Disclaimers: I don't own 'The Rookies' and it's highly unlikely that I ever will. So, I'll keep dreaming and writing.
Summary: Mike confronts the man who caused the accident. Dr. Conti explains to him just what he could be up against. The three guys take turns at Jill's bedside talking to her as they try to get a response from her. Jill comes out of the coma, but the outcome is worse than anybody could've imagined.
Chapter 3: Waiting for Jill to Wake Up
The following morning, Mike called the precinct and learned that Albert Cummings was being arraigned at 11 o'clock that morning. He was determined to be there. Since it was such a major story, he knew that all three local news stations would be there to cover it. He then called the hospital to check on Jill's condition. The nurse on the phone reported that she was still listed in critical condition and there had been no changes during the night. He then got dressed and drove to the courthouse, where he saw the media already lined up along the courthouse steps, microphones at the ready.
There were several other cases before the Cummings' case was called. "Docket number 74-1722, the People vs. Albert Cummings! Charges are vehicular homicide, attempted vehicular homicide, and driving while intoxicated!" The bailiff announced as Cummings and his lawyer stepped up to the lectern.
"How does your client plead?"
"Not guilty," Cummings answered in a monotone.
"How are the people on bail?"
"Your honor, the defendant is charged with multiple counts on both counts one and two of the charges. The people seek remand."
"Your honor, my client is a working man, who's supporting a wife and two young children. I can assure you that he'll show up for each and every hearing involving this matter," Cummings' lawyer promised.
"Bail is set at 250,000, cash or bond! Next case!" The judge banged his gavel as Cummings and his lawyer were led to the back of the courtroom to post bail.
Mike watched as Cummings signed a number of papers, wondering just who'd put up the money for him to get out of jail. After all, that was 25,000 dollars, a lot of money by anybody's stretch of the imagination. He wondered if whoever had posted was aware of just how serious the charges were. He then followed Cummings out into the corridor where news cameras immediately moved to capture him, the reporter's microphones shoved into his face as they tried to get a sound bite for the evening news.
"Mr. Cummings, did you think that you were drunk when you got behind the wheel of your truck?"
"He knew!" Mike called out as the reporters turned toward him. "He knew, but he just didn't give a damn!"
The reporters instantly realized that Mike was probably a family member of one of the victims. "What's your name, sir?" One of the reporters asked as they all approached him.
"Michael Danko. That's D-A-N-K-O. My wife is lying in a hospital bed at Memorial Hospital in critical condition thanks to the poor judgment of Mr. Cummings. This is a picture of my wife, Jill, before you decided to act stupid," Mike shouted at Cummings as he held up a picture of Jill in front of the cameras.
"Let's go," Cummings' lawyer shoved his client toward the elevators.
"Mr. Darcy, your client had better show up at every hearing!" Mike called out after them. "Because I'm going to be there, too!"
***MJMJMJ***
When he arrived at the hospital an hour later, Dr. Conti was in the process of leaving Jill's ICU room. "Can we go somewhere and talk before you go in to see Jill?"
"I don't know if I can take any more bad news."
"Then I'll try not to give you any," he took Mike's arm and led him down the hall to the waiting area. "I understand that you had some questions for me last night."
"Yeah, I don't understand this whole coma scale thing that everybody's talking about. I'm just a dumb cop. Medical stuff has always been Jill's forte, not mine," he gave a slight smile.
"The Glasgow Coma Scale rates a patient on three criteria. Eye Opening Response, which is rated on a scale of one to four; verbal response, which is rated on a scale of one to five; and motor response, which is rated on a scale of one to six. As you might guess, one is the lowest score. Yesterday afternoon, when Jill was brought in, she was registering a one on the eye opening and verbal responses, and a four on the motor response," the doctor explained as Mike tried to absorb what he was telling him.
"Is she any better today?"
"Slightly. Her eye opening and motor responses have both gone up one point. Her verbal response has remained the same. This isn't hopeless, Mr. Danko. I've had patients improve all of the time. The brain is a curious organ. It's shown that it's able to bounce back from injuries that we doctors would think were hopeless. Her recovery is going to depend on her will and on you."
"Me?"
"Yes, on how badly you want her to recover and how hard are you willing to work to bring her out of this comatose state."
"I've never been afraid of hard work. Jill is my life. I love her and I want her to wake up. I want that more than anything."
