Ch. 19

" In here!" Stella shouted. Numerous lights flashed spasmodically off the walls and through the darkness like lightening, and several voices speaking at the same time coalesced incoherently. But most of Stella's attention was on the near imperceptible rise and fall of Danny's chest, because the moment that stopped, she needed to be ready.

She shivered at the brush of cold air leaking through her long-sleeved shirt. She had utilized her coat to cover Danny, and kept her hand beneath that coat applying pressure to the oozing hole in his chest. Her other hand she had over his heart, feeling its rhythm, also at the ready in case the beat ceased.

The wildly roving lights found their way into the room, some hitting Stella straight on in the face to momentarily blind her. Wincing, she looked away.

" We can take it from here," Stella heard over the babble of medical terms. She felt someone try to pull her hand away from the wound, but some deeper instinct urged her to keep her hand in place.

" Ma'am?" the male voice said, soft but urgent. " I need to take a look."

Stella looked back, and the reality she had not realized had slipped away finally slipped back. She moved her hand, and the moment she did another pair of gloved hands replaced them. Someone else removed the coat and handed it to Stella, who gathered it to her chest. She could smell the blood on it, faintly metallic and overwhelmingly nauseating.

The two Paramedics swarmed around Danny, and Stella was forced to move back. Rising to her feet, she walked around them to the other side, but refused to leave the room until Danny did. In the constant movement of flashlights, Stella saw the flash of crimson and metal on the floor by Danny's hand. Without even thinking about it, Stella pulled out the cloth normally used to handle evidence when gloves weren't available, and picked the scissors up.

" Stella?"

Stella felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped, whirling around. She couldn't see his face, but the voice was distinctly Mac's.

" Mac," she sighed in relief. She then turned her head to look over her shoulder when she heard someone say something about moving Danny. She could see the two paramedics crouching, then rising, lifting Danny now lying on a backboard.

Without looking back, Stella pressed the cloth with the scissors into Mac's hand.

" I'm going with him, Mac," she said.

Mac nodded and replied, " Go."

They stepped aside to let the paramedics through, and once passed Stella followed them hot on their heels. Outside, the cold hit her with the force of a blow, and she swung her coat back on – screwing the fact that there was blood all over it. The paramedics had Danny in the ambulance, and the brown-haired paramedic that had taken over applying pressure helped Stella into the vehicle. Protocol wasn't too keen on having anyone but family ride along, but Stella knew the extent of Danny's injury, so her presence was more of a necessity than simply ignoring protocol.

The doors slammed shut and the ambulance started off.

" His heart stopped at one point," Stella said. " I did CPR, B-but I think I might have broken a rib or something. I felt something crack."

The blood-caked gown had been discarded long ago, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. The second paramedic, a Hispanic man with close-cropped hair, gently probed the individual ribs of Danny's chest. A bruise was beginning to make an appearance, and it was going to be a nasty one.

Stella looked on in numbed fascination. She pondered the oddity of how she was feeling. It wasn't so much detachment, not with the way her heart was pounding and the worry gnawed at her insides, making her ache with tension. The blood smeared all over Danny, and the bruised flesh was sickening, all way too much like before, when the car had ripped a gaping hole in Danny for all the world to see. But rather than the need to scream or cry or vomit, Stella was overcome by a sense of calming awe.

Especially when Danny's eyes opened.

It was barely perceptible, and caused a kind of electrified jolt to shoot through Stella on seeing it. The lids weren't peeled back enough for her to see the color of Danny's eyes, just enough to catch the glint of light when his eyes moved.

Again, not like before. No blind terror-stare here. Maybe it was because of the blood loss, extreme cold, all out exhaustion – or more logically all three – that made him appear exceedingly calm, as though he had just woken up from a peaceful nap. His eyes flicked about for a moment until they came to rest on her. He didn't say anything, not like he could with the oxygen mask over his face. He just stared, then blinked when a brief stint of confusion seem to take hold. Then it was gone.

In her relief, Stella said nothing to the paramedics, but didn't have to when they took notice on their own.

" Mr. Messer?" the brown-haired paramedic said. " Mr. Messer, if you can, try to keep your eyes open. Stay with us here. We're taking you to the hospital..."

