A/N: If you think what happens in this chapter is impossible, I've heard stories of people surviving worse.
Ch. 18
" Danny!" Mac shouted into the phone for the third time, then dropped his arm. " Damn it!" He slammed down the emotional flood enough not to kick something, but didn't care how potently his anger was expressed.
The curse caused several nurses to jump, but made Calvin Messer go white.
" What? What happened?" he pressed. Mac turned to face the man, and the rest of the team, gathered close around as though conferencing, each face taut with the anxiety of wanting to know but dreading what they might hear.
Mac was never one to keep anyone waiting, or wait around himself for that matter. " He got cut off and we need to move. Mr. Messer, I need you to stay here."
Calvin sputtered. " Wha...? But... why?"
" Because this is where Danny's going to be brought in when we find him."
Calvin looked ready to barge out the doors on his own personal crusade to find Danny. He shook his head vehemently. " No, I gotta find him. I can't let anything happen to him..."
Stella placed her hand on his shoulder. " We're gonna find him and bring him back, Cal, but you need to stay here – in public – where it's safe. You know this."
" They're after your son to get to you," Mac reminded. " You go out searching for him, get separated from police protection, the Quinns might see it as an opportunity to just get rid of you."
The struggle between wanting to argue and letting the truth of the words sink in played out on Calvin's face for everyone to see. But they didn't have time to wait for an answer. Mac turned to a uniform officer who'd already been in the building when Mac and the rest arrived.
" Keep him here," Mac said, then turned to Dr. Rennolds. " We're probably going to need an ambulance once we get out there." Mac hated saying it. Too close to sounding like a verbal death write-off.
Rennolds, composed but not relaxed, nodded stiffly. " I'll have one dispatched. Stanton isn't that far."
With that said, Mac made for the front entrance with Stella, Flack, and two uniforms in tow. Stella widened her stride to catch up with Mac, and walked along side him.
" Ambulance?" she said. " You really think...?"
Mac looked at her, and the soul-deep worry lining her features startled him. But Mac hated mincing words.
" He was cold, Stella. Cold, hurt – his reaction time's going to be slow. If Quinn doesn't do something... hypothermia might."
Stella's face paled, but tightened with what Mac could only assume was die-hard determination.
" Then let's be the ones to do something first," she said.
CSINY
Closer, closer, closer, closer... Danny mentally urged. But the more he urged, the slower Jack's steps seemed to become. The man had even stopped cursing.
Danny swallowed against a dry, raw throat, and held his breath to hold back a cough. Jack's methodical movements were torture. The man knew, that was why he was slowing. He knew Danny was in the building, and nearby. The silence made Danny's shallow breath sound like a roar to his own ears, betrayed by the gathering congestion starting to rattle in his lungs. He needed, wanted, ached, to cough and clear the rattle away. His eyes watered, his jaw clenched, and his chest tighten.
Get in here you bastard!
Silhouetted movement flashed out of the corner of Danny's eye, and the quiet shallow breath of a man trying not to be heard caught his ear. Danny, wound taut enough for his muscles to snap, reacted.
Danny lashed out with the scissors by bringing them down hard and fast. He heard a yelp, then a thud when Jack jerked away to slam his back into the door frame.
" Danny you son of a..." then Jack kicked out with his foot, catching Danny in the right ribcage before Danny could advance and finish Jack. Danny fell onto his back with a gasp when the breath was snatched from him on two fronts – back and front. Then a foot slammed onto his wrist.
" Drop 'em!" Jack barked.
Danny released his hold on the scissors. But before Jack could crouch to retrieve them, Danny brought his leg back then rammed his foot into Jack's knee. Jack screamed, crumpling to the floor, but not before pushing the scissors away. Danny scrambled to his feet and made a dash for the scissors, only to fall flat on his chest when Jack grabbed Danny's ankle and yanked back.
The fall, and the pain that followed, dazed Danny long enough for Jack to get to his own feet. Jack grabbed Danny by the shoulders of his coat and hauled him up to throw him into the wall. Danny grabbed an exposed pipe before he slid down that wall, and used it as support to keep himself up as the room spun wildly.
" This wasn't how it was supposed to be," Jack said, approaching Danny with cautionary slowness pending potential retaliation. " Come on, Danny, don't do this. Just go back to the hospital, get yourself fixed up, and go home. It's out of your hands, Messer. Your dad's going to jail whether you like it or not. And I promise, once he does, I'll back off."
The spinning room gradually righted itself in Danny's vision, and he shook his head to clear it the rest of the way.
