A/N: Hello everyone! This will be a fic in three chapters (all finished). My first one after hitting a serious writer's block, so please excuse the shoddier quality :D Already working on the next fic :)
Warnings! If you have issues with needles, are squicked out by them or triggered, this fic probably isn't for you. Tread with caution please. As for the main topic of this fic, I tried to do my best with the research, but I got only so far with historical and medical info, so take it with a grain of salt, as always :)
It was such a nice day... Charlie should've known it wouldn't stay that way. Summer had turned to fall, the temperatures had finally reached those comfortable levels where one didn't feel like suffocating. The sun was shining but it was losing its bite and Charlie had enjoyed a morning run before heading off to work. The first hour there was just paperwork and phone calls. Lawson and Hobart were in the interrogation room, talking to a suspect involved in last night's bar fight. Two more men were in the holding cells, sleeping off the hangover before being charged with destruction of property and indecent conduct.
Charlie was about to go and check on them. They were brought in during the night by Hobart and another constable and Charlie wasn't sure Bill would offer any medical assistance if needed. It was best to see and make sure they were still breathing after all.
He was in the middle of the hallway, when Ned rushed out after him.
"Sergeant Davis? There's a call... a woman. Domestic disturbance-" Ned said quickly. Charlie frowned.
"What exactly did she say?"
"That there was something wrong with her husband. He was being violent. I could hear noise and shouting in the background, sounded like something was being broken."
"Do you have a name and address?" The thought of checking the drunkards fled from his mind. If Charlie couldn't stand something, it was a woman being hurt, especially by someone who should be offering protection.
"Yes, Sergeant," Ned rattled off the address. Charlie nodded.
"Leave a note on the Superintendent's desk then grab your things. I'll wait in the car."
Ned nodded, an excited look on his face as he turned back to the office. Charlie sighed, doing a mental check. He had his uniform on, the baton and handcuffs. By his estimation, Lawson should be finishing up the interrogation pretty soon. After all, it was a clean cut case. And there was another constable keeping an eye on the radio.
Charlie stepped out of the station, looking up at the sky. There were small clouds coming from south, but the sun was still shining and the city was buzzing with the usual life. No sign that in one house a few miles away a woman was most likely covering from her husband.
The ride was thankfully short. Ned kept jumping from talking about his fiancé and their oncoming wedding plans to wondering how a marriage can turn sour. How someone could hurt a person they once loved.
Charlie kept silent, pondering the same thing.
"People can change. Or they stay the same but they stop pretending," he said quietly. Ned shot him a look but didn't dare to ask for clarification.
They reached the house. It was in the better neighbourhood. A house with a picket fence. A newer model of Ford was parked in the front. Money obviously wasn't much of an issue there. As they stepped out of the house, Charlie could hear some noise. Not screaming, just... things being thrown. Doors being slammed.
Someone moved in the window and shortly after a teary eyed woman stepped out of the door. She didn't look hurt, just... scared. Desperate.
Charlie wondered why she hadn't run... she obviously could.
"Please... help him," she said and Charlie paused momentarily.
"Madam... are you alright? We got a call about domestic disturbance..." As if to prove his words, there was the sound of breaking glass. The woman jumped, startled, throwing a quick look back inside the house. She shook her head, grabbing for Charlie's arm.
"It was me, I called. But it's not like that. Something's wrong. He would never do this... something's wrong. You need to help him!" she begged.
Charlie and Ned exchanged a confused look but there was really no time to stand around. Another crash, followed by a shout of anger or pain, Charlie wasn't sure.
"What's his name, madam?"
"Mark. Please... don't hurt him," she said as Charlie pushed past her.
"We'll do what we can. Stay here please," he told her, trying to calm her. Last thing he wanted was for her to follow and put herself into danger.
Once he saw her nod, Charlie headed for where he assumed was the kitchen, at least if the sound was any indication. He could hear shouts that had nothing in common with human language. It sounded more like an angry animal let loose in a porcelain store.
Another item fell to the floor, crashing into myriad pieces.
Charlie turned the corner and stepped into chaos.
He stopped right where he stood.
The kitchen was in disarray. Dishes and glasses lay broken on the floor. All the drawers were pulled out. The sink was overflowing with water. There was a half full bottle of milk on the table, a bottle of what Charlie assumed was ketchup or tomato sauce lay on the edge of the kitchen desk, dripping lazily into the ever growing mess on the floor.
What made him stop in the doorway though wasn't the mess. It was the man that caused it all.
Charlie realized that this wasn't a simple case of domestic abuse. This man wasn't drunk. He was sick.
