A/N: This is another post-finale story. There's a glut of them already, so if everything here sounds familiar, it's because others have done a fabulous job of telling that 'what if' tale before I have. I hope I have not inadvertently plagiarized anyone's work here. If there are elements that too-closely resemble something someone else has written, please let me know immediately, and it will be re-written.
This little story is something that's been on my mind for a while, and I finally sat myself down to get it out of my brain. I hope you enjoy.
Pending Notification
The crisis was over, but SRU dispatcher Winnie Camden knew the fallout from the day's horrible, senseless, and devastating events was far from behind them. Every television channel in the city was broadcasting endless loops of footage captured from the news cameras on the streets, from helicopters above, and from Johnny-on-the-spot eyewitnesses with camera phones. Eventually, Winnie had had to turn off the monitor mounted on the wall above her. It was agonizing to see the destruction; to see the crumbled buildings of her beloved city, and the injured, dust-covered civilians, all shell-shocked and bloody.
No authority had yet come forward with an official death toll, but early estimates were in the several dozens, with scores more fighting for their lives. One reporter acknowledged that it might be days, or even weeks, before a final tally was known.
Winnie sighed aloud and looked at her watch. She should have been off-duty a half-hour earlier, but Sidney had called to say he'd be late to relieve her; could she possibly hang on a little longer? Even though he lived close to SRU headquarters, he explained that traffic was still a huge nightmare. Well, of course she could work a little overtime; the same traffic Sid was battling would be the same traffic that would ensnare her, too. It would make little sense to be in any hurry to get out.
She tried to ignore the grinding pain that was pressing against the insides of her temples, twin balls of steel wool that seemed to scour her skull. Her heart ached heavily at the completely unexpected losses suffered in the past few hours. She knew her eyes were probably still puffy and red from all the tears she had shed earlier while helplessly listening to what was happening to the members of her teams.
Her teams.
That was how she thought of them whenever she was on duty at the dispatch desk. She was their nerve center, connecting them to each other while providing timely information and intel on the fly. They were in her hands, and their voices were constantly in her ears.
Now, two of those teams were irreparably shattered; two voices permanently silenced.
Team Three, on Commander Holleran's orders, had been stood down indefinitely. The unthinkable had happened to them, and Winnie couldn't begin to imagine how they were going to cope; how they were going to recover. She was having a difficult enough time wiping the sound of the blast at the Casey Jeffers Building from her own ears.
Team One had been temporarily stood down; ordered off duty for a week. Sam and Jules were supposed to be off on a three-week honeymoon, anyway, but after what had happened to Ed's son, and then to the Sarge… The remaining teams would be assisted by metro and other regional police for the foreseeable future. Emergencies normally handled by the SRU didn't just come to a halt simply because a bigger emergency had just occurred and laid waste to the city.
Teams Two, Four, and Five were finishing up their debrief conferences, and Winnie hoped there wouldn't be any calls to disturb them for the remainder of the night. They'd all put in yeoman's service today, and deserved some respite from what they'd had to endure. Team One, she knew, were all at the hospital, awaiting word on Sergeant Greg Parker, who was undergoing life-saving surgery. They were also waiting on Clark Lane, who had thankfully made it out alive of the City Hall parking garage rubble, but was probably still in surgery, himself.
A sob unexpectedly rose in Winnie's throat, as a wave of emotion flooded her chest. Please… please, God, don't let Greg die, she prayed silently. We've already lost Donna and Jimmy; we can't lose the Sarge, too. We just can't. He's such a good man…
The same anxiety that had plagued her during the final confrontation between Greg and the bomber began to creep forth again. It was a replay Winnie desperately wanted to shut out, but to no avail. In her mind, she heard again the report of Faber's weapon, followed by Greg's yell of pain as he was struck. Winnie recalled that she'd been holding it together pretty well up until that point, for the sake of Dean Parker and his girlfriend, both of whom had heard the blast that killed Donna and Jimmy. Dean's relief that his father had not also been caught up in that explosion was so palpable, she hadn't wanted to undermine his tenuous grasp on security by reminding him that two others hadn't been so lucky. Truthfully, she was grateful for the youngsters' presence; she would have been overcome with grief right then if she hadn't felt the need to put on a brave face for their sake.
She remembered how Spike had cried out for the boss after that bomb had detonated; how the seconds ticked by without a response, prompting a second desperate plea – this time from Jules – for him to respond.
