Sacred Heart Hospital, Woodbridge: Monday: 1/15/07: 11:57 a.m.
Cheryl couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the idea that it had been five days since she sent Matt and Emily down here. Somehow it felt both like it had and hadn't been that long ago at the same time. It felt like the last five days had been so much longer, so much harder than any she had previously experienced. All this in only five days? It seemed impossible. Several people were dead, her two best negotiators were still in the hospital, one still unconscious, they were being sued, the Bureau was investigating their actions, Cheryl was on notice. All that in just five days? Was it really possible that everything could fall to hell so quickly?
At the same time it felt like yesterday that she woken them up and demanded they get themselves to Sunset Grove. That it became clear they were in the same bed, that she expected that and didn't care. That she called them demanding to know why the hell they hadn't gotten to the scene yet, and they'd grumbled about farm country. It especially felt like yesterday that she'd gotten a call from the Woodbridge police, describing the carnage they found, her negotiators among it. In some twisted, David Fincher sort of way, it felt like she'd been walking through a disturbingly realistic nightmare, one that wouldn't stop.
It wouldn't stop because she'd just gotten a call from Alex, the agent with the OPC, who announced that they'd finished with the tapes and statements of the surviving troopers. Yes, Emily's story was confirmed by the tape, no it gave no indication of the two behaving unprofessionally. As for the troopers, they hadn't paid a whole lot of attention to the negotiators, but none had seen anything unprofessional. Sure the two negotiators seemed friendly, but who wasn't friendly with their partner? No, this didn't clear the agents. D.C. was sending three very experienced negotiators from Dallas, New York, and Las Vegas to analyze the scene.
They wanted a statement from Matt, if he ever woke up. Yes, if. He was still unconscious, and whenever she spoke to the doctors their looks weren't encouraging. In fact, they were the opposite, the tight lipped, sad-eyed, sympathetic looks they tend to give as they shake their heads and explain that now it's just a waiting game. Fuck the waiting game, she just wanted him to open his eyes. She was getting tired of making sure she and Lia weren't alone with Emily, because she knew Emily wouldn't ask anybody except them about Matt. They didn't want to tell her that Matt wasn't awake, and that the doctors couldn't definitively say he would.
But, Cheryl had just spoken to Emily's doctor; she was doing great, healing nicely. He even said it would be good to allow her in a wheelchair for a short while. Wonderful. It wasn't that she wasn't thrilled her friend was getting better, it just meant that she had to keep her promise. Keeping that promise meant telling Emily about Matt, and Cheryl had been avoiding further discussions on her former partner since the last she'd had with Emily, two days ago. She could tell that her strong, brazen negotiator had struggled not to cry, and Cheryl knew this time would be different only in that Emily might not succeed in that struggle.
"Hey." Cheryl announced herself as she pushed in the door to Emily's room, where her friend sat alone, staring out the window.
"You realize we're alone now?" Emily asked turning toward her, smirking.
"Noticed the dodging, did you?" she asked, coming to stand by Emily's bed.
"I'm not stupid Cheryl, and you and Lia weren't always subtle about it."
"I know you aren't, and I know you know why we were doing it."
Emily nodded. "How bad is he?"
"The doctors haven't said much. He hasn't woken up, not even to blink an eye. They don't know why he hasn't, or if he even will at this point." She'd taken Emily's hand as she delivered the news.
"And I suppose the longer he's out, the less likely he'll come back?"
"Yeah…But, I have good news. You're doctor says it's alright for you to get out of that bed for a bit."
"I can see him now?" Emily's voice wavered for the first time in the conversation.
"Yeah, as soon as the nurse get here with a wheelchair."
Emily closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the pillow, a sad relief washing over her. It wasn't long before her feelings performed a 180 and a tears slipped down her cheek. She was relieved sure, but she was also terrified. Matt was in the room right next door to hers, he was so close, but he'd felt so far away. She hadn't seen him since the shootout, she hadn't been able to picture him as he was next door. Emily hadn't really accepted how bad he was, she couldn't because she couldn't see him to force herself to believe it. It was still just Matt, with that thick head of hair that resembled a six year-old who just rolled out of bed, and that teasing smile that if she wasn't careful, could bring her to her knees. She didn't know if she was ready to see him any other way, ready to face that reality.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, fine, just…just ready to wake up from this." Cheryl nodded her agreement, just as harassed looking nurse came into the room with a wheelchair.
"Hi there, are you ready to get in this chair honey?" Her name tag said Betty, and she sounded exhausted.
"Uh, yeah, what about the…?" Emily gestured to IV tubes.
"Just give me a second." She moved two bags from the railing, one large and one much smaller, and moved them to the pole attached to the back of the chair.
"Okay, now you can just scootch over towards me, and we'll ease you into this chair." Emily did as she was told, and it was only with a little difficulty and pain she managed to get into the chair.
"Thank you."
