Hi everyone! So here's another oneshot from 'Bad Moon Rising' which was one of the best RB episodes I've seen yet (excluding the engagement scene, but that was somehow still awkwardly funny). The final scene of Sam and Jo sitting together in the hallway was really depressing, and it was begging me to write a short story for it, so I did.
As always, please review, I really do live for them. Getting notices in my inbox is always a great thing to come home too. Hope you all enjoy!
The hospital coffee was so awful Sam had to practice considerable self control not to spit it back out into the cup. With a sideways glance he saw Rosati raise her own coffee cup that he had brought her to her lips, and he waited for the grimace to grace her features. Instead, she swallowed, not even a shadow of disgust passing over her face.
It really wasn't surprising to him at all that her functions, including taste, had more or less been shoved to the back of her mind, leaving the guilt, sorrow, pain, and fear to run rampant. She had been steadily crying for the past hour, silently, with no sobs, just tears. It was one of the worst feelings in the world, having your partner shot, and he knew first-hand from a couple past experiences, including the one involving McNally three weeks ago.
But there was something else in Rosati's sorrow, something else that breached the friendly professionalism realm into another one altogether. He knew from water cooler talk that she and Callaghan had been an unstoppable team back at their old precinct, both in the field...and in other things. He also knew from his short conversation with her the night after McNally had been shot that she still carried a torch for the blond detective. And, if he was right in deciphering body language (and he almost always was), then Callaghan still carried, if not a torch, then at least a match, for her as well.
A shaky breath drew him out of his contemplation and, with another sideways glance, saw that fresh tears were making their way down her already wet cheeks.
Ah, crap. There were things that needed to be said by him and things that needed to be heard by her that he really didn't relish saying, but he might not have another opportunity to talk to her in private. Plus, she was in an extremely fragile emotional state, and as much as he hated taking advantage of that, now was as good a time as any to have the talk; better, probably, since the emotional walls she had no doubt constructed over the years were down and therefore she was more susceptible to letting him say things that might be considered inappropriate at any other time.
He placed a hand on her knee. "Rosati, let's go for a walk."
Her initial refusal was expected, but she eventually agreed through his gentle cajoling. From his (long-over) days with Monica, he knew the hospital well, and they ended up in an empty corridor surrounded by rooms of comatose patients.
He stood facing her, bending his knees slightly in an effort to appear level with her, something he always did with flighty witnesses. He smiled, his eyes crinkling around the corners, another thing that put flighty witnesses at ease, and it appeared, in her emotionally wrecked state, that Rosati was receptive of the same tactics.
"How are you doing?" he asked softly, furrowing his brow. She breathed in deeply, still shaky.
"My partner got shot. I'm not so great."
"Your partner - he's going to be fine." He stood there, arms at his sides, trying to gauge her next response. A short silence followed before she spoke again.
"You have no idea how I feel."
"Yeah, I do. I've had partners shot before."
"No, I really don't think you know how I feel."
"Yeah, I do." He raised his eyebrows, nodding his head slightly.
"Swarek, you don't."
"Yeah. I do. Rosati, I really do." Another short silence followed, ending in the woman's eyes widening almost imperceptibly.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"You - "
"No need to say it out loud, Rosati, it hurts enough already."
"I guess today was bad for you too, then."
"You have no idea."
"Yeah, I really do." Sam was rewarded by a small, tight smile and a half breath, half laugh from her. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"You need to understand something, Jo. McNally and Callaghan are getting married, okay? They're engaged. No matter what your feelings are, or how deep they go, you need to accept that fact."
"Why?" He realized her question wasn't in response to what he had just said, but rather in response to the reason behind why he was saying these things.
"Because I care for McNally, and while I'm not a huge fan of Callaghan, I do care about you. Kind of."
"Taking me home from the Penny last week because I was too drunk to drive does not constitute a friendship, Swarek."
"It was three times, Rosati, and you are a very chatty drunk."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Anyways, when Callaghan wakes up, he's going to need McNally to be his fiancee, and you to be his partner. Nothing more, nothing less. He's going to need you to be there to get him coffee, to help him around the office when he gets back, to be the sharp tongued, fearless detective who he solves cases with. He cares for you, Rosati, I can tell. He also cares for McNally. They have a good thing going. So do you two, but it's a different good thing. Don't get the two confused."
"That's the most depressing thing anyone's ever said to me in a hospital."
"Count yourself lucky. I've heard far worse."
"And you've just accepted all of this?"
"I'm still working on it. You good to go back now?"
"Yeah." She stood rooted on the spot though, her eyes still locked with his.
"Rosati, Callaghan's going to be fine. Okay? He's going to be fine."
"Yeah. Okay."
They walked back to the waiting area and retook their seats in the hallway.
"Your coffee's cold," he said, motioning to the cup still in her hand.
"It's really bad coffee."