Thanks to all of you who are still reading (I don't think there are too many of you but I thank you for your loyalty!). Don't worry, be patient, you'll find out what's going on soon. There's still a few more twists and turns yet! Enjoy this chapter and let me know what you're thinking!
Thanks,
Joey
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
-The Hours After-
Chapter 4
A spin cycle. I am stuck in a spin cycle. When I left Faith, when I was with Cruz, and even now in this room, everything's always spinning. The activity has died down, but I still feel like I am physically and mentally spiraling out of control.
I know something's wrong with me, and I know that it's a lot worse than they originally thought. I can tell by the way they look at me. They make more prolonged eye contact when they feel sorry for you, like their pity will make you feel better. I am so hopped up on drugs right now that speech is impossible. I can't ask them what's going on, and I am sure as hell that they would have at least made an effort to tell me if they knew for themselves. That only means one thing: they don't know.
I am awake, aware, but not all there. It's like I'm drunk, or more comparably, hungover. I can hear what they are saying, but I'm not really listening. Doctors have been running in and out of my room, comparing notes on my condition. They ask me how I'm doing, but know they won't get a response. I blink in reply, which they assume means 'okay'. Every five minutes or so, a nurse comes by, checks my oxygen, injects something into my IV, jots some stuff down on my chart, then leaves again.
The pattern becomes mesmerizing, like watching a machine that is doing the same repetitive application over and over again. Since I have nothing better to do, I watch them intently with half-opened eyes.
"Hey, Bosco, how ya doing?" I glance to my right. Lieutenant Swersky is slowly approaching my bed.
I give my automated response, and resume eye contact.
"Bosco, Faith's going to be just fine. The doctors said that she might be unconscious for a while, but they expect her to make a full recovery."
Suddenly, he has my full attention. My eyes widen slightly, begging him to continue.
"She's out of the woods, Bosco. She's going to be okay."
Thank-you, God. I really don't think I could ever forgive myself if something were to happen to her. At least I know she's okay, she's alive.
I cough weakly. Despite the slew of drugs they've got me on, I still feel as though I'm struggling to keep my head above water level.
"There's something else, Bosco." He reaches back and grabs the stool beside my bed and lowers himself down with a sigh.
Is he going to tell me I'm dying? Did the doctors send my boss in to do their dirty work?
"Cruz is awake. Her injuries are minor, she just has a nasty concussion."
I don't give a shit about Cruz. As far as I'm concerned, she can rot in hell. A thousand different thoughts are running through my already spinning head. He's talking slowly, and I know that whatever he is procrastinating telling me is going to be huge. Get to the point, Boss.
"The detectives came to talk to her, Bosco… She told them that you and her were about to get some information out of a CI, and when you entered his hotel room, Yokas was there. She claims Faith appeared to have some sort of connection with the CI and immediately went on the defensive, threatening to shoot her when she asked her what she was doing there," Swersky takes a deep breath and runs his hand over his face.
"She says that Faith shot first, she shot second, and she assumed that your CI was about to shoot her, resulting in you shooting him… I don't know, Bosco," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, Yokas told me she was taking her meal period and next thing I know, she's in a CI's hotel room? I don't know why she would lie to me like that. I never thought Faith would…" he trails off, pauses, and then regains his train of thought.
"They aren't going to run on anything Cruz says until they get the statements from both you and Faith. I really don't want to believe her, Bosco, but until I hear otherwise, I can't not believe her."
I'm sure that if I could speak, I'd be speechless anyway. That little bitch. Does she really think she's going to get away with this? That manipulative, self-serving, BITCH! I don't care what rank she is, there's no way they can take her word over Faith's. I'd love to set the record straight right now, but I can barely breathe, let alone talk. I would even write them my statement if my arms and legs weren't varying between states of shakiness and numbness.
"The two detectives said that they stopped by your room last night but you were asleep. Bosco, I need you to get better…" his eyes glisten, but I know that he's not crying over me. In the span of 12 or so hours, his whole damn precinct has fallen apart. I steal a glance at the clock on the wall. 7:30 am. I bet he hasn't slept all night.
When Swersky manages to regain control of his emotions, he continues, "I can't lose my two best officers. We'll get to the bottom of this. We're going to get this all worked out and you and Faith are going to get better."
I laugh to myself. I bet he can barely convince himself of what he just said because I sure as hell don't believe it.
"Officer Boscorelli?"
Both Swersky and myself shift our eyes to the two men in suits that are holding their badges in front of them, as if the etched metal gives them permission to interrupt any conversation.
"We're from the FBI. We were wondering if you could tell us what happened last night?"
Yeah sure, just a second, let me just clear my throat. Why didn't they come earlier, when everything wasn't spinning and I could form words?
