"A Question of Acceptance"
by Cardinal Robbins
Disclaimer: John's not mine, but Sarah sure is.
This is a challenge response to the word 'acceptance.'
John Munch sat at the dining room table in Sarah Zelman's apartment, taking a sip of Chardonnay as they finished dinner. He toyed with his fork, his head down. John sighed and finally loosened his tie, a cue he was ready to unwind from the stresses of the day.
"Something on your mind?" Sarah asked softly, wondering what he was thinking.
He took off his glasses for a moment, rubbing his eyes. "Ever think about getting shot?"
"Yeah, all the time," she admitted. "That's why I bank my own blood. Donors are a scarce commodity when you're O-negative. Mercy General is my biweekly lunch date, but you know that." She considered their day and couldn't recall any one thing that would cause him to wonder, aside from the obvious. "Cops get shot, John. Hazard of our job – we've both been shot before. It happens." She wasn't being cavalier, but she knew deep down he'd take it that way.
"I realize it's a fact, but lately it's been on my mind more than it usually is," he admitted, looking at her squarely for the first time since they sat down to teriyaki salmon and fried rice. "Banking your blood is a good idea. Fin is pretty happy you do it," he said.
"Hey, it's there for anyone in the squad who might need it," Zelman replied. "My type is the 'universal donor,' remember?" After she'd been shot the first time, during her career with the FBI, her supervisor had recommended she bank her own red cells on a regular basis. It had been sage advice, especially after the events of September eleventh.
John gave her a look, feeling as if she was trying to sidestep the issue. "It only works if you can get to the hospital in time, Sarah. To the right hospital – it has to be Mercy." He stared into the light amber liquid in his wine glass, as if it held an answer for him. "That's what concerns me most." There. It was out. He'd said it at last and he watched as she kept her face studiously blank.
She thought for a moment then nodded. "It bothers me, too, every time I hear an 'officer down' call. I always wonder where you're at…if you're safe." She played with a few grains of rice on her plate, wishing she could think of the words that would magically ease his mind. "We've talked this through before. We can't do anymore than we already do, John. We grab the Kevlar every time we have a dangerous situation."
"Do we use the vests often enough?" he asked, putting his glasses on once more. "Or do we simply take it for granted we'll have enough prescience to know when we should?" He reached forward and took her hand, his finger tracing across the blue topaz ring she wore when they were away from the Sixteenth, a Hanukkah gift he'd given her the year before.
"I can't answer the question, John," she admitted slowly. "It's more a question of acceptance for us, isn't it?" She looked deep into his dark brown eyes, wishing she could allay his concern. "We have to put it out of mind, so we can do our job, I guess."
He interlaced his fingers in hers for a moment, silently searching for the right words. "You've got a point," he said softly. "But acceptance isn't a workable solution as far as I'm concerned. It's too easy, Sarah – it's a potentially lethal dichotomy. We're supposed to reduce it down to merely 'acceptance'?"
"You're right…" She shrugged elaborately, unsure of what to say. "I can't offer you anything to change your mind. All I can say is, we have to keep the risks in perspective."
"Or they'll consume us," he asserted, "when it's better the cases and the victims get that privilege." He swirled the wine in his glass and took a long sip, before blowing out a long, resigned sigh. "Acceptance and perspective. Here's to both," he said wryly, clinking his glass against hers.
"Better yet, John, let's forget about death for a moment," she offered, touching her glass to his again. "L'chayim," she said simply.
He nodded. "L'chayim," he repeated gently, in the hope they would be able to say that to each other for a very long time to come.