A/N: Here's a "present" chapter, it's in Dick's POV, and he's covering what is happening to Mac in 2009 in the aftermath of the accident, as she struggles to survive in this life. It takes place at Neptune Memorial Hospital. When I write Dick he has a bit of a potty mouth under the best of circumstances, considering he's grieving on the anniversary of his brother's death & now he's worried about Mac, too, well this isn't best circumstance by any means. So yeah, potty mouth. Thank you to my wonderful (& patient) beta-cainc3! Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, favorites, please keep them up, as you can see, it does motivate me to post faster. Chapter 6 will be another Mac-in-2004 chapter-her first day back in high school. Enjoy!

Obligatory disclaimer: I don't own anything in the vast VM 'verse, that honor is all on RT's doorstep, but I do have fun playing in it. I also did a little research into head injuries, but I may have taken some liberties as well. I hope there aren't any real glaring errors though. I am not a medical expert!

Chapter 5—The Waiting Game

Dick's POV—June 6th, 2009

The minutes were ticking by and Dick was still sitting in a hard-ass, uncomfortable, stained, green chair starring at the same fucking institutional white walls of the Neptune Memorial ER. Not really the place he'd expected to spend the 3rd anniversary of his brother's death.

But hey, why the hell not! Maybe it was fitting…

Mac, or "Cindy" as the worried people around him kept calling her, was in room number 5 being frantically worked on, poked, prodded and generally assaulted all in the hope of saving her life.

So far, other than himself of course, the only people awaiting word on "Cindy Mackenzie" were her brother, and her mom. Mrs. Mac must have broke her own speed records because she'd come running (literally) into the tight spaced waiting room—it was closer to the size of a closet—less than five minutes after he and Ryan.

He had watched her grab her younger child and squeeze him so tight he expected to see steam leaking out his ears. He kept expecting to see Ryan deflate. He wondered if maybe he should avert his eyes from the reunion, but was unable to stop himself from watching. So, that's what families that love each other look like. Yeah, he was a little short on functional role models these days.

Finally, she let go of her death grip on Ryan, and turned her tear-blurry, blood-shot eyes his way. "So, you're "the dude" who goes to school with Cindy that brought Ryan to the ER? Thank you." She was directly quoting the call she'd received from her son as they were on their way to the hospital, trailing the ambulance, complete with air quotes and everything.

"You're welcome," he replied back…to the floor, where his scuffed white shoe was tracing lines on the antiseptic-smelling, so bright-it-was-shiny linoleum.

"Ryan, and, um dude, I'll get your real name later, stay here. I'm going to find out what's going on." Mrs. Mac said. She pressed Ryan down into one of the threadbare green upholstered chairs lining one of the stark white walls of the under decorated waiting room.

There was one chair separating him and Ryan.

He watched Mac's mom, tall, blonde and basically the anti-Mac, make her way slowly toward the main desk. It was probably no more than 15 feet away, but with her shuffling walk, it seemed as though the distance could've been measured in miles.

He watched her finally reach her destination and hesitate for a moment—or three—before looking skyward, as though she were praying, then she faced the charge nurse and said something to get her attention.

As he watched her mom, Dick realized he had no clue if Mac was religious or not. Somehow he didn't think she was much of a church go'er, but that didn't really mean anything about her religious views. He wondered about her thoughts on death—did she believe in the concept of Heaven and/or Hell? Okay, yeah it was a pretty macabre topic, especially for what she was currently being put through right now, but then again it was a good theme considering what calendar day it was, the environment was certainly right for this kind of thought circuit. If you couldn't wax philosophic and existential and shit here of all places, where the frak could you?!

He couldn't hear much of the conversation. A glance over at Ryan told him that he was trying to listen in, too, and he didn't seem to be any more successful in the spying arts, either. Dick turned his attention back to Mrs. Mac. She wasn't speaking loudly but she was pointing and gesturing quite a bit.

