that between Flack and Lindsey he wasn’t going to have much of a choice in the matter. He blinked at the sudden light as the Dr. removed the blue cloths from his face.
“Good as new. You’ll want to make an appointment with your own doc to get those removed in about 10 days.”
Danny slowly sat up. The dizziness was going away, but he was left with a residual sick feeling in his stomach. “So how many doc?”
“Seven. You might want to think about getting contacts for on the job.”
Flack snorted, trying to hide the huge grin that had appeared on his face.
Lindsey turned, “What?”
Danny pointed at him, “Not a word Don. Not a word!”
“Sure, Danny, sure!”
“What?!” Lindsey asked, suspicion growing on her face. “What is he talking about?” She looked between Danny’s furious eyes and red face and Flack’s barely contained amusement. Suspicion changed to horror, “Daniel Ryan Messer, just what did you tell him?”
“I…”
Lindsey pointed at him, “You, are so dead!”
------------------
Stella had called Don shortly after getting to the hospital to let the team know what was going on, and at one point or another they had all come up. Flack, with a still somewhat unsteady Danny who was being assisted by Lindsey, had filled her in on the case’s progress. They had finally found Lorenzo’s gun, ditched three blocks from where Mac had been shot, and ballistics had confirmed a match the bullets from the convenience store’s owner as well as the ones with which Mac had been shot. The store owner’s wife and the customer had been killed with a different gun: Lorenzo’s teen accomplice.
With promises all around for calls on any updates, and a further promise from Danny not to go into work tomorrow, Stella found herself alone with Mac again. She sat with him. Never letting go of his hand and gently running her fingers through his hair, she talked.
“Remember our first shift together, Mac? You said hardly anything and kept giving me these funny looks because I was all nervous and talking too much. Then we had that girl that got stuck between her couch and the wall? Someone called it in as a domestic assault and we busted in all ready for a takedown, only to find that she had tried to rearrange her furniture while drunk and half-naked and was simply pounding on the wall and shouting help when the couch had tipped over. I’ll never forget that initial split-second look on your face when we realized what was going on. You were all highly professional, of course, and even moved the stupid thing to where she had been trying put it in the first place. Then we cleared, and you couldn’t stop laughing about it the rest of the day. Well, not 'laugh out loud', but you'd randomly start grinning for no apparent reason. ” Stella smiled through the tears that had collected in her eyes again.
She sat and held him as she talked quietly through the hours.
-------------
Stella didn’t budge from Mac’s side the entire night. Every couple hours more labs were drawn, IV bags were re-hung, and med levels adjusted. There was a sense of anticipation, and not in a good way. It was as if everyone was waiting for a pending catastrophe that never seemed to come. His nurse was a quiet, attentive young man who explained that, for the moment they were being able to maintain Mac’s blood pressure with ‘pressors’. While not great, his kidney function had stabilized, but his left lung had partially collapsed, necessitating the placement of the second chest tube.
“He’s actually stabilized quite a bit since you’ve been here,” he told her as the wee hours of the morning wore on. And Stella dared to hope.
Last edited:
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
yay more please?
more please?Bonasera-Taylor
Prime Suspect
sweet as keep this good work up!
Jade_Nolan
CSI Level One
Chapter 9
The darkness inched in. He lay on the ground gazing at the swirling sky. It took all his effort to take a single breath, fire and pain coursing relentlessly through him. But it would soon be over. All the physical pain, along with the tortured memories, the interminable sense of responsibility, the crushing weight and guilt of lives lost that he couldn’t save, the sleepless nights when their faces returned to haunt him refusing him rest… He closed his eyes. There was only a distant hole of light left. His body shivered uncontrollably sending fresh waves of agonizing pain through him. He felt as if his very soul was on fire as a perverse part of him refused to give in entirely, denying him the relief that he so desperately craved. His back arched and he begged the darkness to take him.
As he sensed his life slipping away with each exhale and the distant light shrunk to a mere pinprick, he felt a cool touch on his burning forehead. A faint sliver of the woman’s voice that had left him, floated down through the near blackness. It flowed over him like the gentlest ocean wave, cooling and calming his tortured mind and battered body. He lay still, eyes closed, letting it wash over him. It breathed life back into him, and he felt the despair that had engulfed him recede, replaced by a complete sense of peace. The relief was so incredibly profound, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that should he be left alone again, he couldn’t survive. There was simply no way he could endure a return of the onslaught. Not that he wasn’t still in physical pain. He was. Every inch of him hurt beyond anything he had ever known. But he could deal with it now. The biting edge was gone. He lay, beyond exhausted, beyond anything his conscious mind knew was possible. The voice and gentle touch stayed, wrapping him protectively, and he lay limply in their embrace. She stayed.