"Dr. Vargas said that she'll probably be moved into a regular hospital room early this afternoon. I want you and anybody else that you can recruit to sit by her bedside and start stimulating her brain. I want you to talk to her, read to her, play music for her. I want you to do whatever you have to do to try to get a response out of her. I'll warn you that it's going to be exhausting. Are you up for the challenge?"
"Doctor, I flew helicopters in Vietnam. I got shot down in enemy territory and almost died. If I can do that, I think that I can do anything. I need to clear some time off with my superiors, but I'll be here," Mike vowed.
***MJMJMJ***
Ryker was in his office that afternoon when Mike knocked on his door. "Come in!" He called out as Mike walked in. "You're just the man that I wanted to see. Sit!" He pointed to a chair in front of his desk.
"I need to schedule some time off to be with Jill, sir," Mike began as Ryker shoved a sheet of paper in front of him. "What's this, sir?"
"It's already been taken care of. Capt. Whitfield called the chief, who called me, and it's been arranged. How is she?" Ryker's tone always softened when he asked about Jill. It was no secret how fond he was of her.
"She's still unconscious, but her doctor seems to think that if we sit by her beside and talk, she'll come out of it," he said as he signed the papers.
"Do you need any help?"
"I need everybody's help," Mike looked at his boss and friend. "Put the word out. I need anybody who's available."
"Danko, I saw you on the noon news," Ryker said without preamble as Mike sighed. "You need to stay away from Albert Cummings. His lawyer has already called the chief to complain that you're harassing his client."
"I wasn't harassing him—"
"Danko, stay away from him," Ryker warned. "Let the courts take care of him. Go be with your wife."
***MJMJMJ***
Mike returned to the hospital and his place at Jill's bedside. The bruises from the night before looked even worse today. She was receiving oxygen by mask and there was an IV running through her right hand, which was tied to a board to keep it straight. He stared at the different monitors which were constantly beeping. He couldn't help noticing two round white discs sticking to either side of her forehead and wondered what they were for.
He was lightly stroking her right hand when one of the nurses came in. She checked the monitors and pushed a few buttons before making notations on Jill's chart. "Jill, can you hear me? I need for you to open your eyes!" She shouted at her as she reached down and pinched her collarbone as hard as she could, as Mike winced. She then moved to the end of the bed and ran her pen along the bottom of her feet before making another note on the chart.
"Excuse me?" Mike called out as she finished her examination. "Why'd you do what you did? Why'd you pinch her and what was that thing that you were doing to her feet?"
"The pinch was to check her reaction to pain. The stimuli to her feet is to check for posturing, which is something that we don't want to see," she answered as she continued writing.
"I don't understand. What's posturing?" Mike felt as if he'd just plunged down the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland.
"It's a sign of severe brain damage. If she holds her arms and legs straight out and her head and neck arch when perform the reflex test on her feet, that's posturing. In her case, it would be a sign of bleeding on the brain," the nurse patiently explained.
"One more question and I'll let you get back to work. What're those things on her head?"
"It's measuring for brain swelling. You can hold her right hand if you want, but be careful of the IV," the nurse smiled as she started to leave the room.
"Can I put her rings back on her finger?"
"Why don't you wait a few days? That way, if she does have to have more surgery, we won't have to take her rings back off and give them back to you."
"Okay."
He gingerly picked up her fingers in his hand, being careful of the IV. He didn't know what to say, so he just sat there gently rubbing her ice cold fingers in his. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath.
He was still sitting there when Jill's friend, Jackie, walked in. "Hi, Linda said that you were here. She's breathing on her own, Mike. That's a good sign. It means that her brain stem wasn't injured."
"How long will she be on oxygen?"
"I don't know. Maybe another day or two. Is there anything else that you want to know?"
"I don't know what to say. How stupid is that? Normally, I can to talk to Jill for hours and never run out of words to say to her. Now here I am, and I can't think of a damn thing to say," he sighed as he wearily rubbed his face.
"Talk to her about silly stuff. Talk to her about stuff that only means something to the two of you. Bring a book or a newspaper or her favorite music. Believe me when I tell you that she'll hear you, Mike. You might not believe it because you can't see it, but she's in there. It's just that right now she's so far in there that she can't reach out to us," Jackie squeezed his shoulder. "I have to get back to work. Page me if you need anything."
"I will. Thanks, Jackie. Well baby, Jackie says that you're in there somewhere. I'm about to call you something that you hate just to see if I can get a rise out of you. Jilly, you need to wake up. Open up those huge brown eyes and look at me. Give me that look that's only meant for me. You know the one that I'm talking about. Wake up and remind me of what a pest I am."
