Suburban Deception-Chapter 8
So here we go, I'm seeing maybe one of two more chapters to give you guys an estimate (I'll see how it flows, this might be the last one). Thanks for reading, especially Taboo-Hearts, thanks for all the kind words of encouragement. Really helped motivate me to finish it up tonight. I own nothing.
The first thing he noticed was that the ticking of the clock was obnoxiously loud; loud to the point of driving any sane individual to insanity in an instant. That was his first thought, then he actually began to remember. It came back in a rush, chronologically, (it would have been confusing if otherwise). I was running, oh that call sucked, and then , gunshots, house, Eric, those bruises, oh shit! He opened his eyes and bolted up out of the bed only to be floored again by the searing pain in his shoulder and the dizziness that flooded his head.
"Easy there cowboy," a gentle hand fell onto his uninjured shoulder, both supporting him and holding him down. When he stopped grinding his teeth in pain, he opened his eyes to see Greg standing over him with his unforgettable multi-emotion expression. Wordy looked at his face. He could tell Greg was relieved that he was awake, but he could also see anger, or maybe that was frustration (Greg always told them there was a difference) and there was also a hint of pride. "Congratulations, Docs said that you set a new record," Greg said with a slight scowl on his face,
"In what?" Wordy asked weakly, seeing how the conversation was going to play out.
"Blood loss." Greg said bitterly. Wordy gave a quick nod, understanding what Greg was telling him. "What you did was really stupid Kevin." Greg said with a serious expression. Kevin, god this is just like when I was sent to the principal's office...at least he doesn't know my middle name, that would be even worse. Wordy thought, trying to bring humor to the situation, he never remembered seeing Greg this seriously angry.
"How's Eric?" Wordy asked, desperately wanting to change the conversation. Greg decided to back down for a little while and give Wordy the information before he went back to lecturing him.
"He's okay. He gave Ed the gun and ran over to you the minute you closed your eyes. He said that you were probably the closest thing he had to a father. He's in the psych ward now." Greg saw the Wordy's confused look. "He was badly abused, you knew that, but the scars on his arms and wrists were self-inflicted. he was cutting himself to cope with everything. It was a tough life, the abuse wasn't only physical, his father had been breaking him down emotionally, caving him in, making it impossible for him to get out by himself." Greg paused as he helped Wordy drink from the cup of water left by his bed. "Things escalated tonight, it was the first time that Dad had hit Ryan, seems that he was evaluated at school and he's dyslexic. Dad likes perfection and apparently learning disabilities throw off his view." Greg stopped as Wordy leaned back into the bed.
"You're not okay Wordy, are you?" Greg asked with sympathetic eyes. Wordy let out a slight laugh.
"You'd probably know better than me Sarge, I mean I'm sure you were badgering them at the desk the entire surgery and I'm sure that the Doc briefed you when he was done." Wordy knew that this was not the answer Greg was looking for, but he didn't want to think about the alternative.
"I'm not talking physical Wordy." Greg said gently. Wordy looked away for the first time since he woke up and stayed quiet for a moment. He knew that Greg would wait for hours if he had to, so he decided to talk now and get it over with.
"I had to same him." Wordy said simply, looking at Greg with a pained expression. Greg nodded, understanding the words themselves, but looking for the meaning behind them.
"You do your best to save everyone though Wordy. This kid was different because of the abuse, it was horrific and, let's face it, families and domestic violence have a special meaning to you, a unique, emotional meaning. But why tonight Wordy, why all the risks? You should have been at home sleeping, it was a long day." Wordy cringed a little at that statement, bringing back the memories from the earlier call, the slight twitch did not escape Greg. "So that was it, it was the call that threw you over. You couldn't save them Wordy, none of us could." Greg said with a firm voice.
