Rosalind
This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole
ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a
court of law.
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?
Grace's moods improved quickly after she found out she was having twins. She was so estatic about it that she couldn't hold a bad mood for very long. Her cravings, however, did increase annoyingly. By the time she was eight and a half months along, she was waking John almost every night to go and get her something she desperately wanted. Pickles, sour cream, baby carrots, chocolate icing, even soda crackers. To John it seemed she knew every obscure food that could exist and was thinking them up one at a time just to annoy the death out of him.
"John?" He was still mostly asleep, but he rolled over and grunted so that she knew he could hear her.
"Do we have any pecan pie?" She was wide awake. He couldn't even lift his eyelids.
"Mmm. I don't think so honey" he murmmered in his sleep.
"I wonder if Margo's will have any?" Margo's was the 24 hour quicky mart at the corner. They carried pickles, sour cream, chocolate icing and soda crackers.
"I don't think so honey" he repeated, still mostly asleep and mostly unaware of what was going on.
"Will you go see, honey? I don't know why but I suddenly have this absolute craving for pecan pie" John managed to lift an eyelid just enough to see that it was four o'clock in the morning.
"I've got to get up in two hours, Gracie" he groaned.
"Oh, baby! I'm sorry! Go back to sleep" she kissed him lightly and pulled the blankets closer to his face. He drifted off a bit more, until he felt her rustling around in the bed and felt a chill as she lifted the covers and got out.
"Where're you going?" he asked, although he was barely concious of the fact.
"I'm going to Margo's to get some pie" she answered quietly but she might as well have said "I'm going to visit Lucy in the Sky" because he wasn't registering anything.
The next morning he woke up to a cold bed. He didn't remember anything of the late night conversation with his wife, or anything about pecan pie. He rubbed his eyes and wondered where she could be. He glanced at the clock.
"Oh my god!" he shouted. It was 7:05 already. How could he have possibly over slept? He pushed the covers back and tumbled out of bed, yanking frantically at the suit Grace had set out the night before.
"Grace!" he called. Nothing.
"Shit" he whispered to himself and strode across the room, pulling his shirt on as he went, to check Rosalind's room. The little girl was still sound asleep in bed.
"Ros, oh Ros, honey, get up! Come on, sweetie, we're late! Very very late!" Ros yawned and rubbed her eyes as she woke up.
"Daddy?" she questioned.
"Come on honey, get dressed, we're late" he ordered her and then went to the kitchen. Grace was not there. In fact, there was no sign of Grace anywhere.
"Grace!" John yelled, "Where are you?" He didn't get a response.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he muttered to himself, pulling out a box of pop tarts and sticking them in the toaster. No nutritous breakfast for them this morning.
"Ros are you getting dressed?" he called as he headed back to his own room to find his tie and socks.
"I can't find my homework!" she called back to him. How was it that everything seemed to go wrong on the mornings they were late?
"Did you check your backpack?" he asked.
"I found it!" she answered a minute later. John finished tieing his shoe and grabbed his coat. Rosalind met him in the hallway. She had her brush in her hand.
"Where's Mommy?" she asked.
"I don't know, she must've gone to the store or something" he answered hurriedly. A memory was triggered in his mind, but he was too busy to pay it any attention. He took the brush from his daughter and sat down to comb her hair, the longest task of the morning. He got half done and gave up. He twisted her hair up in a bun and wrapped the rubber band around it half a dozen times.
"Have Aunt Maria comb it more after school, okay, honey?" he told her, shoving a pop tart at her and slamming the front door behind himself.
"Hey" Andy greeted him as he rushed into the office. He was only a couple of minutes late, traffic had been good.
"Hey" he answered, trying to think of a way to yell at Grace without getting his own head blown off.
"Just got a call. Guy was found this morning when the next worker showed up. Down at Margo's, you know, the place down by your place?" Andy asked, grabbing a walkie-talkie from the wall.
"Yeah" John replied, following him and frowning. Hadn't Gracie been wanting something from there last night? He could just barely recall her waking him up in the middle of the night to go get something.
The man, Bobby as John had come to learn over the past few months, was sprawled out behind the counter. The scene was nothing John hadn't seen before, but somehow this was different. Probably because he'd known the man. They began the canvas and questioning witnesses when one of the uniforms that had been on site first called them over to a broom closet that was located right next to the counter.
"Thought I heard something in there" he reported, "Sounded like a person" Andy and John exchanged a look and John pulled his gun out as Andy reached for the knob. They both silently counted to three and then Andy jerked the door open...
...and John's heart stopped beating. A mass of bright orange hair covered the pale of face of a pregnant woman slumped ontop of some mops.
