Disclaimer: Still don't own it.
Author's Note: This is a little teaser about the rest of the team's morning after, so to speak, along with a little bit from Scarlatti Senior's POV. Thanks to rgs38, .Naxen and FanFictionFan63 for the nudges! Hopefully, there's enough to hold you 'til the next one. This chapter probably should have been posted before the last one, but since I only wrote it last night, oh well. ;-)
It was eight a.m. when Sam woke up, enjoying the still quiet inside the apartment though he could hear the sounds of the city just outside his window. Cars, trucks and buses drove past the downtown building, ten floors down, the occasional angry honking of a car horn signaling a driver's displeasure. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a jackhammer and the pounding of heavy equipment at some construction site.
He rolled out of bed and padded through the living room toward the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he saw the petite figure stretched out on his sofa, dainty feet sticking out from under the thin blanket that covered the rest of her. He had almost forgotten that Jules had come up with him last night. He thought back their conversation yesterday.
He had been surprised when she had shown up at his door after work the day before. After their respective psych evaluations, and the discussion they'd had afterward, he figured he wouldn't be seeing her outside of work again except to go for the occasional drink with the team. They had once again discussed their situation and Sam had gotten the distinct feeling that Jules was trying to figure out which one of them should leave Team One. Neither of them wanted to, that much was certain. On some level, he supposed it should be him; after all, Jules was already on the team when he had arrived. He had been the one to ignore regulations and had been the one to pursue her. She had resisted and he probably should have let it be, but he had been persistent and had finally persuaded her to go out with him. He hadn't even felt the need to be clandestine about it. He had wanted to shout it from the rooftops that he loved her, but she had known what would happen if anyone found out, and for a while, they had been able to keep it a secret. But, Jules had been right. Now their former romantic relationship was on record and at best, they were looking at censure and a reprimand. At worst, one or both of them could lose their job. Whether that meant being transferred to another SRU team, demotion from the SRU or just plain termination, he didn't know. None of the options sounded appealing to him. In the end, they had decided to wait and see what Commander Holleran had to say about it. They already knew Greg was okay with the situation. If he wasn't, he would have said something to them as soon as he had found out they were seeing each other.
If one of them did have to leave Team One, he thought it might not be so bad. At least they would be able to see each other again. Still, Sam hated the fact that he would have to sacrifice either his professional life or his private life in order to be somewhat happy. He had had the best of both worlds for a while and he would give anything to have that back.
With a sigh, he continued to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He would need some and while Jules wasn't exactly a morning person, that didn't mean she liked to sleep in all the time. He figured she would be up soon enough and he might as well have some coffee ready for her.
Kevin Wordsworth awoke to the sound of dishes clanging in the sink. He rolled over onto his side and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, surprised to see that it was almost 10:00AM. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he had gotten a full eight hours of sleep. He rolled out of bed and, after a quick trip to the bathroom, he padded down the stairs to the kitchen. As soon as he hit the first floor, he smelled the freshly brewed coffee and smiled eagerly.
He found his wife standing in front of the sink washing the last of the dishes from the girls' dinner last night. Shelley had left them in her haste to get the girls ready to take to her parent's house when Kevin had called with the news about Ed and Sophie. Kevin padded silently over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. He held her close for a long moment, enjoying the peace and quiet that was so rare these days. He rocked her back and forth a few times before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Shelley leaned back and turned her head toward him and he kissed her again, this time on the lips.
"I'd hug you back, but…" she smiled, lifting her hands out of the sink and dripping hot, soapy water.
He smiled, "That's okay, Shel." With another quick kiss, he let her go and reached up to open the cupboard and pull out a large coffee mug.
"Oh, hey, I talked to my mom and she's going to bring the girls home around three, okay?" said Shelley.
Stepping over to the coffee machine, Kevin grabbed the pot and started pouring the dark liquid into the mug. "Yeah, that sounds fine," he said. His hand started shaking and he cursed under his breath as he spilled coffee on the countertop. He quickly returned the pot to the coffee maker and grabbed a towel to clean up the mess he had made.
"Kev?" asked Shelley, "Is everything okay?"
He looked up at her and gave her an apologetic smile. "Yeah, I just spilled some coffee, that's all," he said as he wiped down the counter with his left hand. He kept his right hand out of sight at his side.
Shelley Wordsworth grabbed another towel and began drying her hands as she turned to face her husband. "Are you sure, Kev?" she asked uncertainly.
