Chapter Thirty-Six: Wednesday, January 4, 2006, New York
"Please," Amy was frantic—still frantic. She looked from the dark girl, who had returned as silently and mysteriously as she'd left, to the EMTs—three human, one Tenctonese—working on Elliot. They'd been on the scene only a few minutes, but a few minutes were all anyone needed to see that Burch needed to get to the hospital. "Please, she has to come with us." She looked to Kyle. "You can take Lauren, can't you?"
Lauren looked at him too, as if somehow, she understood what was going on. Kyle just shrugged. Nodded. Of course, he could bring Lauren to the hospital, he only wished he could make sense of any of this.
No. That wasn't true. If he had only one wish, it would be for Elliot Burch to pull through. Things didn't look good.
"Kate, please," Amy begged. "Elliot needs you. I need you." Amy implored the dark girl who suddenly looked….frightened. Unsure. Somehow, that unnerved Kyle more than she had before, when he would have sworn Hell's own fury emanated from the pits her dark eyes—eyes that looked soft brown, now.
"I don't know if there's anything I can do for him, Amy," she said helplessly.
"You can hold my hand," Amy told her. The girl shook her head—but Amy reached out for her anyway. "Nahooma, remember?"
The Tenctonese EMT, a young woman, gave her a startled look.
Nahooma was a Tenctonese concept. The idea was that it took the life force of many souls—visitors, living plants—to heal the sick, to bring someone back from the brink of death. It wasn't something most humans were familiar with, even doctors. Kyle's boss, however, was an odd duck and bought into all kinds of ideas your average human doctor would brush of as nonsense. For some reason the senior resident at the clinic, Peter Alcott, humored him, even seemed to buy into some of it himself.
Kate continued to shy away from Amy's outstretched hand. "I…. I'm not sure I can help with that, either," she whispered.
"You can," Amy promised fiercely. She looked at the paramedics again, specifically the Tenctonese woman, who nodded, perhaps over the objection of her team.
"She can come if she wants to," the woman told her. "But just the two of you."
Amy looked back to Kate. "I know how much you mean to Elliot. How much he means to you. I will never be afraid of you, Kate."
"Me either," Lauren promised.
Kate gave a shaky nod and took Amy's hand, and together they followed the paramedics out of the building.
Kyle bundled up his daughter and with Lauren, followed the paramedics, Amy, and Kate to the elevators; the doors stood open and waiting. Power had been restored in the last few minutes, maybe some kind of emergency backup.
Maybe Kate.
Kyle couldn't help wondering who…what…she was, or how someone like Vincent could exist.
At least outside the Island of Dr. Moreau.
Or maybe he'd wake up to find the whole thing was just some weird dream brought on by too much junk food and too little sleep….
A pair of fire trucks and a half-dozen police cars greeted them at street level, lights illuminating the street with red and blue. More police were arriving, sirens wailing up the street. It was chaos, civilians, uniformed police officers, fire fighters, and paramedics.
Reporters.
As soon as the paramedics emerged from the building, a tall man in a suit and overcoat waved a gold badge and bee-lined for them. It didn't escape Kyle how Amy put herself between the tall, dark haired detective and Kate.
"Detective Mike Logan," he said, by way of introduction.
"It's going to have to wait detective," said the same paramedic who had given Kate the okay to ride along in the ambulance.
"Mrs. Burch—" the same Detective persisted.
"It's Judge Burch," Kyle informed him, as he put himself physically between his cousin and the detective. "And like the paramedic said, it's going to have to wait."
Amy flashed a smile of gratitude. "Kyle, call Peter Alcott," Amy told him, as she followed Kate up into the back of the ambulance.
He frowned. Nodded. Why not?
"Kyle, was it?" Logan glared at him.
"Dr. Kyle McCarty. I'm sure there'll be plenty of time to tell you all about some lunatic shooting up my cousin's apartment while her husband is in surgery."