In the deep recesses of her injured brain, Jill could hear a voice. But she couldn't move anything to let the owner of the voice know that she could hear it. Nothing seemed to want to work. She kept hearing people shouting at her and hurting her, but she couldn't find the voice to tell them to stop. She couldn't let them know that she just wanted to be left alone. All she felt were sharp pokes, pinches, and the never-ending cold. It was so cold that she wanted to shout at one of these people to please bring her a blanket. She didn't understand why her voice couldn't speak or why her arms and legs didn't want to move. She felt as if she was encased in cement. Finally, there was total blackness, and she didn't hear or feel anything.
Terry took over for Mike that evening so that Mike could go home and get some rest, although he knew that his good friend wouldn't sleep much. He knew that he'd probably be back up here in three or four hours, wanting to be with her.
"Well Jill, here we are," Terry said as he pulled a chair up at her bedside. "What should we talk about this evening? Oh, I've got it. We can talk about your favorite subject. Mike's so worried about you, babe," he used Mike's favorite name for her. "He wants you to wake up so badly. He wants you to start arguing with him. Or better yet, wake up and start arguing with me."
Jill had been hearing the different voices for several hours now, and they were beginning to irritate her. She just wanted all of them to shut up and let her sleep.
Terry was surprised when her hand suddenly struck out and hit the rail on the bed. He rang for a nurse and explained what had happened. "Has she done that before?"
"It's probably an involuntary muscle spasm. I'll page the doctor and see if he'll order restraints so that she doesn't hurt herself," the nurse left the room.
"Jill, I know that movement wasn't involuntary," Terry told her as soon as the nurse had left. "What're you trying to tell me? If you can hear me, please squeeze my hand."
Jill could feel someone's hand in hers and she heard the request, but she couldn't make the voice understand that she couldn't make her body do anything. She didn't know how she could make this voice understand that nothing in her body worked. She was beginning to feel as if she was trapped in a nightmare from which there was no waking up.
"Come on, Jill, squeeze my hand. Or at least press down against it. I know that you can do that much. You can do anything that you set your mind to."
Jill thought that maybe the voice was right. She couldn't make a fist to squeeze her hand, but maybe she could press down against it. She squeezed hard against the hand that was still holding hers. "That's it, Jill. That's great," he smiled as he felt a slight pressure against his hand. It had been feather light, but it was better than nothing at all. "I knew that you could come back to us."
The doctor walked in, followed by a nurse. He strapped leather restraints around both of Jill's wrists and attached them to the bed rails. He then went through all of the tests that the nurses had been doing all along. "The restraints will keep her from further injuring herself," the doctor explained as he then turned and left the room.
Jill wanted to scream for them to remove the restraints. She didn't like being restrained. She'd been in this position before, but she couldn't quite remember when. Where was her voice and why couldn't she say anything?
***MJMJMJ***
Willie had the late night shift; arriving at the hospital shortly after eight that evening. "Why is she restrained?" He asked Terry when he came into the room.
"She was banging her hand on the rail. The doctor was worried that she'd hurt herself or knock out her IV. Just talk to her about anything. Mike will be here in the morning," Terry said as Willie sat down in his vacated chair.
"Hi, Jill. It's me," he began, unsure of what he was supposed to say. "It looks like I get the night shift. Maybe we could watch some Carson later. I'm sorry that they have you tied to the bed like this."
She heard yet a third strange voice and wondered what was going on. A third voice that was going to sit there and talk gibberish when all she wanted to do was sleep. All of these voices and these people poking and pinching her were interrupting her sleep. At least someone had at last had the courtesy to put an extra blanket on her.
***MJMJMJ***
At the apartment, Mike was watching TV when the doorbell rang. He walked over and looked through the peephole before opening the door and letting Terry in. "Come on in. Do you want a beer?" Mike offered as he walked back toward the living room.
"No, thanks. I just wanted to let you know before you go back to the hospital in the morning that they restrained Jill's wrists this afternoon. She was hitting her hand against the bed rail," Terry explained as Mike made a face. "What's wrong?"
"She doesn't like being restrained. I can't even pin her down in fun. I made the mistake of doing it once and I never did it again."
"But, I do have good news. She responded to a command. I asked her to press my hand. I barely felt it, but she responded," Terry smiled as Mike smiled broadly back.
"Jackie's right. She is in there somewhere."