"No problem sweetheart, you're one of the few on this floor that behaves. I like you. Are you going with her?" Betty turned to Cheryl.
"Yes, we're just going next door."
"Oh, to see Matt?"
"Yeah…" Emily and Cheryl looked surprised at the nurse.
"Ladies, hospitals aren't as exciting as the TV shows them; we always remember the cute ones, even if they are sleeping." She gave them a wink.
"Oh, I can't wait to tell him that," Cheryl laughed.
If he wakes up, Emily immediately thought, a lump planting itself in her throat at the thought.
"By that look on your face, I'm guessing he's yours?" Betty addressed Emily, whose facial expression matched her thoughts.
Emily nodded as Cheryl took possession of the chair's handles, and started to guide her out.
"You've got her then?"
"Yes, we'll be fine," Cheryl assured the nurse. Emily felt like a child.
Emily began counting in her head as Cheryl directed her to the door, trying to calm herself for what was about to come. It wasn't working well. The door to Matt's room was open, and the trip there wasn't long enough. Emily saw him as soon as they got near, and the horror built inside her the closer they got. Cheryl parked her alongside Matt's bed, and waited, watching her a minute to make sure she wasn't going to panic.
"I'm going to get some coffee, I'll be back a little later." Satisfied, she patted Emily's hand and left the room, closing the door behind her, and peering through the window once to convince herself, before heading for the cafeteria.
Emily could feel her heart beating in every vein in her body, and struggled to swallow the feeling of a giant lump blocking her throat. Matt was resting on his back, eyes closed, face pale, and nearly swallowed by the tube down his throat. It almost looked like somebody had shoved a vacuum hose down his throat, and taped in there. The IV line led from the back of his hand to pole holding three bags, of what, she had no idea. Wires led from where they were monitoring his vitals, and boxy machines surrounded the head of the bed, with a few screens positioned above her head.
It wasn't the machines that unnerved her, she'd had enough in her room the last few days, they had become normal. It was how pale he was, as if every bit of color had drained from his body, and with it, every ounce of his life. His skin, his lips, his hands, he didn't look real. He looked like a wax figure, like they use to show the dead in movies and TV. He didn't look alive, and she was terrified to touch him. She was afraid he'd feel cold and waxy, that he would be as fake as he looked. With a considerable amount of trepidation, Emily reached her hand out, and at first, just brushed it softy against his.
She was struck by the tiniest sensation of heat from a source other than her own body. Slightly relieved, she reached her hand out again, and slowly wrapped it around his. She brought her other hand up, and with both brought his hand against her body. He wasn't cold, he wasn't waxy; he was warm, and he was alive. She placed a kiss upon his hand, and still holding it in one hand, she brought the other to his face, brushing away the hair that had fallen across his closed eyes. Then like the end of a draught, her bloated tears ducts erupted, the product of her emotions spilling down her cheeks.
"Matt…" She was able to get his name out, and had to take several deep breaths to calm the sobs that had her whole body heaving.
"I need you." She wasn't going to tell him to wake up, to open his eyes, to get out of that bed, to come back down to earth. No, she wasn't going to say any of that, it felt to false, too dressed up. So she went to the very heart of the issue.
"I need you, I need you, I need you with me so badly right now." She chanted it as if it were an affirmation.
"I'm scared. We could lose everything, Matt. Our jobs, our homes, everything we own, they'll turn us into pariahs. But, but, I don't care. I don't care what they do to us if you'll just smile at me again." It was the truth, she didn't care about the Bureau or the lawsuit; she'd deal with both over losing Matt.
"I need to you tease me, Matt. I need you," she brought her face close to his and whispered to him. She kissed his cheek, careful to avoid the wires, and laid her head next to his. Her tears still fell, soaking the sheets.
She didn't know it, but a small audience had gathered outside watching through the glass. The elderly couple watching had gone looking for their daughter, and found her not in her room. They'd been about to track down a nurse, when the man got a glimpse of the sight before them. They found their daughter crying and talking to her unconscious partner, and they saw her kiss him, and rest her head beside his. It became painfully clear to both that their little girl was in love, and chose not to include her parents in this wonderful discovery. It was painful because she felt she couldn't share it with them, and because it was obvious she was going in a path neither favored.
They had been in and out of their daughter's room over the last few days, but never asked her about Matt. They hadn't even mentioned him, because they didn't know what to say or ask. They had assumed Emily would breach the topic, that she'd want to tell them about him. But she hadn't brought him up in front of them again. Now they wished they had asked her about him, he was obviously very important to her.
The other member of Emily's small audience was her sister, who'd also stumbled upon the scene on the way to visit her. Only she was watching both scenes: her sister crying over her lover, and her parents realizing for the first time that their youngest was all grown up, and carving out a path for herself-their approval be damned. Abby Lehman's heart broke for her sister, the only member of her family she'd ever gotten along with.
