A/N: I watched Les Miserables today. Completely bawled my eyes out at the ending. Epic film though! Anyway, moving on, WOW GUYS! Thanks for such wonderful responses for the last chapter. If I didn't get back to you on those, I'm sorry, I've been busy. To Smuffly, CSINYNut, SomebodyWhoCares, Forest Angel, Leslie Emm, JJ and Kayla, you are all freaking amazing. Keep it up!
Characters: Det. Don Flack Jr/OC – Savannah 'Anna' Patia Cormier, Danny/Lindsay, Mac Taylor, and other members of CSI NY.
Set: Mostly AU after season 6.
Rating: M
Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of violence/death/blood
Disclaimer: I do not in any way own CSI NY or affiliates. I'm using the characters to no profit. I do not own the song or song lyrics at the beginning of each chapter that inspire me. But I wish that there were a few clones of Don Flack…mmmm….Oh, but I do own Savannah Cormier.
Finding Our Way – Chapter 21 – Not Again!
Or will you stay
Even if it hurts
Even if I try to push you out will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am
Kelly Clarkson – Dark Side
"Okay, what do you think then oh wise detective of the 12th?"
Flack rolled his eyes at Danny and chucked a crumpled up piece of paper at his friend's head. "I think that you are letting your imagination get away with you on this case. Trent Donahue was beaten in his own apartment. Something tells me that one of the neighbours isn't telling us something and that there's no such thing as a unicorn regardless of that solid gold horn you guys found. I think it's a woman thing because of that big collection of ladies underwear we found in his closet. Weren't there multiple donors?"
"Yeah, there were. Killjoy, I was having fun with the unicorn idea. So was Adam for that matter," replied the Italian with a brief grin, making Don smirk in reply at the mental image of Adam looking at the 'unicorn' horn with childish wonder.
Flack perused the report again, looking over what he and the CSI's had observed and discovered earlier that morning when the clouds were just gathering for the day. The reminder of the gloomy weather made him mention, "Looks like no hoops later this afternoon buddy."
Pulling a face, Danny said, "Yeah, it sucks. It's like the weather is PMSing."
Don snorted in amusement. "Nice analogy. Thanks for that mental image."
"I live to serve," ribbed the shorter man. He then sat up and asked, "If not b-ball, how about a chilled out dinner and beer? Your place or mine, whatever, but I haven't seen Anna in a few days and I'm missin' her cookin'. How she doin'?"
"Yeah, good. We're doing good." Don smiled with the memory of the last time he had saw her. Yesterday morning, her hair splayed along his outstretched arm as they commiserated together about getting up early in the morning. Her eyes had sparkled and her smile had been special. There was still a little bit of left over worry about how they were travelling after a hard month, but all in all, the seams were pulling together.
"So, you reckon she'll agree to makin' something while she's at the cafe?"
"I'm sure she will. Has she ever refused us without good reason before?" countered Flack.
Danny shrugged. He twirled a pen in his fingers as he replied, "No, but you never know when one might start. Anyway, why don't-"
Whatever Danny was going to say was drowned by the doors of Captain Haplan's office banging open, a dark expression on his face as he sped over to Flack's desk. He was flanked by an officer just as Flack and Danny's phones went off. "Don't answer 'em," he ordered them gruffly. "My office, now."
The pair glanced at each other uncertainly before complying.
Away from the curious eyes of the other officers and detectives, Haplan cut straight to the chase. "A call just came through from dispatch a few minutes ago, with reports of shots fired at a location. The girl is still on the phone with them right now and she's relaying any information she can. Gentlemen, you're not going to like what I'm going to say. But before I do, I have to have your word that if I let you in on this, you're to keep a cool head. If I get any indication you have jeopardised the NYPD's reputation in any way, regardless of the circumstances, consequences will follow."
Danny agreed, but Flack saw through the lines, taking his cue from Haplan's body language. Not wanting to voice his suspicion but needing to know, he demanded, "It's at the Comfort Cafe, isn't it?"
Haplan met his gaze steadily. "Your word," he repeated.
"I'm not going to be stupid," Flack promised, but panic was rising and like when he heard about the kidnapping last year, he felt every inch of him wanting to run, get there was fast as he could.