Mark couldn't have been much older than Charlie himself. He had an athletic build, tanned skin. Charlie noticed that, because Mark was clad only in his underwear, barefoot amidst broken glass. His feet were cut up and trailing blood mixed with ketchup and possibly milk all over the floor. The man didn't seem to notice though. He stood there, next to the sink. Watching the overflowing sink as if hypnotized. His hands were shaking. His whole body seemed to be spasming minutely.
"Sir?" Charlie called out softly, trying to gain the man's attention. He didn't react. "Mark!" Charlie called out louder and took a step forward.
Mark's head turned towards him and that's when Charlie noticed the slack mouth, the trickle of saliva running down the man's chin. The feverish, crazy look in his eyes.
Charlie could hear Ned behind him, looking over his shoulder, trying to follow him. Charlie took a second to look back at Ned to stop his entrance.
"No, stay there. Call an ambulance. Quick." Ned looked a bit confused, but promptly turned on his heel and ran out of the house. Using the radio in the car was the fastest way to get help. Charlie noted the wife was still in the hallway, teary eyed and starting to come closer. He shook his head warningly and she stopped.
Feeling he could focus on the situation at hand, Charlie turned back towards Mark.
He didn't think the man had so much speed in him. In the few moments Charlie was distracted, Mark made it from the sink to one of the cupboards and pulled out a large bottle. By the time Charlie noticed that, Mark had unscrewed the top and was in the process of taking a drink.
Charlie's eyes went wide as he caught the label on the bottle. Bleach.
Without thinking, he crossed the space between them and punched the bottle from Mark's grasp just as it touched his lips. The bottle went crashing to the ground, like most of its predecessors.
Mark let out a scream of despair that sent shudders down Charlie's spine.
He reached out, trying to grab Mark's arms and pin them to his side, push him against the wall. Anything to immobilize him and stop him from doing something harmful.
He wasn't fast enough.
As soon as he reached for Mark's arm, the man leaned over and without any warning ground his teeth straight into Charlie's right hand.
This time it was Charlie who screamed as he felt the teeth break through the skin and clamp down in the fleshy part just under his thumb. He instinctively reached up with his left one, wrapping his forearm around Mark's neck to put pressure on his throat.
It was a fight and Charlie had to use his own weight and a swift kick to the back of Mark's leg to get him down on his knees. Once he was down, Charlie followed, his hand still a captive of the man's mouth. The change in position however allowed Charlie to get a better handle and use more force. He pressed harder on the man's windpipe and finally Mark's mouth released its grip.
Charlie pulled his hand away with a hiss, pushing his knee into Mark's back for good measure. Within a minute or two the man's body went slack from lack of oxygen and Charlie lowered him to the floor. With his left hand he grabbed his handcuffs. Fumbling and with his own hands shaking, he handcuffed Mark's hands behind his back.
Charlie knew the man was sick and deranged, not really responsible for his actions. That didn't change the fact he was dangerous.
Seeing his own blood dripping from the slack mouth only drove the point home.
"It's alright, just stay down. Help is on the way," Charlie said breathlessly, trying to reassure the other man. It all came on deaf ears however, as Mark continued to twitch and toss.
"Sergeant?" It was Ned, finally coming to his help. Charlie cast him a grateful look when the constable added his own weight to the buckling man, rendering him momentarily harmless.
"Ambo?"
"On the way," Ned said, grunting when Mark still managed to kick him in the leg.
"Careful," Charlie warned a bit unnecessarily.
"Mark! What are you doing to him?" came the shriek from the door and Charlie risked a glance up. The wife stood there, eyes wide as she took in the destruction of the kitchen, all the shards and different liquids on the floor, mixed in with spots of blood. Mark must've had a moment of clarity, or it was just a reaction to the sound, but his head turned towards his wife.
She yelped, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Dear lord," Charlie heard and felt a jolt of pity for the woman. Her husband was glaring at her with wide, red rimmed eyes without recognition. There was spit and blood smeared all over his face, his teeth occasionally clicking, as if his jaw was hit by spasm.
Charlie didn't know what his problem was, but he had a feeling it was rather serious.
"Miss?" he called out at the wife, cringing when he realised he didn't know her name. "Miss, please. Is there a chance he took something? Medication? Drugs?" Charlie asked, looking up at her from the floor, his right hand sluggishly bleeding on her husband's undershirt.
She shook her head, swallowing.
"N-no, nothing. He doesn't do that," she said.
Charlie wanted to ask if she was sure, but changed his mind. If she had known, she would've told them already. He could see it in her eyes. The raw panic for her husband.
"How long for the ambulance?" Charlie asked Ned, trying not to grit his teeth as every toss or kick from Mark sent a stab of pain through his hand. He could also feel several glass shards pressing uncomfortably against his trousers.
