Sadly, it has been about two years since I have been into fanfiction. If you read any of my earlier works, you can tell that quite easily. I'd like to think my style of writing has changed at least I hope I'm still not writing like a newbie.
WARNING: I take a long time to update my fics…. So be patient.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Crossing Jordan characters, settings, ect. If I did, I wouldn't have two part time jobs to cover my gas every month.
Garret waited twelve minutes for the ambulance to come. During those twelve minutes, his heart hammered against his chest, threatening to either explode or toss it's host into cardiac arrest- frankly, he didn't know which. He tried to be calm, he tried to breath deeply to slow the bleeding, but these things are easier said than done when you're an older man whose just been shot in the chest at close range. But his own life wasn't what he was afraid for. He wasn't afraid to die, not at that moment anyway.
Two hours ago he was clocking off from the ME office downtown, arm in arm with Jordan Cavanaugh; who in his opinion, was like the daughter he never had. They had left together in his car; they had gone to get Chinese food with Nigel, Bug, and Lily. Months ago, detective Woody Hoyt would have been with them; but those days had long since passed since the detective had been nearly killed on duty, and had transformed into something much colder and distant that what he used to be. The group of them had enjoyed a short and jubilant meal.
Twenty minutes ago, doctor Macey was just leaving Jordan's apartment after walking her to the door. She had invited him inside for a quick scotch. He had declined, but asked to use her restroom. He had left her apartment nearly two minutes later. It wasn't until he had gotten to the parking garage that he realized that he had left his car keys on her coffee table.
Fifteen minutes ago he had returned to her door to find it ajar. He entered without noticing the fact that all of the lights were off inside. Figuring she had already gone to sleep, he slipped inside and found his keys. Then he heard rustling coming from the bedroom. That's when everything became a blur. Garret remembered calling Jordan's name in the darkness. He remembered hearing a loud thud, and the rustling had stopped seconds after. He opened her bedroom door to find the room trashed. The curtains had been drawn, both lamps had been shattered, her perfume bottles lay on the floor in a scattered heap. Jordan was still wearing what she had worn to dinner, a green sweater and blue jeans.
There was an arm around her neck, ribbons of red along what he could see of her arms. There was a gun cocked and aimed. The barely, he could see, was being pushed painfully into her flesh, under her chin. The attacker from behind was wearing a cloth ski mask. He was wearing black gloves, leather from the looks of it, and was holding a fistful of jewelry in the hand that wasn't preoccupied with the gun.
Garret had hardly the time to react when Jordan shouted out for him to run. Not that he was going to run in the first place. The gunman stole a second and shot the gun three times. The first two shots rang out clear as day, hitting Garret in the gut. He was surprised as his legs gave out from under him. He fell to the floor, holding his wounds and watching in disbelief as his blood ran through his fingers like melted butter. Jordan had screamed his name; she had elbowed the attacker in the ribs. The gun was away from her head now, so who cared if she got a little banged up? That's when the third bullet was released.
Jordan had fallen against the wall, holding her shoulder. Macey had enough time to watch the gunman take a second aim, hesitate, and then seem to think better about killing her. Instead, he watched helplessly, unable to speak from shock, as the gunman hurried her out her bedroom window. Even as he crawled across the floor to reach her cell phone and dial 911, he could hear the pair clamoring down the fire escape. He never heard a car drive off.
That was twelve minutes ago.
It had happened so fast. The 911 dispatcher was asking him for details while he waited for the paramedics. But it became obvious that he was beginning to loose consciousness and patience.
"You have to send someone to find her! Please!" He said helplessly into the phone.
Just then, the paramedics came through the door, stretcher and all. Just like the movies. He remained silent on the ride to the hospital. He had lost two pints of blood by the time he made it into surgery. Nine hours later, he would be wheeled into ICU and connected to a ventilator. One of the bullets had punctured a lung, which lung had collapsed and would have to wait until a second surgery to be removed and the lung repaired. When Garret awoke, it was to find himself alone in the hospital connected to a machine with nothing to busy himself with except the painful realization that he had let both Jordan and her attacker get away.