"The weakness of the profession is its attraction for the man a little crippled and broken."
~Tender Is The Night~
He stood there, defeated with his hands shaking gently on his hips not to make it so obvious he was trembling. He lost his glasses somewhere in the chase, they were broken, he was sure of it, but at the moment his gaze squinted at the choppers canvassing the length of the Hudson River from Liberty Island to Chelsea Piers. He was having trouble wrapping his mind around everything; it all happened so fast, Lindsay, his newborn daughter and now her. They had to find her, they just had to and he argued that he should be up there somewhere looking below into the frigged waters for her. When one of NYPD's own went missing so did most of the police force in rescue attempts, they took care of each other, it's serious business when a comrade was injured, but more recently she became something so much more to him. She knew all this time and here he was just coming around three days after this whole fiasco started. This job was doing a number on him and all he could muster up for himself at the moment was scared shitless.