"They should be here any minute," Ned grumbled, grimacing as well. For someone looking so bad, Mark sure had plenty of strength left in him.
"Miss, can you go outside and wait for them?" Charlie asked, hoping to at least get the wife out of the picture. She really didn't need to see what was happening and Charlie also worried if Mark made a move, they would have to take more drastic action. Better have her outside.
She tried to protest, but Mark let out a shriek that was more animal than human. It made both Charlie and Ned jump in a startle, though they managed to keep their hold on the man. The wife yelped though and spun on her heels, running outside.
Thank lord for small mercies, Charlie thought, then felt another rush of relief when he heard the familiar siren in the distance.
"Hang on, Mark. Help is almost there," Charlie muttered and shared a look with Ned. It was clear neither of them knew if it would really be enough.
Finally the medics arrived. Two men entered the kitchen with a stretcher in hand, the wife standing by the door watching the scene in silent horror. It was a feat when they managed to put him on the stretcher. First, Charlie had to uncuff his hands, fortunately enough though, with four men around Mark didn't have a chance to escape their grasp. Not that he didn't try. Even though on reflection Charlie had to admit there was no real strategy behind it... more just muscle reaction it seemed.
Charlie only let out a breath of relief when one of the medics managed to strap Mark to the stretcher, rendering him immobile.
"We will need to take him in," the medic said, casting a questioning look at Charlie. He nodded.
"Yeah. Just be careful, he bites," Charlie said with a grimace, left hand grasping at his right, trying to rub away the pain.
"He bit you?" the medic asked with a raised brow. Charlie shrugged.
"He was trying to drink bleach. Didn't much like when I stopped him."
"You better let someone take a look at that," the other man piped in. "Bites can be nasty."
"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Charlie asked, trying to redirect attention from himself. He felt stupid enough already for letting Mark get the better of him, he really didn't need Ned to pay too much thought to him, least the whole station would know by next morning. Luckily, Ned was just trying to convince the wife that the restraints were indeed necessary, if for nothing else than Mark's own safety.
The stretcher had in the meantime been moved out of the kitchen, heading outside to the parked ambulance.
"Can I go with him?" the wife asked as Mark was being put in the car. The medics shared a look then the older one nodded.
"Sure. You can ride in the front. I think the doctor will need some history sooner rather than later."
"Do you need anything else from us?" the other medic asked as he was settling at the driver's seat. Charlie shook his head.
"I don't think so. Someone will stop by at the hospital later on for a report, but that's all."
The man nodded and without further ado, the ambulance went on its way.
It took a second for Charlie to realize that the wife had left as she was... with the house door open wide.
"Serg? Do you want to stop by the hospital? Or head back to the station?" Ned asked curiously.
"I don't think they'll have any answers this soon," Charlie said with a frown, but Ned shook his head.
"To get that taken care of," he clarified, nodding towards Charlie's hand.
Charlie looked at the offending appendage with a grimace. He could see several small bleeding wounds in the form of the incisors, wrapping around the base of his thumb, in the fleshy part. It was still bleeding sluggishly, but didn't look too serious. Hardly something requiring a hospital visit.
"Nah, it's nothing," he muttered, heading back towards the house.
"But the medic said-"
Charlie rolled his eyes. Really, he liked Ned, but the man tended to be overzealous sometimes.
"I can take care of it, Ned. Don't worry."
Ned's mouth turned into a pout, but he didn't comment any more. Charlie sighed.
"Why don't you wait for me in the car? I'll just use the bathroom and make sure all the doors and windows are closed before we leave."
Ned nodded and did as he was told without protest. Charlie should have known it would come to bite him in the ass a bit later.
First things first though. Charlie went to find the bathroom. He hardly wanted to add to the woman's plight with smearing blood over the house. It was enough her kitchen was destroyed. Heeding the medic's words at least, Charlie put his hand under the faucet and turned on the water. He hissed at the initial feeling of discomfort, but the cold water quickly numbed the wound. His other hand in the meantime opened the cabinet over the sink and started rummaging through. He didn't find a first aid kit, but there was a pack of bandages in the corner of the cabinet.
Charlie took note of several pill bottles, but as he read the labels he saw they were all for the wife. Her name was Eileen, he learned. And it seemed she had allergies. Nothing that would explain her husband's reaction, although Charlie would have to ask Blake to be sure about that.
Seeing that the water had turned from red to barely slight pink, Charlie turned off the faucet and did a quick job with the bandage. He was glad it was his right hand as it left his dominant one able to work the pen. He was sure Lawson would appreciate that at least, if he decided to make him write reports all day.
Making sure the sink was clean, Charlie left the bathroom and made a quick run over the house, closing a window here and there. He paused at the bedroom, noting that the bed seemed to be extra rumpled, blankets thrown on the floor. Nothing was broken though in the room and there was no real sign of a fight.