…
Catherine, alerted by a message on the pipes, got to Father's chamber, just as Vincent, Jake, Caroline, and Jamie did. There was too much blood. "Vincent?"
He seemed unhurt. The same with Jake and Jamie, but Caroline….
Vincent hung back, while Jake and Jamie got Caroline into see Father. He told her what had happened at Elliot and Amy's. Jamie had gone Above to escort Elliot, Amy, and Lauren Below, but then Vincent had felt…pulled, compelled to follow. He suspected now that he'd been drawn by Caroline's rage.
"Though I do not know what pulled her," he admitted.
Jamie had told him on the way back that when she saw the shattered window, she'd started looking for the gunman.
Gunwoman.
"She was but a child, Catherine." He sounded so bewildered. So hurt, not only for their losses but for this child, this soul lost to anger and vengeance.
Catherine touched his chest—his heart.
An angry snarl from within Father's chamber stilled further conversation.
"I'm fine!" Caroline snapped.
Catherine followed her husband into the chamber, just as Caroline was yanking her arm away from Father. Jake held Jamie back. Her first instinct was to intervene, to help, even knowing, understanding, that wasn't fully in control of herself.
"Caroline," Vincent said her name sharply.
She snarled up at him. "I'm fine!"
"You're bleeding," Father countered.
"It'll heal on its own! I need to get Above!"
"You need to let Father see to your injuries," Vincent told her. "Sit. Please."
With a resentful glare, she resumed her seat.
Catherine laid her arm around Jake's shoulders; she gave Jamie a soft smile of gratitude. For the second time in Catherine's life, Jamie had brought Catherine's children home to her. "You should go get cleaned up," she advised softly. It was more about having fewer people in the room than it was about the blood on Jamie's hands and clothes—though Catherine suspected the scent of it was difficult on Caroline in her present state.
Jamie nodded. "If you need me…."
Catherine nodded. "Thank you, Jamie."
They held one another's gaze a moment more, then Jamie took her leave.
Jake leaned into Catherine's shoulder. He might not be willing to admit it, but she knew her eldest son was worried about his sister. His own dark period had been turbulent, to be sure, but nothing had happened to push him to the brink the way Caroline had been pushed tonight. Grief had calmed her enough for Jake and Vincent to get her to return to the Tunnels, but even before they'd arrived at the main hub, she'd become agitated again. There were too many sights, too many smells, too much noise.
Mary came in with a cup of tea. "Here we are—"
Caroline glared at her.
Mary ignored it; she'd lived through Vincent's darkness. Twice. And through Jake's, as well (and, "God willing," she'd told Catherine once, "I'll see Charles, Christopher, Beth, and Janelle through theirs when the time comes.") She set the cup on the large round table near the center of the room. "I'll just leave it here for you." She offered Caroline a soft, loving smile.
"Oh, Mary," Caroline suddenly seemed to come back to herself. "I'm sorry. I…." She looked up at Vincent. "I don't know what's wrong with me!"
"It's all right," Vincent told her gently, even as Father resumed his inspection of her injuries.
Mary picked the teacup back up and started to bring it over—but Caroline recoiled from the cup. "What's in there?" she demanded.
"Just chamomile and a bit of willow bark, dear," Mary assured her.
"I'm sorry," Caroline apologized again. "It's just…the smell…." She helplessly up at Vincent again, then over to Catherine, to Jake, and back to Mary. "Are you sure it's just chamomile and willow bark?"
"Of course, I am," Mary told her, patiently. "I made it myself."
"I smell nothing unusual," Vincent assured Carline.
"Me either," said Jake.
"I…."
"Perhaps some hot chocolate?" Mary offered.
Caroline shook her head. "I…it's the smell. It's…it's every smell."
"Let's get you stitched up and off to bed," Father suggested. "Mary, would you bring me my suture kit?"
"I can't just go to bed!" Caroline protested. "Please. I have to get Above. I need to know if Simon is okay. If Uncle Elliot…."
Is dead.
