13

Rune Alignment

Chapter 60

"Let's cool her down one more time. Get the cold tubes and sheet, will you? Pull those pillows. Let's turn her."

Gleason's temp had hit one-oh-six and she was in severe distress. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, her heart rate was frighteningly low, her blood pressure continued to drop, and her oh-two level was falling as well. Everyone moved efficiently, but without the haste of the hopeful. Gleason Wintermantle was dying.

"Yes, sir, Clive Donohue is dead. Eames took him out with one shot to the back of the head." Sledge had called it in. He told Deakins the whole story. "Eames is fine. She was a little shaken when Goren dropped as well. She's one hell of a shot."

"They're taking Bobby to Methodist General. . . . He's still unconscious. No, he wasn't wounded. . . . No, the slug is still in Donohue's body. However, the EMT said Bobby is dangerously dehydrated. They have him on two IVs right now. I guess his electrolytes, or something, are all messed up. . . .

"Oh, he's been throwing up all afternoon. . . . Yes, he started in the men's room at the office before we left. . . . Food poisoning. . . .

"Yeah, they're taking Donohue's body away now. The ME should be standing by. I think we should process his body quickly. . . . I think so, too. . . .

"Ok, we'll meet you there."

The bus carrying Clive Donohue's body traveled dark and silent to the morgue.

The other ambulance ran shiny and loud taking Bobby Goren to the emergency room at Methodist General. Half way there, Goren began to convulse. "Punch it! This guy's not good," the one technician hollered to the driver.

"We've got a police officer on the way in – extreme dehydration with convulsions. Get bay four ready. He's going to need a naso-gastric tube. Line up a packed cell volume test and FBC. He's coming in now. Move!"

Gleason began to convulse. Then her heart stopped. The crash cart arrived and they tried twice to jolt her back to life.

"Let's go one more time, 360 joules," the nurse said. "Clear. . ." Gleason's body jumped and then – nothing.

"She's asystolic," the older nurse said. The room went silent. The air thickened. Gleason Wintermantle was dead.

"Over here, bay four." The EMTs wheeled Bobby into the bay and a nurse whipped the curtain shut. "On three . . . ready?" the two EMTs and the male nurse lifted-slid Bobby from the wheeled stretcher to the hard, narrow bed. At once, the nurse began to fit the naso-gastric tube into Bobby's nose and thread it down his throat into his stomach.

"His bp is dropping and he convulsed on the way in. Heart rate is steady, though. Here, hand me that bag."

"Why's he dehydrated?" the nurse asked the EMT.

"The other officer said he's been vomiting all afternoon. He'd drink water and throw it up within two or three minutes. The other guy thinks it's food poisoning."

"Let's get another full bag into him, open it full bore."

"Do you want to call it?" a young man asked.

The older nurse glanced at her watch and said, "Nine fifty-six. Someone call Dr. Creighton or Dr. Patel."

"Wait, wait!" Julie said. "Let's try three mg atropine. Come on, fill it!" Julie stood with her hand out. Gleason's heart had not beaten for nearly six minutes. The older nurse filled the syringe and handed it to Julie and she inserted it into Gleason's upper arm. Everyone watched the flat line continue to crawl across the monitor. Then – a blip. Another. And another. A collective exhale blew life into the room. Julie physically slumped. Oh, dear God, thank you, thank you God, she whispered.

"Where is he? Find out where he is." Deakins met Sledge and the two women coming into the ER.

Sledge walked up to the registration desk with his shield in his hand. He tapped it on the thick glass and called, "Hey, hey!" The attendant turned with some attitude and then dropped it when she saw the badge.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes. A police officer just came in here in a bus. Where is he?"

The attendant looked at a board behind her, turned and said through the glass, "He's just come in. They're working on him now. I'll notify the doctor that you are here. It may take more than a few minutes. Please have a seat." She turned around, putting her back to Sledge.

"Hey, I'm not done talking to you!" He rapped on the glass again. The attendant ignored him.

Sledge turned and looked back at the others incredulously.

Julie stood and watched Gleason's heart blip its way across the monitor. "That's my girl, you keep going. He loves you way too much for you to leave him now," she whispered to the thin, damp woman breathing so shallowly.

Julie slipped the oxygen mask over Gleason's mouth and nose and checked the gauge. She returned the cooling tubes to either side of her body; they had been stripped away when she coded. Julie wiped Gleason's face with a cool cloth and smoothed back her hair.

The young nurse stood and looked at Gleason with approbation. Someday, I want to be loved by a man like the one who loves you, in the way he loves you. You are a lucky, lucky woman. Julie turned and went to call Dr. Creighton.

Deakins looked at Eames. "Are you ok?"