"It is. So far, no one's been hurt that we know of and uni's are on their way now. Don, I know this is hitting close to home, but I'm allowing you there because I know you'll tear this place apart otherwise. Now, make haste. No more talk," the grizzled captain ordered, grabbing his jacket as the two detectives took the chance to sprint out, heading for the car.
When they reached it, Danny wrested the keys from the stony faced Flack. "I'm driving. I'm not letting you split your attention between worry for Savannah and the road – let me take care of the second bit," he said firmly, racing to the driver's side.
The wheels screeched loudly as Danny peeled out of there, Don putting his face in his hands and trying to keep it collected. "Not again!" he growled, anxiety shredding through the promise he had just made to his captain. "Fuck, does she have some kind of sign tattooed to her head saying 'fuck with my life, I'm good for it?' Damn it!"
"You heard Haplan, no casualties," Danny attempted to reassure, but he knew that the memories of a few years ago where another beautiful brunette was in peril and her life was taken away in the same place were cropping up again.
"That place is cursed!" exclaimed Flack, banging the dashboard in aggravation with his fist. He leaned back, shaking his head, face lined and dark as the sky above. "You'd think we'd get just a little peace, huh, just a little! But no, life just hits us with another sack of BS."
Sensing that the fury was slowly building up, about to explode with anything to trigger it, Danny quickly tuned into the dispatch channel, hoping that to get a better read on the situation. There was the never ending call for certain units to get to the cafe, and with each call, Danny could see the cracks in the foundation of Flack's self control form. He set his mouth in a line. Those two had just fixed things between them; this was too close together from crap they had just been through. From what dispatch had relayed, looked like this was an armed robbery.
"Note to all units, broadcasting call from witness at the Comfort Cafe scene," a voice crackled over the radio before the panicked voice of Maddie came through. Both men recognised her voice as one of the serving girls at the cafe.
"Oh my God, they're shouting again. I don't know…oh my God, Paula, what are you thinking insulting that guy?"
Flack stared at the radio as if he was staring at Maddie, willing her to explain what was going on. Then, there was the muffled sound of a gunshot, and Flack froze. No…who got hurt? Not Savannah, not again, no, no, not Savannah. Please, anyone but her. "Come on!" he grumbled to the air, bashing his hand against the car again.
"Oh my God, he just killed someone!" her shaky, quiet voice flooded the car as the volume increased by Danny. Then, filling Don with a touch of relief, he could hear Savannah' voice trail into the call. She was screaming for the perps to get out. But it made him wonder, if she was alive…what the heck was she doing? Did she have her gun or…
"Savannah's coming to the rescue. Oh please, I hope he doesn't kill her too, I don't want to move…c'mon cops, where are you guys?"
Some quick, frenzied breaths came through as Don and Danny were five minutes away, joined by a few generic cop cars. Then, something that decimated their slight hopes into miniscule specks of dust.
"Anna, no!"
The sound of two gunshots.
And then, screaming just before the live feed was cut.
Screaming. From Maddie on the line. From the customers and staff in the cafe. And from Flack as he stared in anguish at the radio. "Savannah!"
He knew, then and there, he would run in to the same picture he had those years ago.
Pandemonium.
Chaos.
And…no, he didn't want to think it. This was just a bad, sick, horrible joke. It couldn't be true. Savannah had to be alright. She had to be. He didn't know how he could handle it if he walked into the exact same picture he had with Jess. A woman he loved on the floor, who he would pick up and cradle in her last moments.
"No, no," he moaned, recoiling from the hand placed on his shoulder. The pain was the same. The stake pushed in and barbed edges twisted.
"Keep the faith Don," Danny encouraged with a thousand times more confidence that he felt, and even then he felt his hopes sink and the threat of tears. Surely another person who they all cared for wouldn't be taken from them – and send Don on another downward spiral. Not again. Anna couldn't be dead. But the silence from the radio was ominous.
They finally got there, screeching to a halt and bolting out of the car. Three police cars were already out in front. It was different. No big black truck smashed through the front windows. But people were pouring out of the front door, being led and assured by officers. Savannah was not among them, but Jacks was. Upon seeing their drawn and anguished faces, she called out to them, "She's alive! Inside!"
