A/N: Spoilers for 8x18 Near Death, if you haven't watched it, maybe at least read a recap, but I am definitely taking some creative license to fit my future plot bunnies!
Chapter 12
"Good lord, how long does it take to pick up an inhaler, Uncle Mac?" Gus said, wincing as she watched the elderly Hank Shelton practically cough up a lung in the interview room, babysitting him while Messer went to see how busy booking was.
Danny came back, shaking his head, "booking is a shit show, may as well keep him here until Mac gets back," he said, grimacing as he also watched the man's body convulsing his eyes growing wide as Hank slumped to the side. "Crap is he seizing?" he said, tearing into the room.
"COPD, cough syncope," Gus said, helping move Hank to the floor, "he lost consciousness, he aren't taking him to booking, we are taking him to Trinity." She snapped her fingers at a uniform, "get a bus!"
"You want me to escort him?" Danny asked as the EMTs loaded Hank onto the gurney.
Gus shook her head, "nah, didn't you say you are daycare pickup?" she jerked her head toward the clock.
"Crap, yeah," he yelped, taking off before he got hit with another late pick-up fine.
Gus couldn't bring herself to handcuff a 70-year-old half-conscious man, even if he and his old geezer friends had robbed a bank that ended up with a women dead. She knew she didn't have to worry about him rabbiting on her like his grandson had earlier, something she knew Don would be bitching about for a while.
Though Gus did stay right at Hank's bedside, ignoring the 'medical personnel only' signs on the door even as the doctor's tried to shoo her away from the extremely busy ER. Which is how she saw the chaos of level 1 GSW trauma being brought in, almost getting run over by the gurney speeding towards emergency surgery. The doctor's words didn't make sense to her, but their tone certainly portrayed gravity and urgency.
She had to do a double-take, her brain needing a moment to catch up to her eyes. It was impossible, he had just been on a pharmacy run for a rescue inhaler. Gus shook her head, her vigil of Henry Shelton promptly forgotten as she rushed after the pale, fading form of her uncle.
"Mac, Mac, what the hell happened?" she yelled, the doctor yelling out a stats, a nurse calling back, "gun shot wound to the back," before trying to figure out why the young woman was back there until she spied the detective shield, "EMTs can fill you in," she ordered, swinging the gurney into the OR.
Gus felt like she was suddenly rooted to the floor, her blood turning to ice, her heart threatened to beat of her chest. She could hear the woosh of the water pinning her down, unable to breath or move, the darkness overtaking her, unable to tell if the thrumming in her ears was her blood or helicopters…
A CNA behind her dropped a stack of files and a clipboard, echoing off the hard surfaces like a shotgun, Gus' immediately dropping to a protective crouch, her hand on her sidearm, time speeding up and slowing down simultaneously, wondering if she was hallucinating the panicked screams of Jo and murmurs of Don as she felt a sudden searing pain in her arm before everything went black.
Gus came to, feeling like she was floating, tying to orient herself and remember where she was. Finally her vision focused on the EMT kneeling before the chair she was sitting in. "What the hell?" she asked, shaking her head.
The EMT looked at her partner and then back to Gus. "Sorry, detective, I had to administer midazolam, you were about to pull your service weapon."
Gus pressed her palm against her forehead, still trying to make sense of what was happening. It had been forever since she had a full on dissociative panic attack, but that was the thing about PTSD, it haunted you alway no matter how many ghost you banished. She looked up, trying to figure out what the trigger was, something in the back cobwebs of her mind making her stutter out, "Mac?"
The EMT nodded, "Detective Mac Taylor? We brought him in with a GSW to the back from what looks like a pharmacy robbery, damn Oxy tweakers. Do you know him?"
"Uncle," Gus managed to choke out, the other EMT handing her a bottle of water.
"Shit," both EMTs said in unison. "Is there anyone we can call?" the petite brunette asked. "This Flack maybe?" her burly partner asked, holding up Gus' phone, "it's been ringing off the hook."
Gus nodded, everything still feeling fuzzy and like she was floating above it all. She could sort of understand people who got hooked on benzos.