The call came flowing back to him. It was a family, three kids, two parents, 'all around good people' the neighbors told them. No one realized though, that the mother was in the middle of a bipolar mania, being off her medication for three weeks. Her delusions had grown worse until she killed her husband with the gun he bought to protect them. They were called in after the first shot. Greg was negotiating (or trying to), Spike was in the truck, Sam and Jules were trying to find a way in to the basement in the case of an aggressive entry, but they were having trouble figuring out a way to keep the kids out of the line of fire. That left Ed and Wordy covering Greg. She had her kids with her, all of them kneeling on the floor of the basement, a gun to the older girls head, the younger boy in front of her, shielding her. Greg was mid-sentence when the first shot went off, surprising all of them. Greg called for the boy to come to him as the daughter fell to the ground, dead. The boy tried to break free, but before either Ed or Wordy could get an angle without hitting the boy, the mother had killed him. Ed got a shot off as she began to aim the gun at Greg and killed her on impact. The memories came flooding back as Wordy tried to hold his tears.
"I should have been able to save them." Wordy's voice cracked as he tried to explain. "I had a better angle than Ed, I should have been able to anticipate the first shot, she never should have been able to shoot the boy. I should have taken the kill shot right there." Tears had leaked from Wordy's eyes as he at least tried to control his breathing, which was growing ragged.
"Look at me Wordy." Greg said firmly as Wordy tried to look away and hide his tears. "Kevin, look at me." This time Wordy looked up and saw Greg's warm eyes and comforting face. "It was not your fault. It was nobody's fault but the subject's. There is nothing you could have done and there is nothing you can do now. So you need to stop doing stupid things and taking stupid risks in the effort to save other people." Greg paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "You've got something great going Wordy, you're pretty much the only guy on the force with a wife and kids who don't hate you for what you do and you need to stop making me call them to tell them that you're hurt or you're in danger. It's not fair to them Wordy, and it's not fair to you either. You can't keep holding yourself to impossible standards of perfection, it'll kill you one of these days." Greg finished, nearly teary himself.
Wordy didn't know what to say, partially because he knew Greg was right about everything, mostly because he was falling asleep from the exhaustion that had suddenly overcome him. "Oh not you don't," Greg said as he dipped his fingers into the cup of water and gently started flicking the water onto Wordy's face. "I know you need your rest and all, but you are not allowed to fall asleep yet because I swore to Shelly and three little girls out there that the minute their Daddy woke up they could run in here and give you a hug. I am not going back on my promise." Greg said with a smile as he got up and went to the door. "Shelly," he whispered. She sprang up, making all the girls jump out of their seats and run in. Wordy was energized by their presence.
"Hey!" He said as happily as he could muster. Greg lifted each of them onto the side of the bed, telling them to be careful of the wires. "Hey sweethearts, Daddy's going to be okay, alright? Don't you guys worry, I'll be good as new in no time." He said reassuringly. Shelly leaned over and kissed him. "I'm sorry honey." He said quietly, she nodded, it was obvious she hadn't slept in a while.
"Daddy?" Claire asked cautiously.
"Yeah Princess, what's up?" He asked looking at her gently.
"Uncle Greg says you were being a cowboy...what does he mean?" She asked innocently. Wordy smiled and looked up at Greg, who shrugged his shoulders with a smile.
"Uncle Greg, do you care to explain?" He asked sarcastically.
"I think that's more in your realm of your parental duty Dad, I'm just the cool uncle." Greg laughed.
"Gunshot wound, record blood loss, you're up." Wordy said pointing to his shoulder jokingly.
"Or maybe it's the really cool uncle's job to explain." Ed's voice came from the door and the whole team was standing there, Ed holding extra cups of coffee and juice.
"I like that option." Wordy said as he leaned back in the bed and closed his eyes listening to the sounds of his family (immediate and extended) talk and laugh, reminisce and bicker, support and love.
That's all she wrote. She meaning me and wrote meaning...well wrote...for this story, for tonight. Hope you liked it. Hope you'll leave me some feedback. Hope everyone else will be blessed with a snow day tomorrow (today I guess), and if it's not an official snow day for us, I'm playing hokey (at least from my 9:40 AM class)! Night all, and thanks.