Don felt his heart leap and rushed towards the entrance.
As he did, two officers lead out a handcuffed blonde haired bear of a man, who looked dead inside. "Damn...she got him...she got him," he kept muttering.
Don, too elated by the prospect Anna was okay, didn't fully comprehend the words until he entered the bloody scene.
There, closer to the entrance, a dead woman lay, short black hair framing her pale face like a dark halo, blood trailing from the bullet hole in her head to the floor, pointing to the crimson puddle framed against the floor. It was Paula, one of the serving girls. And there was another dead body, another fair haired male, skinnier but meaner looking, face up and a snarl of hatred etched into his permanently still face. He had a gun in his hand, splattered with blood. The bullet hole in his chest was obvious, but small. Coming from a small gun.
The same small gun clenched in Savannah's hands from where she knelt on the floor, head bowed, eyes empty and grey. His blue eyes saw that she was injured, a thick bloody line marring her upper left arm. Flecks of blood dotted her features as she stared in shock at the dead bodies. She didn't move save for breathing, tears dripping slowly down her face, shuddering and shaking.
In seconds, Flack knew what had happened here. Paula had gone down. Savannah had protected her lioness's den and when the man had come for her, she had shot him.
Danny behind him grabbed handfuls of his shirt to prevent him running to her in pure relief. "Wait, man, not just yet. At least let me take photos so she's clear," he instructed, hating that he had to give such instructions, feeling like that he was neglecting his friend.
"No, let me go! She needs me!" Don bellowed.
Danny felt his heart sink through the floor when he heard nothing from the brunette on the floor. He jerked Don back and muttered, "Just do what I say for once."
Annoyed, he shot the shorter man a glare but decided to do what he could from the sidelines. "Savannah," Don called softly, wanting some response, anything. She hadn't even looked up as he had barged in, stress levels maxed out. She wasn't right. He knew why. She had killed someone – in self defence, yes – but she was such a loving, caring person that this would hit her hard. He felt like if he didn't get in contact with her now she would never be reached again.
Savannah didn't hear him, too stuck staring at the dead form of Grant the drug dealer. Dead, by her hand. All she could see was the cold ice eyes. She didn't even register the man calling to her desperately.
Flack felt like the walls were closing in then, realising that she wasn't responding to him.
It was like someone vacuumed his gut out.
"Danny, hurry up!" he urged, as Danny clicked away on his phone, preserving what the original scene looked like before they messed it up further. It was a valiant effort by Danny to get a whole capture of the scene. He had barely nodded when Don leapt forward, skidding to a stop in front of Savannah, crouching in front of her.
"Anna," he whispered, hesitantly grasping her shoulders. "Anna, what happened?"
Still, nothing. The lights were on but no one was home. Real, pure panic welled up in the detective and he gripped her shoulders tighter. "Savannah. Say something," Don pleaded hoarsely.
A blink.
"Savannah."
He looked her over, seeing that the bullet wound was still dripping a little blood and that her hands were clenched so tightly around her gun that the knuckles were white. He reached down, gently tugging on it. "Babe, let go. Savannah, I need you to say something, anything." She did not speak or let go of her gun, if anything, she held it ever tighter.
'No, I'm not going to let her do this!' Don thought fiercely to himself, carefully shaking her shoulders, trying to get anything other than this paralysation of herself. He wiped at her face, dashing away the tears that leaked like slow waterfalls, calling, "Savannah! Savannah!"
A whimper, and another shudder.
Heart breaking in seeing just how deeply the effect of this devastating event had taken hold, Don closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath to stop from screaming at her to snap out of it. He remembered the first time he had taken a life in self defence and knew it would take a lot of work between them to heal the sudden tear in her soul.
Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead, pressing a face into her hair and whispering in a last ditch attempt, "Come back to me my sweet Edesia."
Finally, a spark of life.
She shook, finally turning her head towards him and in a shaky whisper, so rough he could barely make out the words, "Don...I'm so sorry."
"No, no, that's okay," he hastened to assure her, glad that at least, there was something that was happening. It scared him so much how non-responsive she had been. He remembered case a long time ago when the victim had been a would-be murderer and the teenager who defended his family had shot him in self defence. That teenager had been admitted to the mental ward a week later when he had not responded to any form of stimuli – his brain had shut down from shock. For those moments Savannah had remained non-responsive, he had feared the same fate for her.