"I'm okay," he'd managed to reply; before struggling against his own tears to explain that Donna hadn't been so fortunate.
Will you be okay now, Sarge? Winnie wondered. She resisted the urge to call one of the members of Team One. While the phone lines and cell service had been restored, she didn't want to disturb any of the officers unnecessarily. After all, Spike had assured her he would call her if anything happened.
Oh, Spike…
Winnie smiled a little at the thought of Michelangelo Scarlatti's nickname. I could have lost you today, too. What if Donna had waited for you to get there to defuse that bomb? Would it be you that Faber killed instead, along with Sam and Leah? Nobody knew it was a set-up. You would have walked in there, totally unaware that Faber had no intention of letting that sadistic professor live. He didn't care who else he took out, especially cops. You would have died, and then what would I have done? This is exactly why I never wanted to date a cop…
Caught up in her ruminations, Winnie's thoughts turned to her newly-wedded colleagues.
Jules and Sam… how can they stand it? How did they not totally lose it today when they were both in so much terrible danger? On a day that was supposed to be one of the happiest of their lives, they almost lost each other.
With an unexpected jolt, Winnie thought of another wedding, just over a year ago. Donna almost lost Hank on their wedding day, and now… oh, now… now he's lost her. It's just not fair.
Winnie knew that Commander Holleran was out there, somewhere, trying to track down Hank Gerald in order to deliver the worst possible news a cop's spouse could ever receive. From there, Holleran would be on his way to Jimmy's wife. She didn't envy the SRU commanding officer that role.
Are the risks of being with a law enforcement officer really worth it? Winnie pondered. Am I making a mistake with Spike? But even as she struggled to comprehend how cops managed to balance married life with all the inherent risks that came with the job, she knew she was already in too deep with Michelangelo Scarlatti to turn back. He'd chipped away at her resolve slowly and patiently until she'd had no choice but give in to what she was feeling, too.
The perfect guy is in my life. You'd just better not ever break my heart like that, Spike. Ever.
Movement caught Winnie's attention. A uniformed police officer had just walked on to the floor, looking slightly frustrated, as if SRU headquarters was the last place on earth he wanted to be.
"May I help you?" she asked uncertainly, when he arrived at her desk. She decided he was probably around forty-five years of age with his slightly greying head of hair and deep laugh-lines around his mouth.
"Sergeant Darryl Spencer," he said as an introduction, holding out his badge and ID as a formality. "I'm looking for Constable Donna Sabine."
He must have seen something in Winnie's face, because he immediately asked: "Is something wrong?"
She collected herself in a few moments. As far as she knew, Holleran hadn't yet made the next-of-kin notification; wasn't sure she could tell this other non-SRU officer what had happened to Donna. Instead, she posed a question of her own: "What's this about?"
"It's a private matter," Spencer huffed impatiently. "Is she here, or not? It's very important that I speak with her immediately."
"She's uh… she's not available," Winnie managed to say lamely, and was met by a glare of annoyance.
"Look, I already checked her residence-"
"Um, I think you'd better talk with her commanding officer," Winnie interrupted, reaching for her phone to dial Holleran's cell, willing the tears she could already feel forming behind her lids to recede. I should have just told him…
Norm answered his phone after the second ring. "Holleran," he said.
Winnie swallowed nervously. "Commander Holleran, I've got a Sergeant Darryl Spencer here… Sir, he's asking to speak with Constable Sabine. I, uh… I didn't know what to tell him…"
"Put him on," Holleran sighed.
Winnie handed over the receiver to the waiting sergeant.
"Commander…" Spencer said expectantly.
The SRU dispatcher watched as the other man listened to whatever Norm was telling him, and she saw his face visibly blanch.
"I… I see…" Spencer mumbled into the phone. "I'm sorry to hear that… You're what? Well, sir, I guess since it doesn't matter anymore, I think I can save you the trouble… Mr. Henry Gerald was with some of his co-workers at City Hall today. Apparently they were doing some last-minute tech upgrades for the mayor's office, or something. They were there when the bomb went off. He didn't make it."
Winnie felt her heart tumble to her feet. Hank is dead, too?!her thoughts screamed. Her mouth went dry, and she stared at Spencer as he wrapped up the call with Holleran.
"Thank you, Commander," Spencer said, "terrible day for us all, sir. I'm sorry for your losses. Good-bye."
The sergeant held onto the phone for a few moments, and then exhaled sharply before handing the receiver back to Winnie. "Thanks," he muttered.
