Dead Asleep?, a silk stalkings fanfic

Previously, on Silk Stalkings... (The Last Kiss Goodnight)...

And now...

Opening Tag

The room is darkened. The only sounds to be heard are the blips of monitors and machines. As the camera slowly pans up from the floor, the rails of a hospital bed come into view. The patient lies motionless. Despite the bandaging that wraps her whole head, her identity is clear.

Rita.

The camera continues to pan beyond the bed. A male figure, shrouded by the shadows, blends into the darkness. The camera narrows in on his features...

It's Christopher Lorenzo.

(Tick tick, tick tick, tick tick...opening theme...)

(Voiceover)

The human mind is an enigma, wrapped in a riddle. Our understanding of its inner workings remains limited, clouded with mystery. Who is to say what is really reality? Each of us perceives the outside world through our own unique lens. When the realms of the mind trap us within and skew reality, what external force can possibly bring us out?

Dead Asleep?

(credits)

Bayside Hospital, December 9th, 1995 5:57am

Captain Harry Lipschitz steps through the entryway of that same, unlit hospital room. "Any change?" he asks quietly.

"She's resting now. But, she said it again, Cap. She right looked at me – I could tell she recognized me – and she said, 'you're not really here.'"

"It's too soon after surgery, Chris."

Squad car, December 7th, 1995 3:12pm

After the surprise wedding bash in the bullpen, Chris and Rita took off early for the day. "That...was a great party," Rita beamed. She unconsciously massaged the area between her neck and her shoulder as she spoke. "Can we hang up the picture when we get home?"

"Absolutely," Chris agreed. Even though he was driving, the tell-tale sign that Rita's head must be hurting did not escape his attention. "Are you okay, Sam? Do you have a headache?"

"Eh." Rita only shrugged, not wishing to forfeit her contentment after the celebration with all their coworkers. "I'm seven months pregnant, Chris. It's wreaking havoc with my stamina. Just now, I ate way too much cake; Hastings and McConnell are loaned out to Vice so I'm down a pair of detectives; I have no less than fifteen cases to review and sign off on; and tonight, I still need to work on the paperwork for three officers to requalify on the firing range. I think a little headache is warranted, Sam. Man, the sun is blinding me today..." As usual, Rita's sunglasses were dangling from a chain around her neck. She brought them up to shield her eyes, but also flipped down the car's visor as well, which was a rare occurrence.

Chris slowed at a yellow traffic light. As he came to a stop, he regarded Rita with a long, evaluating stare. "Are you sure you're not pushing yourself too hard, Sam?"

"I'm fine, Chris. I –" Rita's expression drastically changed as pain consumed her features and she clutched her head with her hands, "– AGH! Chris!"

"Rita?!"

She tried to speak again, but the agony seemed to overpower her and the gesture was futile. She suddenly relaxed, and Chris realized she was going unconscious.

"RITA! Rita, can you hear me? Stay with me, Sam!" With a speed rivaling that of lightning, Chris grabbed for the radio, flipping on the siren, and gunning the car through the intersection. "This is X-ray 16, Medical Emergency! I am Code 3 to Bayside Hospital – patch me through to their ER and notify Captain Lipschitz!"

"1-Xray-16, copy that. Standby."

"Bayside ER, what is your emergency?"

"This is Sgt. Lorenzo. I have a 33-year-old female, seven months pregnant. She was having a headache, but then grabbed her head in extreme pain. She has a brain aneurysm – she's currently unconscious. I am lights-and-sirens to Bayside with an ETA of five minutes – please advise!"

"Is she breathing, Sergeant?"

"Unclear."

"Copy – just get here. We'll be ready." The doctor signed off and addressed the crew behind her. "I need a Neuro team, STAT!" She relayed all the information and the ER sprang into action.

"Stay with me, Sam, stay with me," Chris begged Rita, repeating the mantra over and over again. Bayside was finally in his sights, and as he neared the ER entrance, he could see the gurney and medical staff waiting. Chris was out of the car as soon as the brake was set.

"Sgt. Lorenzo, what is her name?" It was the doctor who had radioed with Chris.

"Rita Lee Lance Lorenzo."

"Are you her husband?"

"Yes! Ah, she's a cop, guys – she's packing."

"Thank you, Sergeant." They lifted Rita onto the gurney.

Chris raced with the cot down the hall, his mind swimming as the team barked out orders and data that he couldn't comprehend.

"This is as far as you can go, Sergeant – I'll be back when I can."

Chris was left to pace the corridor like a caged animal. Innumerable thoughts and emotions cycloned through him, so much so he couldn't concentrate on a single one in particular.

Finally, the doctor returned. "Sgt. Lorenzo, my name is Dr. Evans. Rita is stable. We're taking her for an MRI; it will be safer for the baby. If the aneurysm did rupture, it sealed itself off or she would already be gone. It's now a race against the clock to repair it before it rebleeds."

"Repair it..." Chris repeated.

"Yes, Dr. Grabel is the neurosurgeon on duty, and he will talk with you after the MRI. I – I have some of Rita's belongings for you."

