PARALYSIS
The moment Loralei saw Donovan's body plunging downward, she attempted to throw herself right over the edge after him. A pair of strong hands gripped her waist, digging into her sensitive flesh, and she felt her body being dragged back. She fought at the hands holding her. They felt like Jake's, she wasn't sure, because she couldn't see him just yet. He had to let her go, she had to go after her husband. Crazily, she balled up her fists and began to beat at his hands. His grip never wavered. In fact, it tightened. There was a chance, however remote, that Donovan was still alive, and if he survived and Loralei didn't, he didn't want to face the rogue part of him again. He pulled her back and all the while, Alex struggled with Dannon, finally subduing the murdering fucker. Once Loralei was safely away from the ledge, she kicked at Jake, her heel connecting with the side of his jaw. Much later, she'd cringe at the sight of his bruised face, but right now, she wasn't thinking clearly. She scrambled up to her feet and made her way down the side of the building. When Dannon had first dragged her over here, she had been consciously aware of the height and scared shitless. This time, she didn't blink twice. She didn't hear Jake telling Alex to take care of Dannon so he could go after her. She didn't look up, didn't have a clue that he was descending the building just above her. She ignored the creaks and groans of the shoddy platform ladder. Her mind was on one thing and one thing only. The instant her feet hit the ground, her fucking heels became mired in the soupy ground. She cried out in disgust and anger, tearing the sandals from her feet. The moment they were off, she slogged through the mud, trying desperately to estimate where his body had landed. She ripped through the muck, determined to find him, refusing to believe he hadn't survived. She tore around the corner and finally saw him laid out on his side, not moving. No. Oh hell no. She wouldn't accept it, wouldn't believe it, not for a moment. She began to run toward him, falling in the mud. It seemed to be working against her, keeping her away, as if it knew a truth she did not.
It had taken no more than three minutes to make her journey, but it seemed like a lifetime. The closer she drew near him, the further he drifted. From behind, she could hear the distinct sucking noises made by Jake's feet as he caught up to her. She had been well on her way to approaching his unmoving body when Jake caught her from behind. She felt the same vicious anger. How dare he hold her back? Didn't he understand? It never dawned on her that the worse thing she could do was move him. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing would ever make sense again. She could hear Jake's husky voice drifting into her ear, demanding that she stop, that she calm down. He lay no more than three feet away from her, but she couldn't touch him, couldn't discover if he were alive or dead. The one thought that would never leave her mind was the fact that he wasn't moving, didn't appear to be breathing. God what would she do without him? What would the kids do? No. Oh God no.
Mired by the mud, mired by her grief, she struggled against the arm holding her so tightly. If he couldn't move and if she couldn't touch, her only other alternative was her voice. "Frank?" The first time she uttered his name, it came out as an inaudible squeak. Frustrated, she beat at Jake's hands again. If she could get just enough oxygen in her lungs, her voice would carry over. "Frank," she cried out. "FRANK!" Nothing. No movement, absolutely none. No acknowledgement from him, period. No. Oh God no. She wouldn't accept it, wouldn't let this insanity go on. He was alive, damn it, and he would hear her. "FRANK," she shrieked again, to no avail. Wherever he was, he could not hear her, could not respond in kind. With a tiny hint of finality, with one last stubborn hold on hope, she struggled against Jake again and squeaked out one last, "Frank" before slipping out of his arms and sinking to the mud on her hands and knees.
Jake took hold of her again and dragged her a few steps away. In the horror of the situation, he had completely forgotten his fucking earpiece. With one hand, he fixed it over his ear. "Get an ambulance. Donovan's down and unresponsive."
Donovan's down and unresponsive. The words echoed in Loralei's head. Down and unresponsive. Dead. Gone. Forever. Oh no. Oh God no. She became numb and disconnected from her body, as if she were watching the whole thing on a movie screen. She felt Jake's hands pulling her back, and from a distance, she heard the warbling of an ambulance siren. During the entire process, she kept her eyes glued to Donovan's body, watching, waiting. If he made one move, she was damn determined to see it. However, he didn't. Not once. Down and unresponsive. Down and unresponsive. Down…and…unresponsive. Just once, she would like another chance to break free of Jake's stubborn hold. Just once.
