Mrs. O'Brian kept Pete busy dodging the more personal questions for almost an hour. She did, however, take time to go downstairs to the cafeteria and bring him back a large cup of hot coffee and a buttered roll. Pete didn't want to be rude, but he did need her to leave. After a few hints went ignored, he left his spot by the window, took her gently by the arm and steered her towards the door. He made the excuse that his physical therapist was due and walked her to the elevators. The old woman wasn't happy, but she went, probably intent on keeping an eye on Sally and her brothers.
Maybe he should have felt a little bad for lying to her, but there was somewhere else he had to be. Hopefully, he wasn't too late. Pete slipped into the stairwell and began climbing. The sixth floor was an enigma; housing the maternity ward and the cancer wing. Pete never understood why that floor held both ends of life. He paused to look through the nursery window, delaying the inevitable. Then he pushed the double doors to the cancer wing open.
The first rooms he passed were single or double occupancy ones with people chatting, even laughing. These were the ones where the people were being treated; they had some hope of leaving.
At the far end of the wing, was the charity ward. Rooms for people without hope, without families to keep them company. All eight beds were filled with old men, alone, except for the one next to Pete's destination. The elderly woman, still clutching her rosary beads, looked up as he walked up to the bed beside her husband's and gave him a rueful smile.
"He missed you last night." A nod of her head indicated the old man asleep in the bed next to her husband's.
"I got caught up with a scared boy. He needed me." Somehow, he thought it sounded lame. Pete laid his right hand on the footboard of the bed. Looking down at the man he came to see. "How's he doing?"
"Not good. I heard the nurses saying that it won't be long now; for him or my David." The old woman stood, leaning over to kiss her sleeping husband. "If you're going to be here for a while, will you also keep an eye on my husband?"
"Of course I will." Pete reached into his pocket, handing the woman a few dollars. "Make sure to get something to eat while you're gone."
After she left, Pete pulled a chair between the two beds. Sitting in silence, he considered the emaciated man lying there. He hadn't always been that way. Bill White lived in one of the seedier neighborhoods in Adam-12's district. An alcoholic, he did odd jobs to pay for his room and his bottles. Malloy had no idea where he came from or how long he had lived on skid row; only that he lived there before Jack Donohue, an ex-cop, moved into the neighborhood. Everyone down there was glad when Donohue was put away for Attempted Murder.
Praying wasn't usually in Pete's routine, but he did say a short prayer for Bill. Cirrhosis was a nasty way to die. He had been visiting Bill for the last week, once he found out that Bill was there and about his condition. Pete shifted in the chair, causing a sharp creaking sound.
"Malloy, is that you?" Bill spoke in a whisper, lacking the strength to speak louder.
"I'm here. Sorry I wasn't able to visit you last night."
"You didn't let them force you to stay in your room, did you Malloy?" The old man opened his eyes, a bit of a spark still visible despite the tiredness Pete saw in them.
"You still can't call me Pete, even now?" Malloy shook his head, chuckling. "Nah, I ran into a boy hiding in the stairwell and kept him company last night."
"Did they keep their threat to put a guard on your door?"
"He wasn't a very good guard." The two of them laughed; it was nice to see Bill smile. "I had a harder time sneaking out of my house as a kid than I did getting past him."
"You sound like my son. He used to sn…." Bill broke off mid-sentence. It was a rare slip of the tongue that let Pete in on more information than the older man wanted known. To cover the mistake, he turned the tables on Pete. "You're a cop. Shouldn't you have outgrown sneaking out of places?"
"I'm a street cop. If I was any good at staying in one place, I'd have taken the sergeant's exam years ago and settled myself behind a desk." While Pete spoke jokingly, there was a tinge of resentment flowing beneath his tone; he would take the exam this year, as promised, but he wasn't happy about the full-court press that left him having virtually no choice in the matter.
"Blame it on my country upbringing. All those open spaces calling to me."
Being on patrol suited Pete's restless nature, just as being stuck in a hospital aggravated it. Simply walking around the third floor still left him feeling trapped, which is why he didn't stay put. Visiting Bill merely gave him a destination for part of his wandering.
"Will you go back to being on patrol, if you can, that is?" Bill's question came with a worried glance. He knew how badly Pete had been hurt and couldn't help but wonder if he would be allowed to return to work.