Danny looked from Stella to the paramedic, then back to Stella. Stella could have sworn Danny's impression of the situation to be old news to him. Stella smiled.

" Hey Danny."

Danny blinked, the most reaction he could give at the moment. Stella couldn't stop the smile spreading on her face. She really was amazed. It never ceased to astonish Stella the punishments people could survive. When it came to survival, some people would fight like dogs to maintain it – Danny fought like a rabid pit-bull. He should be dead, it was as simple as that. The beatings, being impaled, the extreme cold – not an easy thing to fight against, especially with an already weakened body. But Danny was stubborn, so stubborn that another beating could be tacked on, coupled with a gunshot wound, and Danny would still be breathing with his eyes open.

Stella really did have no reason to be afraid for him. Her eyes drifted to his hands that were red, bruised, and swollen at the knuckles, and she had to clamp her jaws tight to keep from laughing. She reached out and laid her hand on Danny's wrist with a reassuring squeeze.

" Danny," she said, still biting back a laugh. " You're gonna be all right. And when you're out of the hospital... I'm kicking your ass for scaring the hell out of me!"

CSINY

The portable floor lights pushed the room's darkness back into the farthest corners, unveiling every scrape in the dust and blood drop the naked eye could distinguish. It was the blood that did the most story-telling; pooled on the floor, dripping every four minutes from the metal bar, and - the kicker – leading away from the small puddle in the form of a single footprint.

Mac still retained the scissors now safely preserved in a plastic bag he tapped against his thigh. He was anxious to process, but reluctant to leave the scene until it had told him all it could by sight alone. Lindsey snapped off pictures of the blood pool and footprints, as Hawkes was left with the painstaking task of swabbing every iota of blood there was to find. But Hawkes' bottom-less pit of patience was what made him suitable for pouring over the minor details most CSIs tended to grumble about. The man lived for minor details.

Lindsey moved over to the metal bar sticking out of the wall, and the color vanished from her face. Swallowing, she looked at Mac.

" Was Danny...?"

Mac moved his eyes to the bar, then the pool of blood on the floor. When he looked back at Lindsey, he nodded. " Looks like it."

Her camera flashed, then she lowered it. " How do you survive something like that?"

In which Hawkes replied, " You'd have a much better chance of surviving being impaled than being shot. Less damage caused, especially if no organs were damaged along the way." His tone was matter-of-fact, but his expression was pure concern.

Lindsey took another picture. " Do we... um... take it back with us?"

" I've got a hack saw," Hawkes said.

Mac thought about it. " Yeah, bring it in when you're done here." He lifted the bag holding the scissors. " I'm heading back to the lab. You good here?"

Lindsey, fixated on the still dripping metal, nodded.

" We're good," Hawkes said.

Mac was still reluctant. He had an itch to do something more hands-on at the scene. But he knew that all that he really needed was what covered the scissors. So he pulled himself away from the room and headed out into the biting cold of an increasing twilight. His breath rose in snaking tendrils in front of his face, highlighted by the flashing lights of police cars. He headed over to Flack talking to one of the uniforms.

" I'm heading back," Mac said. Flack turned.

" Already?"

Mac held up the bag as an answer. " Lindsey and Hawkes are still inside. You sticking around?"

" Like glue."

" Good. Listen, when the opportunity comes to talk to Danny, I want you to take the statement. And we're going to need an officer with him at all times."

" You tell Stella?"

" Don't need to. She'll already know. But I want you in charge of making sure Danny – and his dad – stay safe. The situation isn't going to be good from here on in, and I only want people I trust handling things."

Flack went rigid. " Why? What'd you thinks going to happen?"

" Probably nothing, especially once we get done here. I just don't want to take any chances."

With that said, Mac headed to the car.

CSINY

Life really did have a way of coming full circle. The past months might as well have been a dream, and Calvin was still at the hospital waiting for news on Danny who'd been hit by a car.

He paced, since there wasn't much else he could do, sitting especially. He was really starting to hate hospitals. It was like the building itself had it in for his son. Hell, the entire city of New York seemed out for his blood. Or maybe it was the other way around, and good-fortune refused to give Danny so much as a twitch of a smirk.