When he didn’t pass into oblivion and her voice that enveloped him never left, he slowly opened his eyes. He was still wrapped in comfort in a sort of darkness, but it was more like being outside at night instead of a barren, dark eternity. At least it didn’t hurt to breathe, not near as much anyway. As his eyes slowly focused, he realized the faint specks above him were stars. He was outside. He heard a familiar sound, one he hadn’t heard in long time: the gentle lapping of small waves on a shoreline. The voice that was with him, insisted he get up. He tried to protest, but gave up the argument, succumbing to its familiar persistence. Pushing himself painfully to his feet, he looked around. His breath caught in his throat when he realized where he was. He was back on the beach at Lake Michigan, and not just any beach. ‘Our secret beach’ his father had called it.
They had gone for a hike one day when he was about seven along a park trail. With a wink, his father had led them off the official path they were supposed to stay on and past the ‘No Public Access’ sign. About five miles through the woods, they had emerged through the tree line onto Lake Michigan and a small cove of sorts, its horseshoe beach carved out of the forest’s edge. Any further hiking had been promptly abandoned to the glories of sun, water and sand. After that, with a secret message slipped to him over breakfast and a knowing look, his father would initiate the commencement of a top secret special reconnaissance mission to 'ensure and maintain the security of a certain classified beachhead.'
‘Where are my boys off to today?” his mother would ask with a smile. His father would look conspiratorially at him and tell her with a solemn shake of his head, ‘Sorry, we’re not allowed to say. Top secret mission of the highest national importance.’
Donning camo and packing more food than the two of them could possibly eat, they would head out. After a careful ‘perimeter sweep’, shirts and cargo pants would be exchanged for swim trunks, sand castles and races up and down the dunes. He remembered several occasions falling asleep on his father’s back the last couple miles through the woods back to the car, blissfully exhausted and sunburned. Those were the best days of any summer.
Slowly, gingerly he made his way up the sloping sand to the tree line. He turned and carefully lowered himself down. Leaning his back and head against a small tree, he took a deep breath, wincing at the pain, and gazed out over the lake. Her gentle presence remained beside him, holding him protectively, and continuing to talk to him. He sat, mesmerized by her voice, his breathing synchronized with the rhythm of the waves, completely relaxed.
Stella hadn’t realized how timelessly time ticked on within the confines of a hospital. The night had passed inexorably slowly, the hands of the clock making their way around the face, but before she knew it, there was a new nurse, new techs and other staff making their way in and out of Mac’s room. A new shift. A new day. Had it really only been 24 hr since he had smiled up at her, calling her out on her blanket offer to make it up to him for working her shifts? She gave a little laugh, remembering. She gazed down at Mac’s peaceful face as the first hints of light crept through the window. She would have told him ‘yes’ in a heartbeat, regardless. She smiled, kissing him on his forehead. “Come on Mac.” she whispered.
As the night wore on and faint tinges of light streaked the sky, he could feel a certain modicum of strength eek back into him. Perversely, along with it, his pain only became more defined. His belly was on fire and stabs of throbbing pain doubled him over taking his breath away. It felt as if a tight band snaked had around his chest and he struggled to take a breath, the crashing waves pushing against his lungs. The sun grew painfully bright. He tried to cry out and he could feel her arm around his shoulders steadying his shaking body, her voice in his ear urging him to fight through it. He drew from her presence, anger and frustration coursing through him, feeding his returning strength. He’d had enough. Forcing himself upright, hands clenched in fists at his side and beads of sweat rolling down his body, he took a deep breath, ignoring the white-hot pain that shot like knives through his chest. With a yell, he felt the band that had encircled his chest shatter and he fell forward onto his hands and knees, triumph and pain competing for the upper slot in his brain.
Stella looked up and frowned as an alarm went off again. She knew by this time that it was the alarm on his vent, and it had been going off with alarming frequency. Each time, his nurse and sometimes a respiratory person would come in, make some adjustments, reassess his lung sounds, nod and leave. In way of explanation, all she had gotten from them was that the ‘demand’ settings were being changed. Whatever that meant. She squeezed his hand. His face seemed troubled, and although he was still unresponsive, there was a tenseness emanating from him.