"Do you think Cindy will be okay?" Ryan's shaky voice cut into Dick's eavesdropping.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say yes. He wanted to say yes, for Ryan, for himself, for Mac, for everyone in the whole stupid world, but he couldn't get that simple 3-letter word out. He didn't want, nor did he need platitudes after Cass had died, he didn't need lies like your brother is in Heaven now, he knew that was one place Cassidy would not be spending his eternity. Even with his limited knowledge, Dick was certain that no one with the laundry list of crimes his baby bro committed would be earning wings, a halo, a golden harp, and peace loving doves, shit like that. Nope, there wasn't air conditioning in Cassidy's new eternal address. It wasn't exactly a comforting thought, but he wasn't entirely sure he deserved comforting thoughts, not about this at least. Comforting thoughts didn't magically put humpty dumpty back on that big brick wall. False hope just made the inevitable fall that much harder in the long run.

He settled for being honest with the little dude.

"I hope so, Ryan, I really hope so. I think the fact that she got here quickly is a good sign, but it's out of our hands now."

Mid-reassurance Mrs. Mac came back, slumping down in the empty seat between them. He swore he smelled flowers, he figured it was probably some kind of perfume or something older women liked to practically bathe in. It was actually a fresh, clean fragrance though, not cloying at all.

"The team of doctors is working on her now. We need to just sit tight, and they'll come to us with a report very soon," she said without preamble. She grabbed her son's hand. "Tight. I don't even know what sitting tight actually means. Sit tight, as opposed to what, sit loose?"

Dick watched Ryan wince at his mom's grip. Maybe that's where Mackie got her scrappiness.

"A team?" Dick asked.

"That's what they said, a team of doctors. Honestly, I don't know whether it worries me more, or worries me less, that they have several people working hard at keeping her…" Mrs. Mac stopped, and swallowed. She took her hand back from Ryan and proceeded to bury her head in her hands. She didn't cry though. Dick thought maybe she'd cried herself out on the way over. He hadn't ever believed anyone could cry so much and so hard that they wouldn't have any tears left. It seemed like something they made up for chick flicks, a fictional concept kind of like that giant bunny who hops around delivering baskets of candy without sampling the goods and pooping everywhere! Then Cassidy died, and he cried himself out of tears plenty of times, more than he wanted to quantify really. It also could have been that she didn't want to cry around Ryan, which was equally plausible.

"Your name," she said suddenly, taking her face out of her hands. She turned towards Dick. "I know it's not 'the dude who goes to school with Cindy.'"

"It's Dick," he said. He'd considered telling her Richard, but it wasn't a cotillion, he didn't have to go all formal. "You can stick to 'the dude,' though, if you want."

"No, Dick is fine. I'm Cindy's mom, by the way. I'm sure you figured that out on your own. You can call me Nat. It's nice to meet her friends, but this was not how I ever thought…" Her voice trailed off again. It was doing that a lot.

"Ditto," Dick confessed.

She studied him a minute and he knew the exact second she figured out who he was. It was a quick shift of pity, from self-pity and fear for her daughter, to pity for him, of her knowledge of what today was. It was brief, that soft-mom look he wasn't used to being on the receiving end of, but he knew he didn't imagine it.

"You're Dick Casablancas, right? Cindy's mentioned you a few times; she worries about Logan, since Veronica left. She gets lonely; she's never really had but a couple close friends." She waited a beat, and then continued. "Unlike me, I always had a bunch of friends growing up. I went to Pan, in next town over. Though while I had a quantity of friends, well, Cin has quality friends, which truthfully I suspect might be the better plan." Reaching over, Nat grabbed Dick's hand and squeezed it. "This is just a crap day for you, isn't it?"

He nodded once, and looked down at her hand, still holding his but didn't make a move to snatch it away. They probably both needed that connection now.

She didn't make him feel like the brother of a murderer, instead she treated him like someone who had lost someone close to him, nothing more or less than that. It was nice; he didn't get that from very many people. Sometimes he wasn't sure he deserved that.

It was definitely still an on the hook kind of day.

Nat's eyes filled with tears; apparently she was still cooking up an endless supply. Dick could see that she was realizing-for probably the three hundredth time-that the possibility of losing her daughter was there, it wasn't a gray hypothetical concept but rather a three-dimensional entity.