"Why isn't she answering her damn phone? Messer said she was already here with Shelton!" Don growled, trying Gus again, torn between trying to reassure Jo and the sinking feeling in his gut. Not to mention he knew Gus was going to lose it when she heard what happened to Mac. No matter how many answers they had found in the swamp, this was most likely going to bring back Gus' fears that she was cursed.
He had to talk to her, let her know this was not her fault. "Fuck!" he swore, throwing his phone to the floor in frustration, he wanted to get to the pharmacy and help the team with the scene and take out whoever did this but he also had a duty to his wife.
"Service is notoriously bad in here, Don, I'll find her, you get to the pharmacy and I will keep you updated on everything," Jo promised, grabbing him firmly by his arms, her expression one of grit.
Don shook his head, rubbing at his neck, torn. "Fine," he finally said, "just let her know I was here and I will be back as soon as I can."
"I've got her, Don, now go find who did this to Mac!" Jo said, waving him off before tracking down Gus.
Gus found her as much as Jo found the younger woman, the EMT having a brief conversation with Flack and leading Gus out to the waiting area where Jo was.
Jo took in Gus' posture and confused expression, something not normally seen on the blonde's intelligent and perceptive face. "Good lord, Gus, you look rode hard and put up wet!" she exclaimed to the amusement of the EMTs.
"She, uh, had, we had to," the male EMT stumbled out, his partner rescuing him. "Detective Broussard had some sort of panic attack, we sedated her with an IM dose of midazolam, it should wear off in a few hours."
"Thank you," Jo said, wrapping an arm around Gus' waist, knowing the woman's complex trauma history. It was probably for the best she had been given a little chemical separation from the event unfolding.
"Mac got shot," Gus said, blinking rapidly up at Jo a few minutes later.
Jo nodded, "he did, they are working on him now."
Gus shook her head, "the doctor's sounded scared. Doctor's aren't supposed to sound scared," she protested, looking more like Ellie than a grown woman.
Jo was sure the chaotic environment of the ER was not going to help Gus, not matter how much sedative she had been administered. She studied the hospital directory for a moment before leading the younger woman down the hall to the chapel. "How about you sit here for a little while, hon, and I'll come get you when we know anything more?"
Gus just nodded, glassy eyed, falling onto the kneeler more out of reflex than anything else, giving herself over to the familiar meditation of prayer.
Don slumped at his desk, half collapsing in frustration, the pit blessedly empty as he slammed the metal drawer closed a few times trying to release his anger. At least he had heard from Jo, Gus had been found, and sedated, which was probably for the best. Now he just had to wait and see what Adam and the rest of the lab rats came up with while praying that Mac didn't bleed out on the OR table like Jess had done three years ago. He ran his fingers through his hair, conflicted. It still hurt that she was gone, on some level her did love her, though it would never be on the same level that he loved Gus, they were soulmates, but sometimes the three years felt like it had only been three months. He knew that was compounded by him taking out Simon Cade and then taking out all his grief and anger on Gus. He still couldn't unsee the hole he put in the wall next to her head that night…
He shook his head, thinking about all the things he hadn't said to Mac that he should have; how he valued his friendship, how he should have thanked him more for saving his life, how he could never repay the man for bringing Gus up from New Orleans and into his life. Don felt like an idiot, not doing so great at the whole concept of stepping up before it was too late; from not going after Gus when she ran away the first time, to not being more honest with Jess, to not telling Mac everything he held in his heart for his freedom, he was pretty much 0 for 3. He let out a puff of air and a smirk, he could practically hear Mac Taylor telling him that they were good, that was just like him.
He wondered, not for the first time, if Mac didn't know the truth about what went down between him and Cade. Just like how Gus had know, he couldn't hide anything from her ever and even though she and Mac wouldn't blood related, they both still had that sense about them. Don paused, taking a deep breath in and letting it slowly out, allowing himself to imagine what Mac would say to him right now. Probably something along the lines of not wanting him to seek revenge for what happened to him, that he should just do his job instead of seeking payback. Mac would probably also give him a maxim about taking care of Gussie, about being a good husband and taking care of her. And Don knew that was something he was going to do, no matter what happened to Mac.