Shaking his head, frowning at the strangeness of the situation, he decided it was about time to return to the station. Maybe he could ask Blake after dinner tonight what could've caused such a psychotic break. For now though, he had a report to write and most of the work day still ahead.
When they arrived back at the station, Lawson glanced up from his files, giving them a once over. Charlie managed to keep his bandaged hand out of sight.
"Everything alright?" Lawson inquired and Charlie nodded.
"Yes boss. The ambulance crew took Mr. Turner to the hospital. I'll stop by later on for a report. Maybe they'll know what caused the... episode."
Lawson nodded. He was already informed about the basics, after all, Ned had requested medical assistance. That meant Lawson would be up in arms wanting to know whether it was for a cop or a civilian.
"Any signs of drug use?"
Charlie shook his head.
"I did a basic search of the house when Mrs. Turner left in a hurry and forgot to lock it up. There wasn't anything pointing to drugs and she herself denied the possibility. She also said her husband didn't really attack her and his actions were out of ordinary," Charlie explained.
When Lawson didn't ask anything else, Charlie let out a relieved sigh. It was clear the man had lost interest and decided to focus back on his work. Charlie settled behind his desk, determined to write down the report. Maybe if he did it fast enough, Lawson would skim over it with the same disinterest he showed now. He could hope at least.
Trouble was, Lawson wasn't blind or deaf. After several minutes of Charlie's attempts at using the typewriter at the usual speed and failing, because every time he leaned his right hand against the keys, his hand throbbed and his fingers moved just a bit slower in response, Lawson cleared his throat.
Charlie could feel eyes watching him, so he risked a glance towards his boss. Lawson was eyeing him quizzically.
"Something you forgot to mention, Davis?" Lawson drawled, sounding at the same time bored and suspicious. Lawson's eyes settled on Charlie's wrapped hand that he was too slow to hide.
Charlie shook his head.
"Just a little accident," Charlie said, going for an easy tone. He really didn't fancy admitting to his boss right in the middle of the office that he was reckless enough to allow a suspect to bite him. Really, just the thought made him feel ashamed.
"What kind of an accident?" Lawson asked, still sounding only slightly interested.
Charlie huffed. Couldn't the man just let him be?
"I asked a question, sergeant," Lawson grumbled, this time looking at Charlie with a glare that warned Charlie from lying.
"Just a small bite," Charlie muttered, feeling annoyed. Really, does everyone have to stick their nose into his business?
"What was that?" Lawson asked with a frown.
Charlie grimaced. Was the man really asking him to repeat that? But then he noticed the irritated look on Lawson's face and knew the man simply didn't hear.
Maybe he could fib something? Unfortunately, before he got a chance, Ned jumped in, obviously happy to help out.
"The man was totally bonkers, Boss. He bit the Sergeant and I swear I could hear him growl-"
"He did not growl!" Charlie jumped in, equal part annoyed and startled by Ned's fabulation. He hoped Lawson would roll his eyes, tell them both to shut up and get back to work. Instead he saw the man's brows go up.
Damn.
"He bit you?"
Charlie shrugged, resigned. He saw Hobart pause at his desk, heard him chuckle then let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a bark.
Wonderful. Just what he was trying to avoid.
"I was trying to stop him from drinking bleach," Charlie muttered with a shrug. That didn't seem to make the situation any better. Lawson's brow just kept furrowing.
"Interesting. I think I'll want to read a full report on it, as soon as you manage to type it out, Sergeant Davis."
Charlie sighed.
"Yes, Boss. On it." He turned back towards the typewriter, clicking away slowly. He shot a glare at Ned who of course wasn't looking his way. Charlie felt the irritation rise but decided to focus on the report. He spent several minutes typing and he was calming down. Bill looked to have already forgotten the little titbit and Lawson seemed busy with his own paperwork. Perhaps he was overreacting, Charlie thought and relaxed. Surely no one would make a big deal out of this.
He was halfway done with the report when Lawson's phone rang. Charlie didn't pay much attention to it, until he realized the man was speaking with Blake. He raised his eyes at that.
Lawson caught it and his lips twitched.
"Actually, why don't you stop by on your way home? One of my officers managed to get himself into a skirmish. I'd like to make sure he won't start barking all over the place."
Charlie's eyes widened. Did Lawson really just say that?
"I did mean barking, not barfing," Lawson said into the phone, rolling his eyes at Blake's obvious inquiry.
"Boss!" Charlie protested, face turning red.
Lawson snorted.
"Although the second one is starting to seem like a possibility as well," he added in amusement.