Savannah trembled harder, clutching her gun to her chest, whimpering. "Oh God, why are you touching me? I've...I've just killed someone."
"No, no, no, no, baby, you just saved all of these people in there," countered Don desperately, trying to salvage Savannah from spiralling down into a world of darkness and doubt. He placed his hands on either side of her face, staring her straight in the eyes.
He was shocked at what he saw reflected back at him. Self-hatred, fear, and a haunted look that he saw when he looked in the mirror after a hard day. A loss of innocence. She was lost, cast overboard into the sea of despair. He kept tenderly wiping the tears off her face and then looked around at the sound of his name, spoken gravely.
Mac and Jo were there, watching with sombre expressions.
"Don, you need to get her out of here," Mac advised quietly.
Jo stepped forward, murmuring, "I'm going to follow later to the hospital with you guys to get any extra evidence on her."
Nodding in reply, he turned back to the woman who had been shattered inside. Regretfully, he tugged at the weapon she clung to like a security blanket, muttering, "It's okay. I'm here. You can give it to me, I'll protect you."
"What if there's more?" It was child-like, scared, and so different to what she normally sounded like.
"They're all gone. You were so brave and got them to go away. I'm here," Don repeated slowly, determined to make sure this uncertain, fearful mood was as short a period as possible. This would not beat them down, no matter what. Eventually, he managed to uncurl her fingers from the gun and slipped it into the waiting evidence bag held out by Mac. Then, no thought to simply helping her up, Don swept Savannah up in his arms, ignoring her whimpered protests, enduring the sound of his heart cracking as she kept muttering, "No…no…not worthy. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." It was a plaintive, gut-wrenching litany.
Danny helped him, clearing the path through the witnesses – staff and customers alike – until they reached the car. As they did, the ME's arrived, along with Hawkes. It only reminded the men of the two lives that had been lost today.
Savannah was silent now, but her lips were moving like she was praying.
"Savannah, talk to me. I need to hear you." Don knew he had to keep trying to bolster her spirits, try to get her to snap from this shock-induced wide awake coma.
She slightly shook her head, simply shaking.
He sighed harshly, saying to her in a firmer voice, "Don't do this. We promised to talk, remember? You promised me! Savannah…you did nothing wrong, you hear me, nothing!"
"Sorry…I'm so sorry," she muttered again.
"You defended yourself!" he cried as frustration peaked. "You protected yourself and every other person in that cafe – they owe you their lives as far as I'm concerned. You can't be sorry for still being alive!"
Savannah hiccupped and sobbed, curling in on herself and cringing away from his touch. Her well of tears had dried, for none fell. She was the definition of wretched.
At a loss for words, Don took a more forceful approach, grabbing her and hauling her back to him, pressing her against his side. He wanted to feel his relief that she was alive. He wanted her to feel the life that pulsed within them both, wanted her to see past the fact she had taken someone's life – she had done it to save herself and others admirably.
"Did you ever imagine that she would react like this if this kinda thing happened?" Danny asked solemnly from the front driver seat, checking in on them in the rear view mirror.
"Never. Not to this extreme," replied Flack hopelessly, resisting her weak struggles to get out of his arms.
"When Linds killed Shane Casey last summer, I expected this. She didn't, but I think because she's done it before she came to New York. But Anna, she's only seen this. Not ever caused it and…I dunno, I sound like a freaking shrink," Danny went on uncomfortably, knowing how this all felt. It was still preferable to the alternative – Savannah dead and Don lost to them once more.
"Yeah, I understand. She thinks that she's down on the level of monsters that prowl the streets, but she's not. She's a champion. She's a survivor," the taller man said quietly, frowning. "Did you hear me?" he directed at Savannah.
Savannah didn't respond, retreating back into the protective shell that had formed the second she had fired her gun.