"That's my intention, yes." Despite the dangers, the hushed concerns of friends that he would be pushing his luck by going back to patrol and his mother's tears, he would return to the squad car if he recovered enough to qualify.
"Pete, are you afraid to die?" Bill calling him by his first name certainly got Malloy's attention. Was there something else lingering behind that question?
"No, Bill, I'm not." Pete had answered truthfully; he'd come close enough to be sure of his answer. He watched the old man for a moment before returning the question. "Are you?"
"Not the dying part so much. I want this over, but…" Bill motioned towards the cup of water on his night stand, waiting for Pete to hold the cup for him to take a few sips. "I didn't live the best life; did some bad things."
"Are you worried about going to hell, because I gotta tell you Bill, I've seen real evil on the job and you don't even make the first cut. Besides if there is a purgatory, you're already living in it."
Old Bill sighed, closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep. Pete could hear the signs; shallow breaths and the increased time between the beeps of the heart monitor. He didn't ring for the nurse when they stopped. Why bother? There would be no "code blue" for William White.
Pete stayed until the old woman came back to sit with husband; no longer looking at the sheet covered body in the other bed. He stood up when she entered the room, heading for the door.
"Goodbye Mrs. Lindsey. I left my number on the bedside table, in case you need me.
"Pete?" He was caught mid-step, turning his head to look back at her. She seemed a little bit smaller now.
"Yes, Mrs. Lindsey?"
"Why did you come every night to sit with him? Bill told me that you two barely knew each other." She stood between the beds, but her eyes were not on her husband, but the sheet covered body in the next bed.
Pete took one last look at the ward of men waiting for the end and started towards the door. He spoke softly, but she heard his answer.
"No one should die alone."
O~O~O
Pete had been waiting impatiently for two hours, ever since Steve, his physical therapist left. His release from the puke green walls of Central Receiving was contingent upon the approval of the physical therapy department. Steve spent forty-five minutes testing Pete's range of motion and his arm strength. Once he was satisfied, Steve signed the required form; leaving Pete with a list of exercises and an appointment in a week.
Malloy turned off the television after flicking through the channels three times. If he managed to never see another game show or soap opera in his life, Pete would be thrilled. "The Jagged Orbit" by John Brunner sat on the nightstand, partially unread. While it was a highly touted novel, it's theme of a dysfunctional world of drugs, corruption, technology and insanity, left Malloy unsatisfied. Pete was a cynic, but even he had his limits. Which is why, he was reduced to reading the sergeant's manual. A sound at the door, made him look up, expecting Dr. Franks with his discharge orders.
Instead, Larry Kasak, Reed's rookie, stood in the doorway. Pete's initial reaction was worrying that something had happened to Jim, but he quickly realized that if anything had happened to his partner, Mac or Captain Moore would have come to tell him.
"Excuse me sir", the young officer cleared his throat; shuffling nervously as he did. "Can I talk to you, if you're not too busy, that is?"
"Come on in", Pete closed the manual, setting it to the side of the tray table, pushing the table away. "This can wait. How can I help you?"
Pete fought back the impulse to laugh at the probationer who looked like a man standing on a bridge railing, wondering if it was better to jump back to the pavement or consign his soul to God and the bungee cord wrapped around his waist.
"Take a seat and tell me about it." Pete pointed to one of the chairs by the window; motioning for Larry to bring it closer.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm not a mind reader, but no probationer comes to see me merely to chat." He smiled as the young officer finally pulled a chair close to the bed, stopped himself from turning the chair backwards to straddle it, then set it forward and sat down. Kasak kept his gaze down, avoiding a meeting of the eyes with his superior.
"Let me guess. You did something stupid, probably went off unsupervised, nearly got yourself killed and ended up on the wrong end of a severe tongue lashing, right." He spoke from experience, having been on both sides of stern lectures and death. Larry had all the signs: nervousness, uncertainty and fear, all mixed with a tinge of embarrassment.
"Did J…ah, Reed tell you what happened?" Larry's face was turning redder by the second, but what caught Pete's attention was the blush he saw on the rookie's scalp. Twenty-three and he already had thinning hair? Pete smiled, remembering a friend of his from high school, who was totally bald less than a year after graduation.