Chris accepted Rita's gun and holster, and immediately secured them to his right side. Her infamous black leather binder he placed gently on one of the chairs behind him. Her shield...he held longer.

"Is she a Sergeant as well?"

"Lieutenant. She just made Lieutenant." Chris traced a thumb across the gold star before depositing it into his jacket pocket.

Dr. Evans held out her hand a final time, and Chris gave her a slow, anguishing blink of his eyes. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Dr. Grabel is the best of the best, Sergeant. I mean that." As Dr. Evans turned to leave, another voice reached them.

"Chris!" Fran Lipschitz was barreling down the hall, panic etching her features. "Chris, Harry is in a meeting with the mayor and the commissioners – what happened? Is it the baby? Is it Rita?"

"It's Rita... I think the aneurysm –" Chris couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Fran gasped. "Oh, please, no..."

"Sgt. Lorenzo, I'm Dr. Grabel. I'm the neurosurgeon who will be operating on your wife. Her MRI did indeed show a ruptured cerebral aneurysm. I intend to attach a surgical clip to the lesion site to isolate it from normal circulation. However, this is invasive. Your wife will first undergo a craniotomy, where a portion of her skull will be removed and then replaced after the aneurysmal repair. The alternative is inserting a coil through an artery in her leg and feeding it to the rupture site. While less invasive, it requires x-ray imaging and contrast dye – both of which could prove more harmful to your unborn baby. The clipping surgery will require anesthesia, but we will modify it to those drugs that do not cross the placental barrier. I will be honest with you, Sergeant, the pregnancy is a serious complication and adds to the risk of mortality. That being said, though, I will do everything in my power to bring your wife and your child back to you. Surgery should last between one and three hours, and I will come speak with you afterwards, okay?"

Chris nodded, but barely registered Dr. Grabel's departure. He collapsed down onto a chair. Gazing at his hands, he closed his left one and brought it up to his face. "Rita always said she could never describe the nightmare when you're the one left waiting in a hospital. She was right. I hate being on this end. But, after she waited, I lived. She didn't lose me. She doesn't know how that feels... When we thought she had been killed in her apartment – Frannie, I thought I had died. I couldn't even last one day without her. And, that was before! Years before we actually dealt with the fact that we love each other."

Chris brought his left hand back down, and unclenched his fist. Metal-on-metal clinked audibly as Rita's wedding ring moved in his palm across his own band. He blinked furiously, fighting his tears to no avail. "Now, we're together. We're going to have a baby." He forcefully sighed. "I'm torn in two, Fran... I feel like I'm going crazy. I can't lose the baby... This is mine and Rita's child! We were finally going to have a family. I can't lose Rita! This baby can't be like us... This baby was supposed to have two parents – who are madly in love with each other. We were going to be great parents..."

"Christopher, you both will be great parents. You both will be. You need to focus all your energy on that outcome." She placed her arm over Chris' back, in a rare moment of feeling speechless. She sighed with relief as she saw Harry turn the corner, spot them, and make a beeline toward them.

"Chris? What's happened? I got here as soon as I could."

"Fran?" Chris gestured in defeat, allowing the ex-nurse to relay the information that continued to assault his soul.

Harry sank down next to Chris. He remained quiet as he attempted to process all that his wife had conveyed. Finally, he gently offered, "Chris, I want you to listen to me. You and Rita possess a bond that is stronger than anything I've ever seen – even stronger than mine and Frannie's. You push into that link with everything you have. If any outside force can possibly hope to protect Rita, it's the thoughts and prayers from you. And, you'll be bringing her ours, as well."

Chris closed his eyes for a moment, and slowly nodded his head. He drew strength from the parental figures, one on his right, one on his left, who always took such care in looking after him and Rita. "Thank you both..."

After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Grabel finally emerged. "Sgt. Lorenzo, everything went very well. There were no complications during surgery. The lesion site was clipped and it shows no further signs of hemorrhaging. Rita will remain in post-op for another couple of hours before we move her to the Neurological Intensive Care Unit. I will be able to monitor her condition very closely from there. She still runs the risks associated with anesthesia and infection, so as it stands, she will not be moved to the Neurological Floor for another five days. Obstetrics will be tag-teaming Rita's recovery and will oversee all monitoring of the baby, but everything appears fine so far. Even though Rita presented us with the extra challenge of pregnancy, the timing between the initial aneurysmal rupture and the surgery was very minimal. She's young, and she's healthy. Barring any infection or other unforeseen complications, I expect her to make a full recovery."

"Thank you, Dr. Grabel," Chris exhaled. "Will I be able to see her in Intensive Care?"

"Yes, Sergeant. I will make that accommodation for you."

Neurological Intensive Care, December 8th, 1995 2:00am

Rita's obstetrician studied Chris as he remained cemented to his wife's bedside. She cleared her throat to announce her presence into the room. "How are you, Sgt. Lorenzo?" Dr. Guidetti further interjected into the silence.

"Hi, Doc. You tell me."