Don Flack paced the hospital corridors aggressively. He was going around and around the floor again because going up and down the hallway outside of Savannah's room just wasn't cutting it. He was too wired – too pissed off, too hopeless to stay there. Her bullet grazed arm had been stitched up, but she might as well be a mannequin with the way she moved mechanically, stared straight ahead with grey eyes, and hadn't spoken since her first breakdown (he thought first, because there was bound to be a few more). He was freaking out – he was past worried, past anxious. He felt he was in the middle of the Sahara without a compass or a map, unsure where the heck to go from this point – another stumbling block in the journey. His own methods of getting past his own experiences with death had been a hard road, and one not suitable for Savannah. Not if he could help it.
If only she would come out of this weird dummy state, he could finally have some direction.
Danny had left him (with Jo after she had come to examine Anna for evidence), only after Jacks and Aunt Emilie had gotten to the hospital once Jacks had been cleared by officers at the scene. Mother and daughter were remaining outside of Savannah's room, waiting for the psychiatrist examining her to finish while Don prowled the floor like a caged tiger.
He was on his sixth or seventh go around when he neared Savannah's room again, surprised to see Sam and his parents occupying the seats to either side of Emilie and Jacks. Sam was talking quietly to the sombre Jacks and Emilie, Olivia and Donald were quietly discussing something. When he neared them they all looked up.
Olivia stood, her mothering habits causing her to comment, "Dear…you have blood on your shirt."
He briefly looked down, noting the few splatters of blood smeared across the khaki material. "Oh," he muttered. "Kinda not high on the priority list right now."
"Of course, of course," she murmured, moving to him and carefully taking his arm, guiding him closer to the rest of the group. "Sam heard through the police department grapevine about the shooting. We know what happened and we wanted to be here."
"Nice of you," Don replied succinctly. He really had little care factor. They were here, fantastic, now if only Savannah would waltz out of that hospital room ready to begin the next stage of moving on through this.
Donald knew what his son needed. He also stood, nodding towards the corridor. "Walk with me laddie," he murmured.
Olivia was about to protest, but a look from her husband had her closing her mouth.
This was something the two men had to do by themselves.
A little relieved, but taut with tension, Don stalked off, his father trailing slowly behind. He was far ahead when Donald called, "Don, over here."
He returned to see his dad standing in front of the elevator bay. "What are we doing?" he asked gruffly.
"Taking you out of here for one thing. Calming you down for another. And making sure your head is on straight my boy. I know you're not unaffected by this. You would be a cold bastard to be unaffected," Donald replied perceptively, stepping inside the lift and pressing the button for the ground floor. Don was silent, unhappy and haggard with anxiety.
The wandered out of the hospital, the elder Flack picking a direction and simply walking while his son kept the pace.
After a minute, Donald said wisely, "A man should never be in a hospital waiting for his partner or wife to get out of a room unless it's for one reason: waiting for her to have their baby."
"In a perfect world," the younger man said darkly.
"Yeah. And I believe this is the third time for you two in the past year, correct?"
"Yeah." Don just shook his head at that, detesting the differing sets of circumstances that had made Savannah land in the hospital. If he had control over those situations they would have never happened at all. How many more of these moments could he take where he feared for her life and that he would lose her before he just burst into a ball of rage?
He didn't want to know the number.
"I'm just saying, you guys have been through a lot, but keep doing what you're doing. Plugging along and trying to make it to the next day. You both need each other now more than ever," Donald advised sensibly. He stopped, looking at his son – who was bottling everything up inside save for frustration – and continued, "You can't give up on Anna now when she needs you most. No matter what she does."
"What do you think she's going to do, throw herself off the Brooklyn Bridge?"
Although said sarcastically, Donald merely looked grave at the insinuation, making Don catch himself. Incredulously, he hastily added, "Dad, she wouldn't so that. She's…she's not that kind of woman."
"She may not be, but I know your girlfriend. She's kind, loyal, and treasures life above all things. Think, Donnie. She just committed the one thing she told herself she was never ever going to do. Reality, situations like that, you can't prepare for them unless you've lived 'em. We've been there, done that, we know how to handle it. It's been our jobs. But your Savannah, she's been mostly innocent to the darker ways of the world until recently," the older man pointed out, rational points leading Don to understand it from his view.
Raking a hand through his hair roughly, Don sighed. "I don't want her to change. I don't want her to turn in to this completely different person that I no longer recognise," he admitted, professing his insecurity about the aftermath of this.