He had seemed a little distracted to her lately, and she wasn't sure why. She had no reason to suspect another woman; she knew Kevin loved her and the girls with all his heart, still she couldn't help thinking something was wrong. She leaned a hip onto the sink and took a good look at him. While he looked rested this morning, she could still see bags under his eyes indicating a lack of sleep. That was no surprise to her, of course. Little Allie liked to wake them up every few hours at night. It was sometimes hard for her to get back to sleep and she only had the girls and the house to worry about; she could only imagine what he was going through. His job was extremely stressful at times and she knew there were things he saw at work that he would never share with her and that he would do his best to shelter their daughters from it as well. Money was tight, too and with prices going up every time they turned around, it was only getting tighter. It was a lot to deal with and she knew he worried about the bills piling up. She, too, was worried about how they were going to pay for everything.
Kevin laughed a little and waved the towel in his hand. "Yeah, Shel. Listen, it's just a little coffee." He tried to assure her. "No harm done."
Shelley hung the towel back up and walked over to her husband. Looking up into his eyes, she said, "I'm not talking about the coffee, honey," she shook her head. "I'm talking about you." She paused. "Are you okay?"
With a sigh, he took her in his arms again. "Shel," he started, trying to tell her that everything was fine, but the words stuck in his throat. He began to shake a little, which only added to her concern. He held her tighter, closing his eyes and dropping his head to her shoulder as he did so.
"Kevin?" Shelley was becoming alarmed now. After a minute or so, she stepped out of the embrace to look him in the eyes again. "What is it?"
When he opened his eyes, she could see fear in them. "Talk to me, Kevin," she pleaded with him. "What's wrong?"
He led her over to the small table by the window and motioned for her to sit down as he did so himself. Placing both hands on the table in front of him, he looked down at them for a second before looking back at his wife.
"We need to talk," he said.
"Okay, now you're starting to scare me," said Shelley in a serious tone. "What is going on?"
Kevin hesitated as he tried to think of how to tell his wife about his potential medical condition. He took a deep breath. "I may have a problem at work," he told her, "a serious problem."
She looked at him, at the fear and worry now etched into his face, and tried to remain calm. The last thing they needed right now was for him to lose his job.
"What kind of problem?" she asked.
Instead of answering her, he held out his right arm for a moment until his hand started to shake. He then set it back down and looked at her apprehensively. "It started almost a year ago," he told her. "Every now and then, my hand would start to shake a little. I didn't think much about it at the time. Figured it was just nerves. But lately, it's been happening more and more. My scores on the gun range are down. Yesterday, during the requalify, I missed an easy shot and Spike had to back me up. The psychologist pointed it out during the psych eval, so now it's on record," he continued, shaking his head.
"Okay," reasoned Shelley, "so you have a slight muscle twitch. There has to be an explanation. We'll go to the doctor and find out what it is," she said, trying to reassure him.
Kevin looked at her. "It's not just the shaking," he said. "I pretty much bombed the psych eval. I was distracted. I couldn't think straight. Shel," he said fearfully, "I don't know what I'm going to do if I lose my job. I don't know how to do anything else."
His anxiety level was visibly ramping up and, to be honest, so was hers. This was the first Shelley had heard about any kind of problem and the thought of him losing his job was just as frightening to her as it was to him. Still, it wouldn't do any good for both of them to start losing it, so she just took a couple of deep breaths and tried to think through what their next course of action should be.
"Okay," she said calmly, reaching out to take his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, "so we'll go to the doctor and find out what it is we're dealing with," she repeated, looking him directly in the eyes and trying to project a calm she didn't feel. "And, we'll go from there.
"What if it's something serious?" he asked her desperately. "What if I can't do my job anymore?"
"One step at a time," she said, patting his hand. "Like your mother is always saying, Kev," she reminded him with a small smile, "Let's not go borrowing trouble."
In Toronto General Hospital's Cardiac Intensive Care Unit, Ed Lane awoke to find his mother sitting in a chair next to his bed. She smiled at him and took his hand as his eyes fluttered open and recognition slowly emerged.
"Hey, Mom," Ed spoke softly. "When did you get here?" he asked.
His mother patted his hand. "Only about thirty minutes ago," she told him. "We drove back as soon as we got the call. Your father's out in the hallway talking to your doctor."
Ed nodded. "Sophie's in labor," he said. "Did anyone tell you?"