"Gracie?" He was shaking as he hosltered his gun and knelt beside her. He pushed the hair out of her face and nearly bit his own tongue off when he saw a streak of blood dried on the right side of her face.
"Gracie! Gracie!" he repeated over and over again, checking her pulse, slapping her gently, trying to get her to wake up. His shaking fingers couldn't find the steady beat that would tell him her heart was still pumping. Behind him he could hear Andy calling for an ambulance and for maybe the third time in his life, John found himself praying earnestly.
"Gracie, don't be dead, don't be dead! Come on baby, just wake up, wake up, Gracie, wake up!" He suddenly felt an overpowering sense of guilt. He'd been mad at her this morning when he'd realized how late he was and that she wasn't there. He couldn't remember now what the last thing he'd said to her had been, but he knew it wasn't "I love you". What if she died thinking he was mad at him. Oh God, what if she died?
"No, Gracie, Gracie, wake up! Wake up, Gracie, wake up!" he ordered again, feeling stinging tears in his eyes. He could hear sirens coming, and he could only pray that they weren't too late.
"Gracie, Gracie, Gracie" he chanted over and over again, until the paramedics pushed him out of the way so they could get to her.
"Gracie, I'm right behind you, I'm right here!" he told her as he followed the gurney to the waiting ambulence outside. There wasn't room for him so he followed with Andy behind. He couldn't speak. What was he going to tell Eric and Molly? What was he going to tell the brothers, who had warned him against hurting her, or letting her get hurt. But then, that would be nothing compared to what he was going to do to himself.
Somehow, Peter, Mark, Luke and Andrew were already at the hospital when the ambulence arrived.
"What happened?" Peter demanded all five of them followed the rushing gurney through the halls of the emergency room.
"I don't know, I don't know!" John replied, telling himself as well as his brother in law. Gracie was taken into a room and John was led away to fill out some forms. He could barely concentrate and eventually Peter took over for him. Paul, Patrick and Michael all appeared shortly after and joined the vigil. John couldn't sit, he took to pacing. Andy had gone to continue working the case. Eric and Molly showed up, Matthew and John on their heels. Even Maria showed up. An hour had passed before a doctor emerged to confront the crowd.
"How is she?" John demanded desperately. The Doctor gave him a look, and sighed.
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?
Grace's moods improved quickly after she found out she was having twins. She was so estatic about it that she couldn't hold a bad mood for very long. Her cravings, however, did increase annoyingly. By the time she was eight and a half months along, she was waking John almost every night to go and get her something she desperately wanted. Pickles, sour cream, baby carrots, chocolate icing, even soda crackers. To John it seemed she knew every obscure food that could exist and was thinking them up one at a time just to annoy the death out of him.
"John?" He was still mostly asleep, but he rolled over and grunted so that she knew he could hear her.
"Do we have any pecan pie?" She was wide awake. He couldn't even lift his eyelids.
"Mmm. I don't think so honey" he murmmered in his sleep.
"I wonder if Margo's will have any?" Margo's was the 24 hour quicky mart at the corner. They carried pickles, sour cream, chocolate icing and soda crackers.
"I don't think so honey" he repeated, still mostly asleep and mostly unaware of what was going on.
"Will you go see, honey? I don't know why but I suddenly have this absolute craving for pecan pie" John managed to lift an eyelid just enough to see that it was four o'clock in the morning.
"I've got to get up in two hours, Gracie" he groaned.
"Oh, baby! I'm sorry! Go back to sleep" she kissed him lightly and pulled the blankets closer to his face. He drifted off a bit more, until he felt her rustling around in the bed and felt a chill as she lifted the covers and got out.
"Where're you going?" he asked, although he was barely concious of the fact.
"I'm going to Margo's to get some pie" she answered quietly but she might as well have said "I'm going to visit Lucy in the Sky" because he wasn't registering anything.
The next morning he woke up to a cold bed. He didn't remember anything of the late night conversation with his wife, or anything about pecan pie. He rubbed his eyes and wondered where she could be. He glanced at the clock.
"Oh my god!" he shouted. It was 7:05 already. How could he have possibly over slept? He pushed the covers back and tumbled out of bed, yanking frantically at the suit Grace had set out the night before.
"Grace!" he called. Nothing.
"Shit" he whispered to himself and strode across the room, pulling his shirt on as he went, to check Rosalind's room. The little girl was still sound asleep in bed.
"Ros, oh Ros, honey, get up! Come on, sweetie, we're late! Very very late!" Ros yawned and rubbed her eyes as she woke up.