After Mac's mom sat down, he watched the endless parade of both injured people waiting for their turn in the exam room and also those other suckers like him, nervously awaiting progress reports on family members. He watched them make that same slow shuffle walk of doom over to the main desk. He made a guessing game out of who got good news and who was still stuck in the same type of purgatory he and the Mackenzie's were. There wasn't much skill involved in that game though, he could usually figure which category the relatives fit into by how they walked back to their seats, if they repeated the same slow step it usually meant they were retreating with bad news or worse maybe, no news.

During a brief lull in the wave of concerned relatives and victims of bad luck accidents, Dick tracked the movements of a big, muscular guy probably in his thirties with a purple satin uniform jacket with just the letters SE in silver embroidered on the back. They were weaved together forming some kind of company logo. It seemed familiar but he couldn't remember where he'd seen the logo before, maybe through his dad's business dealings. Dick continued to watch as the man approached the desk, saying something to the charge nurse, who replied back in what seemed like a flirty manner. Then she pointed in the vague direction of the double doors leading to the exam rooms beyond. Dick assumed he was a workman of some sort, perhaps a delivery guy.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Mrs. Mac look up at the clock on the wall. His eyes tracked that direction, too; it was coming up on 1:30 PM.

This waiting game seemed to be dragging on and on…

"Where the hell is your dad?" Nat muttered to her son upon seeing how many minutes and seconds had already ticked by.

"On his way, I'm sure." Ryan didn't sound sure though.

Just then Mac's dad walked through the main entrance of the ER, at the exact same time a guy dressed in blue scrub "pajamas," as Dick always thought of them as, approached from the bowels of the ER.

The guy in scrubs stood there for a second, scanning the crowd. "Family of Cindy Mackenzie," he called out in a booming voice, obviously well-versed at that part of his job description.

Mac's dad practically ran across the rest of the wide room to join her mom. He grabbed her hand squeezing it as he pulled her up from the chair where she had been sitting. He gulped, and then called out in a loud voice, "That's us."

Dick was close enough to hear Mr. Mac's slight wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath, both from the exertion of getting there and the fear of what he was about to hear.

The doctor came up to their group. Dick stood up, as did Ryan.

"I'm Dr. Grimm, one of the neurologists assigned to your, um daughter's, case." He said the word daughter as a question.

Dick hoped the name wasn't a sign of doom.

Mac's mom nodded in the affirmative, and then he continued. "We're still running tests, so I don't have much to report right now. She was unconscious when they brought her in, and that status hasn't changed. Head injuries are always concerning; however, some locations carry better outcomes than others." Dr Grimm paused, and blinked.

It was only a matter of seconds before he continued speaking, but felt much longer than that to Dick.

"Your daughter, ah Cindy," he paused again to look at the chart briefly, and then back again at her family. "She was hit on the side of her head, near the temple. A little further to the left, well, I wouldn't have any hope for you, at all."

Dick dropped his head. He heard Nat's strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob, but he didn't (couldn't) look at her. Mac's dad gasped, as well, or at least he assumed the deeper masculine sound was from her dad rather than brother. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the ground; suddenly he found that shiny, over polished floor fascinating, especially the checker board pattern it made.

He couldn't look at anyone else's pain, it was a full-time job just dealing with his own.

"However, like I said, the center of the impact is worrisome, her outcome is far from guaranteed, but it is definitely not a hopeless case. At this point, at least. We are running more tests, so we'll know more in a couple of hours, but I'm confident she has a fighting chance. Is she a fighter?"

"Yes," everyone said in unison, Dick included. He might not have played a big role in her life until the past year and a half or so, but even he knew the answer to that question.

"Good, that's a very hopeful sign. Also, she's young, that's another positive thing. All we know is bleeding was detected on a scan, so we're going to investigate, gather more details. The more you know about your enemy, the easier time you have coming up with a battle plan." The doctor looked at Ryan when he said the last bit, as though sharing some gaming tips with him. "I'm going to get back there. We're admitting her to the ICU, but first we need to run more scans. You can go to the third floor, where the ICU is located, there's a waiting area there as well. Or you can go get some lunch first in the cafeteria, and then go wait there. I can have you paged, if necessary. I don't have a timeframe, but I like to be very thorough. Anyway, be warned, this will be a very long day and night for you all."