"They're strong, Chris. Take comfort in that. Now, I am going to administer a fetal non-stress test. It will show how many times the baby moves, and the reactions to moving, in a thirty-minute period. Normally, the mother clicks a button corresponding to each movement, but I will still be able to record everything even without Rita's involvement."

At the end of the allotted time frame, Dr. Guidetti showed Chris the paper readout. "This is really encouraging, Chris. This is exactly what I had hoped to see. The way the baby's heart rate increases while moving suggests adequate oxygen levels. We have ample data here to suggest that we have cleared any and all effects of anesthesia. Couple this with the baby's strong heart rates during our continuous monitoring...and I have nothing but good news for you." Dr. Guidetti touched Chris' shoulder and softly added, "now, we wait for Rita. I'm really optimistic for her, too, Chris." With that, she exited the room.

Chris gently caressed Rita's face with one hand, concentrating on the connection they shared. His other hand he splayed across her abdomen, above the baby's heart rate monitor. His fingers were suddenly lifted slightly, due to a movement from within Rita, causing him to actually smile for a moment.

"Hey there, bambino," he exclaimed in a hushed voice. "Will you be your mama's partner? She was the best partner I ever had – but right now, you're our little undercover officer. Can you be her backup, please? Can you help her fight? We both need her so much..."

For the next several hours, Chris barely moved. The rhythmic sounds of the heart rate monitors became his own lifeline. Nurses came and went, recording Rita's vitals and administering medication through her I.V. Dawn was just breaking when the Captain and Frannie returned.

"Lorenzo?" Harry asked gently. "I want you to go and try to get some sleep. I've spoken with the duty doctors and they're allowing you to use the staff lounge. It's just at the end of the hall."

"Ah...thanks, Cap, but I'm good."

"Christopher," Fran added, "Rita is going to need your strength. I will stay with her. I won't leave her side," Fran vowed.

"I can't..."

The Captain dropped his voice even softer still, hoping his father-like timbre would resonate enough with Chris to break through his defenses. "I wouldn't want to leave either, Chris. But...you need this. Rita needs you. I won't pull rank, and I won't order you to do this. It's your call."

"Well played, Cap," Chris muttered wryly. He stood up and stroked Rita's face one last time. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek and whispered his love into her ear.

As Chris was begrudgingly led from the room, Fran promised to alert him of any changes.

Neurological Intensive Care, December 8th, 1995 10:03am

"Chris is gone."

Frannie flew from her chair to Rita's bedside. "Hi'ya, doll! He's just down the hall – I'll get him for you." She hit the call button, summoning the nurses' desk.

"Yes?" came the voice through the intercom.

"Find Chris Lorenzo! Rita is awake and talking!"

"The baby."

"The baby's fine, Rita."

"I can't lose Chris' baby," she whispered haltingly, straining to speak. Rita let out a soft sigh. "Chris is gone," she said again.

"He's on his way, Rita. Just hang tight."

"No... No, Fran. He was shot."

The statement momentarily threw Fran off-guard. "Oh! Oh, no, no. That was over a year ago, sweetheart. Chris is fine."

"No. He died. Fu-ner-al... I was at his funeral."

At that instant, Chris came barreling into the room, but Rita had succumbed to sleep once again.

The Lipschitz home, December 9th, 1995 3:11am

"Frannie?" Harry had woken up and realized he was alone in their bed. He reached for his glasses, to verify if the indistinct shape across the room was indeed the love of his life.

"It's okay. Go back to sleep," Fran answered him from her place at the window. While Harry had never acquired a tolerance for palm trees, Fran found them calming, especially on a night like tonight with the moonlight and wind accenting their fronds.

Harry got up and stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder.

"I just can't stop thinking about the kids." Frannie furrowed her brow at her own choice of words. "I say that like they're ours," she quietly added, chiding herself.

"They are..." Harry countered. "How many hundreds of teams have I had under my command? When have we ever felt like this before? No, these two characters... These two stand apart on every level. They always have."

"I just want to protect them so badly! They don't have anyone."

"They have each other – they've always had each other, from day one – and they do have us. You protect them all you want, Frannie. They both need us right now."

Fran turned and wrapped her arms around Harry's waist, burying her face in his chest. "Oh, Hesch...they love each other so much..."

"I know, sweetheart. They're just like us."

Neurological Intensive Care Unit, December 9th, 1995 5:34pm

Dr. Guidetti approached the nurses' station where Dr. Grabel was sitting, working on reports. "Robert," she asked jokingly of him, "what did you do to my patient? What's all this talk about Rita's husband being dead?"

"Oh, you know, Denise. I'll always keep you guessing." Dr. Grabel leaned back in his chair and considered his friend's question. "The shock of the headache itself, the subarachnoid hemorrhage, the changes in intracranial pressure, the surgery...whatever induced this idea, I guarantee you, it's a completely intense notion to Rita. It's absolutely real. To convince her otherwise...will also be a shock to her system."

"Do you think her condition is stable enough to be shown the truth?"