She felt her body turning just the slightest bit as Jake shifted to look behind him. Alex was approaching slowly, picking her way through the mud. She gave him a curt nod, enough to let him know that the police, summoned by Cody and Monica, had secured Dannon. Alex exchanged a sad and questioning look toward Jake, and he shook his head, the movement not perceptible to Loralei. He had no idea how bad it was, or even if the boss were still alive. She moved past Jake and Loralei, longing to offer some kind of comfort to her friend, but she had another matter to take care of first. In her state, Loralei hardly noticed Alex as she slipped by them and approached Donovan's prone body. She kneeled before him and could barely see his face. His cheek rested against the soggy ground and his eyes were closed. She wouldn't touch him, but she visually examined him for signs of life. From what she could see, he had apparently fallen straight down on his back, and then bounced over to his side. There was a thin trickle of blood edging its way down the back of his neck where he had taken a bad crack to the skull. Dear Jesus. She was looking at a dead man. She glanced up at Jake. He was watching her expectantly. Being extremely guarded and careful, she shook her head. She didn't know. It didn't look good. Jake sighed just the slightest, and Loralei's ears picked up the soft noise. The situation became real again. She looked up, saw Alex kneeled before Donovan, saw the expression on her face, and she knew.
"No," she cried. "No."
Jake left Alex with Donovan, and he began the impossible task of leading Loralei away. Already fragile, if she saw them zipping up her husband into a body bag, he knew she wouldn't make it through the night. She resisted and tried to hold back, but he insisted. If necessary, he wouldn't hesitate to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out. There was no way he wanted her to see his broken body carted away. Actually, there was no way he wanted to see Donovan's body carted away. It was a huge pill to swallow, one that tasted bitter and viciously sour. He moved her along, prodding her forward as much as Dannon had prodded her earlier. Foot by foot, she was drawing further away from her husband, further away from her last glance at him. She would never forget the look in his eyes as he jerked his wrist out of her hands. I'm doing this for you, for the kids. He had paid the ultimate price for his over protectiveness. Moving onward and upward. Push. Shove. Step up. Step down. Sit. Those were the only commands she could follow right away. She watched as the ambulance zipped past her, screaming loudly, as loudly as she had screamed when he let go of her. She looked around her and noticed that Jake had seated her inside his gigantic SUV, well protected from the crowds gathering on the streets. She began to shiver and didn't immediately know if it was from the shock or the cold mud. Her mind drifted here, there, everywhere.
* * *
Loralei Kadin found herself as nervous as shit. It had taken nearly nine months to plan this wedding, and she had had scads of assistance from her mother. However, Geneva Kadin was worrisome at times. It didn't matter. Before the ceremony began, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. In the background, she could hear her mother harping at her because she had chosen a soft shade of peach rather than go for white. There was no way in hell she could pull off getting married in white, especially when her intended was Frank Donovan. Wouldn't he simply love that? She could almost hear his voice: White, Loralei? White? Who's going to buy that? She loved him so very deeply, even if he was a turd. She didn't think she looked all that bad, but her palms were sweating like crazy. If the ceremony didn't start soon, she might lose her mind. Absently, she smoothed her dress, running her hands down the sideswell of her breasts, to her waist, and settled them down onto her abdomen. Her hands lingered there for the slightest of moments. Just yesterday, she had discovered she was pregnant, but she had kept fairly close mouthed about it. She would spring it to him soon, because it wasn't something she could hide forever.