"When can we see her?" Sam asked in a broken sounding voice, barely above a whisper.

"She can have one visitor at a time when she's settled in a bed in the ICU. Immediate family only, and only those twelve years and older are permitted," Dr. Grimm said, sounding as though he were reading off of a script.

Dick saw Ryan scowl at the implication that he was still a child.

The doctor shook hands with all four of them, then he turned around and was once again swallowed up by the inner sanctum of the busy emergency room.

Dick chanced a glance back up at Mac's family. He watched her mom collapse into her dad's arms, and then they scooted over to include Ryan. He took a step back, to give them room to be a family, support each other, but also because he felt out of place.

Logan. He realized Logan didn't know what was going on and the desire to share this gnawing, biting fear of every unknown fucking variable boiled over in him. They could be outsiders together in this purgatory.

He turned around, and reached under the chair he'd just vacated (the one that still retained his butt impression) to grab his backpack he'd carelessly tossed there when he and Ryan first got to the emergency room. He dug around the detritus, first touching his vodka-ized water bottle, mentally, cataloging its location for later, before making contact with his phone. Pulling it out, he scrolled through the contacts until he found Logan's preset.

He was about to place the call when Mac's mom called out to him. The Mackenzie group hug had ended.

"Dick, we're all going to grab a quick lunch, then hang out in the 3rd floor waiting area. Please feel free to join us."

"Thanks, Mrs. Mac," he broke off at her mock glare. "Um, Nat. Thanks Nat. I thought I'd call Logan, and then I'll meet you at the cafeteria."

"Sounds good, hon. Tell Logan to get down here, Cindy needs all the well-wishers she can get," her voice caught, and a tear trailed down Nat's cheek but she pushed on. "The cafeteria is in the other wing, opposite the main reception area. I think. I usually make it a policy to avoid this place when I can." Dick saw a knowing glance pass between Sam and Natalie.

"I'll find it."

The Mackenzie's waved and then made their way out into the main part of the sprawling hospital complex.

Dick selected Logan's preset on his cell and listened to it ring. When he was about to give up and hang up before the voice mail could kick on, Logan finally answered.

"What?"

"Nice phone manners, dude. I should send you to Martha Stewart Finishing School."

"I was napping."

"Oh, a sex dream about the girl in your Chem class, say no more, I get it, dude. I saw her rack." Dick said. "I'd let you get back to it, but I actually kind of have a reason for calling."

"Oh, shit, man. Today! I know what today is, I didn't forget, I just, I'm not fully awake, or I wasn't at least. Name a place and I'll meet you there," Logan said, his words bunching together.

"No, this isn't about Cassidy. I'm okay," Dick began.

Logan made a guttural sound of disbelief when Dick assured him he was okay.

"Well, yeah, today sucks, with the whole Cassidy thing" Dick amended, "but I have bad news, that's wholly unrelated to what today is."

"Out with it, you're scaring me."

"Mac is in the hospital. She was hit in the head with a baseball at the park today," Dick paused, the emotions of the day catching up to him. He suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. He sucked in a deep breath that probably translated loud and clear over the phone. "It's bad, Logan, maybe real bad. Nobody knows shit right now. I saw it. We were both at the park, we didn't come together, but anyway, I was coming over to see her and…" His voice trailed off, he was pretty sure he couldn't complete that sentence.

Logan cut in. "Neptune Memorial?"

"Yes."

"Where are you?" Logan asked.

"I'm meeting her parents in the cafeteria, and then we'll be in the 3rd floor ICU waiting room."

There was an intake of breath at the mention of the ICU, then Logan said softly, "I'll meet you on the 3rd floor, and Dick, she'll be okay."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't, but I have a very strong feeling about it."

After saying goodbye, Dick disconnected the call. He slung the backpack over one shoulder, and then turned around, winding his way through the labyrinth of hallways until he found the cafeteria. The lack of aesthetic from the emergency room continued on into the cafeteria, too. However, the decorator did try for a little color boost there with the brightly painted green walls which clashed with the gray utilitarian tile floors. However, the only clientele hospital cafeterias attracted were harried hospital staff on their lunch breaks and concerned friends and relatives of admitted patients, neither group tended to care that much about ambiance.