"You're welcome," Winnie managed to say, though she knew her voice was barely audible.
"What a rotten day," Spencer said heavily, and rubbed the back of his head.
"Is it true?" Winnie asked, numb with shock. "Hank Gerald really died in the City Hall bombing?"
Spencer pursed his lips before answering. "Yeah," he replied ruefully. "You knew him, huh?"
A single tear slipped down Winnie's cheek, and she nodded her answer.
"Holleran told me what happened to Sabine," Spencer added. "It's a damned crazy coincidence, the two of them… Damned shame…" He let his voice fade to silence.
"Then… Neither of them had any idea," Winnie said with a dazed shake of her head. "At least they were spared that. At least they didn't have to go through that grief..." She was rambling now, and she knew it. But it was all just so incredibly awful, she couldn't help herself.
A new figure hurried towards the desk, and Winnie recognized Sidney. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Wins," he said in a rush. "You wouldn't believe how jammed up everything is. Roadblocks here; detours there; closures everywhere… Unbelievable!"
Winnie pulled off her headset and stood up quietly.
"Oh, sorry," Sid said, when he noticed Sergeant Spencer standing there. "Am I interrupting something?"
Spencer shook his said. "No, not at all," he uttered. "I was just leaving. Thank you, Ms. Camden. I'm sorry about your friends."
He turned and made for the exit, brushing past a perplexed Sidney.
"Are you okay, Winnie?" Sid asked gently, taking in her tearstained face.
"No," she answered slowly. "I'm not okay."
"Well, I'm here now, so why don't you just go right home and get some rest?" he suggested, trying to be helpful.
"Sid…" Winnie said miserably, her voice paper thin, "Donna and Jimmy were killed today… Sarge is fighting for his life… and… and that sergeant just came in here looking for Donna to tell her that Hank…" She could say no more; face crumbling.
"Hey, hey," Sid said, moving around the desk to get to her. "It's okay… you don't have to be embarrassed to cry around me. We're friends, right?"
Winnie allowed Sid to hold her for a few moments before breaking away. His touch was comforting, but it was not the one she desperately needed right then.
"Teams Two, Four, and Five are still debriefing," Winnie stated almost mechanically, not daring to meet Sidney's eyes, lest she see his concern and be pushed into deeper emotional distress. "Teams One and Three have been taken out of rotation. We're getting back-up from Peel, Durham, and Halton."
"I know the drill," Sid said softly. "Go on, Winnie; I know you want to get outta here."
She nodded and thanked him, leaving the desk and heading towards the locker rooms to wash her face and change into street clothes. The driving need to get to the hospital to be comforted by Spike consumed her and dominated every thought she processed as she navigated the disorder of the street traffic. Rationally, she knew he wouldn't be able to take away the emotional pain, but somehow, she sensed he'd be able to make it more tolerable.
The summer June sun still had a few hours to go before fully setting, but there was a dusty, hazy pall hanging over the city, filtering the natural light and giving a false sense of early twilight. Winnie was thankful that all traffic was being diverted away from the affected areas, so she would not have to see first-hand the carnage inflicted by the four bombs that had exploded. Still, the 'new' route to the hospital was a maddening series of detours which extended the travel time by nearly an hour. Everywhere, emergency personnel beside their vehicles were doing their utmost to keep some semblance of order and normalcy in a very abnormal set of circumstances.
Unsurprisingly, the hospital was a mass of activity and anxious faces of family members awaiting news about loved ones. Winnie already knew that Spike was with Leah, Jules and Sam on the third floor Trauma Unit waiting area, so she trudged on to a bank of elevators to reach them. Winnie didn't hate hospitals like some people did, but she didn't necessarily like them, either. Seven others squeezed into the elevator car with her, but she barely noticed them; didn't have the mental energy to spare on why they might be at the hospital and what they might be dealing with.
When the doors opened on the third floor, she hurriedly stepped out and followed the overhead signs that directed her to the Trauma Unit. Dozens of people lined the corridors, some sitting on the floors, others leaning against the wall, looking weary, worn-out and confused. It was all very depressing, and the collective mood hit her like a heat wave. She could almost sense their combined thoughts: How? How could this have happened to us and our city? Are we ever going to be okay again?