She jumped when her mother touched her shoulder. God. Had Geneva seen what she had been doing? A tad on the conservative side, if her mother found out she was pregnant before she had a wedding ring on her finger, she'd have a brain embolism and die right then and there. It was time to go out, to face the music [so to speak]. Actually, she was pretty damn anxious. She wasn't into traditional type stuff, but she had given over to her mother. Loralei was her only child and she wanted to throw a real shindig. She loved her mother and relented only because of that. Donovan had voiced no opinion either way, he would accept whatever she wanted, as long as they married. It was the only thing he cared about. He was a good man, a strong one, and every night, she thanked the higher powers for bringing him into her life as she snuggled against him.
Loralei didn't remember much about her walk down the aisle. She was completely too nervous. A couple of times, she thought she might pitch right over and faint. The inside of the church was hotter than hell and the fancy wedding dress was making her itch something fierce. She couldn't wait to get out of it and into some regular clothing. Whatever you do, don't trip. It wouldn't be good if the bride fell on her ass during her walk down the aisle. Loralei spotted Donovan at the far end of the aisle, facing some goofy looking guy holding a bible. That's a priest, you idiot. Remember, your mother is very religious. Very strict. Now keep moving. He looked utterly stunning in his black tux. She wondered if it was the same one he wore to that mock charity ball. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Once she made it to his side, he took her hand and kissed it, whispering 'I love you' against her flesh. Uh God. She felt tears forming in her eyes. Was she touched or attacked by hormones or both? She didn't return the sentiment, she couldn't. If she opened her mouth to speak, she was afraid she'd blubber all over the place. They went through the traditional and dated ceremony, with the standard lines, but then Donovan surprised her by saying something in addition. He slipped a gold band on her finger and before he uttered the usual 'with this ring, I thee wed,' he stated in a plain and loving voice: I will allow you inside my heart freely, without reservation…I will never hesitate to say what needs to be said.' Tricky, however, so very apt, so very appropriate for them. When it was her turn, she spoke the same words, vowing the same sentiment throughout their lives together. It was a promise made before hundreds of people, before God, before the whole world. It was a promise that was not meant to be broken. Not now. Not ever again. After that, he kissed her deeply, not bothering to wait for the pronouncement. Hell, they didn't need it. They were making their own rules as they went along. They had held their vows sacred. Neither of them were exactly religious types, but their vows were solid to them. Promises made were kept.
When the ceremony ended and the reception began, Loralei wasted no time getting out of the binding wedding gown. She slipped into a simple but elegant dress and twisted her hair into an impatiently loose bun at the back of her head. She stepped out to the party and smiled a little. She noticed that her new husband had shed the tuxedo jacket and loosened the starched shirt. But that wasn't what made her smile. Donovan had his sister's daughter hanging precariously against his hip. He had a firm grip on the little girl, but she was holding onto him for dear life. He will be a wonderful father. Wonderful father…wonderful husband…gone…gone…GONE.
* * *
Loralei jerked herself awake. She hadn't even realized she'd been sleeping. She shivered in the cold interior of the SUV. She felt as if she had been out for hours upon hours. However, when she looked at the clock on the dashboard, she realized that she hadn't been out very long at all. She reached for the door handle, determined to go back out where her husband lay, but before she progressed two inches, she noticed that Jake was standing sentry outside the passenger side door. She looked up suddenly as she heard the wailing siren of the ambulance. She wanted to go with him, to be with him, but she was trapped inside this shitty SUV. Damn it. She smacked her hand against the window fruitlessly. She buried her face inside her mud-covered hands. Loud, braying sobs wracked her body, swelling inside her, only to be ejected again and again. It couldn't be true. He couldn't be gone. He couldn't…
Jake slid inside the SUV just moments after the ambulance tore down the highway. He listened as Loralei continued to cry and utter 'no' constantly. She was pitifully covered in mud and completely unaware of her person. Taking a deep breath, expecting another fight, his hand reached out and grasped her shoulder. He felt her body tense ever so slightly, and he prepared for a fight. His jaw was already starting to darken from the kick he had sustained. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but she refused to move. She closed herself off for a bit to be completely alone with her pain. Once she had dealt with the harsh reality, she would let someone inside. He shook his head incredulously. Jesus. She was just like Donovan.