Stella was the poster child of patience. She was sitting, arms folded, staring at the floor. Maybe it wasn't patience Calvin was seeing, but some sort of shock. After all, it was her coat covered in Danny's blood this time rather than her pants. Yet she'd been perfectly calm on explaining Danny's injuries as best she could, and her unwavering certainty that Danny would be fine had actually quelled some of Calvin's frenetic panic.

Apparently, he had missed something, because he couldn't explain Stella's unflappable surety that things weren't as bad as they seemed. He'd only caught a brief glimpse of his son being wheeled in, and on seeing all that blood, he couldn't understand how anything could be okay.

His son's heart had stopped. Stella had told him in a hesitant, uncertain way, and nearly faltered on doing so, the only moment she had. How could anything be okay? His son had been dead, dead! If it hadn't been for Stella...

Calvin couldn't go there. He was really starting to owe this woman in a way that he could never pay back.

" Mr. Messer? Miss Bonesera?"

Cal snapped his head up, as did Stella, both staring tensely at Dr. Rennolds. The woman seemed to be wearing a mask of stoicism, and it was pissing Cal off.

" What, what is it? What's going on? How's Danny?" he asked, practically stalking up to her. The woman wasn't easily cowed.

" He's stable. And considering all that he's been through – I've got to say, he's incredibly lucky."

Cal had it hand it to the woman, she knew what not to hold back.

" Come with me," she said. She led the way down the hall, but to Cal's annoyance not to where they were keeping Danny. They went into another room with a lighted board covered in X-rays. She stopped before the board and rapped a knuckle on a chest X-ray with hair-thin lines on two ribs, and three others completely misaligned.

" When I say lucky, I mean it. Whatever impaled him went through the back, missing the vertebrae, lungs, esophagus, and trachea by inches. Besides torn tissue, the only other damage was a nicked rib. It was small enough to miss everything. A few of his ribs have re-broken, and several others are cracked, he has a fractured wrist, and the stitches in his back were pulled loose. Right now our main concern is blood-loss and increasing congestion in his lungs coupled with near hypothermia. But the fact that he was conscious when he was brought in has us hopeful..."

" When can we see him?" Cal interrupted. " I mean, can we?"

" Soon. We're still finishing a few things up. But it shouldn't be long before he's out."

Cal wanted to argue, but was never given the chance when Stella nodded and led him out by the arm.

" Thank you, Dr. Rennolds," Stella said on heading out.

" Yeah, thanks," Cal replied numbly. He didn't say much else as he returned to pacing slowly. He found the doctors optimism strange, out of place to the damage horror story she'd just told. It was a far cry from the damage inflicted by the car, but no less vile.

Danny had been impaled. Just thinking the words made Cal's gut churn uncomfortably. He was also congested. The infection? Danny just got over that! The antibiotics were supposed to keep it from coming back! Images of Danny struggling for breath, and the panic it caused him, filled Cal's brain like mud until he couldn't think of anything else. That was how it had been for Danny; coughing fits that ripped him to pieces with pain.

Cal swore, over and over, that if Danny ended up having to live through that again, someone was going to pay.

You're dead, Quinn!

Daylight crept in on Cal, and turning in his pace, he halted in alarm at seeing the sky lighting up into a slate-gray dawn threatening snow.

" Mr. Messer?"

Cal whirled around to see Dr. Rennolds smiling slightly at him.

" You can see him now."

Cal, now shocked, looked from the doctor to Stella. Stella was smiling at him.

" I think this is supposed to be a private moment," Stella said.

Call looked back at Dr. Rennolds. " Um, yeah." He followed her as she led the way through the halls to the room where they'd taken Danny.

" Normally we would wait – until the patient has woken up," Rennolds said. " But it looks like your son wasn't too happy about being unconscious. He woke up the moment we brought him into recovery. I don't think it'll last, though. Your son's exhausted."

The room was dimly lit on entering to accommodate those recoveries trying to sleep in neighboring beds. A small light above where Danny was laying was on, pouring weakly over his slightly turned head facing the door. Cal doubted that Danny would look any better in the full light. Sunken-eyed, corpse pale, and struggling to keep his eyes open – all familiar to Cal. On hearing the heart monitor, he recalled times when he would tap his finger to its rhythm while waiting for Danny to wake up. A bag of blood hung from a pole, dripping blood into the thin red tub snaking down to Danny's hand resting by his side.