Charlie shot a quick look around the office, mortified. Fortunately, Hobart was gone and Ned was on the phone as well. The other younger constable was making some tea and albeit Charlie could swear he saw him bite down on his lip to stop a smirk, the man's face was neutral.
"Boss, I'm fine!" Charlie hissed but Lawson had already hung up. The man just quirked an eyebrow.
"Problem, Sergeant?"
Charlie grunted and decided that it was useless to protest. Blake was already on the way, and getting into a tiff about something so stupid with Lawson would only draw the attention of the others.
With a sigh he turned back towards the report. It was testament to what a pain in the ass writing had become that by the time Blake appeared in the office, Charlie barely had half the report done. He gave the doctor a nod in welcome and pretended to be absorbed in the task, hoping against all hope that he could somehow postpone the humiliation just a few more minutes. Preferably until most of the guys went on their lunch break. One could dream at least.
Blake had settled himself in the chair opposite of Lawson and the two spent the next few minutes discussing Blake's findings on a case.
"Here's the autopsy report. Upon further inspection, it was clear Mr. Rogers had died before the car fell into the lake. Massive heart failure I'm afraid," Blake said and Lawson nodded, taking the offered file.
"Always preferable to a murder," he noted with a twitch of his lips.
Charlie tried not to pay attention, but that was near impossible. He had to bite down on his tongue to stop a snort. Seeing that they didn't have a proper case for several weeks now, he was pretty sure Blake would have preferred a good murder. Blake's responding sigh was evidence enough.
"Indeed," Blake muttered, barely hiding his disappointment. "Seems like my detective job for the day is done. Now... you mentioned I might be useful at practicing medicine?"
"Yes," Lawson nodded towards Charlie's desk and Charlie quickly turned his gaze back to the typewriter. "Seems like sergeant Davis wasn't fast enough to get out of a suspect's biting zone."
Charlie cringed and sighed.
"It wasn't like that, Boss!" he protested, giving up the pretence of working. "I was just trying to stop the man from poisoning himself."
"Ah, so you thought letting him chomp at your hand was a better solution? I see," Lawson noted, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Charlie rolled his eyes. The throbbing in his hand was getting less obnoxious than the offhanded comments. The look on his face must've shown that though, because Blake shot Lawson a glare.
"Human bites are hardly a joking matter," he noted. "Any bites actually, but human saliva especially bears a high risk of bacterial contamination."
Charlie was heartened to see that Lawson actually seemed a bit contrite. He felt an urge to say 'See?' but he swallowed it. After all, it wouldn't do to act childish towards one's superior. Not at work. There were so many better ways to get back on Lawson at home...
"Alright, let me see what we're dealing with," Blake said as he made his way over to Charlie's desk. Charlie sighed, somehow reluctantly unwrapping the bandage from his hand. Best to have this over with quickly... maybe there will be a murder somewhere and this will be forgotten. No one seemed to be paying attention to them at the moment anyway.
He cringed as the bandage was undone and he could clearly see the shape of a whole set of teeth wrapping around the base of his thumb. It looked as if Mr. Turner really tried to chomp off his finger.
Blake reached out and Charlie let him take hold of the appendage and turn it this way and that.
"I see the teeth broke the skin," Blake muttered, not looking happy about that. His fingers felt around the wound and Charlie hissed when he hit a particularly sore spot.
"Sorry. Can you move your thumb and other fingers alright?"
Charlie demonstrated that he could, although it caused him to wince.
"Good. Looks like there is no tendon damage. Did you clean it properly?"
Charlie shrugged.
"Put it under the faucet for a minute," he said, knowing that was hardly what Blake meant. The glare he received in reply was clear enough.
"That's hardly sufficient for a bite, Charlie," Blake reprimanded him even as he was pulling over a chair and opening his medical bag.
Charlie grimaced, but relented himself to having his hand being poked at for a moment if it meant the whole issue could just die down. After all, how bad could it be?
He found out just a moment later that the bites were deep enough for the disinfectant to bloody hurt. Gritting his teeth, trying to stop himself from hissing every time Blake used the bloody swab to poke at a tooth mark, Charlie had almost welcomed Blake's queries.
"So... who was the lucky owner of such a nice set of teeth?" Blake asked half amusedly while Charlie tried to focus on anything but the stinging.
"Uh... Mark Turner. And I don't think he's that lucky," Charlie said and hissed as Blake poured more disinfectant on the wound.
"How comes?"
"Well... I mean, he has a lovely wife and house and all, but... dunno. I think something got crossed in his brain."
Blake paused, looking Charlie in the eyes. The amusement was gone, replaced by curiosity.
"What do you mean?"
Charlie shook his head.