Eames looked up and nodded. "Eames you did a great piece of shooting. You took out Donohue without hurting Bobby. You know that, don't you?"

"I know that."

"Bobby is going to be fine. It's just food poisoning. They'll get him on his feet in no time."

"I know."

Deakins looked at the tiny detective and knew she was blaming herself again. He turned to Sledge and said, "Look after her, will you?"

Sledge nodded.

"I've got to make a few calls. I'll be outside. Get me if they let us see him."

"Julie, you paged me? What's happened?" Dr. Creighton was cleaning up after an emergency bowl resection.

"It's Gleason Wintermantle; she coded, but is back. Her temp shot to one-oh-six and she convulsed. Everything fell and her heart stopped. We shocked her three times and then used atropine, three mg in her arm. She was flat for almost six minutes, give or take. She's stable now."

"Oh, gee. Ok. Thanks. Who shocked and called for the atropine?"

"Marjory used the paddles; she called the lady's time at nine fifty-six. I called for the atropine."

"Good call, huh? Ok, thanks. I'll be up in a bit. Thanks, Julie, you did the right thing."

"His colleagues are in the waiting room," the reception clerk said to the attending physician.

"Tell them it's going to be another hour at least." The attending watched the nurse draw two tubes of blood from the inside of Bobby's right arm. "Record those and get them to the lab for a packed cell volume and full blood count. Thanks."

"Hey, he's got an ICU card here with Dr. Creighton's name on it." The male nurse was cataloguing the contents of Bobby's pockets.

"Run him in the system. He may have had that hand fixed here. I'll call Creighton."

Sledge sat beside Eames. He put his hand on the back of her neck and rubbed gently. "You ok, Hon?"

"Edward, don't. Not here. Not now."

"Deakins said I'm to look after you. I'm looking after you. Let me get you something to drink." He stood and went over to the drink machine.

Eames knew she had probably saved Bobby's life. She knew she was the best shot in the department; everyone knew that. She had had no doubt that she would hit only Clive. Until she watched Bobby fall with Donohue and then stay down, that is. She was sure she had hit them both.

Bobby was so sick. He'd started talking with her again, there in Clive's motel room. She knew he was sorry. She'd seen it in his eyes. He'd even tried to joke. Bobby was so sick, yet he had tried to make up.

I can't leave him, she thought. We need each other. I can't leave him. I need to stay in Major Case and I need to stay with Bobby. He needs me. And I need him. I need to talk with Deakins. I should talk with Edward. I have to talk with Bobby when he's well. What am I going to say?

Dr. Creighton was on her way to the ICU to talk more with Julie and to examine Gleason. Her pager vibrated again and she checked it. The ER? Huh, she wondered. She stopped and used an in-house phone to call ICU. She left word for Julie that she'd been called to the ER and would be up in a while. Then Dr. Creighton headed down to the ER.

"Where are you going?" One of the men called to her.

"Hey, don't go. Come here, over here," shouted the other one.

Gleason stopped and turned around. She saw Gavin and Bobby standing side by side in the dusty road. I should go back, she said to herself. They need me.

The tall dry corn stalks on her left rustled in the slight breeze. She stood thinking, looking back at the two men waiting for her. She saw Gavin lean toward Bobby and apparently say something. Bobby faced him and the men shook hands. Then they embraced.

Gold, red and green leaves began to blow off the trees in the woods ahead and to the left of the two men. She watched Gavin wave, turn and walk away. Bobby continued to look at Gleason. She saw Gavin cross the crest of the hill and disappear down the other side.

"Gleason, are you coming or not?" Bobby shouted.

I don't know. I don't know, she whispered in her mind.

She watched as Bobby held up a hand in a slight wave and began to turn. "Wait, don't go, Bobby!" she called to him. Bobby stopped and looked over his shoulder.

Gleason began to walk toward him. "I'm coming. Wait for me. I'm coming."

"Here drink this," Sledge said, handing Eames a three-dollar bottle of water from the machine. She took it with thanks.

"He's going to be ok. Don't worry. They have him on all kinds of fluids. He's a strong guy. Don't worry." Sledge watched Eames' face as he talked. She didn't look at him.

"We need to talk, Alex. I know this isn't the time or the place; but I need to know where we are, you and me. At some point we need to talk."

Eames looked up at Sledge, sitting beside her, leaning in toward her. Edward brushed the hair from the side of her face and hooked it behind her ear.

"I can't leave him, Edward. I need to be his partner. I don't think either one of us would survive without the other. I have to talk with Bobby, of course, when he's well, but I'm going to stay in Major Case and stay his partner if he'll have me."