"There's only one way to find out," he stated gravely. "Past the initial shock, I'm willing to bet you that the truth will most certainly assist with her recovery."

"Okay, let's do this," Dr. Guidetti exclaimed, waiting for Dr. Grabel to accompany her. They called Chris out into the hallway, and apprised him of their plan.

"Rita?" Dr. Grabel asked. He smiled as she stirred and opened her eyes. "Hello there. My name is Dr. Grabel. Can you tell me where you are?"

Rita gazed around the room. "The hos-pi-tal."

"That's right. You are in the hospital. I want you to concentrate. Do you remember riding in a car with your husband, and getting an excruciating headache?"

The doctors could tell that Rita was processing not only the request, but the memory as well.

"Dream..." she offered. It was more of a question than a statement.

Dr. Grabel shook his head. "No, Mrs. Lorenzo, it wasn't a dream. Your aneurysm ruptured. Probably from the higher blood pressure and hormonal changes of pregnancy. Now, I hear you have concerns about your husband's well-being?"

"Chris died...but, I keep seeing him." She gave a truncated version of everything she thought was truth.

"Rita, I assure you that your husband is very much alive. Your brain is coping with a series of traumatic injuries. Your aneurysm not only ruptured, but was repaired. You had brain surgery. I believe, your mind created a seemingly very-real scenario as it tried to process all that was happening. But, you must understand, your husband is alive – nothing of what you just told us actually happened."

Gently, but firmly, the obstetrician spoke. "Lieutenant." It was an appeal to Rita's rational, logical side. "Do you know who I am?"

Rita's eyes shifted to the other physician. "Dr. Gu-i-det-ti."

She smiled. "That's right. You know that I met your husband at your first appointment with me, and I've seen him at every appointment since then, right?"

Rita nodded.

"I keep seeing him, too," she emphasized. She positioned a hand on Rita's abdomen. "Can you feel me touching your stomach?"

"Yes."

"That's good! That's really good, Rita. Now, Chris is just outside in the hall, and I am going to call him into the room. We all are going to see him, and he's going to place his hand exactly where mine is. I want you to focus on his touch – I want you to believe he is alive. I want you to have proof, Lieutenant. Will you do this for me?"

Rita's nod was barely perceptible, much subtler than the increase in her heart rate that beeped its change through the machine to which she was connected.

"It's okay," Dr. Guidetti soothingly assured her. "Are you ready?" She turned her head slightly, but kept her focus on Rita. "Chris?"

Chris slowly...painstakingly...came through the doorway and approached the bed.

Rita's heart monitor blipped erratically the instant she saw him.

Dr. Guidetti brought her hand up to Chris' shoulder and kept it there. "Can you see this, Rita? My hand is on Chris' arm. He's right here. He's wearing a black polo shirt and black pants. Chris, will you please put your hand on Rita's abdomen?"

"Sam..." he whispered, "please don't be afraid!" Trembling himself, he traced a familiar pattern across Rita's stomach and she gasped at the sensation. The baby responded in kind, just like every other time in the past few months.

Tears streaming, Rita tried to understand. "Chris-to-pher..."

Chris leaned down and ever so gently brought his lips to Rita's. "Rita, I love you!" He placed a second kiss on her lips, never wanting to stop. He pulled back only enough to gaze into her eyes. Tear-clouded blue locked with tear-clouded green. The stunning array of emotions, which always flowed unchecked between the Sams whenever they allowed this to happen, suddenly surged more powerfully than ever before.

Rita let out a sob. "Chris! Chris, I thought I lost you..." While she succeeded in lifting her head the few centimeters off her pillow, enough to meet Chris' lips again, her right arm remained on the bed and her left arm only made it half the distance to his body. Still, her doctors were ecstatic.

"Rita, I am so pleased with everything I just witnessed," exclaimed Dr. Grabel. "Continue with progress like that, and I can see you making a full recovery."

"Thank you, Doctors," Rita whispered breathlessly, the whole encounter taxing the very last of her strength. She knew she couldn't keep her eyes open much longer. "Lay with me?" she asked of Chris.

Chris whipped his head to the pair of physicians, silently begging permission. They nodded their approval.

A few hours later, Harry and Fran exited the elevator onto the Neurological Intensive Care Unit. As Fran made eye contact with a now-familiar nurse in the hallway, she was met with a tell-tale, beaming smile from the younger woman.

"What is it?" Fran inquired, her curiosity certainly piqued.

"Take a look," was the only cryptic clue offered.

Frannie instantly outpaced Harry as she dashed to Rita's room. She halted in the doorway, bringing her hands up to her chest and stifling a squeal. "Hesch!" she waved for Harry to hurry up and reach her.

Chris and Rita remained curled up together in Rita's bed, still fast asleep. It wasn't their tight proximity that spoke volumes; no, most striking of all was the serenity as they slept. A peace that, for both of them, had been absent for many days.

Harry opened his arms and Fran slid in between them. There, they stayed, keeping watch over their slumbering loved ones.