"It wasn't right, the way he acted Doc. You should've seen it. When we arrived... the whole kitchen was demolished. Shards and glass everywhere... liquids all over the floor. It looked like an earthquake hit or something. And in the middle of it all stood this guy. Hell, he was barely older than me... but... he wasn't clear in the head."
Blake hummed, urging Charlie to go on, while he reached for a fresh bandage to wrap the hand up. Feeling relieved that the painful part was over, Charlie let down his guard and relaxed.
"He tried to drink bleach I mean... he was slobbering like a dog and the sounds he made..." Charlie shook his head. "They weren't right."
Charlie was so lost in the recounting he missed the fact that Blake froze mid motion.
"Slobbering?" Blake asked, his voice strangely tight.
Charlie paused, frowning.
"Yeah. Doc... you alright?"
Blake seemed to shake off whatever thought hit him and gave Charlie a quick nod.
"Of course. Charlie... do you know if Mr. Turner had left the continent in the last few months perhaps?"
Charlie shook his head.
"I don't know. Didn't really got the chance to talk with his wife-"
"He is a businessman," Ned piped in and Charlie blinked. He totally forgot Ned was here... and that he most likely had more time to talk with the wife. "Mrs. Turner told me that he just returned from an overseas business trip a few days before he started acting strange."
Blake's frown only deepened.
"Do you know where he came from?"
"Philippines I think... but she said he was travelling all over south Asia so I'm not sure."
Blake grimaced.
"What about you, Ned? Did you get into any contact with Mr. Turner's blood or saliva?"
Both Ned and Charlie shot Blake a confused look, but Ned quickly shook his head.
"No, doctor Blake. I... I barely came into contact with him."
"That's good," Blake said with a nod.
"What's wrong, Doc?" Charlie asked, feeling a shiver of apprehension run down his spine. Blake didn't look happy and that didn't bode well for his own hide.
"I'm not sure yet, Charlie. But I think it would be best if I head to the hospital and find out what is ailing Mr. Turner."
"Why? Do you think it might be contagious?" Charlie asked nervously. Whatever the man had, he didn't want to catch.
"I'm not sure, that's what I need to find out. Until then... stay here Charlie, alright?"
"What?"
Blake turned towards Lawson.
"Desk duty for him. I'll call as soon as I find out what's going on."
Lawson now frowned as well.
"You can't think this is-" he paused, shooting Charlie a startled look.
Charlie didn't like that at all.
Blake shook his head.
"I'm not sure. But I want to know where to find him when I call," he said once more and grabbing his medical bag rushed out of the office, before Charlie could put up an efficient protest.
Great.
Now he was benched for something that was barely a scratch, with his boss looking at him as if he was about to sprout a second head any moment.
"Boss? What did you mean?" Charlie asked but Lawson just cleared his throat and shook his head, his face back to his old gruff self.
"Nothing, Davis. You heard the man. Now get back to work."
Well... that wasn't ominous at all.
Charlie shook his head in annoyance and tried to ignore the growing feeling of dread. It was harder than one would have thought.
Over an hour had passed and there was still no word from Blake. Charlie had finished the report and was reviewing other reports from several cases of burglaries that occurred in the past two weeks, hoping to find some new clue or at least keep his mind from worrying. Damn both Blake and Lawson from keeping him in the dark. Either they should've told him what they assumed was happening or not to make such a deal out of it. Charlie curled his injured hand into a fist, the dull throb only a minor distraction from his worry.
He barely contained his happiness when they got a call about a new burglary at one of the farms on the outskirts of the town. Hobart was out on a different call which meant he was the senior officer supposed to head out. His mind was already focused on the case, trying to find some connection between this and the other burglaries, as he reached for his blazer, ready to go.
"Where do you think you're going, Davis?" Lawson's voice stopped him and Charlie paused, blinking.
"To the farm?" he stated a bit hesitantly. He shot a look at Ned and another constable who were already heading towards the door and paused. Lawson shook his head.
"I sent Simmons and Stance. Hobart will meet them at the farm." Lawson glared at the two men standing in the door. They quickly scuttled away.
"Why can't I go with Simmons?" Charlie asked, hoping it didn't sound whiny.
"You are on desk duty till further notice. Now sit your ass back down and get back to work."
Charlie blinked, then frowned, feeling annoyed.
"Boss, I'm fine!" he said and Lawson gave an exasperated sigh.
"Obviously not, if you are having trouble recognizing a simple order, Sergeant Davis!" he barked and gave Charlie an expectant look.
Charlie bit back the urge to say something snarky. Instead he huffed and settled back down behind his desk, muttering under his breath about a bunch of mother hens.
"My hearing is perfectly fine, Davis," Lawson reminded him and Charlie shut his mouth, blushing slightly. It wouldn't do to piss off Lawson on top of the day he was having really.
