Welcome to my very first Rookie Blue Fanfic. This was not originally to be my first story, but this little diddy came to me right smack in the middle of my first year as a participant in the National Write A Novel Month, also known as NaNo or NaNoWriMo. Participants have 30 days to write 50,000 words of a Novel. I'm pleased to say I did in fact complete my 50K in 30 days, as well as the outline for this One-Shot. After I edited it and polished it, I liked it enough to post it ahead of my planned RB story. Hopefully you'll like it too. ENJOY! A/N: To all my Criminal Minds 'Incomplete' readers who have me listed to automatically bring you to anything new I post, the next installment is written and just waiting for a final edit. I should hopefully have it posted for you by tomorrow.
It never ceased to amaze Andy McNally how a single phone call could alter the course of your life forever. Good or bad, just one five minute call was all it took. Even more so when it was the kind of phone call delivering the one piece of news no one ever wanted to receive - despite being brought up prepared to hear that particular news for a long as you could remember. When it came to the people you loved, no amount of preparation in the world would ever be enough to wash away the resulting shock and devastation.
To Andy, the news of death was the kind she'd thought of as deplorable to have to give a stranger, particularly since the day she nearly watched a woman kill herself after being notified about the death of her daughter. From that day forward, Andy made it well known that she didn't want anyone coming to her door when it was her time to be the recipient, rather than the bearer of death. Everyone knew she just wanted to be told over the phone as quickly and as painlessly as possible. She didn't want to look at the pitying eyes or feel an attempted touch of comfort. Quick, painless, and over in a minute was the way to go. But now she knew first hand, it didn't matter one iota if the news was delivered in person or over the phone. Nor did it matter if the call was one you accepted, that as both a cop and the daughter of a cop, you had a far better chance of receiving than most. No matter how hard telling was, after everything was said and done, being on the receiving end of a death notification was much, much worse.
Though she tried to prepared herself by imagining this scenario many times before with her father or her Detective boyfriend, not to mention her best friend and all her rookie colleagues, it still felt nothing like she thought it would. She felt no fear, she felt no pain. Instead, she felt nothing but an apathetic void. There was really no other words to describe it. Her body, her thoughts, her emotions, her entire life - everything was entirely numb. Was this the way it was supposed to be? Was this the way she was supposed to feel? She didn't know and right now, she couldn't stir up enough energy to care one way or the other.
Tomorrow. She'd care about it all tomorrow.
Gradually Andy's phone slipped from nerveless fingers and clattered unheedingly at her feet, the jarring noise completely unnoticed. Instead, she stood for just a moment longer before her legs began to quiver and finally gave way on her completely. With the exaggerated slowness of someone in shock, she slid down the wall, stopping only when her backside came in full contact with the cold, hard surface of the floor. Her mind remained blank with continued numbness, blocking out the sounds of the fighting couple next door and the baby crying down the hall. Like a movie set on pause, all around her there was no longer any movement, no longer any sound. It was like the world had ceased to exist outside her head, outside this moment. And in a way for her, it had. Everything was locked away outside her body, perpetuating the silence reigning within.
Eventually a faraway ringing penetrated the fog, but she couldn't quite focus enough to figure out if it was her cordless phone or her cell. Which one was the one had she answered before? It stopped before she could decide, but a minute later, ringing started again from a different direction. She still couldn't determine the source one way or the other, so she let it ring. Instead, with her face turned towards the window, Andy watched the bright sunlight outside fade and then darken, feeling absolutely no urge whatsoever to move from her seated position.
She didn't know how long she sat there, but eventually, coldness began seeping in and taking hold. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to move beyond the simple act of wrapping her arms around her bent legs and laying her suddenly heavy head down atop her knees. Larger movement seemed out of her realm of possibility and idly she wondered if she'd move freely and without conscious thought, ever again.
Tomorrow. She'd move tomorrow.
Sometime later, she thought maybe there was knocking at her door once or twice, but she really couldn't be sure. A key scraping and turning in a lock, someone calling out her name, capable arms gently lifting her from her sedentary position in one smooth movement. Who arms was she in? Where were they taking her? Did it really matter? All she knew was for the first time since she picked up the phone, the numbness was pushed back and she could feel something again. The arms made her feel safe from harm. The rhythmic, rocking motion made her feel sleepy.
A moment later the cool crispness of her pillowcase kissed her face, the softness of her mattress pressed lightly against her side, and the warmth of her comforter was being tucked gently around her shoulders. It was then that she realized the arms had carried her into her bedroom and laid her down upon her bed. Somewhere in the furthest region of her mind, there was the fleeting thought that she should thank them... but she didn't know who to thank.
Tomorrow. She'd do it tomorrow. Just add it to the growing list.
That night Andy awoke from nightmares that left her screaming and then weeping, losing what felt to her, like every last drop of moisture from within her body. But always the arms were there, comforting and consoling. It was only when she was once more wrapped in their protection, would the tears cease and would her body allow sleep to claim her once more. For the next five days, her life followed the same pattern. Her conscious mind retreated behind the protective shell of numbness, but at night, her subconscious had no qualms about forcing her to relive and to feel everything her body and mind blocked out during her waking hours.
On the sixth day she was alone in her room, the drawn drapes casting shadows, darkened, but not deep. She sat almost motionless in the corner chair, staring at the two outfits laid out neatly across her tidy bed. A dark, long sleeved dress and her Dress Blues. Both completely appropriate for today, but each with it's own message. Who was she today? What side of her was she supposed to show the world? Was she a daughter, a girlfriend, a colleague or partner? She'd worn all those hats at one time or another, some of them even at the same time. So which one was she today? She couldn't decide. She didn't want to have to decide. Today she wanted someone else to make all the decisions. Anyone. Anyone, but her.
Tomorrow had come.