No one wanted to say the words, but they were all thinking it.
"You're in no condition to go anywhere," Vincent told her. "Your senses are askew, making you a danger not only to yourself, but to others as well. That would be doubly true were you to venture Above."
"He's right," Catherine said, before Caroline could begin to argue—she saw the argument forming in Caroline's expression. "I'll check on Simon for you and I'll be there for Elliot for you. For all of us." She glanced at Vincent again, knowing it pained him as deeply as it pained Caroline to be unable to be with Elliot now.
"Listen to them, sis," Jake implored. "Even I'm agreeing you need to stay put."
Caroline almost laughed—almost cried.
Catherine crossed the room and kissed her forehead. "I'll send word down as soon as know anything." She offered a hopeful smile to her husband—her soul mate. It would be all right. It had to be. It would simply be too unfair for Elliot to be taken from them, from Amy, so soon after finding the love of his life.
"Be careful," Vincent told her. "We are still unsure if the assassin was acting alone."
"I will. Diana is meeting me at the threshold to the Tunnels under my old apartment." Diana had gotten word to her through the network of Helpers that after an initial assessment, Peter Alcott had moved Simon to St. Vincent's—and then got the call from Kyle McCarty about Elliot. She wrapped her arms around Vincent's waist and pressed her head to his shoulder. "We'll get through this."
He held her close for a long moment—then let her go.
Catherine caught Jake's hand as she passed by him. "You should get some sleep, too."
"I will, Mom. I…thanks."
Catherine smiled. "I love you."
"Love you, too."
Father's chamber was just off the main hub. Just as she reached the far side, a young—more like early middle-aged, Catherine thought with a smile—Tenctonese man called to her.
"Garret." She smiled. He was holding a small potted plant.
"For Elliot."
No one knew how Garret kept his little garden alive in the Tunnels. Some suspected Tenctonese "magic"; Catherine was more inclined to believe Mouse and one of his "gizmos" or "gadgets", something involving UV lighting and batteries.
Catherine tucked the plant carefully into her shoulder bag.
Nahooma.
Life force.
"Give Elliot our love," Garret told her. He had been in the community only few years, a refugee from the world Above, but his husband had grown up in the Tunnels with Zach, Kip, and the others.
Garret brushed his knuckles against Catherine's temple; Catherine reciprocated. "I will."
….
Diana met her as promised, just under the basement of her apartment building.
"No word, yet," Diana said, before Catherine could ask. "I heard what happened on the roof." She gave Catherine a speculative look.
"Caroline was injured. She'll be all right. Jake, Vincent, and Jamie were unharmed. Have the police discovered the body yet?" She wished they would have been able to move it, but the best Vincent said they could do was retrieve Jamie's crossbow bolts.
Diana nodded. She led the way up the ladder into the basement. "George Huang is covering as best as he can. Local PD is pretty pissed. Logan is at the hospital."
"Mike Logan?" Catherine asked. He'd been in homicide back in '89.
"He's with Major Crimes, these days," Diana told her.
Catherine had known he was still on the force but hadn't heard his name or had cause to interact with him in years. "I hope he's not going to be too difficult."
"From what I understand, Amy's cousin has done a better than average job of keeping him away."
"Kyle?"
"Didn't Vincent tell you?"
Catherine shook her head. They'd reached the ground floor, but instead of going through the lobby, Diana led the way out a rear service entrance. Fin's car was parked right outside.
"Kyle McCarty met Vincent tonight."
"Is he all right?"
"He didn't throw a shoe at Vincent, at least."
Despite everything—or perhaps because of it—they both giggled. They both cried a little. They wrapped their arms around one another and held on tight in the cold, early-morning gray.
"I can't believe how close she came to winning," Catherine said at last. She slid into the low bucket seat.
Diana joined her, on the other side. "But she didn't win, Cathy. That's what counts. And Elliot is tough. He's not going anywhere."
Cathy agreed. Elliot wouldn't leave them, especially not now.