When Blake appeared almost an hour later, Charlie looked up half annoyed, half hopeful. Maybe the man could retract his stupid order and Charlie would be allowed back in the field. Really, he was just itching to join Simmons and Stance on the farm, gathering evidence, getting some fresh air. Maybe that could clear his head and he would stop thinking about the look on Mark Turner's face before he chomped down on his hand.
"Doc? Any news?" he asked, raising his brow in hopeful expectation. The grimace appearing on Blake's face though just made his stomach clench tighter. If he had news it definitely wasn't good.
"Yes, some," Blake said then sighed, looking around the office. There was only one officer at the corner desk and he was busy with a phone call. Whatever he had to say, Charlie was sure he wouldn't like it.
"Well? Spit it out then! We don't have all day," Lawson barked and that just rubbed Charlie the wrong way. If Lawson was irritated on Charlie's behalf, that was... bad.
Blake gave a nod and settled in a chair opposite Lawson's desk, though he turned it so he could communicate with Charlie as well.
Charlie leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and giving Blake a questioning look.
"Doc? What's going on?"
Blake seemed a bit reluctant to start but Lawson cleared his throat as a reminder. Blake shot him a glare but then nodded.
"As you know, I went to check on Mr. Turner... Mark."
Charlie nodded impatiently.
"Yes. Is he alright now?"
Blake grimaced.
"I'm afraid not."
The tone in which he said it made clear that Mr. Turner was a very unfortunate fellow. Charlie tried not to be selfish and focus his questions on the man first.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He is... rather sick, I'm afraid."
Charlie forced down the urge to roll his eyes, because he could surmise as much himself.
"Will he get better?" Charlie asked even though the answer was clear from Blake's face. Still, Charlie hoped. The man was around his age, otherwise looked healthy. What disease could he have caught to make him become so... lost?
"Unfortunately... no. I expect he will die within a day or two."
Charlie blinked. That wasn't at all what he expected. For a moment all he could think of was the young wife, all teary eyed and desperate for her husband. How in a few days she will be left alone in that house... stepping into a ruined kitchen. He hoped someone would go there and help clean it up, preferably before she had to face it.
Charlie was pulled out of these thoughts by the rather uncharacteristic curse flying from Lawson's mouth.
"Is it what I think it is?" Lawson asked, further proving that Charlie was most likely screwed.
"Boss?"
Blake sighed, turning fully to face Charlie.
"Doc... what's going on?" Charlie asked, losing patience with all the hushing up.
"It looks like Mr. Turner somehow managed to contract rabies."
Charlie frowned then shook his head.
"I'm not sure I understand Doc..." He heard the word before, but only from stories about things overseas. "Isn't that... isn't that what dogs get?"
"While you've got the right idea, I'm afraid not, Charlie," Blake said with a grimace. "Rabies is a virus that is transmitted from animals to humans by a bite."
"Can it be transmitted from human to human too?" Charlie asked, although he was pretty sure what the answer would be.
"It's not exactly common but... yes. It is most definitely a concern, especially in your case. Mr. Turner had already reached the 'furious' phase and most likely his saliva was very infectious."
Charlie swallowed, suddenly feeling the tightness from his stomach move up to his throat. He didn't like where this was going, not at all.
"So uh... is it... always fatal?"
Blake took a second too long to answer and Charlie thought he might be actually thinking of lying.
"Once the victim starts showing symptoms, yes."
Charlie's eyes widened and the fear must've been palpable, because Blake raised a hand in a calming gesture.
"It's alright, Charlie. There's a perfectly working rabies vaccine. As long as it is administered within a certain time frame from the bite... you should be alright."
"Should?" Charlie asked, his voice a bit high pitched then he blinked. "Time frame? W-what time frame?"
"No worries, Charlie. We have several days to administer the first shot... though it is preferable to do so within the first two days," Blake admitted somehow sheepishly.
"Well, what's the problem Blake?" Lawson asked with a thoughtful look on his face.
"The problem is that we are in Australia, which never really had a case of rabies. Well... not one that wasn't brought in by a traveller," Blake added quickly.
"So we don't have the vaccine?" Charlie asked, panic now colouring his voice, while the fingers of his left hand dug painfully deep against the bandaged wound, as if the discomfort might somehow drive away the sudden fear.
"We don't have it here in Ballarat no," Blake admitted, and Charlie's hearing seemed to tune out for a second as the image of the insanity flashed at him from the memory.
"-on the way," Blake's voice pushed through the haze and Charlie blinked.
"What?"
Lawson shot him a look that was a mix of worry and disgruntlement and Charlie didn't know whether it made matters worse or not.
He cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together. For god's sake, he was fine. It was nothing.