She swept her glance left and right as she continued along the ward, keeping an eye open for the distinctive uniforms of the SRU constables. It didn't take long. Leah and Spike were shoulder-to-shoulder against a wall next to a row of chairs, one of which was occupied by Sam with Jules nestled on his lap. Jules had her head against Sam's neck, eyes closed. It didn't look very comfortable, but at least she was able to sit, given the injury to her leg sustained when she was rescuing children from the daycare in the Health and Wellness Department building. Dean Parker and Marina Levin were next to them, quiet, unmoving. Marina looked haunted, blonde hair hanging over her puffy eyes and mouth pulled into a thin, taut line.
Winnie gazed at Spike. He was pensive, right thumb pressed to his upper lip while his left arm was wrapped around himself. Leah was staring ahead blankly, blinking every few seconds as if trying to stave off another round of tears. They were so silent, Winnie momentarily fretted that there had been bad news about the Sarge.
"Spike," she called softly.
The bomb expert looked up with a start, and relief washed over his face. "Hey, Winnie," he said, a warm smile creeping up on his exhausted face.
He stepped away from the wall and reached out for her. She allowed him to enfold her in his strong arms, not caring that others in the hall were eyeing them in a not-so-discreet fashion. The warmth of his body sent shivers down her spine, and she felt herself relaxing, enjoying the security of his embrace. Spike kissed the side of her face before pulling away. He left his hands on her shoulders and just kept staring at her lovingly. "Wow, are you ever a sight for sore eyes," he said with great tenderness. "I'm glad you came."
"Yeah, well, traffic was crazy," Winnie said, thinking it sounded horribly trite as soon as the words left her mouth. She was complaining about traffic when people were dead and others were fighting for their lives in this very hospital.
"I figured it would be," Spike commented. He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Leah, who had noticed her arrival and the display of affection, offered a friendly greeting. "Hey, Winnie," she said.
Winnie smiled and nodded at Leah, and sent a tiny wave to Sam, who gave her a brief nod in return. Jules stirred slightly, blinked and yawned. Sam moved carefully and let her stretch a little before she settled back again.
Dean looked over and mumbled a "Hey, Winnie" as well. Marina kept her silence.
"So, do we have any news about the Boss?" Winnie finally asked, almost afraid of the answer that might be forthcoming.
"Uh, no, we don't know anything new yet," Spike said gravely, "but it's bad. He got shot in the leg and the chest. They think the bullet punctured Greg's lung, and they're not sure how bad the damage is to his leg…"
"Well, he's got to pull through," Winnie said resolutely. "I mean, he has to, right?"
Spike rubbed her arm. "From your lips to God's ears," he said fervently.
"And Clark?" Winnie ventured to ask, hopeful for a positive answer.
"He's gonna be okay," Spike said, spirits buoyed momentarily by that one bright spot of news. "He got knocked around pretty bad. Ed and Sophie are with him right now in recovery. Poor kid has a broken wrist, leg… some cracked ribs and a concussion, but he's gonna make it."
Winnie breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad," she whispered. "What a nightmare for Ed and Sophie."
Spike nodded. "No kidding. You spend your whole career responding to other people's emergencies, all the while knowing there's a possibility that one day that emergency might be someone you know or someone you love…"
He bit his suddenly trembling lip, and Winnie knew he had to be thinking about Lewis and Donna.
"I was so worried for you today," Winnie said quietly, "for all of you, really, but especially you."
"Hey, I'm okay," Spike said soothingly, running a hand through her hair. "I'm here."
"I know," Winnie said, almost choking on a sob, "and I'm so grateful…"
Just then, a bleary-eyed Ed Lane approached their little gathering.
"Ed," Spike said, "what're you doing here?"
"Clark is stable and sleeping now," he replied wearily. "I'm here to check on the Boss; any news?"
"Nothing new," Leah answered with a heavy sigh.
Ed nodded and grunted. "Then I guess no news is good news, right?"
"We hope so," Spike offered, shrugging as he spoke.
Ed looked over at Sam and Jules. "Hell of a way to spend your wedding night," he said to them. "You two sure you want to be here? No one's going to think any less of you if you take off, y'know."
Sam shook his head. "No way," he said. "We're not going anywhere. The reception's been cancelled, anyway, so it's not like we have wedding guests to greet."
Jules opened her eyes. "This is the Sarge we're talking about," she stated resolutely. "Hospitals suck, but right now, there's nowhere else we should be."