"No one told me. You have that look about you." Pete averted his gaze to give the young officer time to lose some of the blush in his cheeks. "The question is, why are you here talking to me when I know Reed well enough to know that he gave you a severe tongue lashing. You can't be confused about what you did wrong, correct?"
"No Sir", Larry spoke up quickly whether to defend Jim's ability as a training officer or to prevent Pete from going into TO mode and yelling at him too. "I said something stupid."
"Before or after he yelled at you?"
"In between", he paused, unsure how to continue. "I kinda called you a hero, so Reed yelled at me again, not as loud as before, but he did tell me that I was wrong." It was in his eyes, whatever Jim had said to Larry, might have confused him, but Pete saw the hero worship lingering there.
How in the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Pete wouldn't claim that he was a hero, didn't think he was one, but Larry obviously was still confused. It was at times like this that Pete wished he could tap into his partner's brain at will and figure out Jim's train of thought on the issue.
"Exactly, what did Jim say?" Gather more information; stall whenever necessary.
"He said that you consider what you did in his yard and at that bank just part of your job. Is he right?"
"Yes, for both things, but you don't agree?" Pete sighed when Larry shook his head, hero worships still in his eyes. "It is our job. Both times, I considered all the options and took the only viable course of action. If there had been a safer option, in either case, I would have taken it. The truth is that I was counting on luck and the element of surprise when I got into that car trunk."
"But, you did them and that makes you a hero." Pete was watching Larry's face; trying to read the swirling emotions. This was about more than hero-worship. Unfortunately, he didn't know the rookie well enough to get the whole picture. Larry's next sentence explained his hesitation. "You weren't afraid…I'm scared to go back on patrol tomorrow."
"I wasn't? That's news to me." Pete didn't want to chuckle at Kasak, but the boy didn't understand a thing about himself.
"Look Larry", Pete paused, searching for the right words. "If doing something you have to do, despite being afraid, makes a person a hero, then maybe in that sense I am, but that's part of being a cop. Sometimes, the only choice you have is not about staying alive but about the way you choose to die."
"That's why you did what you did in Reed's yard, isn't it?"
"Yes, Tony Johnson was going to kill me no matter what I did. I had three choices: stand there and let him shoot me, run and get shot in the back or distract him long enough to give Jim a chance to get his son away." Pete paused, long enough for a hint of understanding in the probationer's eyes. "Forcing Johnson's hand was a no-brainer. I've lived my life, Jimmy hasn't yet."
Larry nodded slowly, considering what Pete had said. He had wanted to be a police officer since he was a kid playing cops and robbers. Every Halloween for five years, he wore the same police costume his mother made for him. What happened today didn't change that.
"You'll go back on patrol tomorrow, because deep down, you know that a cop is what you are inside."
"I think I understand Sir."
O~O~O
Tick, tick, tick, tick, funny, Pete never realized how loud that stupid clock above the door was. Each time the clock ticked, it was one more second that he was stuck in the hospital. He did consider trying to go home, but decided that someone would notice a man in pajama bottoms and a robe leaving during the day. Finally, Dr. Franks arrived. He set a brown paper bag on the foot of the bed before opening Pete's chart and signing it.
"The nurse will be in soon to take out your IV. Get dressed", he nodded towards the bag, "Your ride is downstairs getting your prescriptions filled."
"That's it? No warnings to be careful? No discharge instructions?" Not that Pete was complaining, but this wasn't the normal way a discharge was conducted.
"I can go through them if you want, but Sally knows what to do. You are anxious to leave, aren't you?" Franks chuckled; Pete was the most impatient patient he had treated in a long time. "Unless you really want me to lecture you on taking it easy…."
"No, no, that's alright. I'm familiar with the routine besides, I wouldn't want to keep you from that card game in the doctor's lounge." There was definitely an advantage to being engaged to a nurse in this particular hospital.
"Like I have the time", he snorted. "Do me one little favor after you leave; don't end up on my operating table again."
"I'll do my best."
O~O~O
A/N: I had hoped to finish this story off in this chapter and address the other possible storylines later. The reason for that is purely physical. It's 4:33 am and I'm due to have my shoulder replaced at 7 am. There's no time to actually get Pete home. I'm not sure when typing will be easy enough to continue the story, but I will not leave you hanging.
Thanks for reading and understanding.
~J~