" Listen, Danny," Jack went on. " I know how courts operate. It's dark in here, you can hardly see my face. No real way to identify me as the assailant. If anything, I'm gonna be your savior. I'm gonna take you back to the hospital. Anything you have to say'll be dismissed due to delirium caused by intense pain..."
Danny squinted. He could see Jack's darker outline in the gloom, but not his features. The man was right. Lawyer's fed like sharks in a frenzy on minor details – like not being able to see the assailant. Voice recognition was never enough.
But Danny didn't care about trials or lawyers. He just didn't want Jack touching him.
When the man was finally close enough, Danny kicked out again, hitting Jack squarely in the stomach. Jack gasped, doubling over, and Danny pushed himself from the wall, using the momentum to tackle Jack to the floor. Danny tried to pin him, but Jack slugged him across the face, knocking Danny onto his side. Danny heard his glasses go skittering away from him, blurring the room and melding Jack's form deeper into the shadows. But as long as Jack kept moving, Danny could find him.
Jack scrambled to his feet, and Danny did the same, going for another tackle and slugging Jack at the same time. Instead of going down, Jack grabbed Danny by the collar of the hospital gown. Gripping tight, he swung Danny around and into a gutted wall.
Something ripped through Danny's body - thin, sharp, penetrating the back, then ripping through his chest - and Danny screamed at the searing explosion of pain.
" Whoa!" Jack cried, stumbling back.
There was something in Danny, he could feel it, something caught between his right ribcage and sternum, tapping against the bones at the slightest movement. He was gripping it, whatever it was now sticking out of his chest, out of instinct. It was ridged, slick with something warm and wet that was also soaking into the gown. He wanted it out. He didn't care what it was, or what the liquid was covering it – he just wanted it out, to stop tapping against his bones. He tried to pull but his hands kept sliding off. He tired again, gasping, whimpering, every breath causing this thing to grate against his breastbone.
" G-Get it out," he croaked.
A thin, piercing light cut through the twilight gloom to land directly – unsteadily – on the thing Danny gripped and pulled at. It was too thin to be a pipe. It was more like a metal brace, the ridged kind normally seen jutting like ragged bones from concrete walls or worn bridges, only smaller - and it was dripping with blood.
The sight of it increased Danny's breathing, and he gagged on bile when his sternum pressed painfully against the metal bar with each pant.
" Get it out!" Danny screamed, pulling in a frenzy of his hands slipping and regripping the bar. " Get it out!" He leaned forward, putting his weight into the pull, and both he and his hands slipped off.
Danny fell first to his knees, then to his side, rolling onto his arched back while gripping the exit wound with both hands. He lay gasping and swallowing back the persistent bile that wanted to pour from his mouth in a fiery river. His heart raced uncontrollably, jackhammering out of control. The beam of light – either a penlight or mini-maglite – danced across Danny's body from his face to his bloody hands covering the wound.
" Ah crap..."
Danny barely heard Jack's voice above his own frenetic breathing, and the creak of a floorboard when Jack moved. But he did 'feel' Jack close by, very close, shifting the unseen border that marked personal space like one ripple hitting another. When Danny moved his elbow, it brushed the toe of a polished shoe.
Jack was standing over him, and the meager shaft of light remained fixed on Danny's bloody hands.
Say for Danny's rasping breath, the room was dead silent. That silence terrified Danny, a terror that coalesced with the terror of Jack standing over him statue-still, and the terror of blood spilling from two wounds born of the same object. Danny had never been so terrified in his life, not all those times Jack had tormented him, not even when the gypsy cab driver had beat him within an inch of his life.
Because, during those times, he'd never been alone. His dad had always been somewhere within sight, within hearing. His presence didn't stop the torment, but it did stop the fear. It was the simple knowledge of knowing that someone was nearby enough to alert when things got really bad, or to crawl to when it was all over, that made the situation less than what it was. It was why Jack had always been so careful about what he did to Danny, to keep Calvin from finding out. And when the cabby had finally driven off, and Calvin had gathered a much smaller Danny into his arms, Danny had been embarrassed, had felt violated, confused, but he'd stopped being afraid.
No dad now. There was only Jack, staring down at Danny and the blood coating Danny's hands, sticking the gown to his skin. When the blood finally clotted and dried, it would be like cement. The gown would have to be peeled off.
Tears carved paths through the sweat and grime on Danny's face. The tip of Jack's shoe made itself visible in the light. Jack kicked Danny's hands away, then pressed his foot down onto the oozing hole. It didn't seem possible, but Danny's terror shot up an insurmountable degree.