"You can't know until it happens. You were probably too young to remember this, Sam had just been born at the time, but I had the same fear too when your mother was in a car accident one day. A four car pile-up on the expressway. I had to run from my murder case to the hospital and wait until I found out if she was alive or not. While your grandmother looked after the three of you, I was told by doctors that there would be a chance of amnesia." Telling his tale grimly, Donald began to wind his way back to the hospital. "And when she woke up, for about an hour or so she couldn't remember who I was, what she was doing there, or even what her name was."
He paused, and then continued, "Son, I've stared down the barrels of more guns than I'm proud to admit. But I have never been so scared as that day, those few hours, when I thought that the woman I loved, the mother of my children and the person who puts up with all of my crap, would never come back to me. It's the worst thought in the world. But she remembered after she had rested a bit more. I just think the same will apply here. Savannah is going to need to rest and get in touch with who she is."
Don just followed alongside in silence, absorbing the advice. While it was all common sense, just having someone who knew what it felt like vocalise it all for him, commiserate, made him feel just a bit better.
They returned to Savannah's room just in time for the psychiatrist to come out of her hospital room, blank faced. When the Flack men came to a halt before him, he said in a no-nonsense tone, "I have tried stimuli by light, noise, visual aids, touching textured objects and smell. She's not responding to anything. She's in a very deep state of shock. It'll only take some time and positive reinforcement from close family and friends. I will prescribe anti-depressants if she doesn't respond further, but it's up to whoever has the power of attorney to see if she needs them."
Emilie, seated on a nearby chair, snorted, "Chere doesn't need no chemicals in her system."
Disapprovingly, the middle aged man looked down at her but informed them, "If there is any sign of improvement, try and see if she'll see someone for counselling immediately, be it me or another staff member."
"We will, doctor," Olivia assured.
Once he left, Don slipped through the door, going to stand next to her bedside.
Savannah was propped up on many pillows so she was sitting upright, her hands clasped primly in front of her on the infirmary bedspread. The hospital gown seemed to drown her, making her appear more pale and desolate, the darkness of her curls seeming dreary – like the weather – instead of vibrant. Her eyes had stayed that shade of grey, staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging Don's presence.
"Savannah," he murmured.
Nothing.
Not again.
Unexpectedly, tears welled up and he fought them valiantly. Where was her soul? This wasn't Savannah, this was just a shell. The momentary spark from before seemed to be extinguished completely.
Taking her hand, Don said heatedly, "I'm not going to give up on you. You've been stuck with me for a while now, and you're not getting rid of me that easy. You're not a monster. You defended yourself. You potentially saved so many lives today. I'm so glad you're alive, but if you could just look at me, or do something! I don't care if you trash this room, scream you hate me, but just show the world it hasn't got you down just yet."
A little tremble from her, like the real Savannah was stuck inside and clawing to get out.
Despondent, Don slumped into a chair and gently kissed her hand, warming it up with his. He just stared at her, muttering the same assurances and words of love over again, feeling like heavy handed blows to his heart when the only reaction he got was the slight trembles.
"Don," Sam called, cracking the door open slightly.
When he turned towards her sluggishly, he noticed her eyes were red-rimmed – she had been teary like him.
"Mom and her Aunt Emilie want to try something," Sam went on, opening up the door wider and letting the stooped, wizened form of Emilie and the portly, younger Olivia through. She then shut the door in respect for their privacy.
"Move on, young man," Emilie murmured quietly, gesturing for him to get up. "If my idea works, she may flail about like a flopping fish on the pier. Don't want you to get conked out while she's doing that, you are stronger than us."
"What are you thinking?" he asked worriedly.
Olivia gazed down at the unnaturally still form in sympathy and sighed. "Some motherly love. We're not even sure how she'll react, but we have to try. She can't be like this, can you Savannah?"
Her response was to tilt her head to the side slightly and shiver.
Olivia reached out and tenderly ran her hand along the line of her forehead, and then dropped her hand to her side. "Poor dear," she murmured. She then carefully sat up on the hospital bed by Savannah's side, draping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her gently. She then nodded to Emilie – whose arthritis affected hands clasped Savannah's limp ones tightly. Emilie seemed to change before their eyes, becoming less old and stronger. Her voice was not as raspy as it was and she whispered, "Savannah Patia Cormier. Just breathe…and listen."