Neurological Floor, December 12th, 1995 4:23pm

"My body feels so weird. It feels like I'm floating." Rita's voice was strong, and only slightly drawn out, as it didn't take as much deliberate effort now to enunciate. Chris stood next to the bed, helping with her physical therapy regimen.

"Dr. Grabel said that might last another day or so." Chris gingerly moved Rita's right arm through a gentle range of motion, starting with her fingers, then wrist, then elbow, and finally shoulder.

"I can't believe how backwards everything still seems. I remember the party at the office, and I remember riding in the car...but, they both feel like a dream. A total dream. Now, the 'days' I created in my head? They feel completely real. Like I lived them. I know names, I know faces, I remember every detail. Vividly. I suspended Holly, and I was held hostage. At the exchange, there was a street-hockey player...and you got shot, Chris. I can remember watching you in the hospital as clearly as I remember the last time I was in that position – only this time, I lost you. This time, I watched you die." Rita paused, her face contorting at the painful 'memory.' "Attending your funeral... That literally feels like the worst thing I've ever experienced."

Chris cupped the side of her face, and Rita immediately leaned into his touch. Shaking off her negativity, she laughed, "as long as this is reality, I don't care how real it all seemed."

Still pensive, Chris walked around the bed to work Rita's left arm. "It was real to you, Sam. That's still important." He gently massaged her fingers, lost in thought. Finally, he confessed, "I owe you an apology. I told Frannie that you didn't know what it was like to lose me. But, you do...as much as I know what it's like to lose you. I thought you had been killed in your apartment, and you thought I had been killed now. We both have lost each other – but didn't. Neither was real." Chris scowled and hung his head, unable to explain what he meant.

"No, I understand," Rita promised. "I offer a counter-apology for saying that you weren't really here. Chris, I dreamt – wait – it would have been a dream within a dream..."

"Hah!" Chris couldn't help but laugh at her expression as she debated the logic to herself. He stole a quick kiss, utterly grateful for such a Rita-defining moment.

"Work with me, Sam," she chuckled. Concentrating, she continued, "you were in the hospital after 'getting shot.' Somehow, I fell asleep and you woke me up by talking to me. Kinda like last time in real life, I guess... So, we talked, but our whole conversation was really a dream – I woke up...and you were actually dying. Seeing you awake wasn't real. So, every time I opened my eyes now, after surgery, I would see you...but knew you couldn't be there. You were a dream again. I'm sorry, Christopher...I know that must have hurt you."

"Wow, your mind..." Chris shook his head, reeling in disbelief. "Man! Think about this, Sam. Do you remember the night Todd Barnett was killed in the explosion? How I told you that you scared the hell outta me and that I can handle anything except losing you?"

"I remember lots of things from the night of the explosion, Sam."

Chris cocked his head to the side and let it loll forward, regarding Rita with amusement though his crystal blue eyes darkened with desire at her joke.

Rita responded with a sultry smirk. "Just making it clear that I remember," she drawled. "Yes, continue."

"Well, think about the last couple years. I think I lose you, you think you lose me. You watch me in the hospital, I watch you. You come to the ambulance after I crashed the Charger, I come to your ambulance after the explosion. This is what's taking years off our lives. Can we please just make a pact not to ever do this again? The next time we are in a hospital, or with paramedics, I want it to be when we're about to meet our bambino. Deal?" Chris held out his right hand to affirm the vow.

Rita raised her left one to accept, but Chris pulled back.

"Uh, uh. The right."

"You are mean, but I agree." With greater effort she elevated her right arm high enough to shake hands with Chris. "Deal."

Chris moved to the end of the bed, beginning the exercises for Rita's legs. She, however, had not shifted focus yet.

"It has to be the right arm that's weaker," Rita muttered with sheer annoyance. She raised it again, mimicking the action of firing a gun, but cursed the subpar motion with harsh criticism.

Chris could only nod in empathy, the echo of his own irritation at said limitation. "You're preaching to the choir, Sam. It doesn't help to hear that it will come back, but I promise to meet you on the range as soon as you're given the all-clear." He flexed her right leg and extended it back down.

Rita winced, but quickly assured Chris that it wasn't his doing. "Pregnancy. A combination of loose muscles and constantly laying on that side."

Chris switched back to massage, loving his new role in Rita's recovery. He was obligated to caress her...to help her heal. What a fantastic concept. "Remind me to thank your physical therapist for making me her assistant."

Rita offered Chris a lopsided grin, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I wasn't making a play," he remarked, feigning innocence.

"Ah huh."

Countering with a boyish smile of his own, Chris returned his attention to his important task.

"Just so you know, Sam, it's working."

Chris whipped his head back up, and Rita snickered. "I may not be able to act on it right now, but I want you all the same," she purred.

With a hand braced on either side of Rita's body, Chris slid up the bed, never letting his weight actually touch her. This time the kiss they shared was lingering, heart-felt, and passionate. When they finally separated, they locked gazes. No further words were necessary.

"Knock, knock. Ah, that's better, you two," came a voice from the entryway as Dr. Guidetti stepped in and approached the bed. "Rita? How are you liking sitting up a little higher today?"