"This probably isn't the best time, gentlemen. Can I talk to you outside?"
"In a minute, Sir. We just wanted to have a few words with Officer Boscorelli."
Swersky stands up and raises his voice slightly, emphasizing his point, "I don't think you are going to get a single word out of him right now. OUTSIDE PLEASE!"
Lieu is ushering the two agents out into the hall, and though I can't hear what he is saying to them through my door, his animated movements show that he is not inviting them to the company picnic.
Dr. Reeves enters, blocking my view of Swersky giving the FBI agents a piece of his mind.
"Officer Boscorelli, how are you feeling?"
Why do they even bother asking?
"This is Dr. White. He's a neurologist here and he's going to examine you a little further, maybe run some more tests on you so we can figure out what's going on, okay?"
Until now, I hadn't even noticed the other doctor standing to my left. He's already coming at me with a penlight. He sure doesn't waste any time.
"Can you follow my finger please?"
I try my best to follow his finger, but moving my eyes from side to side, even in such slow motion, makes me dizzy and sick. I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath, which results in more coughing. Here we go again, I can't breathe. The water level is rising and I can no longer keep myself from going under. I open my eyes again and the spinning intensifies. I catch a glimpse of Swersky and the FBI agents who have stopped arguing and are now staring at me through the glass.
"Take small breaths, officer."
Thanks, I'll work on that. The numbers around me are growing. This Dr. White fellow is joining Dr. Reeves in barking out the orders. He's saying something about another scan, but I can't make out what exactly. Again, I see Swersky, the agents are walking away but he is staring back at me with a worried expression on his face.
I don't think I'm breathing at all anymore. My lungs have gone from burning to on fire. I can hear myself gasping and coughing, but I'm not consciously doing anything.
"We're going to have to tube him."
Dr. Reeves roughly throws my head back and starts shoving a plastic tube down my throat. I'm gagging on the cold plastic, but he doesn't stop. I wish I would just pass out. The tube was inserted so forcefully, it's torn apart my throat and I can taste the blood in my mouth. It's a small price to pay for the sweet relief of oxygen.
"Bag him. Let's get him up to the ICU and put him on a ventilator ASAP."
Before he even finishes his sentence, I am being wheeled out of the room. Swersky follows me with his gaze as I am pushed by. His face is an almost gray complexion.
The elevator doors slide open and Davis and Sully stroll out.
"Oh my god, Bosco!" Davis calls out when he sees me on the gurney.
"Sir, you're going to have to move," Dr. Reeves says as he pushes Davis out of the way while wheeling me into the elevator.
"BP's dropping!" a nurse yells out as the doors slide shut.
Dr Reeves throws his glance to the neurologist, "You think he's bleeding out?"
I feel a jerk as we start to move upwards.
"That wouldn't explain the fever and respiratory distress. I don't know what the hell is going on."
Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. No too comforting when the two doctors that are in charge of your life, and I quote, "don't know what the hell is going on".
The rhythmic pumping of the bag that is my air source is the sole sound in the elevator for several seconds. I can't believe this. I can't believe that at a time when all I want to do is be there for my partner, I'm immobilized in pain.
Pain. Yeah, now I feel the pain. I don't know if my meds are just wearing off or if it has gotten worse, but I am definitely in a lot more pain now than I was earlier. That severe aching feeling is back. My arms and legs are shaking again, and my stomach feels as though it's inside out. Then there is my head. That lightning… striking hard every few seconds causing me to wince in agony. Please, someone make this stop.
The elevator comes to a halt and I am rushed through an unfamiliar hall.
"We need a vent here!" Dr. Reeves yells out to no one in particular.
"Right this way," a female doctor responds, waving us into a large room at the end of the hall.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
I definitely know that voice. It's always angry, negative, and discouraging. Fred.
The doctors ignore him and keep pushing past. Through my half opened eyes, I see his face as we pass. He almost looks concerned. He probably thinks it's something he did when he whipped me out of the elevator 12 hours ago, worried about going to jail or something for attempted murder. Wouldn't surprise me - Fred's always been selfish. But really, who am I to talk… Well, I got news for you, Fred, it takes a lot more than that to bring down a Boscorelli. Then again, I have no idea what is bringing me down.
I'm starting to feel separated, like I'm desensitizing from the world around me.
"Run another culture. We're missing something important here," I can tell Dr. Reeves is getting frustrated with me. Join the club, buddy.
The bag is separated from the tube in my mouth and immediately replaced by a machine that is functioning for my weakened lungs. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hold on. My body is floating and I'm just too tired. I wish… oh, God, I wish I could just talk for 2 minutes. Set the record straight, save Faith from Cruz's viscous accusations.