" W-What...?"
Jack didn't let him finish. He put weight on his foot, stepping on Danny, and Danny screamed.
" Messer," Jack said. His tone was flat, but strangely wistful. " This is your own fault, pal. Because you had to be too freakin' stubborn."
Danny grabbed Jack's foot to pull it off, but his strength was gone, dead. Danny tried to suck in a breath and began to panic when his lungs didn't expand no thanks to the foot pushing on his ribs.
" P-please..." Danny choked. He didn't care how it sounded, he didn't care that he was desperate, because he was. Danny pried one hand from Jack's leg to grope behind him for something – anything – he could use that would get this foot off.
The tip of his fingers found the scissors. He pulled them within reach, gripped them, then squeezed his eyes shut as he forced whatever thread of strength he had left into his arm. He brought his arm up, then down with everything he had. The blade glanced off Jack's leg, who yelped and jerked his foot away.
" You son of a bitch!" he snarled, and kicked Danny hard in the side. The pain of it caused him to gasp air into his depleted lungs. Danny, his mind becoming fogged, was distantly aware of Jack grabbing a fistful of the gown to lift Danny up, only to have the gown start slipping off Danny. Jack released the cloth in disgust and gripped the collar of Danny's coat. Danny braced himself for the blow.
It never came. Danny heard a sound, like a wail or high-pitched whine rising then falling. He knew that sound, and a beautiful sound it was.
Police sirens. And as they increased, closing the distance, he smiled.
" Damn it!" Jack barked. He released Danny, and Danny heard receding footfalls as the man ran from the room.
Once again, Danny was overcome by the desire to laugh. But it came out as a cough. He was too tired to laugh anyways, and too cold. He didn't even really hurt that much anymore, so rolled onto his side, curling into himself to salvage whatever body heat was left. He closed his eyes, promising himself for only a minute, just until someone came..."
CSINY
Stella pulled into the lot and stopped two feet behind Mac's car. She was out the door without even shutting it behind her. Mac was already talking to a group of young men on the other side of the chain-link fence, particularly an African-American kid in a blue sweater.
" ... north. Just bolted north," the kid was saying. " Then that suit took off at a run after him. I tried to step in his way to stop him but the dirtbag just shoved me aside like I was nothin'. Then Miles here," he jerked a thumb at another dark-skinned kid, slightly shorter and more slender, " went after 'em, but he lost 'em."
Mac looked at Miles quizzically. " You just went after them?"
Miles sniffed. " Dude in the glasses looked like he needed help."
The taller kid nodded assent. " The blond guy looked bad, real bad. Pale and crap, like he was sick, and had all these bruises on his face. I thought he was gonna drop right here and now until that guy showed up. And let me tell you, your friend looked scared to hell."
" Anyone think to call the cops?" Mac asked. A Hispanic kid with a shaved head raised his hand, holding up his cell.
" I did."
Mac nodded in approval. " Good, we're going to need back up."
" We didn't know the guy in the glasses was a cop," a red-head kid said.
Mac shook his head. " Wouldn't have mattered. You did everything right, thanks guys."
The group visibly relaxed. Mac turned to Stella, Flack, and the uniforms gathered behind him and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
" This way." He then pointed at three newly arrived uniforms. " You three stay here and get statements."
The team and two officers moved as one into the alley where the tall kid said Danny had ran.
" Shouldn't we bring in Sheldon and Lindsey?" Stella asked.
" Already called them, they're on their way," Mac replied. " You really want to wait for them?"
Stella shook her head stiffly. " No way.
They split up, dividing down between buildings and vacant side streets. It was common consent that Danny couldn't have gone far in his condition. Logic dictated that he would have taken the closest available hiding place, and since most of the buildings looked unused, he would have had plenty to choose from.
Stella gripped doorknobs and handles, rattling them, tugging then pushing, each time calling Danny's name. She didn't like the silence. Useful as it was, it felt unnatural to her, as though she had stepped into some alternate reality where sound didn't exist, and no matter how loud she called Danny would never hear her.
The bad case of deja vu only made it worse. The setting now was a far cry from that night when the car bolted like a spooked phantom horse out of the mist to nearly knock Danny into an early grave. But the silence was another matter. Too much like the after math of that collision. All her shouting hadn't been able to chase it away even then, and even now it still exaggerated the sound of her pounding heart.
" Danny!" she shouted with hands cupped around her mouth. She stopped and turned about, calling again. She was really starting to hate the silence. It was like delicate glass that she wanted to shatter, but her voice alone wasn't enough. She needed Danny's voice to do it, loud or weak, it didn't matter. The broken silence would be heaven.