Don found Gus in the hospital chapel while the team briefed Jo and they waited on warrants. She looked more than a little out of it, her eyes glassy from the sedative, her complexion pale, her expression blank until he slid next to her. "Gussie," he choked out. Fear for Mac, concern for his wife, regret for three years ago pressing down on him as he wrapped his arms around her; forcing himself to be a rock for her.
Gus immediately collapsed against him, sobs wracking her body and she clung to Don, her husband a life raft in the storm still raging despite the benzodiazepine coursing through her.
"He is going to be fine, sunshine, Mac is strong, he's a fighter," Don said as she pulled back, wiping her eyes. He silently said his own prayer, unsure of what anyone would do if Mac didn't make it. He had to make it. His phone buzzed, warrants had come in and the strike teams were getting ready.
He looked around at the shabby chapel, knowing Gus needed to be around Jo more than a musty room in the forgotten corner of Trinity hospital. "Come on, let me get you back to Jo."
Don was slightly concerned that Gus wasn't trying to join in on tracking down Teena Milford, but he figured she was still sedated enough to not entirely process what was going on. He felt loads better about leaving her when he spotted a familiar figure sitting in the waiting room next to Jo and Christine.
"Stella!" he said, his former teammate and friend immediately rising and drawing him into a hug.
"Don," she said, squeezing him tightly, "this isn't how I wanted to see you two again," she remarked, a hollow smile on her face, her eyes shining with tears.
He nodded, "me neither." His phone buzzed again, he ignored it long enough to pull Gus to him again, kissing the top of her head, with a "I love you, sunshine, I'll be back as soon as I can," into her hair.
"Be careful, Don," she said, forcing herself to not cling to him, knowing he had to be cop first at the moment.
He gave her a wink before walking out, Stella putting her arm around Gus as they watched him square his shoulders and head out to what hopefully wasn't a battle.
Stella came back with teas and snacks for all of them, taking in Gus and Jo puzzling over the emergency contact forms for Mac. Gus was struggling with recall, Jo was feeling like maybe she didn't know her boss as well as she thought as both were searching to come up with Mac's middle name.
"What the hell do they need to know his middle name for? He is already in surgery!" Gus growled, glad she could at least fill in some of the blanks.
"Llewellyn," both Stella and Christine remarked at the same time, their eyes meeting, both studying the other carefully as they wondered what each of them meant to the man currently fighting for his life behind those red doors.
Gus missed this as she scrolled through her phone for more information, but Jo caught the silent exchange, knowing that both women meant something to Mac in his past and she suspected his future.
"I am glad y'all are here," Jo drawled, "not only to help with all this gobbledygook, but because Mac Taylor needs all the love and care he can get right now, and I know y'all have that in spades!" She smiled widely at each of them, hoping to smooth any feathers before they got ruffled.
Christine nodded, her blue eyes wide and blinking while Stella gave a wry smile swallowing back tears; both women's hearts filled with love for Mac.
The swinging of the doors made all women's attention turn to the surgeon standing wearily before them. "We have moved Detective Taylor into ICU, he lost a lot of blood and he hasn't regained consciousness, but I am confident he will make a full recovery. I can let family back one at a time."
They all made noises of audible relief, Jo gently pushing Gus forward saying, "Augusta should go first, she's his niece."
The surgeon nodded, thinking that somewhat explained the younger blonde falling apart in his pit earlier. "Follow me then," he said, turning on his heel.
Gus looked back at the other three women, a mixture of relief and fear on her face. "We're all his family," she muttered as she followed.
Her uncle was barely recognizable, pale in the hospital bed, dwarfed by machines. He looked weak, and she had never seen Mac Taylor look weak, not even at her aunt's memorial. A strangled cry caught in her throat as she wavered at the sight before taking a long breath in and out. Jo was right, Mac needed all the love and care they could give right now, along with strength and prayers. So she did just that, taking the offered rosary form the side table and began her silent intercession for her uncle to be okay.