If only I had the strength.
Please Faith, wake up soon. Save your honor… I just can't this time.
TBC. Please let me know what you're thinking!
Thanks,
Joey
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
-The Hours After-
Chapter 4
A spin cycle. I am stuck in a spin cycle. When I left Faith, when I was with Cruz, and even now in this room, everything's always spinning. The activity has died down, but I still feel like I am physically and mentally spiraling out of control.
I know something's wrong with me, and I know that it's a lot worse than they originally thought. I can tell by the way they look at me. They make more prolonged eye contact when they feel sorry for you, like their pity will make you feel better. I am so hopped up on drugs right now that speech is impossible. I can't ask them what's going on, and I am sure as hell that they would have at least made an effort to tell me if they knew for themselves. That only means one thing: they don't know.
I am awake, aware, but not all there. It's like I'm drunk, or more comparably, hungover. I can hear what they are saying, but I'm not really listening. Doctors have been running in and out of my room, comparing notes on my condition. They ask me how I'm doing, but know they won't get a response. I blink in reply, which they assume means 'okay'. Every five minutes or so, a nurse comes by, checks my oxygen, injects something into my IV, jots some stuff down on my chart, then leaves again.
The pattern becomes mesmerizing, like watching a machine that is doing the same repetitive application over and over again. Since I have nothing better to do, I watch them intently with half-opened eyes.
"Hey, Bosco, how ya doing?" I glance to my right. Lieutenant Swersky is slowly approaching my bed.
I give my automated response, and resume eye contact.
"Bosco, Faith's going to be just fine. The doctors said that she might be unconscious for a while, but they expect her to make a full recovery."
Suddenly, he has my full attention. My eyes widen slightly, begging him to continue.
"She's out of the woods, Bosco. She's going to be okay."
Thank-you, God. I really don't think I could ever forgive myself if something were to happen to her. At least I know she's okay, she's alive.
I cough weakly. Despite the slew of drugs they've got me on, I still feel as though I'm struggling to keep my head above water level.
"There's something else, Bosco." He reaches back and grabs the stool beside my bed and lowers himself down with a sigh.
Is he going to tell me I'm dying? Did the doctors send my boss in to do their dirty work?
"Cruz is awake. Her injuries are minor, she just has a nasty concussion."
I don't give a shit about Cruz. As far as I'm concerned, she can rot in hell. A thousand different thoughts are running through my already spinning head. He's talking slowly, and I know that whatever he is procrastinating telling me is going to be huge. Get to the point, Boss.
"The detectives came to talk to her, Bosco… She told them that you and her were about to get some information out of a CI, and when you entered his hotel room, Yokas was there. She claims Faith appeared to have some sort of connection with the CI and immediately went on the defensive, threatening to shoot her when she asked her what she was doing there," Swersky takes a deep breath and runs his hand over his face.
"She says that Faith shot first, she shot second, and she assumed that your CI was about to shoot her, resulting in you shooting him… I don't know, Bosco," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, Yokas told me she was taking her meal period and next thing I know, she's in a CI's hotel room? I don't know why she would lie to me like that. I never thought Faith would…" he trails off, pauses, and then regains his train of thought.
"They aren't going to run on anything Cruz says until they get the statements from both you and Faith. I really don't want to believe her, Bosco, but until I hear otherwise, I can't not believe her."
I'm sure that if I could speak, I'd be speechless anyway. That little bitch. Does she really think she's going to get away with this? That manipulative, self-serving, BITCH! I don't care what rank she is, there's no way they can take her word over Faith's. I'd love to set the record straight right now, but I can barely breathe, let alone talk. I would even write them my statement if my arms and legs weren't varying between states of shakiness and numbness.
"The two detectives said that they stopped by your room last night but you were asleep. Bosco, I need you to get better…" his eyes glisten, but I know that he's not crying over me. In the span of 12 or so hours, his whole damn precinct has fallen apart. I steal a glance at the clock on the wall. 7:30 am. I bet he hasn't slept all night.
When Swersky manages to regain control of his emotions, he continues, "I can't lose my two best officers. We'll get to the bottom of this. We're going to get this all worked out and you and Faith are going to get better."
I laugh to myself. I bet he can barely convince himself of what he just said because I sure as hell don't believe it.
"Officer Boscorelli?"
Both Swersky and myself shift our eyes to the two men in suits that are holding their badges in front of them, as if the etched metal gives them permission to interrupt any conversation.
"We're from the FBI. We were wondering if you could tell us what happened last night?"
Yeah sure, just a second, let me just clear my throat. Why didn't they come earlier, when everything wasn't spinning and I could form words?
"This probably isn't the best time, gentlemen. Can I talk to you outside?"