"Yes," she said, "When Sergeant Parker called us last night to tell us what happened to you, he mentioned that she was in labor here at the hospital. But, the doctors won't tell us anything because we aren't immediate family. They said they can only tell you or her parents," she continued. "I guess in-laws don't count."
Ed thought for a second. "Where are Marshall and Sylvia?" he asked. "They were here last night. They took Clark home with them," he said.
"We haven't been up to the maternity ward yet," she told him. "We wanted to see you first."
Ed nodded again as his father stepped into the room. "I'll ask the doctors myself," he said. "Dad, sorry you had to cut your vacation short," he addressed his father.
"Nonsense," his father gently chided. "How could we possibly enjoy our holiday knowing you're in hospital, that you were shot? And knowing Sophie's delivering our granddaughter?"
"How were the Adirondacks?" asked Ed.
"Gorgeous, just as you would expect this time of year," his father replied. "Now, enough about us, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?" he asked.
His son shook his head. "The only thing I need is to see Soph and make sure she's all right," replied Ed has he tried valiantly to sit up. Unfortunately, the pressure from the wound in his chest still felt like a large animal was sitting on him, though maybe not quite an elephant anymore. He let out an exasperated breath and closed his eyes.
"Now, don't go overdoing it, son," his father scolded. "You were shot and just had major surgery. You need to rest!"
Ed growled softly. He hated having to rest. He hated being hurt. He hated not knowing what was going on with his wife and baby daughter. The thought of Sophie giving birth without him being there was almost more than he could take. As much as he hated the thought of losing his team, it was the thought of losing his wife and family that kept him awake at night. He would have to do whatever it took to make sure that didn't happen.
Across town in the Humber River Regional Hospital's Oncology ward, Dominic Scarlatti lay awake thinking about his youngest son. He didn't remember Mike coming to visit him last night, but his wife told him he had stopped by late last night. Dominic seemed to recall hearing his son's soft voice speaking to him, though he couldn't make out what was said. He only vaguely recalled feeling something dripping lightly on his arm before someone took his hand and whispered a tortured "I'm sorry." Was it Michelangelo? he wondered.
The pain in that soft voice had surprised him. The last words he and Mike had exchanged had been angry, spoken in the heat of an argument. He knew his son had been hurting over the death of his friend. He had thought perhaps now Mike could understand what he and his mother lived with every day. He had been upset, relieved that it hadn't been his son who had died, but upset nonetheless, because it drove home with striking clarity the fact that his beloved Michelangelo could die every time he left for work. He didn't know what he would do if that happened. Dominic Scarlatti loved all of his children equally, but Michelangelo had always been special. He had practically come out of the womb smiling and that smile was infectious. When he was a boy, if Mikey smiled at you, all your troubles would seem to melt away and within minutes you would be smiling and laughing right along with him. As he'd gotten older, that quality had been tempered by the sheer weight of life. Oh sure, Mike still had a megawatt smile that could light up a room. But, it showed up with less and less frequency. Thinking about it now, Dominic couldn't remember the last time he had seen his son smile and he found that he missed it. He felt a tug on his heart as he thought about that awful evening when he last spoke to his son.
He had been sitting at the table, eating mechanically. He couldn't get past the questions in his mind: What if it was Michelangelo? What would he do? And, what would his wife do if something happened to Mike after he was gone? She would be all alone. So, he had tried to explain to Mike that this pain and fear were what he felt every single day. But, Dominic Scarlatti was better at expressing anger than fear. And so, his explanation had turned into accusation. Of course, Mike had gotten angry. Why shouldn't he have? And, he wasn't wrong. Dominic knew better than most people that one day he would die, much sooner than any of them would like. He didn't need his son throwing it back in his face, though. So, he had gotten angry, too. But, more than that, he was a little hurt that Mike hadn't recognized that it was pain and fear more so than anger he was feeling. They used to be so close once. Before Mike had joined the police, he and Mike had been much more in tune with each other. Dominic's way of dealing with it all was to try to avoid the emotional trigger, which meant that he did his best to avoid his son. He thought it would make things easier, not having to face the thing that hurt him so much on a daily basis. But, it didn't. All it did was make things harder. He was so used to avoiding Mike now that he didn't know how to stop. He didn't know how to sit down and talk to his son or if he even could anymore. All he knew was that he needed to, and that his time to do so was running out.
A/N: As always, please let me know what you think! Thanks, Psy