Bring Her Home
Summary: Allison keeps having dreams of her cousin Alex whom she believes is dead. Medium/ Law and Order: SVU crossover.
Spoilers: SVU: "Loss", "Ghost". Medium: none for the moment
Author's Note: Pretty random. Inspired from the fact that Patricia Arquette reminded me of Stephanie March during last night's Medium for some reason. Anyway, let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: I do not own Medium. I do not own SVU. Beginning dream taken from the episode "Loss" (5x04) of SVU.
Alexandra Cabot was walking out of a below ground restaurant. It was unfamiliar, but it had to have been in New York City. She only had a few more steps to go then she would be on the sidewalk. Two of her friends, detectives most likely, were with her. A man was right behind her, and there was a woman behind him.
"Can I get you a cab?" the male detective asked as Alex neared the top of the steps.
"No, I'm not far," Alex responded as she stepped onto the sidewalk. "I'll walk. Thanks, though."
By this time, the three of them were on the sidewalk. The busier corner was behind them, and they continued walking away from it. Unnoticed by the three of them, a dark SUV rounded the corner and headed towards them.
"Look, I'm sorry I'm such a buzz kill," Alex apologized, looking down.
"Oh, don't be silly," the woman responded. "It's late."
The car was slowly following them. The window rolled down. Without any warning, a hand appeared from the window. A single gunshot was heard.
"Get down!" the man yelled.
Two more shots were fired. The shooter in the car yelled, "Go, go, go." The car sped off. The male detective began chasing it.
The female detective was kneeling down on the ground. Something was not right. She turned around. "Alex," she yelled. She turned around fully. Alex was lying on the sidewalk, face up. Her arms were at both her sides. Her legs flopped down. She was not moving.
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," the female was saying as she approached Alex. Alex had been shot in the shoulder. Blood was pouring out. The other woman was hovering above the ADA. Her hands were on the ground at either side of Alex. She looked up. "Somebody call an ambulance!" she begged. "Call 911 now!"
The man stopped chasing the car. It was too fast. He started his trek back to the two women.
"Alex. It's ok, Alex. Alex, look at me," the female detective said in a soothing tone. "It's ok, sweetie. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me, Alex." Her tone shifting. She was very concerned. Her hands flew to the wound on Alex's right shoulder, which was still bleeding heavily. She applied pressure as she continued whispering to Alex, saying anything she could to try to keep Alex conscious. "They're coming right now. You're going to be okay."
The man approached them. He was panting and out of breath, but he was still concerned. This was too much of a shock.
"Alex, you're gonna be okay. Look at me. You're gonna be just fine. You're gonna be just fine. Now, just stay with me," the woman begged. She turned back to the man for a second, but he was still out of breath and shocked to do anything. She turned back to Alex. "Alex, Alex, Alex, Alex. It's okay. Look at me," she whispered.
Nothing. That dead expression haunted Allison.
DuBois residence
Phoenix, Arizona
October 10, 2005
Allison DuBois awoke with a gasp. She sat up in bed, waking up her more than understanding husband Joe. Her heart felt like it was going to jump from her chest. Tears were filling in her eyes.
"What is it?" Joe asked. Though his voice gave away the fact that he was tired, it was clear that he cared. He looked over at Allison. Was she crying? "Al, what is it?" he asked as he sat up and wrapped an arm around her.
"Remember my cousin Alex?" Allison asked as she turned towards Joe. She did not bother turning on a light. The nightlight from the master bathroom would do for now.
"The ADA from New York?" Joe asked back. Allison nodded. "Yeah, I remember her," Joe said. He had only met Alex a few times. She was at their wedding and they might have seen each other in passing at some various huge family Christmas reunion type event, but her busy schedule combined with the distance from New York City to Phoenix made it almost impossible for her to visit. Her apartment, though large by New York standards, ruled out possibilities for them visiting her. "What about her, sweetie?"
"I just saw her die," Allison answered.
Joe gave her a look of confusion. "Not to be rude or anything, but didn't she die a couple years ago?"
"Two years on Friday." Allison met his look. "I just don't understand why I'm dreaming this. I mean, she's dead. I went to her funeral. There isn't anything else I can do. Why?" She moved in closer and buried her head in Joe's chest. A few tears rolled from her eyes onto Joe's shirt.