He spotted Mac's family at a table on the far side, by the bank of windows. He waved back at Nat, who had evidently been looking for him. Then he went through the food line, nothing looked particularly good, but he decided to chance the meatloaf special. Mac would have been making fun of him for that food choice, making faces and sharing stats about food poisoning that no one wanted to listen to while eating, or any other time really.

He tried hard not to think about what she was going through right now, all the tests they were running on her. How many shots she was getting, though at least she was unconscious, unaware of what was happening to her.

Grabbing a can of Mountain Dew, Dick took his tray over to the cashier and paid for the meal he didn't really want in the first place.

Weaving around the tables in the expansive room, Dick trekked his way to the Mackenzie's table. He plopped his tray down in front of the chair they left open for him, strategically located between Sam and Ryan, across from Nat. He faced the window, but there wasn't much of a view. It looked out into the parking lot, but away from the hustle of the main entrance.

Dick noticed Mac's dad had selected the meatloaf special, too, while Ryan and his mom both had some kind of stir fry, Mac was obviously the only non-meat eater in the family. No one talked much during the meal.

He suspected everyone was trying to make some kind of sense of what the doctor had just told them, but he couldn't begin to sort any of it into anything logical. It wasn't that he didn't understand the medical stuff, of course he did, and it wasn't like the doctor used big words or shit like that. Dick knew people thought he was the dumb brother; it was easier to live down to that than to live up to being the smart one. Mac was starting to see through the façade though, he was sure of it.

He noticed every thought he had lately centered on Mac, he had no clue when that had started. Maybe it was just born out of the fear he had for her right now, that icy fucking hand that wouldn't quit choking the life out of his heart. The gestation period had started the second the baseball headed right toward her. He figured that was something he'd be seeing in his dreams for many nights to come.

He was brought out of his reverie though when Ryan started rehashing things for his parents.

"I don't know dad," he was saying. "I just heard someone yelling her name, and then another person screamed that someone in the stands was hurt. I ran off the field, and saw that the person injured was Cindy. It was horrible, dad. She woke up briefly, but I don't know, it was just…"

"Weird," Dick cut in. "She was confused, she couldn't really talk. I saw the whole thing as it happened. I'm so sorry I let it happen." He willed himself not to cry like a baby around Mac's parents.

"What does that mean?" Nat inquired, cocking her head. "Let it happen? I don't know how you could have stopped it."

"Well, I wish I could have."

"Me, too, hon, but it was just an accident, a senseless thing. Blaming yourself is pointless. If I understand things correctly, you were on the other side of the stands, nowhere near her. If you are going to blame yourself for Cindy getting hurt, why don't you take blame for Global Warming, too?"

"Why the hell not?"

She reached over and grabbed his hand and gave it another gentle squeeze.

It occurred to Dick that Nat was spending a lot of time trying to make him feel better when she probably needed comforting more than anyone else. He returned the squeeze. Nat smiled warmly, but all he wanted in that moment was for Mac to be the one smiling at him, with that one dimple of hers showing prominently.

No one became a member of the clean plate club that meal, but Nat more than anyone had left most of her lunch untouched. He and Ryan gathered up all the trays and dirty dishes, depositing them in the trash cans and proper receptacles.

By the time they made it to the third floor waiting room Logan was already there.

He was sitting in a chair—the ones in this waiting room were blue, and much newer, and nicer than the ones downstairs—looking at a back issue of Yachting Monthly. Sensing their presence or perhaps hearing their subdued conversation, Logan looked up over his magazine and his eyes locked with Dick's. He carelessly tossed the magazine in the chair beside him and stood up.

Dick went over to Logan and was about to shake his hand when he was pulled into a hug. He admitted to himself just then how much he needed his best friend at that particular moment in time. Usually it hurt too much to be around Logan on June 6th, to be reminded that Logan was one of the last people to see Cass alive, but now, this day had gotten so much bigger in scope.