She took a deep breath and began to sing in a low, slightly husky tone.
"When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be."
Like a flower blooming, there was life at last, sprouting up out of the gloom that had surrounded Savannah in the drowning sea of white. A tear, almost pearlescent in the low light, slipped from grey eyes. It trickled slowly, but was followed by another instantaneously. A low whimper escaped lips that finally parted. She shook again, but it was longer and more visible. Don braced himself, trying to prepare himself for anything. His mother met his eyes, conveying that she trusted this crusty elderly woman who had known Savannah longer than them both.
"Let it be, let it be, let it be," hummed Emilie, eagle eyes watching intently as she crooned.
"...oh God, I'm so sorry."
Savannah's voice was whisper soft and she moved at last. But there was an air about her that told the watching trio that she was still stuck within herself. She didn't focus on them and she didn't look at any of them. She appeared to be addressing a point somewhere between her hands and the foot of the bed. Don was about to encourage her when she whimpered, "Mama...mama I'm so sorry. I never wanted to do that. I'm so sorry. Don't turn me away...please. Don't turn me away."
Olivia's eyes widened and she was the quickest to react. "No sweetheart," she said, "we could never turn you away. We know you're sorry. It's okay dear."
"Let it be, let it be," crooned Emilie once more.
The words were a key slowly unlocking Savannah from the state she was in. A dangerous mix of grief and self-loathing. She began to sob, growing louder with every moment, tears free from their grey confines. She pressed a hand to her mouth as if to stuff them back, to prevent them from being heard. All the while, Olivia stroked her hair, rocking back and forth like any mother would do to an upset child.
A cry of delirious desolation flew from Savannah and a flicker of furious passion bolted through her as she pounded a fist into the bed, wordlessly expelling the inner conflict.
Don couldn't take this. He couldn't watch such raw pain from her again.
He darted out the door and took a deep breath, looking from the rest of the combined families to the floor and back again. "She's wrecked by this. I'm not talking sad, I'm talking wrecked like when her friends died. And I...I can't reach her. Hell, it took my mother and her aunt to do it," he muttered rapidly, not quite despairing or angry, but in the middle.
Donald didn't say anything. He had said all he had needed to say earlier.
Sam seemed to flounder for the right words, but it was Jacks that finally replied.
"My mama wanted to sing because when she sings...she sounds like Aunt Evangeline – from what I can remember anyway. And the few times I had visited them when I was a pre-teen, she would always sing that song. 'Let it be.' Not a lullaby, but that song, and I don't think Savannah has listened to the Beatles since Evangeline died," she explained, giving all the answers that everyone needed. "Mama thought that singing it would shock Anna enough to come back instead of wherever she's in."
"You got that right." The detective held back yet another sigh and yawned instead. He was exhausted by the ups and downs of all that had happened today.
He looked through the window to the door and saw that Savannah was still sobbing onto his mother's shoulder, but there was recognition. She was back, and she was functioning again. He re-entered slowly, letting a quietly smug Emilie back into the hospital corridor.
As far as she was concerned, her work was done.
Don said, "Savannah, look at me."
She did – her eyes blurry with tears – and her lower lip trembled.
Don moved to the chair, taking her hands once more, reassured by the fact that she was following his movements, registering his voice. "You don't have to talk right now. I want you too, but if it's too hard...just squeeze my hand. That's all I want. Squeeze my hand and you can sleep," he murmured.
Savannah nodded and then he felt a strong grasp on his hand. Don squeezed back, leaning up and kissing her forehead, brushing away a few more leaked tears as her sobs dialed down once more. "Rest. Relax, we've had a hard day."
"Keep me safe," she finally gathered her wits about her enough to say.
"Always."
A/N: This was such a difficult chapter to write. I think it's been the hardest one I've ever written so far because it's just so emotionally charged. I know you guys are all like, 'not another downhill slope!' I understand that, I do, but I've had this idea that's going to be played out in the next few chapters. I'm a sucker for a happy ending so rest assured that these two will sort things out eventually. Please review and tell me what you liked about this, and let me know how you felt about Savannah's reactions and her shock state.