"Okay," Ed said. "Sophie's gone home to get Izzy from the neighbours, but I told her I wanted to stick around – for Clark and Sarge. Sophie says that she's going to put her catering skills to good use to make sure all the SRU family members stay fed through all this, because hospital food sucks, and y'know, for Jimmy's widow… and Hank…"
Winnie stifled a moan. They didn't know about Hank yet. "Guys…" she started to say, and then halted as she felt herself starting to tremble. "Guys, before I left work, this sergeant came by… He was looking for Donna…"
Spike's jaw clenched involuntarily, and Leah frowned. Sam and Jules held each other a little tighter, while Ed scowled.
Winnie sucked in a breath before continuing. "The reason – the reason he was looking for her was to tell her that Hank was at City Hall… when that bomb went off…"
"You've gotta kidding me," Ed blurted out, incredulous. "Is he alright?"
Winnie shook her head vigorously. "No," she whispered, throat constricting.
"…And she was right there, at City Hall, looking for Clark," Leah said, her voice toneless.
"She didn't even know Hank was there, I guess." Winnie's conjecture was mournful.
Ed was fuming. "I've gotta say it: shooting that son-of-a-bitch was too good a death for him! Too good!"
By now, other people waiting in the halls were looking at Ed, chattering to each other about what was going on, but he paid them no heed.
"What happened today with those bombs… None of it was right, Ed," Leah said gently. "Faber's dead. I'm not going to waste another ounce of energy thinking about him, because he doesn't deserve it."
Ed's voice was low and full of pent-up fury. "And Donna and Hank and Jimmy and all the other people that bastard killed don't deserve to be dead! My son didn't deserve to be almost crushed to death in his own car! Greg didn't deserve to get shot!"
"Hey, it's okay, Ed," Spike said, trying to placate his team leader. "We know. We get it. We're all angry and we're all grieving. But Leah's right. Faber is dead, and thanks to you and the Boss, he'll never be able to kill again."
The tension gradually left Ed's body, and he expelled a lungful of air. "Sorry," he said gruffly.
"Never apologize for being truthful about your feelings, Ed," Jules spoke up, "especially with us."
Winnie looked over at Jules, still curled up on Sam's lap. It was so hard to believe that they were now married, and that the wedding had only occurred that morning. She was bitterly reminded that on the same day that Sam and Jules' married life began, Donna and Hank's ended.
One year, she thought. That's all they got to have as husband and wife.
"Do you think," Winnie began tentatively to Spike, "do you think if either Hank or Donna had survived… would they have thought the year they had together was worth it?"
"Absolutely," Spike answered without hesitation. "You don't pledge to spend the rest of your life with someone and measure its value based on how long that 'rest of your life' might be. You treasure it because it happened in the first place, whether it lasts a year, or ten, or fifty."
"I'm afraid I'll lose you," Winnie said quietly, so only he could hear. "This job… it's too risky."
"Life is risky," Spike countered, lowering his volume to match hers. "Hank wasn't a police officer, and look what happened, anyway. We don't know for sure how things are going to go. All that matters is that we make the most of the time we get to have together. I think Hank and Donna did that in the time they had."
In her mind's eye, Winnie could see the years stretching before her, making a life, a home, and a family with Michelangelo Scarlatti. It was a beautiful picture, and it brought a surge of joy to her heart just imagining how wonderful it would be.
"I just don't ever want to receive that notification from your commanding officer that you're not coming home, Spike," Winnie said passionately. "You see? You can't promise me that you'll always be safe."
"No, I can't," Spike admitted. "But I can promise you that for as long as I am safe, and that for as long as I am here, I'm going to love you, Winnie Camden."
"You really mean that," Winnie stated, caught off-guard by his very sincere confession.
"You know I do," Spike said, gazing at her wide-eyed expression. She looked surprised yet pleased, and he decided on the spur of the moment to kiss her. Her lips were soft, and he felt her yielding easily, reveling in the thrill of their closeness.
Leah was grinning widely when they finally pulled away, a very satisfied expression on her face.
"You two should really get a room," Sam piped up, smiling slyly.
"And that sounded a lot like a proposal, Spike," Ed added, smirking at the tech expert.
"I'd keep him, if I were you, Winnie," Jules said.
Winnie felt herself blushing, and noticed Spike doing the same. "Guys, you mind?" Spike said, chagrined.
"Not at all," Leah chortled. "You two have been dancing around each other long enough. After the day we've had, this is a good thing to see."
Spike nodded in agreement. "Okay, fine, but the show's over for now," he said.
"Oh, really?" Winnie asked, raising her eyebrows. "What was that about making the most of the time we have together?"
And she pulled him in for another kiss.
END