This time, a doctor entered his room, and Stella determined to get an answer and full explanation. She waited as he told the nurse to change it to ‘support only’. Stella sensed some of the tension bleed out of Mac as the settings were changed. The doctor listened to his lungs, ordered a portable chest x-ray and smiled at her. Stella blinked. It was the first smile she had seen from any staff member since Mac had arrived at the hospital. The flutter of hope that had started when he had made it through the night grew stronger.
“Well?” she asked.
“He’s breathing completely on his own now,” the doctor told her. “We’ve been slowly adjusting the vent parameters down to see how he’d do, and basically it’s not doing anything for him at this point. It’ll only kick in if he doesn’t take a deep enough breath or if he doesn’t take one in a certain period of time. But otherwise…” he smiled.
Stella felt a relief so incredible she didn’t know what to say.
“He’s certainly not out of the woods yet,” the doctor cautioned. “His kidney function is still hovering just above insufficient and he’s still got fluid building up on his lungs we’re having to drain off,” he indicated the chest tubes they had placed. “But we’re definitely hopefully optimistic, particularly given his improvement at this point.”
Stella nodded, “If he’s breathing on his own then why…”
“Why the breathing tube still?” the doctor finished.
“Yeah.”
“We want to wait until he’s at least a bit more responsive and more stable just in case something were to happen and to make sure we maintain his airway.” He smiled, “I have a feeling though, if he progresses like he has, it won’t be too much longer.”
Stella felt tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she told the doctor, who nodded and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly as he left. “He’s a fighter and stubborn, that’s for sure,” he told her.
Stella laughed as she cuffed her eyes, “You have no idea!”
She sat back down beside him, the sun shining through the window and across his face. “Mac? Mac can you hear me?” His breathing had grown more rapid, a slight frown creasing his damp forehead. Stella leaned hers down to his. She closed her eyes suddenly completely exhausted, the events of the prior day and the night-long vigil all crashing in. “Please Mac, don’t quit on me now,” she whispered. “I need you with me.”
She felt a gentle pressure on her hand, and beneath her cheek she could feel his face tense. Her heart bounded. Raising her head, she could see his eyes were still closed, but a look of pain had stamped themselves on his handsome features again. Wild hope, happiness and terror all flooded through her at once. She gripped his hand and sensed the incredible struggle within him. Willing whatever strength she had to him and desperately wishing she could take some of his pain, she pleaded with him,
“Come on Mac, come back to me.”
Pushing himself back up, he lifted his face to the sky. Everything had receded except the waves which crashed over him, the ever brightening sun, and her. She held him steady as he struggled to stay on his feet against the relentless pounding of the water. He took rapid, gasping breaths between each wave that poured over him and he felt himself breathe some of the water. He choked and tried to cough, but the pain of such actions turned the world white. He felt his knees buckle, but she held him up and whispered in his ear, “Come on Mac, come back to me.” The sun burned, searingly bright. He gave a final cry and opened his eyes.
His hand tightened on hers with the same grip that he had held onto her with as he lay in the alley. Tears escaped down her face as Mac slowly opened his eyes. They were full of barely controlled panic and pain as he struggled to comprehend what was going on. She reached a hand to his face and his eyes found hers. She smiled at him through her tears, “Shh, Mac, it’s ok, it’s ok! I’m here, you’re going to be ok.” Stella wiped her face, happiness that she hadn’t thought possible filling her. “You’re going to be ok, Mac.” The panic slowly left his eyes as they never left hers and his body relaxed, but the grip on her hand stayed firm.
The darkness inched in. He lay on the ground gazing at the swirling sky. It took all his effort to take a single breath, fire and pain coursing relentlessly through him. But it would soon be over. All the physical pain, along with the tortured memories, the interminable sense of responsibility, the crushing weight and guilt of lives lost that he couldn’t save, the sleepless nights when their faces returned to haunt him refusing him rest… He closed his eyes. There was only a distant hole of light left. His body shivered uncontrollably sending fresh waves of agonizing pain through him. He felt as if his very soul was on fire as a perverse part of him refused to give in entirely, denying him the relief that he so desperately craved. His back arched and he begged the darkness to take him.