"I said that the vaccine is on its way. If all goes well, it should be here this evening... tomorrow latest. So we are good on the time frame."
Charlie felt his shoulders sag with the relief.
"Ah, that's good. I mean... where is it coming from?"
"Sydney. They keep some at the centre for infectious diseases as they tend to be the ones to get the most foreign visitors and travellers. They are doing some research there as well on exotic diseases. It took a few calls, but once I got connected to the right person and told them about Mr. Turner... they promised to get on the first available plane with the vaccine."
Charlie nodded, letting out a sigh and reaching for the cup of the already cold tea. He was surprised that his hand wasn't shaking, because he felt anything but stable at the moment.
"What about Mr. Turner? Isn't... isn't there any chance? Does he get the vaccine too?"
Blake's face turned sombre.
"There's no point, Charlie. The vaccine works only if it's administered before the virus reaches the brain. Fortunately, rabies has quite a long incubation period, but once the symptoms start showing, there's no hope."
Charlie shuddered.
"Uh... are... are you sure it's this? You said that rabies don't exist in Australia. Maybe... maybe Mr. Turner just... went bonkers?"
Blake shook his head sadly.
"While we don't have any conclusive results, the laboratory is still working on the samples, based on Mr. Turner's symptoms and history..."
"Isn't there anything else it could be?" Charlie pushed.
Blake sighed.
"Of course it might be something else, Charlie. But... do you really want to risk it?"
Charlie shook his head, blushing a bit.
"I... I didn't mean for me. I'll just take the shot. But... I was hoping he might... survive. His wife..." Charlie averted his look. He felt sorry for both the man and the wife. The wife...
"Wait. How... how contagious is this? I mean... he was home for several days. Could he have infected more people?"
Lawson straightened in his chair.
"Blake? Do we need to start looking up his contacts?"
"That won't be necessary," Blake calmed them down. "After a short talk with Mrs. Turner I believe the only other person who might be in any danger is her."
"How so?"
"Well... he didn't leave the house since he returned home, except for a walk around the neighbourhood on the first day. Then he started feeling poorly, a bit feverish, so he stayed at home. They thought it was the time difference and he just needed a few days to readjust to our climate and time zone. Since then he stayed inside and there were no visitors."
"What about Mrs. Turner? Can this thing be spread any other way? Besides you know... taking a bite out of someone?"
This time it was Blake who had a slightly uncomfortable look on his face.
"I'm not sure honestly. I've seen a case of rabies only once before. I'm no expert on the subject."
"Blake," Lawson scowled. "I'm sure you know way more than the rest of us."
Blake shrugged.
"It's spread through saliva and blood. I asked... Mr. Turner didn't bite his wife. Doesn't mean they didn't kiss or well... do things couples do when they haven't seen each other for a while. I'm not sure there has ever been a study conducted on whether the disease can spread by kissing or intercourse, but I asked the specialist to bring vaccine for two people at least. Better safe than sorry."
Both Charlie and Lawson agreed with that sentiment, although they both looked a bit thrown off.
"So uh... what now?" Charlie asked after a moment of silence.
"Now you keep working, though I want you to stay on desk duty until this whole matter is resolved."
Charlie frowned.
"Why? You said there shouldn't be any symptoms, not if the vaccine works. And how long will it take to resolve?"
Blake shot a look towards Lawson, but he raised his hands, clearly washing himself off the problem. What the doctor said would apply this time.
"I don't want you out on the street because there's a chance you get into some fisticuffs and we don't need to worry about another person possibly becoming infected. At least until the expert from Sydney can definitely confirm my diagnosis. I also want to know where to find you so we can administer the dose as soon as it arrives."
Charlie frowned.
"Could I infect anyone right now?"
"No," Blake admitted with a sigh. "I don't think so. Still, I would be happier to have you safely behind the desk, at least until you get the first few shots done with."
Charlie blinked.
"Few shots?" He asked slowly and saw Lawson pointedly look away, pretending to find sudden interest in the file he had been ignoring for the last ten minutes. Blake also seemed a bit hesitant with his reply. "Doc? How many shots there will be?"
"Uh... 21. Well... 22 I suppose, with the immunoglobulin."
"22 shots?!" Charlie squeaked then blushed when he saw the only other officer look his way in startlement. "Doc! What-"
"Relax. I admit it won't be the most pleasant thing, but beats death any day. And don't worry. The shots won't be all at once. It actually takes three weeks to run through the whole course."
"Three weeks!" Charlie exclaimed, horrified at the prospect. "I hate needles!"
Lawson rolled his eyes.
"Well, you will have to suck it up then, won't you Davis?" he said. "Like Blake said. Beats being dead."
And there really wasn't anything else Charlie could say to that.
tbc