"Where…where are they taking him," she asked suddenly, finally able to speak through her tears. "Where…is…is he going?"
"I'm not sure," he said.
She looked at him, fixing him with an angered, pissed off gaze. "Find out," she said. "Find out and take me there. Now."
* * *
Alex sat back in a daze and watched as the paramedics worked frantically on Donovan. She wasn't sure that anything they did would do him any good. He had shown no signs of life since being loaded into the ambulance. His condition wasn't all that great, and there was a possibility of a spinal cord injury of some sort. They had placed him on one of those boards to immobilize his body. She had yet to see him take a breath on his own, and the paramedics were bagging him. She wondered if this was what Donovan saw when Loralei was in the same position. Dear God. It was almost the same situation in reverse order. She listened to the barked commands and the injuries they had discovered: concussion, broken ribs, sprained wrist, spinal cord stress, and on and on. Jesus. If he would just open his damn eyes so she could have something to tell his wife. If he wasn't dead already, she didn't think he'd make it to the hospital.
* * *
After a few phone calls, Jake discovered that Donovan had been taken to the trauma center a few miles from campus. There were no updates about his condition, and as far as any of them knew, he was either dead or would be DOA when he reached the hospital. He glanced at Loralei. She had begun to wring her hands, grinding the grime even deeper into her skin. There was nothing he could say to her that would alleviate her stress or pain. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, hoping to arrive not long after the ambulance. He screeched into the parking lot and sighed sadly. The last time they had been here, it was Loralei strapped to a gurney and Donovan losing his mind. He moved quickly to the passenger side and opened the door before she could go off running inside. Both of them noticed the ambulance parked up against the emergency entrance. She wanted to run toward it, but Jake held her back, steering her toward the other entrance. Once inside, they noticed Alex coming down the hallway opposite them. There were only a few people scattered in the waiting room, and all of them fixed their eyes on Loralei's muddy condition.
Alex went to her friend and noticed that she needed answers, answers that Alex did not have. "Come on, Loralei," Alex said, "There's nothing you can do right now. Come on, let's see if we can get you cleaned up."
"No," Loralei groaned, "I don't care," she said in tears. "I have to know…I have to see him. Please."
"They won't let you, honey, not like this," she said. "Come on. I'll help, okay?"
She gasped, remembering something. "Oh God. Tristan? Rachel?"
"It's okay, Loralei. I'll call Angie. It'll be all right."
* * *
Time passed slowly that day. How much time? Loralei didn't know. The hospital had allowed her to shower and had even provided her with a scrub outfit. None of it mattered. She would have just as easily waited in muddy clothing. It was of little consequence. She stood with her knee propped solidly into a waiting room chair. She stared blankly out of the window with her arms wrapped around her body. She was hugging herself, shielding herself from the brutal reality of never seeing her husband alive again. She was simply waiting for the final word. She put her hand up to her heart. After a moment, she brought her other hand up and laid it onto her wedding and engagement rings. She touched them, feeling that connection to her husband in an inanimate object. She wanted to see her children, to hold them and kiss them, but she didn't know if she had the heart for it. If Rachel mentioned her daddy [and she surely would], Loralei could not hold it together.
"Loralei?"
She gasped. That voice. Frank? A glimmer of hope embraced her, but when she turned around, it faded to complete blackness. It wasn't her husband. It was Farron. The fine line holding her together snapped. Her face went into her hands again and she sobbed uncontrollably. How awful it was to hear his voice without it belonging to him. As if it could be his anyway.
Instinctively knowing what caused her break, Farron approached her from behind and laid his hands on her shoulders. For once, he found his connection with his brother to be disheartening, especially in this situation with his shattered wife. She didn't want to be comforted or held or placated. She wanted to go back in time and let Donovan pull her over the edge with him. After a moment, the steady pressure of Farron's hands felt warm and comforting, so close…yet so far away. Giving up for the moment, she turned toward her brother in-law and allowed him to hold her.