Then it was broken, but not by a human voice. A loud thump made her startle and spin around. She didn't see anything, not right off. Then a gust of wind that sent her hair flying about her shoulders pushed against a door, opening it ever so slightly, then slamming it back against its frame.
Stella, wide-eyed, ran to it. " Danny!" On reaching the door she paused to draw her gun. Reaching out, she yanked the door open, holding her weapon at chest-height. With her other hand she grabbed her flashlight from her coat pocket and clicked it on. She moved slow and stiff on entering the building, shining her light where the shadows were darkest.
" Danny?" she whispered Somehow, shouting no longer felt safe, or appropriate.
She moved right, darting to walls, leaning to the side to shine the light through holes and door-less entrances, until the beam finally landed on the source for her constant agitation and fear.
" Danny!" she practically screamed, her heart slamming up into her throat on seeing the blood-stained coat wrapped around the huddled body. She ran into the room and fell to her knees by Danny's form. She grabbed his arm, and gently rolled him onto his back. She blanched, gagging on her own breath, at all the blood soaked into the gown.
" Oh gosh..." she gasped. She put her fingers to his neck and pressed.
There was a pulse, a weak, barely noticeable pulse, but enough to make her release the breath she'd been holding.
Then it was gone. The pulse just stopped, and Stella's heart seemed to stop with it.
" No," she breathed, moving her fingers all over Danny's throat. Abandoning that, she leaned over Danny and placed her ear on the left side of his chest, but didn't hear the muffled thumping of a beating heart.
Panic wrapped around Stella's own neck in a strangle hold. " No!" She screamed, scooting around to Danny's left side. She pressed her fingers to the edge of Danny's ribcage that was disturbingly easy to feel, and followed it up to the sternum. She pressed the heel of her hand to his chest, covering it with her other hand, and started compressions. She counted under her breath, stopped, placed her ear to his chest, and listened.
" No," Stella groaned. She tilted Danny's head back, breathed for him, then went back to compressions. " Come on," Stella urged. She stopped, listened, breathed for him, then started again. " Come on, Danny, come on." She compressed harder, faster, her own pounding heart throwing her off rhythm. " Come on! Damn it Danny! Come on! Please!" She was sobbing now, pressing harder.
Then she heard something – and felt something – crack.
" No!" she screamed, halting the compressions abruptly but keeping her hands frozen in place. The one time she was actually able to do something for Danny, and irony still found a way to screw it up for her and kick her back down into feeling like a weak, helpless little girl with no adults around to save the day. She curled her fingers into a trembling fist. The feel of his ribs beneath her knuckles – why is he still so thin? Oh, gosh... - made her gut roil with nausea. It was like touching a corpse, too much like it – a cold shell of dead tissue and congealing blood. Just another body to be processed, bagged, shipped to the morgue, and dissected. Blood drained, organs removed... For the first time in a long time, Stella felt ready to puke.
Then she felt something else beneath her hands, something she nearly missed lost in her myriad thoughts of horror. A small, struggling pulsating. Startled back to reality, Stella put her ear to Danny's chest, and let out a choked laugh at the sound of Danny's heart.
" Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou..." She laughed and sobbed at the same time, rolling her head so that her forehead rested on Danny as she thanked over and over. She then lifted her head and pulled the right side of the gown down just below the wound. After that, she pulled Danny's arm from the sleeve of the coat and rolled him enough to see his back.
There was another wound, but it wasn't a large, ragged exit wound. Danny hadn't been shot.
She carefully lowered him back to the floor. Taking part of the top half of the gown in her hands, she ripped off a section, then ripped that section in two. Wadding one she placed it against the wound on Danny's back, and the other on his chest. Holding it down with one hand, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket with the other.
She hit the number that would speed-dial Mac, then placed the phone to her ear and held it there by lifting her shoulder. She pressed the cloth harder on the wound. She looked Danny over, at the fresh bruises on his side, the ragged stitches, and the blood smeared all over him. Her eyes moved to his hand and the scissors resting in his palm, scissors covered in blood.
Stella smiled. " If that's what I think it is, Danny... Good job."
CSINY
A/N: Just a little further to go now. Sorry for the morbidness of this chapter. Now, keep in mind, I'm not medically savvy. If you think Danny should have bled to death by now, there might be explanations to why he didn't, I just don't know what they are. Further details of his physical state will be taken care of in the next chapter, so don't burn me about not mentioning them in this one.
And Jack will get his. They always do.