"He'd be a fool not to partner with you. This whole series of events changes everything, Honey. I'm glad you decided to stay with him." Sledge wanted to say, 'and what about us? Where are we, huh?' But he didn't.

He didn't have to. Eames looked at him deeply and said, "Stay with me tonight. Take me home after this and stay with me. We'll talk. I need you, Edward."

Sledge leaned into her and kissed her forehead. His heart and mind were full.

Dr. Creighton stopped at the nurse's station in the ER. "Someone down here paged me. Do you know who it was?"

The duty nurse looked up at the white board behind her and said, "Uh, yes, bay four – the police officer. Calvin said he had a card with your name on it in his pocket."

Creighton turned and crossed to bay four, pulled back the curtain and saw Bobby laying on the gurney. "Oh, no! What happened to him?" she asked the attending.

"Dr. Creighton thanks for coming down here. Do you know this guy? He arrived via ambulance following a shooting. He's not wounded, but was involved somehow. He presented here with severe dehydration from vomiting caused by food poisoning. His electrolytes have bottomed out. I called because we found an ICU call card in his pocket with your name on it. Is he a patient of yours?"

Creighton stepped beside Bobby and peeled back an eyelid. She listened to his heart. She pinched up the skin on his right wrist and watched it slowly, slowly return to flat. "Uh, no, not really. Not him. I mean, I set his hand last night. His girlfriend, or whatever, is a patient up stairs. She was involved in the shooting at the university yesterday. Jesus, this guy has had a hell of a twenty-four hours."

She looked Bobby up and down and checked the three bags hanging from two poles. Fluids were dumping into his system, bypassing his stomach. A dribble entered his stomach through the tube in his nose. "Does he have family or anything waiting? Other officers?"

"Yes, the three detectives he was with during the shooting and his Captain, I think, are in the waiting room."

"I'm going to bring one of them back here. They need to know what's happening."

Dr. Creighton walked though the ER, around the registration desk and through the automatic doors. She stepped into the waiting room.

The distance between Gleason and Bobby did not seem to diminish as she walked toward him. Why doesn't he come closer, she wondered. The breeze felt so good against her face as she walked. The rustle of the dry corn was comforting. She looked across the pasture to her right. The rail fence along the roadside was silvered with age. Weeds grew up against the posts. She looked along the low stonewall at the far end. Who is that? she asked herself.

"Bobby," she called, "who is that?" Gleason pointed to the small figure standing in front of the stonewall. Bobby didn't respond.

Gleason shaded her eyes with her hand and studied the far away figure. It's a little boy, she realized. A boy.

"Bobby, it's a little boy. Over there. See him?"

The distance between them didn't seem to change.

Dr. Creighton recognized Bishop and Eames. She walked over to the women and extended her hand. The three detectives stood. Eames shook the doctor's hand and introduced Sledge, who took her hand as well. Bishop nodded.

"Well, seems like you folks have had a busy few days, huh?" she said with a rueful smile.

"Seems so," said Eames. "How is he? Can we see him?" Deakins walked up and Sledge introduced him.

"Well, I'm not attending him. I was called down because the ICU call card was in his pocket with my name on it. I can take one of you back to talk with the attending physician. I can tell you he's still unconscious and may remain so for another hour or so. Who wants to come back?"

"Eames, you go," said Deakins. "Go check on your partner and then tell us what you find out." He smiled at her and she followed the doctor.

Gleason woke slowly. Her mouth was so dry. She sighed and shifted her legs. She couldn't take a deep breath – it hurt. Where am I, she wondered. She looked around and realized she was in hospital. That's right; I had an operation. She struggled to remember details. Bobby! Where's Bobby? He was in her dream. Her dream. Gavin was going away. And there was something else, someone else. Where's Bobby? "Bobby," she called, but it came out a whisper.

Eames followed Dr. Creighton around to bay four. The doctor pulled back the drape and Eames stepped to Bobby's side. She put her hand on his forehead and he moved his head toward her.

"Bobby," she whispered. She stroked his brow and he moaned. "Bobby?" Eames said a little louder.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Caldwell." Eames glanced at the man who stepped through the curtain.

"Is he going to be all right?" Eames couldn't take her eyes off of Bobby.

"He's responding well. He'll be fine. We want to keep him overnight, however, to make sure he remains hydrated and to get the vomiting under control. Uh, you are . . . ?"

"I'm Alex Eames, his, his partner."

Bobby moaned again and his eyes flickered. He gagged and moaned again. The doctor grabbed a sick dish, turned Bobby's head to the right and slid the dish under his chin.

"Maybe you want to step outside the curtain for a few minutes," Dr. Caldwell suggested.

Bobby heaved and Eames stepped through.

"Bobby? Bobby!" Gleason tried to call for him. Her voice was raspy and low.