"Ah, the room finally stopped spinning a couple hours ago," Rita stated frankly.

"How are you feeling overall?"

"Still...weird, but my head doesn't really hurt. My right hip is killing me, though."

"Well, we certainly couldn't position you more onto your left side, now could we?" Dr. Guidetti teased, indicating the craniotomy side of Rita's head. "Plus, since you're passed the six-month mark of pregnancy, you can't lay flat on your back – the last thing you need right now is restricted blood flow. Wow, you really aren't leaving us any other options, are you?"

Ending Tag

Neurological Floor, December 17th, 1995 4:24pm

Chris, Harry, and Fran are all in Rita's room, laughing. It's brighter, and the top half of Rita's bed is completely raised, allowing her to sit up with ease. She's wearing her own workout clothes, and her eyes and expression are clearer as she accepts with gratitude the homemade chicken soup Frannie is feeding her.

"Mmm, thanks, Fran. This was so sweet of you."

"This...is how you get out of a hospital fast," Chris quips with affection, remembering Fran's care after he had been shot by Debra Bouchard. He lets go of Rita's hand only long enough to stand up and place a kiss on Fran's cheek, then interlaces their fingers once again as he sits back down.

Fran gushes at their reactions. "You both are making me blush! You two, are the kids we never had."

At that moment, a doctor appears in the doorway.

"Mrs. Lorenzo," her neurosurgeon beams.

"Dr. Grabel," Rita counters with a smile.

"How's the right arm?"

"Stronger. Feels less disconnected. I can feel it, I can feel Chris' hand, and I can feel his hand touching mine." For emphasis, she grips tighter on their intertwined grasp and lifts both their hands.

"Excellent! By the time you have an infant to hold, your strength should be so improved that you'll be up to the task without any problem." He moves to the head of the bed to examine her incision site. "Any problems since the stitches came out?"

"No, not a one."

"I'm going to kick you out of here in the next day or two, and I'll need to see you in my office within two weeks of discharge. Now, I'm sure Dr. Guidetti will agree with me: you are to take it easy for the next two months. That's an order, Lieutenant. After two months, you'll have that newborn – that's a whole nother kind of tired. You need to heal and rest before that, okay?"

"I promise," Rita vows.

"That being said, go take a lap!"

Rita laughs. "I'm on it! But, before that... Since the swelling has stayed down in my left hand, is there any chance I could get my wedding ring back yet?"

Dr. Grabel inspects Rita's hand and whole arm. "I don't see why not." With that, he waves his goodbye.

Chris retrieves his jacket and searches the inside front pocket. He brings out Rita's ring, regarding it with humble gratitude. "Here you go, Sam. 'In sickness...and...in...health.'" He returns the ring to its rightful place, kissing it and the finger it encircles, and praying never to remove it again.

Rita sighs with contentment. "Thank you, Sam. That's much better." She gazes down at the precious band before bringing her hand up to Chris' cheek. "You certainly have lived up to your end of the vows, Christopher." Eye misting, she whispers, "thank you..."

"I love you, Rita."

"And, I love you."

Rita then turns her attention to the other cherished couple with them, who mean the world to her. "Cap...Frannie..." She pauses to control her emotions enough to continue speaking. "I love you both, too. You have spent...so much time here. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of Christopher, as well. Thank you...for not letting us be alone. Captain, when Chris was shot, I don't know what I would have done without you there with me. Knowing that you both stayed with him while he waited for me...you will never know how much that means to me. I will never forget it...ever."

Rita looks to Chris, who nods his consent. "I hope," she continues, "that we can count on you both to take such special care of your grandchild as well."

Harry freezes. Fran covers her mouth with her hands. Several seconds pass before she is actually able to speak. "You mean it, kids?" she finally asks, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Yeah, Frannie."

"Absolutely," Chris reiterates. "If we are the children you never had, you certainly are the parents we never had."

"I don't know what to say," the Cap softly adds. "We're honored. We're truly honored."

Rita swings her legs off the side of the bed and stands up. Once she is confident of her footing, she moves the few steps forward to embrace Harry and Fran properly.

"You're welcome to join us downstairs in the Atrium. I'm a little stir-crazy up here, and if I'm ever going to tie with Christopher again for first place in the Department's obstacle course, I'd better get my laps in now."

Smiling, the Captain counters, "I, ah, I hope your physical therapy includes practicing to sign your name, Lieutenant. I'm only going to do your paperwork for so long, you know." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. "Here. You can use this as your motivation to get back to work." With that, he hands Rita her requalifying form.

Chris puts his arm around Rita. "Don't worry, Cap. I will make sure she doesn't miss a single second of physical therapy."

The Sams meet each other's sly yet loving gaze, and burst into laughter at the private joke. As they embrace each other from the side, still chuckling...

The camera freezes on them for its final time.

Ending Credits

DVD Bonus Feature

'Dead Asleep?' Alternate Ending

Rita swings her legs off the side of the bed and stands up. Once she is confident of her footing, she moves the few steps forward to embrace Harry and Fran properly.