As he sensed his life slipping away with each exhale and the distant light shrunk to a mere pinprick, he felt a cool touch on his burning forehead. A faint sliver of the woman’s voice that had left him, floated down through the near blackness. It flowed over him like the gentlest ocean wave, cooling and calming his tortured mind and battered body. He lay still, eyes closed, letting it wash over him. It breathed life back into him, and he felt the despair that had engulfed him recede, replaced by a complete sense of peace. The relief was so incredibly profound, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that should he be left alone again, he couldn’t survive. There was simply no way he could endure a return of the onslaught. Not that he wasn’t still in physical pain. He was. Every inch of him hurt beyond anything he had ever known. But he could deal with it now. The biting edge was gone. He lay, beyond exhausted, beyond anything his conscious mind knew was possible. The voice and gentle touch stayed, wrapping him protectively, and he lay limply in their embrace. She stayed.
When he didn’t pass into oblivion and her voice that enveloped him never left, he slowly opened his eyes. He was still wrapped in comfort in a sort of darkness, but it was more like being outside at night instead of a barren, dark eternity. At least it didn’t hurt to breathe, not near as much anyway. As his eyes slowly focused, he realized the faint specks above him were stars. He was outside. He heard a familiar sound, one he hadn’t heard in long time: the gentle lapping of small waves on a shoreline. The voice that was with him, insisted he get up. He tried to protest, but gave up the argument, succumbing to its familiar persistence. Pushing himself painfully to his feet, he looked around. His breath caught in his throat when he realized where he was. He was back on the beach at Lake Michigan, and not just any beach. ‘Our secret beach’ his father had called it.
They had gone for a hike one day when he was about seven along a park trail. With a wink, his father had led them off the official path they were supposed to stay on and past the ‘No Public Access’ sign. About five miles through the woods, they had emerged through the tree line onto Lake Michigan and a small cove of sorts, its horseshoe beach carved out of the forest’s edge. Any further hiking had been promptly abandoned to the glories of sun, water and sand. After that, with a secret message slipped to him over breakfast and a knowing look, his father would initiate the commencement of a top secret special reconnaissance mission to 'ensure and maintain the security of a certain classified beachhead.'
‘Where are my boys off to today?” his mother would ask with a smile. His father would look conspiratorially at him and tell her with a solemn shake of his head, ‘Sorry, we’re not allowed to say. Top secret mission of the highest national importance.’
Donning camo and packing more food than the two of them could possibly eat, they would head out. After a careful ‘perimeter sweep’, shirts and cargo pants would be exchanged for swim trunks, sand castles and races up and down the dunes. He remembered several occasions falling asleep on his father’s back the last couple miles through the woods back to the car, blissfully exhausted and sunburned. Those were the best days of any summer.
Slowly, gingerly he made his way up the sloping sand to the tree line. He turned and carefully lowered himself down. Leaning his back and head against a small tree, he took a deep breath, wincing at the pain, and gazed out over the lake. Her gentle presence remained beside him, holding him protectively, and continuing to talk to him. He sat, mesmerized by her voice, his breathing synchronized with the rhythm of the waves, completely relaxed.
Stella hadn’t realized how timelessly time ticked on within the confines of a hospital. The night had passed inexorably slowly, the hands of the clock making their way around the face, but before she knew it, there was a new nurse, new techs and other staff making their way in and out of Mac’s room. A new shift. A new day. Had it really only been 24 hr since he had smiled up at her, calling her out on her blanket offer to make it up to him for working her shifts? She gave a little laugh, remembering. She gazed down at Mac’s peaceful face as the first hints of light crept through the window. She would have told him ‘yes’ in a heartbeat, regardless. She smiled, kissing him on his forehead. “Come on Mac.” she whispered.
As the night wore on and faint tinges of light streaked the sky, he could feel a certain modicum of strength eek back into him. Perversely, along with it, his pain only became more defined. His belly was on fire and stabs of throbbing pain doubled him over taking his breath away. It felt as if a tight band snaked had around his chest and he struggled to take a breath, the crashing waves pushing against his lungs. The sun grew painfully bright. He tried to cry out and he could feel her arm around his shoulders steadying his shaking body, her voice in his ear urging him to fight through it. He drew from her presence, anger and frustration coursing through him, feeding his returning strength. He’d had enough. Forcing himself upright, hands clenched in fists at his side and beads of sweat rolling down his body, he took a deep breath, ignoring the white-hot pain that shot like knives through his chest. With a yell, he felt the band that had encircled his chest shatter and he fell forward onto his hands and knees, triumph and pain competing for the upper slot in his brain.