***MJMJMJ***
The next morning, Mike took his place at Jill's bedside. "Hey, I heard that you pressed Terry's hand yesterday. Do you think that you can repeat that performance?"
Jill was so tired of these voices. She'd do anything they asked if they'd just leave her alone and go away. It was hard to move her hand, especially with the added restraints, but she somehow managed to make her index finger work as she pushed it into the palm of the disembodied voice.
"That's beautiful, babe," he smiled. "I love you so much." Just then, she moaned and moved her head toward the sound of his voice. "Jill, can you hear me? Come on, baby, open your eyes."
Just then, Dr. Conti walked in. "How's our patient doing this morning?"
"She just made a noise and she moved her head toward my voice. She also touched my hand when I asked her to. That's good, isn't it?"
"It could be very good, but it also might not mean anything," the doctor answered mysteriously as he checked the monitors. "I'm going to cut her oxygen and try to get her off of the mask. She seems to be breathing better than she was yesterday."
"Is there anything more that you can tell me?"
"Mr. Danko, I'm not going to know how much brain damage there is until Jill regains consciousness and I'm able to run tests. And if the signs that you're telling me are true, that could be today or it might be a week from today. Just keep doing what you and your friends are doing and I'll take care of the rest."
"Wow, that didn't sound very encouraging, did it?" He asked out loud after the doctor stepped out. "But I know you better than he does. I know that you have the soul of a warrior and you're going to come out of this and tell all of those doctors a thing or two, aren't you, baby?"
Several days passed without any significant change in Jill's condition. Except for the fact that she was now breathing room air, there was no other change in her condition. She remained unconscious and there was still no response to commands.
One afternoon, several days later, Terry was taking his shift at Jill's bedside. He was reading to her from the Los Angeles Times, commenting on different articles, when he had the feeling that he was being watched. He lowered the newspaper to find Jill's dark brown eyes burning into his. But there was something different. It was as if there was no recognition in them. "Jill? Let me go get the doctor. I'll be right back."
Dr. Conti came running into the room a few minutes later. "Well, welcome back, young lady," he smiled as he took out a penlight and shined it into her eyes. "Follow the light with your eyes and not your head. Do you understand me? Just your eyes. Perfect."
She didn't know who all of these people were or why they were looking at her as if she was a circus freak. She yanked furiously at the leather restraints on her wrists. She tried to tell them to take them off, but no sound would come out of her mouth.
"Jill, calm down," the doctor urged as he put his hands on her wrists, which were tugging at the bed rails with a vengeance. "Nurse, give me point five milligrams of Valium."
"I'm going to go call her husband," Terry said as the doctor nodded.
Mike was watching TV when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Mike, it's me," Terry's voice came over the line. "Jill just regained consciousness."
"I'll be there in 20 minutes," Mike slammed down the phone before Terry could say anything further.
When he arrived at the hospital, Terry was standing outside of Jill's room. "The doctor had to sedate her," Terry told him. "She became very upset about the restraints. He said that he'll be out to talk to you in a few minutes."
"Has she said anything?"
"No. Mike, something's wrong," Terry looked shaken as Mike stared at him. "Her eyes. It was as if she was staring right through me. I don't think she knew who I was."
"Mr. Danko," Dr. Conti stepped out of her room. "Let's go over here and talk."
"What's going on? Terry said that Jill's awake and now you've sedated her."
"I had to. She became extremely agitated and I was afraid that she'd hurt herself. She'll be awake shortly. She was unable to speak, Mr. Danko."
"Is this permanent?"
"I don't know. Now that she's regained consciousness, I'll get her started in therapy to regain whatever it is that she's lost. She was trying to talk, but the words just wouldn't come out. I think that sounds might come in the days ahead, but I can't make any promises. She did seem to understand what I was saying to her, which is a very encouraging sign."
"Can I go and sit with her?"
"Of course."
Mike could see the physical change in her appearance the minute that he walked into the room. She seemed much more relaxed, much more at peace. He sat down and touched her hand, which was still restrained to the bed. "I hear that you woke up for Terry. Was he making one of his famous speeches? I need for you to wake up for me, baby."
She slowly blinked her eyes opened and turned them in the direction of the voice. She tried to focus on the man who was sitting beside her bed. A million questions started going through her head as she stared at him. Who was this stranger? Where was Cleve? And what had she done to end up in this hell?
A/N: I realized as I was writing this that part of it are similar to 'The Hero Always Comes in Riding a White Horse.' I promise that the similarities end with the next chapter,