"Daddy?" she questioned.
"Come on honey, get dressed, we're late" he ordered her and then went to the kitchen. Grace was not there. In fact, there was no sign of Grace anywhere.
"Grace!" John yelled, "Where are you?" He didn't get a response.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he muttered to himself, pulling out a box of pop tarts and sticking them in the toaster. No nutritous breakfast for them this morning.
"Ros are you getting dressed?" he called as he headed back to his own room to find his tie and socks.
"I can't find my homework!" she called back to him. How was it that everything seemed to go wrong on the mornings they were late?
"Did you check your backpack?" he asked.
"I found it!" she answered a minute later. John finished tieing his shoe and grabbed his coat. Rosalind met him in the hallway. She had her brush in her hand.
"Where's Mommy?" she asked.
"I don't know, she must've gone to the store or something" he answered hurriedly. A memory was triggered in his mind, but he was too busy to pay it any attention. He took the brush from his daughter and sat down to comb her hair, the longest task of the morning. He got half done and gave up. He twisted her hair up in a bun and wrapped the rubber band around it half a dozen times.
"Have Aunt Maria comb it more after school, okay, honey?" he told her, shoving a pop tart at her and slamming the front door behind himself.
"Hey" Andy greeted him as he rushed into the office. He was only a couple of minutes late, traffic had been good.
"Hey" he answered, trying to think of a way to yell at Grace without getting his own head blown off.
"Just got a call. Guy was found this morning when the next worker showed up. Down at Margo's, you know, the place down by your place?" Andy asked, grabbing a walkie-talkie from the wall.
"Yeah" John replied, following him and frowning. Hadn't Gracie been wanting something from there last night? He could just barely recall her waking him up in the middle of the night to go get something.
The man, Bobby as John had come to learn over the past few months, was sprawled out behind the counter. The scene was nothing John hadn't seen before, but somehow this was different. Probably because he'd known the man. They began the canvas and questioning witnesses when one of the uniforms that had been on site first called them over to a broom closet that was located right next to the counter.
"Thought I heard something in there" he reported, "Sounded like a person" Andy and John exchanged a look and John pulled his gun out as Andy reached for the knob. They both silently counted to three and then Andy jerked the door open...
...and John's heart stopped beating. A mass of bright orange hair covered the pale of face of a pregnant woman slumped ontop of some mops.
"Gracie?" He was shaking as he hosltered his gun and knelt beside her. He pushed the hair out of her face and nearly bit his own tongue off when he saw a streak of blood dried on the right side of her face.
"Gracie! Gracie!" he repeated over and over again, checking her pulse, slapping her gently, trying to get her to wake up. His shaking fingers couldn't find the steady beat that would tell him her heart was still pumping. Behind him he could hear Andy calling for an ambulance and for maybe the third time in his life, John found himself praying earnestly.
"Gracie, don't be dead, don't be dead! Come on baby, just wake up, wake up, Gracie, wake up!" He suddenly felt an overpowering sense of guilt. He'd been mad at her this morning when he'd realized how late he was and that she wasn't there. He couldn't remember now what the last thing he'd said to her had been, but he knew it wasn't "I love you". What if she died thinking he was mad at him. Oh God, what if she died?
"No, Gracie, Gracie, wake up! Wake up, Gracie, wake up!" he ordered again, feeling stinging tears in his eyes. He could hear sirens coming, and he could only pray that they weren't too late.
"Gracie, Gracie, Gracie" he chanted over and over again, until the paramedics pushed him out of the way so they could get to her.
"Gracie, I'm right behind you, I'm right here!" he told her as he followed the gurney to the waiting ambulence outside. There wasn't room for him so he followed with Andy behind. He couldn't speak. What was he going to tell Eric and Molly? What was he going to tell the brothers, who had warned him against hurting her, or letting her get hurt. But then, that would be nothing compared to what he was going to do to himself.
Somehow, Peter, Mark, Luke and Andrew were already at the hospital when the ambulence arrived.
"What happened?" Peter demanded all five of them followed the rushing gurney through the halls of the emergency room.
"I don't know, I don't know!" John replied, telling himself as well as his brother in law. Gracie was taken into a room and John was led away to fill out some forms. He could barely concentrate and eventually Peter took over for him. Paul, Patrick and Michael all appeared shortly after and joined the vigil. John couldn't sit, he took to pacing. Andy had gone to continue working the case. Eric and Molly showed up, Matthew and John on their heels. Even Maria showed up. An hour had passed before a doctor emerged to confront the crowd.
"How is she?" John demanded desperately. The Doctor gave him a look, and sighed.