Stella looked up and frowned as an alarm went off again. She knew by this time that it was the alarm on his vent, and it had been going off with alarming frequency. Each time, his nurse and sometimes a respiratory person would come in, make some adjustments, reassess his lung sounds, nod and leave. In way of explanation, all she had gotten from them was that the ‘demand’ settings were being changed. Whatever that meant. She squeezed his hand. His face seemed troubled, and although he was still unresponsive, there was a tenseness emanating from him.
This time, a doctor entered his room, and Stella determined to get an answer and full explanation. She waited as he told the nurse to change it to ‘support only’. Stella sensed some of the tension bleed out of Mac as the settings were changed. The doctor listened to his lungs, ordered a portable chest x-ray and smiled at her. Stella blinked. It was the first smile she had seen from any staff member since Mac had arrived at the hospital. The flutter of hope that had started when he had made it through the night grew stronger.
“Well?” she asked.
“He’s breathing completely on his own now,” the doctor told her. “We’ve been slowly adjusting the vent parameters down to see how he’d do, and basically it’s not doing anything for him at this point. It’ll only kick in if he doesn’t take a deep enough breath or if he doesn’t take one in a certain period of time. But otherwise…” he smiled.
Stella felt a relief so incredible she didn’t know what to say.
“He’s certainly not out of the woods yet,” the doctor cautioned. “His kidney function is still hovering just above insufficient and he’s still got fluid building up on his lungs we’re having to drain off,” he indicated the chest tubes they had placed. “But we’re definitely hopefully optimistic, particularly given his improvement at this point.”
Stella nodded, “If he’s breathing on his own then why…”
“Why the breathing tube still?” the doctor finished.
“Yeah.”
“We want to wait until he’s at least a bit more responsive and more stable just in case something were to happen and to make sure we maintain his airway.” He smiled, “I have a feeling though, if he progresses like he has, it won’t be too much longer.”
Stella felt tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she told the doctor, who nodded and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly as he left. “He’s a fighter and stubborn, that’s for sure,” he told her.
Stella laughed as she cuffed her eyes, “You have no idea!”
She sat back down beside him, the sun shining through the window and across his face. “Mac? Mac can you hear me?” His breathing had grown more rapid, a slight frown creasing his damp forehead. Stella leaned hers down to his. She closed her eyes suddenly completely exhausted, the events of the prior day and the night-long vigil all crashing in. “Please Mac, don’t quit on me now,” she whispered. “I need you with me.”
She felt a gentle pressure on her hand, and beneath her cheek she could feel his face tense. Her heart bounded. Raising her head, she could see his eyes were still closed, but a look of pain had stamped themselves on his handsome features again. Wild hope, happiness and terror all flooded through her at once. She gripped his hand and sensed the incredible struggle within him. Willing whatever strength she had to him and desperately wishing she could take some of his pain, she pleaded with him,
“Come on Mac, come back to me.”
Pushing himself back up, he lifted his face to the sky. Everything had receded except the waves which crashed over him, the ever brightening sun, and her. She held him steady as he struggled to stay on his feet against the relentless pounding of the water. He took rapid, gasping breaths between each wave that poured over him and he felt himself breathe some of the water. He choked and tried to cough, but the pain of such actions turned the world white. He felt his knees buckle, but she held him up and whispered in his ear, “Come on Mac, come back to me.” The sun burned, searingly bright. He gave a final cry and opened his eyes.
His hand tightened on hers with the same grip that he had held onto her with as he lay in the alley. Tears escaped down her face as Mac slowly opened his eyes. They were full of barely controlled panic and pain as he struggled to comprehend what was going on. She reached a hand to his face and his eyes found hers. She smiled at him through her tears, “Shh, Mac, it’s ok, it’s ok! I’m here, you’re going to be ok.” Stella wiped her face, happiness that she hadn’t thought possible filling her. “You’re going to be ok, Mac.” The panic slowly left his eyes as they never left hers and his body relaxed, but the grip on her hand stayed firm.
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Bonasera-Taylor
Prime Suspect
sweet as!