"Thanks, doll," Fran pipes in, "but Harry and I drove separately because the girls and I took our friend Phyllis out shopping all day. I'm going to head home." Fran offers Rita a tight embrace and then turns to Harry. She winks one eye at him. "Bye, Hesch. I'll see you at home." After kissing Harry, she addresses Chris. "Mind walking me down to my car?"

"Absolutely not!" Chris extends the crook of his arm to her, which she squeezes tightly. As they leave the room, Frannie is already talking ninety-miles-an-hour about the baby.

Harry watches them depart, waiting until they are out of earshot. "So, I want to show you something, Rita." He reaches into his jacket again and removes a second set of paperwork. "This came across your desk a few days ago, and then it reached me."

Rita accepts the document and reviews it carefully. "They're promoting Chris! Lieutenant... Day Shift Commander! Cap, this is fantastic!"

"Now, I am not the 'Chief of Detectives,' but this warrants a change in partners, wouldn't you agree, Lieutenant?"

"I would most certainly agree, Captain." A Cheshire-cat grin slowly spreads across Rita's face. "Holly, is definitely going to need a new partner. And, I'm thinking that Det. Michael Price just might be the officer for the job."

Harry raises his eyebrows and shrugs innocently. "And hey, situations arise where all teams might be out on assignment and a Lieutenant – or two – might have to step in and work a case. Am I right?"

"You are, indeed."

"They aren't 'actually' partners." Harry regards Rita with his inimitable above-the-glasses stare, gauging her reaction.

"This is true," Rita responds. "Section 5-21 would not necessarily need to be applied to them."

The Captain smiles brilliantly, the correct answer given.

"I think I need to run this by our newest Lieutenant, wouldn't you say, Cap?"

Conforming to hospital policy, Rita allows Chris to wheel her down to the Atrium in a wheelchair.

"It's not quite freedom," Chris muses as he sets the brakes, "but it gets you away from the four walls of your room."

Rita revels in the change of scenery, inhaling deeply. "So much better."

"Is that your requalifying form?" Chris asks as Rita stands and turns to face him, paperwork in hand.

"Actually, in a way it's yours."

Puzzled, Chris takes it and begins to read. His face lights up and his eyes grow big.

Rita reacts in much the same ecstatic manner. "I'm so proud of you, Sam." They share an embrace as Chris adjusts to the shock.

As they begin their trek around the arboretum, Rita gathers her thoughts. "There are some things I think we should discuss, Chris."

"Go ahead."

"Well, you're Day Shift Commander, right?" Rita leans in to Chris conspiratorially. "I, uh, I work day shift."

"That you do."

"So, you and I will get to keep the same shift. And, with you being our Commander, I will need to assign Holly a new partner. I was thinking of Michael Price."

"Hah! Two very strong personalities. That should be fun to watch – but I agree with the pairing."

Rita stops and turns to face Chris. Slightly apprehensive, she exclaims, "after you were shot, you thought I wouldn't want to be out on the line with you. Now, the roles are reversed, and I'm the one who's limited. I – I need to know... When I'm ready and back to work, if scheduling required it, would you ever want to ride double again, partner?"

Chris takes Rita's hands in his and places a lingering kiss on her lips. "Sam, there's only one answer to the question, and you know that." Flashing her a Lorenzo-patented grin, he adds, "besides, if the 'Chief of Detectives' tells me to work a case with her, who am I to disobey orders?"

Rita laughs at the joke, but remains somewhat pensive. She moves flush against Chris, and wraps her arms around his waist. "Technically, it would be like working with Cap. Lipschitz or Lt. Hudson when you or I had depositions or court. We wouldn't be official partners – but as the Cap just reminded me, it would also bypass the Special Dispensation Rule. We'd be a team. And," Rita lifts her head off Chris' chest, but remains in his arms, "I really don't like not being the one watching your back, Sam."

"I understand, Rita. Derek McNeill, Michael Price...every time you get partnered with someone else, you end up getting hurt. I've never liked it in the past, and I sure don't like it now. Everything is different now."

Rita slowly nods. "Everything is different now," she repeats solemnly. She sighs and drops her forehead to her soulmate's chest, as if to draw strength from him. "Is it just me," she asks his flat abdomen, "or have these promotions come at the perfect time?" Finally raising her eyes to Chris', Rita again finds the courage to continue. "We get a break from the action, you know? I never thought I'd be happy about that – and don't get me wrong, I'm nowhere near you enrolling me in that knitting class, but, there's just been too much lately. Too many close calls, our relationship is too new, being pregnant is making me too overprotective. Too much." Rita scowls, trepidation suddenly etching her features. "Maybe, I've lost my edge..." It is a thought that genuinely worries her.