"In a minute, Sir. We just wanted to have a few words with Officer Boscorelli."
Swersky stands up and raises his voice slightly, emphasizing his point, "I don't think you are going to get a single word out of him right now. OUTSIDE PLEASE!"
Lieu is ushering the two agents out into the hall, and though I can't hear what he is saying to them through my door, his animated movements show that he is not inviting them to the company picnic.
Dr. Reeves enters, blocking my view of Swersky giving the FBI agents a piece of his mind.
"Officer Boscorelli, how are you feeling?"
Why do they even bother asking?
"This is Dr. White. He's a neurologist here and he's going to examine you a little further, maybe run some more tests on you so we can figure out what's going on, okay?"
Until now, I hadn't even noticed the other doctor standing to my left. He's already coming at me with a penlight. He sure doesn't waste any time.
"Can you follow my finger please?"
I try my best to follow his finger, but moving my eyes from side to side, even in such slow motion, makes me dizzy and sick. I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath, which results in more coughing. Here we go again, I can't breathe. The water level is rising and I can no longer keep myself from going under. I open my eyes again and the spinning intensifies. I catch a glimpse of Swersky and the FBI agents who have stopped arguing and are now staring at me through the glass.
"Take small breaths, officer."
Thanks, I'll work on that. The numbers around me are growing. This Dr. White fellow is joining Dr. Reeves in barking out the orders. He's saying something about another scan, but I can't make out what exactly. Again, I see Swersky, the agents are walking away but he is staring back at me with a worried expression on his face.
I don't think I'm breathing at all anymore. My lungs have gone from burning to on fire. I can hear myself gasping and coughing, but I'm not consciously doing anything.
"We're going to have to tube him."
Dr. Reeves roughly throws my head back and starts shoving a plastic tube down my throat. I'm gagging on the cold plastic, but he doesn't stop. I wish I would just pass out. The tube was inserted so forcefully, it's torn apart my throat and I can taste the blood in my mouth. It's a small price to pay for the sweet relief of oxygen.
"Bag him. Let's get him up to the ICU and put him on a ventilator ASAP."
Before he even finishes his sentence, I am being wheeled out of the room. Swersky follows me with his gaze as I am pushed by. His face is an almost gray complexion.
The elevator doors slide open and Davis and Sully stroll out.
"Oh my god, Bosco!" Davis calls out when he sees me on the gurney.
"Sir, you're going to have to move," Dr. Reeves says as he pushes Davis out of the way while wheeling me into the elevator.
"BP's dropping!" a nurse yells out as the doors slide shut.
Dr Reeves throws his glance to the neurologist, "You think he's bleeding out?"
I feel a jerk as we start to move upwards.
"That wouldn't explain the fever and respiratory distress. I don't know what the hell is going on."
Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. No too comforting when the two doctors that are in charge of your life, and I quote, "don't know what the hell is going on".
The rhythmic pumping of the bag that is my air source is the sole sound in the elevator for several seconds. I can't believe this. I can't believe that at a time when all I want to do is be there for my partner, I'm immobilized in pain.
Pain. Yeah, now I feel the pain. I don't know if my meds are just wearing off or if it has gotten worse, but I am definitely in a lot more pain now than I was earlier. That severe aching feeling is back. My arms and legs are shaking again, and my stomach feels as though it's inside out. Then there is my head. That lightning… striking hard every few seconds causing me to wince in agony. Please, someone make this stop.
The elevator comes to a halt and I am rushed through an unfamiliar hall.
"We need a vent here!" Dr. Reeves yells out to no one in particular.
"Right this way," a female doctor responds, waving us into a large room at the end of the hall.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
I definitely know that voice. It's always angry, negative, and discouraging. Fred.
The doctors ignore him and keep pushing past. Through my half opened eyes, I see his face as we pass. He almost looks concerned. He probably thinks it's something he did when he whipped me out of the elevator 12 hours ago, worried about going to jail or something for attempted murder. Wouldn't surprise me - Fred's always been selfish. But really, who am I to talk… Well, I got news for you, Fred, it takes a lot more than that to bring down a Boscorelli. Then again, I have no idea what is bringing me down.
I'm starting to feel separated, like I'm desensitizing from the world around me.
"Run another culture. We're missing something important here," I can tell Dr. Reeves is getting frustrated with me. Join the club, buddy.
The bag is separated from the tube in my mouth and immediately replaced by a machine that is functioning for my weakened lungs. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hold on. My body is floating and I'm just too tired. I wish… oh, God, I wish I could just talk for 2 minutes. Set the record straight, save Faith from Cruz's viscous accusations.
If only I had the strength.
Please Faith, wake up soon. Save your honor… I just can't this time.
TBC. Please let me know what you're thinking!