The flashing lights grew brighter, followed by more footfalls in the hallway, the hallway that held so much death. Nick felt heavy hands pulling at his shoulders, a set of blue gloves shot out in front of his face. As if hearing underwater, a distant voice shouting to someone else, "...got a pulse."
Hank managed to pull Nick back long enough for two paramedics to ease Adalind's unconscious body onto the floor. Two sets of blue hands worked quickly to assess their patient. Nick watched as if through a surveillance monitor, distant and without sound. Hank continued to hold him by both arms, but he was a statue as he looked on.
"Nick," the short, clipped word as familiar, but went unheeded until it grew louder. "NICK."
His head jerked to the side, acknowledging he'd heard his name.
"Where's Noah?" Eyes widened immediately, taking in the scene, sweeping across, canvasing the area. When he didn't answer, Hank shook him. "Nick?!"
"I don't know," he got out in a shaky breath. An all new form of panic arose. His heart racing, he repeated, "I don't know."
Hank released him when he finally shifted to stand. On shaky legs, he stalked through the house, living room, dining room, listening intently all the while. He was thinking of heading upstairs when he heard a tiny whimper, muffled and faint close by.
He threw himself into the kitchen, eyes frantically searching the entire room all at once, but taking in nothing. He rounded the island counter and nearly tripped over a pile of pots and pans. He glanced at the counter to his right seeing a clean mixing bowl sitting sideways in the sink. Adalind wouldn't have left this many pans out unless she was interrupted. His analytical mind kicked in on autopilot, This is where it began.
Nick stood stock still and concentrated on his hearing. The whimper sounded again, closer and seemed to bounce around an enclosed space. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the pile of pots and pans again. Suddenly, he was on the floor yanking the cupboard doors open.
Light flooded the little compartment as relief flooded his entire body. There inside lay a red-faced, grumpy Noah, struggling to get out of his swaddling blanket with the determination of a Hundjäger. Nick's heart swelled as he lifted the wriggling infant out of his hiding place with special care to support his neck. Wrapping both arms around him protectively, Nick held him close.
Adalind had managed to keep Noah safe, with no special abilities but a mother's instinct.
The next couple of hours streaked by in a haze. Filling out a report with Hank at the dining room table, the coroner clearing the body of Juliette Silverton from his living room floor, making a bottle and changing Noah in the midst of chaos.
The whirlwind quieted down around midnight.
Hank got word that Adalind was alright and they'd be keeping her for a few days. That's about when the crash rolled in. He let Hank know he'd be alright for the night and sent him home. Nick spent the next hour lightly bouncing Noah as he walked around upstairs. His son was none to happy about mommy's absence.
"I know," the detective adjusted his hold as he made another round down the hall. It took more muscle than he expected to carry 8 lbs around indefinitely. The tiredness seeping into his bones. "I know, I'm not the same as mommy."
He smiled when Noah finally started to drop off to sleep, all clean and fed. After placing the sleeping babe in the crib, Nick felt torn. He looked through the open door towards his room. It was too far away. With the scare they'd just had, the baby monitor didn't seem adequate.
Resigned, he kicked off his shoes and laid down on top of the guest bed Adalind had been sleeping in. It's close and unoccupied, that's all that matters, Nick thought as he dropped off into unconsciousness.