Julie entered Gleason's cubical and moved to the bedside. "Well, look at you! I bet you are thirsty, aren't you?" Julie exited and returned in less than a minute holding a cup of ice chips. "Here you are, love." She held out a spoon of chips and nudged Gleason's lips.

"Where's Bobby?" Gleason whispered. "Get him, please." Gleason's eyes closed and it seemed she had fallen asleep.

"Gleason, you need to eat some ice. Come on, open up." Gleason opened her eyes and then opened her lips. "That's a girl."

"Where is Bobby? Please get him. Please?" Gleason's anxiety was climbing. Her voice, still a whisper, began to quiver. "Please go get Bobby. Where is he? Can I call him?" Her voice gained volume and she began to shift under the sheet. She winced as she moved her upper body. "Bobby! Bobby!"

Julie set down the cup and tried to calm Gleason. "There, there. Gleason, calm down. Gleason."

"Bobby!" She began to cough. She gasped. She was nearly hysterical.

"I need help in here," Julie called. In a second, Malcolm stepped through into the cubical. "Get me 2mg of lorazepam in a syringe, stat!" she said over her shoulder. Malcolm dashed out, and was back in a flash. "Stick her in the thigh muscle," Julie told the nurse.

Malcolm swept aside the sheet and slid up Gleason's gown. He jabbed the needle into her thigh muscle and pressed the end. Immediately, Gleason relaxed. She fell back against the pillows and her arms dropped to her sides. She coughed a few more times and then was calm.

"Thanks, Malcolm." Julie replaced Gleason's oxygen mask, and recorded the stats from the monitor. Come on, Dr. Creighton, she said under her breath.

"How do you feel, Detective?" Dr. Caldwell asked. Bobby was sitting up, legs hanging off the side of the gurney.

"I've been better," he replied.

"We have to stop meeting this way, detective," Dr. Creighton said as she stepped through the curtain.

"Hey, doc," Bobby said with a slight smile.

"How are you?"

"Sick. I feel sick. Will I ever stop throwing up?" Bobby was miserable.

"Yes, yes." Dr. Caldwell answered with a chuckle. "Your colleague thinks you have food poisoning. What did you eat last?"

"Meatloaf, here at about one thirty this afternoon."

"You last ate here?" Caldwell asked.

Bobby nodded.

"Oh boy," Caldwell and Creighton looked at each other.

"Can I go home?" Bobby asked.

"I'd like to keep you overnight, maybe two, to see how you do. You were dangerously dehydrated and you convulsed in the ambulance. We've loaded you up on fluids and I've given you a medication to abate the vomiting. We're waiting for a bed. Let me go see where we are on that."

"While I wait, can I go up and see Gleason?" He asked Dr. Creighton.

"Uh, no. You need to stay here, for now. I'm on my way up to see her. If she's awake, I'll let her know you're here. I better go. I'll check in on you later." She patted his leg and left.

Creighton stepped past Eames who had been standing off to the side, watching and listening. Bobby sat looking at the floor. Eames took a step inside the bay. He caught the movement and looked up at her.

They stared at each other, eyes locked. "Bobby . . ."

"Alex, thank you. Thank you for taking him out. Thank you for not taking me with him. Thank you for being my partner." He looked at her. "Be my partner, Alex. Don't leave me. Plea . . ." Bobby began to cry. Eames was to him in two steps. She stepped between his legs and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned into her and she held him.

"Bobby, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. Please, please forgive me. I am so sorry." They cried together.

Ten days later, Bobby took Gleason home to his apartment. He was ten days into a six-week leave – part sick, part involuntary; the details of proportion to be determined at a later date. Both were still ill. Estella's daughter, Minnie, served as nurse. She and Estella ensured that the couple wanted for nothing. Slowly, Bobby healed. Gleason more slowly.

Bobby had begun his post trauma counseling and his mandated anger management classes. A schedule of physical therapy sessions on his hand was prepared for when the cast came off. Also, when his cast came off, he was slated into the firing range to retrain his shot and get his score to where it had been or better.

Gleason's graduate student, Brandon, covered her classes. Bobby bought her a new laptop and she continued to work on her book. She spent her days quietly, even with Estella and Minnie about. She and Bobby seemed to grow quiet with each other.

Sledge and Eames grew together. They kept their relationship quiet, however. He stayed at her place more frequently. Their sex continued to grow more intense, creative, frequent, and hot. Sledge had never been happier. Eames was happy.

Deakins was delighted. His department was in order, his best pair of detectives was still in his department, and no one had transferred out. Even with one-half of that partnership on leave and the other partnered with a newbie from the oh-two, everything was as it should be. Even Sledge was less of an idiot. Life was good on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza.