Disclaimer: I don't own anything here.
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Summary: A long, hard night for the team.
A/N: Big thanks to D for beta-ing and encouraging me to post this. This is for the Maple Street gang who continue to be such a big inspiration. You guys just rock!
The news wouldn't come in for a while. There was nothing that could be done, except. wait, hope and pray, for those who believed in it. In the early morning they could expect an update on his condition, the doctor with the stern face had told them.
Time had taken on a new meaning for all of them. Time was a shield between them and either relief or devastation. They were all powerless when confronted with it;, no action would make the faintest impression, change its eternal course. Only time could tell, and so they resigned themselves to waiting. As they parted ways, each of them facing demons brought on by the horrors they had witnessed, the long night was just beginning.
Samantha
She couldn't leave. She had tried to. Staying in the waiting area, sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs and downing cup after cup of tasteless, lukewarm coffee wasn't going to change anything. She knew that but every time she closed her eyes, the violent replay would assault her, drawn out in painful slow motion, sounds harsher, colours brighter than in real life.
As much as she knew the truth, she still couldn't leave. She had already taken the elevator down to the ground level and started to traverse the vast, busy entrance hall, when something inside her was screaming at her to turn back. It was a voice devoid of all reason but filled with feeling. She couldn't leave even if her presence would do nothing to alter the course of events. Engaging in the futile, knowingly clinging to a false hope: only desperation and love can bring out that in a person. Samantha was both desperate and in love. So she turned back, waked back to the elevator, rode back up to the third floor and sat down on the plastic chair that hurt her back. She would sit there and wait, doing all she could do for him.
Danny
He had left because there was nothing he could do at the moment. He had seen the look in Samantha's eyes before he turned and walked out. She couldn't leave. He could, but he couldn't return home. As soon as he had left the others, without words, as they all shared the same unspoken thoughts, his calm feeling faded.
The risks they took every day were well known to him, as they were to everyone in law enforcement. But that was always a façade. None of them, no agent or cop he knew, was truly aware that he was stepping in the line of fire every day. Sure, when asked, the would all say: 'yes, I know that.' But truly and deeply, they all believed themselves to be immune against it. It could happen, yes. But only to others. They might not come home alive, but no one ever thought, that today, it might just be them who got shot. When it did, they were all surprised. He had seen the expression of shock, bewilderment and pain on too many dying men. The truth was that what happened had scared him. It could happen to him tomorrow. But Danny Taylor didn't show fear. It had been a long time since he had shown fear, and he would not return to that time even in memory. He wouldn't show fear. Not tonight, not when the morning would come with the inevitable news.
Martin
He offered Samantha that he'd stay with her when he saw that she couldn't leave. The look in her eyes pained him, but she didn't even hear him. She looked right through him; whether she was lost in horrific memories of the last hour, or in grim renditions of a possible future, he couldn't tell. She was far away from the world. He got up to get a cup of coffee and something to eat. When he returned she hadn't moved an inch. Lost in time. She was closer to Jack then any of them, the intensity of her feelings and her pain made that visible.
He sat down next to her, without her noticing. He feels through Sam's feelings, but has none of his own. It all seems to much, too fast. He's supposed to know how to deal with this. He didn't. He felt like he was merely watching, standing at the sidelines of the action. Right then, he wasn't sure anymore whether he wanted to have any part of that action. Reality was ugly, but true. The reality of the risk had shattered something inside him. It had cast a dark shadow in his dream. He wouldn't waver from it, but it would be forever tinted. This was the first stain of many. He knew it and could only wait and watch.
Vivian
Vivian had left, knowing that she wouldn't sleep too well. She needed to be at home. She didn't know how her co-workers did it. Her family was her way of getting away from the ugliness of the world she encountered daily. She wouldn't be able to rid herself of the mental image of blood soaking a white shirt at an alarming rate, the sound of a gunshot, the sound of screams. She couldn't erase those from her mind, but they only strengthen her need to be with her family. It could be her tomorrow and like every agent she didn't like to think about that, but was faced with the harsh reality in spite of her apprehensions. When she carefully opened the door to her son's bedroom that night, watching him sleep, she involuntary thought of Jack's family. They had one of the hardest nights ever before them.
Maria
She had gotten the call she never wanted to get. It had been Agent Johnson. She didn't know her, only knew that she worked with Jack. When she had heard the voice, she had immediately picked up on the tone filled with regret. It was bad news. Like a machine, she had listened, said something; she couldn't recall what. How can she ever tell the girls? She watched them sleep, ignorant and peaceful. This might be the last night of peace for them in a long time.
She didn't feel for herself, she couldn't. There was only numbness and sadness for her girls and the world they might be about to lose.
There never is an answer to that, there is no right way to bring news of something so wrong. No choice of words, no matter how elaborate and thoughtful, could mask the horror. It would be a long night.