"No, Sam." Chris' voice is just above a whisper. "You haven't lost your edge, but you're right about everything else. I've never felt like this before. Like I told you the other day, I wave the white flag when it comes to close calls right now. The stakes...are so much higher... I don't want to risk something happening to one of us or to the baby." His eyes and expression remain haunted by the slew of narrow escapes that have plagued the forefront of his mind during the whole of Rita's hospital stay. "I can't say that either of us would enjoy riding a desk from now until retirement, but I'm cool with the break. I am." Chris utters a quick laugh, shocked yet at peace with his own admission. "I really am." His full-fledged playfulness gradually resurfaces as he teases Rita with the mention of a task that years ago signified the epitome of tediousness yet now represents blessed relief. "What do you say, partner? You up for a little sweeping in the filing room until we decompress a bit?"

The humor penetrates Rita's melancholy, causing her to chuckle and actually resume their walk. "That...sounds fantastic!" she breathes with contentment.

"Hmm, maybe we can do more than just sweep in there, Sam," Chris muses.

"I like how you think, Sam," Rita purrs in response.

As they walk hand-in-hand away from the camera, the screen splits to the mirrored scene of them padding along the beach, holding hands, at the end of the pilot episode. Rita offers a final voiceover.

A lot has changed in five years. Golfers have come, golfers have gone, the game continues. Time keeps marching on. Chris is still my best friend, now my husband and the father of my child. I never admitted I was sick, so I guess I forgot I was. That blood bubble in my head did go pop, but no one can say I had been living my life too fast because I treasure every second I share with Chris. We're partners in every sense, and some bromides are better than others. 'For love of the game' – or just the other player. We bid farewell to the clubhouse – never to look back – and are content to play out this private course with just the two of us, now and forever. We didn't race to the nearest motel...instead, we came home.

The End

Author's Notes

You know how some shows are just cancelled without the slightest warning? Or, how a different actor is suddenly playing a main character (ala Nancy Valen and Suanne Braun for Dr. Jillian Dupree) with no "heads-up!" to the fans? Well, I would be content with "Dead Asleep?" being the canon ending for Classic Silk – with the very next ep being Holly and Michael's first case together without a single mention of Chris and Rita. After all, didn't that pretty much happen anyway? No mention? "Dead Asleep?" would then still get Rob Estes out of the show. All in favor of the new canon, please send me feedback.

I hope you enjoyed my twist on the stereotypical "it was all a dream" concept. "Rita's aneurysm" was always my vote for countering the mess of Silk's ending, but it was only that: two words. I never had the slightest desire to rewrite the ending; I was fine simply denying its very existence. Well, three extremely nonchalant mentions of this concept – no more than two months ago – suddenly spiraled into a story that virtually wrote itself. To all you authors who pen entire works daily, weekly, monthly...I salute you. Before this, my shortest timeframe was six months. My longest? (cough, cough) Eleven years.

I will be the first to admit that there are two major weaknesses in this storyline. The first stems from the fact that I refused to open with – or use – specific details from "The Last Kiss Goodnight." If you have read any of my other pieces, you know that I always try to interweave canon with my fanfiction, and blur the line between the two. Those circumstances do not exist here because I do not watch past ten minutes into "The Last Kiss Goodnight." Once was enough. I also take immense pride in stating that I have never seen "Dead Asleep." Please overlook this small infraction on my part.

The second disparity, almost voided this whole project. I had the story nearly finished when I became curious as to which last name they canon-wrote for Rita once she was married and a lieutenant. I started watching from the wedding in "Till Death Do Us Part," knowing that the promotion was a 'safe' distance into "The Last Kiss Goodnight." Wait, WHAT?! ('D of The DA's Office' smacked herself in the forehead.) *SIGH.* How was I supposed to present "Dead Asleep?" as a real episode – with "The Last Kiss Goodnight" rendered to nothing but a dream – if I have Rita being a lieutenant? A major flaw... Well, I finally justified keeping the error for several reasons. 1) Rita deserved to exit with her promotion. 2) I chalked this up to the creative freedom exhibited in such canon mistakes as Donnie "Dogs" going from "DiBelco" to "DiBarto," and the numerous 'recycling' ridiculousness we endured like a) Kate Hodge playing George's campaign manager all through the third season, then becoming the Chief Medical Examiner in the very first episode of season four, and b) our beloved pair of Charlie Brill and Mitzi McCall being used as a different couple twice in the second season, before staying on as Harry and Fran two episodes later with the start of season three. Ergo, Rita is a lieutenant. By the way, she addressed herself as "Rita Lance" to Holly on the phone the day after the wedding – and as far into "The Last Kiss Goodnight" as I dared to go, she was only referred to as, "Lieutenant" with no last name. Hey, I can play that game: she kept "Lance" as part of her legal name. Not hyphenated, just a second middle name. She would maintain "Lance" for work, and "Lorenzo" for everything else. Here, I had the neurosurgeon use "Mrs. Lorenzo" as a reminder to Rita that's she married, and to keep her as close to present time as he could (plus, I simply could not have him address her as "Ms. Lance" when we finally had The Sams married.) However, I changed all "Lieutenant Lorenzo(s)" to "Rita" or "Lieutenant" by itself to (finally) comply with canon.