"I'm so glad to see you, man," Dick whispered.

"Mac's my friend, too," Logan replied back, breaking the embrace. He turned his focus on Mac's family who had gathered around him, too.

"Thanks for coming, Logan ," Nat said, giving him a hug, as well. "We need to fill this place up with Cindy's friends, let her know she's got people who care about her, who need her around."

Logan severed the embrace first, and then stepped back a little. He took a deep breath, as though to prepare himself for something. Dick was surprised at what came out of his mouth next, though he shouldn't have been, it was inevitable.

"Veronica. Has anyone called her up at Stanford to let her know about Mac?" Logan asked. He clinched his eyes shut, as though in pain.

"No! I didn't even think about it. I haven't really called anyone outside of Sam," Nat confessed, flustered. "She does need to know though. I have her number, but it's probably at home."

Before sinking into one of the nearby bank of chairs, Nat reached over and lightly brushed off the front of Dick's shirt; he watched as wood shavings rained down on the blue carpet below. He hadn't noticed them before; it was probably a leftover souvenir from the falling-down bleachers when he'd leaned over to tend to Mac before the paramedics arrived on scene.

Sam took the seat beside his wife. They held hands as the fear and anguish of the day caught up to them.

"It's in Cindy's phone," Ryan offered. "Oh, but I think I left her bag in Dick's car."

"You did," Dick affirmed. "I could run out and get it."

"Don't bother," Logan started.

"It's no trouble. Believe me, staying out of trouble with the Pixie Spy and the business end of her taser is no trouble at all."

"No, I mean I have her number in my phone," Logan quietly confessed.

"Oh," Dick said flatly. Translation: Of course you do, dude!

Logan retrieved his phone from a pocket of his khaki cargo shorts, and looked at it briefly before scrolling through the contacts looking for Veronica's number. Dick suspected he probably still had her cell number memorized but didn't want to reveal that secret.

Dick reached out to grab the phone, after how she ripped Logan's heart out and stepped on it two years ago, the least he could do was make the call for him now. However, Logan shook his head and stepped back, out of reach. .

There was silence at first, and then he heard Logan say softly, "Yes Veronica, it's really me." He waited a beat, then replied back, "I'm doing okay, how about you?" Logan ran the hand not gripping the phone through his hair as he listened to ex-girlfriend rambling on. At the next pause in conversation, he replied in with a sigh, "Neptune never changes, how is the weather in Stanford?"

Dick tapped his foot and rolled his eyes, impatient with the small talk. They could talk about the rain all they wanted later, right now the only thing that mattered was that a girl they all cared about was fighting for her life. He shot Logan a death glare, hoping to get the conversation moving along.

"Actually, I am calling for a reason," Logan finally said, rolling his eyes back at Dick. "Yeah, I know." Logan let out a bitter laugh at something Veronica said. "I'm just going to rip the band-aid off. Mac was hurt today; she was hit by a baseball." He winced at whatever Veronica was saying. "No, and we don't know much right now." Logan's shoulders drooped, and Dick watched him turn around, seeking a little privacy in the public venue. "I suspect she'll be here awhile. Are you coming, um home?" He cleared his throat.

Dick could hear the rise and fall of Veronica's voice but not what she was saying. He could feel her panic from across the miles though. It was the same underlying current everyone else was experiencing.

Logan finally said his good-byes and hung up. He turned around and faced Dick, announcing, "Well, Veronica is on her way. She'll be here tonight, tomorrow at the latest."

Dick reached out and gave Logan a pat on the shoulder. "You okay?"

"Sure," Logan blew out a breath. "I have to be. This isn't about us; it's about her friendship with Mac."

Dick didn't contradict, but he was pretty sure his face broadcasted exactly what he thought about that statement. He took the empty seat on Nat's other side with Logan plopping down beside him. Ryan sat down next to his dad, and they all settled in to wait for the results of the current battery of tests, and for more drama to blow in from the North.

The endless waiting game continued.

TBC…

***Loved it? Hated it? M'eh? Inquiring minds-mine!-want to know. I'd love it if you put something in that lonely box down there. Thank you!