The moment his eyes fell on Danny, Cal hurried over to him. He wanted to grab one of Danny's hands – to feel flesh and bone, and assure himself that it was him – but his right hand was covered by a plastic splint, and his left held the I.V. So he settled for placing his hand on Danny's shoulder.

Cal cleared his throat. Danny looked like hell. Are those bruises on his face? A split lip? Is he shivering? Danny was covered in an electric blanket radiating heat that even Cal could feel, and Danny was still shivering from cold. Or was it more than cold?

" Hey kid..." Cal began, only to choke on an emerging sob. His eyes burned with tears. He was going to cry. He wanted to cry. He wanted to gather Danny to him, as he had when Danny was ten, and hold on. He wanted to scream – at himself – until his throat was rubbed raw and hoarse. This was his fault, all his fault. He wanted to kill the Quinns, every last one of them. He wanted to pound Mickey for giving him that evidence. He wanted to pound himself for taking it.

You and your damn lack of a spine, Messer. You just couldn't say no, couldn't turn away. A single, heated tear rolled down the lines of Cal's face until it dropped from his chin. Look what they did. Look what they did to him! They killed him! He was dead!

It may have been only for minutes, maybe even less than minutes, but in that brief space of time Danny had been dead. And Cal wondered, had it been an eternity for Danny?

Danny let out a small cough that made him wince, and it took a full minute before he opened his eyes again. He sucked in a ragged breath.

" Dad?" his hoarse voice was soft to being barely audible, and Cal had to crouch and lean in to hear.

" Yeah, kid, it's me. I'm right here."

What happened next alarmed and amazed Cal. Danny lifted his trembling left hand with an effort that seemed almost painful, high enough to drop it around Cal's neck. Then Cal felt pressure around his neck when Danny used it to begin pulling himself up.

" Danny!" Cal yelped. Danny not only got his head off the pillow, but his upper back off the bed, and leaned in just a little to look Cal right in the face with fever-bright eyes.

" T-tell..." he began, panting. Cal moved his arm across Danny's back for support.

" What?" he said, and tilted his head in toward Danny so that Danny was speaking directly into his ear.

" Tell... M-Mac... S-Stella... One of them. Jack Quinn. He did this."

Cal's eyes widened. Should have known.

" Yeah, kid, I'll tell them. Just – just lay back down."

Cal tried to ease his son back onto the bed, only to have Danny grip the shoulder of his coat, and the arm to tighten, pulling Danny and Cal closer until Danny was right up against the senior Messer. Cal's first thought was that Danny was trying to sit up, even get out of bed.

" Danny, what..."

Then Danny's head dropped onto Cal's shoulder as though too heavy to hold up. Twitches and shudders wracked his son's body, and Cal heard the quiet, gasping, sporadic inhalations of silent weeping. Cal tightened his hold on Danny, wrapping his other arm around his son's twitching back.

" It's okay, Danny," Cal said softly, gripping the cloth of the hospital gown. He doubted if he had the capability to let go. He didn't want to. " It's okay. You're okay kid."

Danny sniffed, then coughed, and said in a choked, muffled voice, " You gonna be here, pop?"

Cal wanted to tighten the embrace, but knew it would only hurt Danny. " Yeah, kid. I'm not going anywhere, I swear."

Danny physically relaxed, as though something were draining from him. But Cal held onto his son for a few more minutes.

CSINY

Danny was out, his eyes closed, his breathing soft and steady. But, true to his word, Calvin remained, watching his son sleep. Stella had come in moments ago, informing Cal that a uniformed police officer was standing watch outside the room, and the moment that Danny was awake and ready to talk, Cal was to tell the officer.

Cal passed on Danny's little message about Jack to Stella, and Stella was out of the room within seconds to relay everything to Mac. So, once again, Cal was left alone with his son. The silence gave him time to think. Watching Danny – his slight winces and twitches of pain – made him come to a decision.

Danny had been dead. Not officially, not permanently, but his heart had stopped. That meant something.

A line had been crossed. Cal had to do something about that.

CSINY

A/N: One more chappy to go, then maybe an epilogue. You know, writing this chapter actually made me kind of misty eyed. And would Danny be conscious after all he went through? I can't say. But, hey, he's a stubborn, tough guy, so it seems plausible. For the sake of the story, put up with it being plausible.