"The next few hours are critical in determining whether or not he will survive."
Those words played through Malcolm's mind as he sat there, numb from the shock over what happened, and filled by a sense of complete, utter uselessness.
He couldn't correct the situation with a wave of his hand.
He couldn't touch his fingers to Gil and heal him.
He couldn't do anything but sit here really.
A helpless rage threatened to consume him. Malcolm swallowed it back. Like he always did. Losing his temper wouldn't solve anything.
It wouldn't help anyone.
Least of all Gil.
And Jackie, he added silently as he stared at Gil's ashen face. I need to remain in control to help her get through the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
Harder to stop, though, was his want, need to lash out at something, anything. Malcolm stuck his trembling hands between his knees to keep from doing so.
Punching a wall would just earn him bruised knuckles he'd have to explain once Gil woke up.
Time ticked by on the clock. The only sound in the room came from the machines quietly humming.
Monitoring heart rate.
Respiratory.
Letting him know Gil was holding on despite the grim prognosis the doctor had about his survival.
Malcolm had worked a number of cases where suspects attacked those in pursuit of them. No matter how much a cop tried to reduce the risks, bad things still happened.
Many died for simply pulling someone over for a broken taillight.
This was Gil, though.
Nothing bad was ever supposed to happen to him.
Nobody counted on him bumping into a guy while getting coffee and the guy stabbing him with a hatpin.
Who could have predicted that sort of situation?
Nobody, that's who.
Through the white noise filling his head came fragments of a memory, buried these past five years because there had been no need to recall the information.
Until now.
"Do you remember Jebediah Waller?"
His father sat back, his brow furrowed, but his eyes shining with excitement.
"Why does that name sound familiar?"
Malcolm ducked his head to contain a smile. His father clearly knew who Waller was but pretended otherwise to keep the conversation going.
"The St. Paul Stabber." He set his pencil atop his notepad before looking at him. "He took a No. 2 pencil and stabbed it into the heart of a local sheriff."
"I know this story." His father folded his arms across his chest. "He, uh, pierced the myocardium a centimeter beneath the seventh intercostal."
Malcolm modded. "And the cop lived."
"Well, you see, my boy, there's a, uh, there's a point where you can pierce the heart, and not disrupt a single coronary artery. So, in effect." A smile appeared through his beard. "You can be stabbed right here," he indicated a spot on his chest with his hand, "and somehow emerge perfectly fine."
Malcolm hoped the same would prove true for Gil. There was every reason to believe it would.
Jackie saying, "He'll be fine," broke him from his dark musings. He looked up to see her standing in the doorway, two lazily steaming cups in her hands, and a warm smile curving her lips despite what was going on.
"I know." Malcolm reached over to cover Gil's hand with his own. "I just feel so..."
"Useless?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Me too." Jackie came to stand beside his chair. "Him getting hurt on the job has always been my greatest fear. I had to accept it as the price for loving a cop, though." She slanted a look at him. "Same as your wife will."
"No woman is crazy enough to marry me."
"I can think of one."
Malcolm blinked up at her. "Sorcha? We're..."
"Just friends?"
"Yes."
"Malcolm." Jackie's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Friends don't look at each other the way you two do."
Malcolm had no idea what that meant. How did he look at Sorcha? Was there some secret look he didn't know he had?
"Sorcha heard about what happened to Gil and caught a red-eye," he heard Jackie say. "She should be here in a few hours."
"Sorcha's coming here?" A frown formed between Malcolm's eyes. "I thought she was guest lecturing at UC Davis this week?"
"Family's more important." Jackie sent him a knowing look. "Isn't that why you're here?"
"Of course."
He hadn't even thought twice about flying home when he heard about what happened. Neither would Sorcha, he realized as exhaustion started to catch up with him. How long had it been since he slept? Three days? Four? He couldn't rightly remember.
"He would want you to get some sleep."
"I'm staying right here until he wakes up."
"Figured you'd say that." She handed one of the styrofoam cups to him. "That's why I brought tea."
Malcolm breathed in the fragrant steam. The citrusy smell reminded him of all those evenings seated beside Gil as they watched for some suspect or situation to take place.
"Earl Grey." He smiled his appreciation. "Thank you."
Jackie took a seat on the other side of the bed. "Nothing better for a bedside vigil than Earl Grey."
They sipped tea as they watched the rise and fall of Gil's chest.
Neither spoke.
Neither felt any need.
...
Gil finally managed to lever open his eyes. Quite why they were so heavy was a bit of a mystery, but he finally got them to open as he demanded. Still a bit groggy, he took a moment to evaluate himself and his surroundings.
He was lying on his back. In a soft bed. Not his bed at home because he could tell the bedcovers weren't the thick, cottony ones Jackie got from her sister for Christmas.
He stared upward at a white ceiling. Instruments lined the wall behind the bed.
A hospital, he realized as the faint humming of machines filled his ears.
Right, he got stabbed outside the coffee shop.
He remembered now.
Good times, he thought as the faint hint of oranges, lemons, grapefruit and lime filled his nostrils. A familiar scent. One that inspired memories of long stakeouts and quiet evenings at home.
"Couldn't one of you drink something other than Earl Grey?" he rasped, a faint smile on his lips. "Room smells like a citrus grove."
"Could smell like the subway or the sewers."
Gil groaned as he chuckled. "I'll stick with this, thanks."
Jackie leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I had a feeling you would."
Gil turned his head and spied Bright, head cushioned on Sorcha's shoulder, asleep. Her eyes were also closed, her cheek pillowed atop the kid's head, and her breathing evened out into the sleep of the exhausted.
"When they pass out?"
"Little while ago." Jackie wove her fingers between his. "She fell asleep singing to him."
"That explains why I was hearing The Beatles."
"It calms him."
One of the few things that does, Gil mused as he continued to watch the sleeping pair.
"Think they'll ever figure things out?"
"We did." She squeezed his fingers. "They will, too."
"We weren't as stupid as these two."
"Well, I certainly wasn't," Jackie teased. "You on the other hand..."
"I knew I wanted to be with you and only you the moment I laid eyes on you."
"Is that why you proposed to me on our first date?"
"When you've met the person you want to spend the rest of your life with you don't waste time on dating."
"That so?" Jackie raised their joined hands and kissed his knuckles. "Well, do you think you can avoid getting stabbed again so we can spend the rest of our lives together then?"
"I'll certainly do my best."
Together, they watched the sleeping pair, content in the knowledge that everything be all right.
A/N: Hello, all, and welcome!
This is for my seventh entry on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card, prompt being, "Bedside Vigil."
Please, if you like this piece, favorite/kudo/bookmark it! Thanks for reading! Take care!