"Again, and I'm not trying to be disrespectful," Joe began. He knew how sensitive this was to his wife. He had heard stories of how close the two of them were growing up. Allison had wanted to teach Alex everything, and Alex, an only child, clung to her older cousin's every word. "Isn't it possible that you were only dreaming? The mind dreams weird things."
"But it has to mean something," Allison protested.
"I think it does," Joe agreed. "I think it means that the second anniversary of Alex's death is approaching. This is your way of making sense out of an extremely unfortunately situation."
Allison flopped back onto the bed. "You're probably right," she noted. "I hate that about you, you know."
"Just get some sleep," Joe said. He kept his arm around her and remained awake until Allison drifted back to sleep.
A hospital room. A very white hospital room. A very white and private hospital room. Security surrounded the outside of the room, and several U.S. marshals were inside it. It must have been an important patient.
The patient awoke slowly. Her eyes fluttered a few times before she could open them all the way. She tried to stretch, but then instantly felt pain in her right arm. That was what really woke her up. Her arms recoiled back to her body. She shook her head, trying to make sense of the situation around her.
"Miss Cabot?" the first marshal asked. He grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and draped it over the patient's shoulders.
The patient nodded. "What's going on?" she demanded. "Where am I?"
"Miss Cabot, there was an attempt at taking your life tonight. There are no doubts that the order to kill you came from Cesar Valez," the marshal explained.
Alex was taken aback. "What?" She had heard the words. It made sense. What did not make sense was all of the marshals in her room. "Where are Olivia and Elliot?" she demanded. "I want to go home now," she said firmly. "I'll take the police escort, use the protective detail, whatever it takes. I want to go home. Now."
"Miss Cabot, you can't go home," the marshal explained patiently. "As far as the world outside this room is concerned, you are dead. Valez is powerful, Miss Cabot. As long as he knows that you are alive, he will stop at nothing to kill you. Until he is extradited or otherwise dealt with, you are better off dead." The marshal's voice was firm. He had been following the case against Valez for years. Alex was young. She didn't – couldn't – understand the gravity of it.
"But what about Olivia?" Alex demanded. "And Elliot, and my mother? I refuse to let them go on with their lives thinking that I'm dead when it's just not true."
"Alexandra, this is serious," the marshal whispered harshly. He had to keep his voice down. Luckily for him, Alex was still too weak to be speaking in loud enough voices to reach the hallways. "The more people that know, the easier it will be for Valez to get to you. You weren't even on his tail anymore, but he was still able to find you."
"No," Alex tried to yell. She leapt from the bed and rushed to the small window on her hospital door. Peering between the two armed marshals outside, she could see Elliot and Olivia down the hall, facing away from her. One of the doctors was standing with them. Elliot was holding Olivia tightly. Olivia's entire body was shaking.
"Bastard," Alex called. "I'm not dead! I'm right here."
"Miss Cabot!" the marshal scolded as he approached her. With one hand he covered her mouth, while with the other he yanked her away from the window. Shoulder injury or not, he was not taking the risk of anyone else seeing her. He slowly eased her back to her bed.
One figure moved past the crowd of marshals. "Miss Cabot, you've had a rough day."
"Bullshit," Alex responded. "Agent Hammond, you have no idea what I'm going through. Look at Olivia. I cannot let her think this."
"You don't get it!" Hammond argued back. "Tim Donovan is dead – blown up. You have no idea how lucky it is that you weren't next. For the time being, you are better off dead. End of story."
DuBois residence
Phoenix, Arizona
October 10, 2005
Allison sat up again. She was not crying. As a matter of fact, she was overcome with relief and happiness. She turned to Joe and began shaking him awake. "Joe," she whispered.
"Al," he mumbled as he opened one eye to look at the clock. "Al, it's five-thirty in the morning. What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait another hour and a half?"
"The fact that it's seven thirty in New York City," Allison answered.
"And is this relevant, or are you just dazzling me with your command of time zones?" Joe muttered. It was too early for this. He had already been woken up once by one of Allison's dreams. He did need to get some sleep if he was going to have a successful day at work.
"Yes, it's relevant," Allison answered. "Joe, she's alive. Alex is alive. That shooting didn't kill her. She's alive."