When they were little it had been Abby and Emmy, their parents inseparable, pint-sized rebels that were best friends their whole lives. Even at school they were together whenever their schedules would allow, and hardly ever fought. Feeling alienated at home, they forged a bond together that connected them beyond the typical sister fights. Not to mention that Emily had had very few friends at school, and would always run to Abby when something was bothering her. Abby hadn't called her sister 'Emmy' since high school.
"Abby?" She was startled by her mother's distracted voice.
"Yeah mom?"
"We're we bad parents?" Grace was still watching her daughter through the glass.
"What? Of course not." Abby was taken aback by the question, until she realized it's origin. "You just never understood us, not like we understood each other. Em cares about you, that's why she didn't want to tell you about Matt. She didn't want to fight with you both."
"Is she in love with him?" Ben wondered.
"She hasn't said as much, but I think it's become pretty clear." Abby nodded toward the glass.
They were soon joined by a grey-haired man, who looked tired and strained, until he saw the scene around his son's room, then he looked almost amused. Brynn Flannery recognized the people staring into his son's room as Matt's girlfriend's family, but he didn't really know them. They'd visited with Matt once, but didn't seem to know what to do in the situation. Abby had visited a few times, and even spoken to him about Matt. In turn Abby had sat with Brynn in Emily's room, when she was still out. He hadn't felt comfortable meeting her until Matt was awake, then it would mean something to his son.
It took him a minute to realize what they were all looking at, and then he regarded the scene with a sad smile. In her position resting by him, Emily almost blended in with the machines, tubes, and wires. His son found a woman that cared a lot about him, but he may not live to share a life with her. It figured his son would go for a redhead. Before she died his wife taught her boys to respect strong women, and redheads were known for being a particularly strong and stubborn type of woman. He also knew Matt had always loved a challenge.
"Hello Abby, how's your sister?"
"She was just crying, but I think she might have fallen asleep. She's really worried about Matt." Abby turned toward him.
"How's she holding up with everything else?" Cheryl had told him about the Bureau's investigation and the civil suit.
"She's upset, but doesn't say much. I think she's more concerned about Matt."
"She shouldn't worry so much. Matt will wake up." He said this with absolute conviction.
"How can you be so sure?" Abby didn't want to sound callous, but was surprised by his certainty.
"Because I know Matt. He doesn't let go when he's found something good."
"Emily?" Abby asked, wondering at his very Irish tendency to talk in those quasi-riddles.
Brynn nodded. "Besides, I'd feel it if he were going to go. I felt it before his mom went."
Abby was about to ask him about this, when Cheryl came round the corner, coffee in one hand, stuffing her cell in her pocket with the other. She started when she saw them all in front of Matt's room.
"Oh…hello?" What the hell were they all doing?
"We went looking for Emily and saw her in there." Abby explained.
"I just got here to see Matt." Brynn shrugged.
"Is she sleeping?" Cheryl suddenly asked, staring at Emily through the glass.
"Yeah, I think so, she was crying earlier."
"I'm not surprised…ten more minutes and I have to get her back to her room."
"She has a time limit?" Abby asked stunned.
"She can't be in that chair too long at once. The doctors say an hour at the most, and it's been about fifty minutes." Cheryl took a sip of her coffee and watched the quartet watching the couple.
"Well, what do we have going on over here?" Betty had returned, and was flabbergasted at the crowd.
"She has a few more minutes doesn't she?" Cheryl asked.
"Yeah, she does, but I was more referring to the little audience going on over here."
Cheryl shrugged and shook her head, saying, she wasn't part of that group. Abby had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed and find a chair, while the other three just looked puzzled.
"Don't you people think Emily there, might like some privacy?" They all looked at her blankly, still not following.
"Folks, that poor woman in there is heartbroken that the man in there hasn't woken up yet, don't you think she'd prefer to deal with that, without an audience?" They finally got it, and followed Abby's example, finding chairs. Betty rolled her eyes at them, and looked to Cheryl, who just shrugged again.
"I better go wake her up." Cheryl left Betty to give sharp looks to the voyeurs, and walked back into to Matt's room. She could hear Betty mumbling something about pulling the shades down next time.
"Emily." She gently shook her, and watched he friend blink her sore, puffy eyes awake.
"It's time to go back to your room." Emily nodded sleepily, and placed a kiss to Matt's forehead, resting her face momentarily against his, before settling into the chair, and letting Cheryl wheel her out.
She saw Betty waiting outside with her parents, Abby, and an older man that she didn't know. She nodded at her parents and Abby, too drained from all the crying to wonder how long they'd been there. Her mind froze when she saw the older man's eyes. She knew those eyes, she had stared into those eyes so many times. That had to be Matt's father. Cheryl had said he was here, but she'd never seen the man. She shook herself out of her daze as Cheryl wheeled her back into her room.
It seems I've dug myself into a hole with this story, so consider this chapter extraspecially long to tide you all over until I figure out how to get myself out. (Step one, put the damn shovel down.) Thanks for reading, and reviews are always greatly appreciated!
