Author's Note: It's kind of long, but we finally finished it, thank god. Please review!
Disclaimer: Only our OC's.
Chase's POV
I could hear sirens responding to a call far off in the city. It never ended. After eight years on Vice I still wasn't used to it. The constant violence and danger. That's why I hated for Cole to be wandering around when I worked late. I tried not to be overprotective. I'm really getting better. But sometimes the image of my late wife's cold, lifeless body drifts up from the darkest reaches of my mind and I want to hold Cole close and isolate him from the world. He's all I have left. If I lose him… I jumped as the front door slammed shut. He was home. I heard the TV click on and him plop down on the couch.
No, hey dad, how you doing? Typical.
I walked into the TV room and stood next to the TV. He sighed as he muted whatever he was watching.
"Yes, dad," he asked.
"What do you want for dinner?" I asked.
"Just leave money for a pizza," replied Cole as he continued to watch the muted show. He'd been more moody then usual lately. Two weeks earlier he had taken a nasty fall at the skate park and busted up his face pretty bad. He had required surgery on his nose and chin and four stitches above his right eye. Surgery number five and stitches set eight. He healed quickly so the hospital stay was short but the bill was just screaming debt at me.
"Alright. Lock the doors when I leave. I'll be home late," I ordered. Cole nodded. I sighed and sat down next to him for a second.
"You OK?" I asked. Cole turned towards me. He looked just liked his mother. The eyes, the hair, the nose, the lips. I couldn't look at Cole without thinking of Karen.
"I'm fine, Dad. Surgery was two weeks ago. I'm better now," replied Cole. I nodded and stood up. I kissed the top of his head and then left after handing him some pizza money.
Cole locked the door behind me and I felt myself calm down a little. Now I could focus on work.
Dr. John Fenton's POV
The girl was already on the table when I walked in. Her lips were wrapped around some gauze and her eyes were closed tightly. She was all prepped. Nurses drapped a sheet over her as I covered her abdomen in disinfectant. The bullet had hit her stomach just a few inches near her belly button. That wasn't good. It was no doubt in her intestines. I took a deep breath and began the surgery.
Her life was in my hands.
Jake's POV
The news had come as a big shot. Mom came running into my room, totally freaked out. Sarah had been shot during a robbery. She had been shot because she was taking care of me. I knew I shouldn't feel guilty but I did anyway. Sarah had been shot because of me. If I hadn't sent her to that store she would be fine…I mean, what if she died?!
It felt like hours before we made it to the hospital. I felt kind of woozy so Charlie piggy backed me inside. Mom was desperate. We followed her as she raced towards the surgery ward. God I hate the hospital. We are here a lot. With a family of 14, injuries happen a lot. I hold the record of most times in surgery. Four. For some reason that makes me proud.
Sarah has a close second now with three. But no one has ever had an injury as severe as this.
We found out that Sarah's surgery was well under way. She had a good surgeon operation on her. A Dr, Fenton. The surgery wouldn't be over for a while. We got comfortable in a private waiting room. Mom made a makeshift bed for me so I could lie down. My stomach was doing flip-flops.
Charlie, Mark, and Mike, who had insisted on coming occupied themselves with a game of cards. All of them were safe from getting sick because of me. They had all already had the flu recently and on top of that had received flu vaccine shots when I got sick. Mom was seemingly immune to whatever I threw at her. I fell into a troubled sleep as I thought of Sarah.
Chase's POV
The station was eerily quiet when I showed up for work. My partner, Sonny Vincent, was finishing up some paperwork. He had about ten cans of Starbucks Espresso drinks strewn all over his desk. He gulped down another one and crushed the can on his hand.
"Getting ready for a busy night?" I asked as I sat down at my desk. Sonny nodded as he dropped the crushed can in the trash.
"I got about a month's worth of paperwork to take care of. Then I have some surveillance notes to go over. God, sometimes I hate this job," replied Sonny as he opened up another can.
"Any new leads in the Mendoza case?" I asked as I pulled out some files from my desk. Some mid level drug dealer had recently been found shot to death in a back alley. As much as I detested scumbag drug dealers, they couldn't be allowed to turn Chicago into a war zone.
"Nope. No one who was brought in is talking," replied Sonny.
"And they won't either. Who gives a rats ass about Juan Mendoza?" I asked. Sonny shrugged.
"Carson says the mayor does as does the chief," replied Sonny.
"That doesn't mean we have to waste our time. There's more important things to do they catch whoever murdered a two bit drug dealer," I groaned. Sometimes this job doesn't make sense.
Sonny and I looked up as Jim Carson, our lieutenant, poked his head out of his office. "Chase, I need to speak with you," exclaimed Jim. Jim's a good guy. He's only forty so he's not this hard headed veteran cop who thinks he's better then anyone else. Jim still dives into whatever action is going on as often as he can.
"Sure thing," I said as I stood up and followed Jim into his office. Jim had been in charge of vice for a little over a year. He had taken the job over a senior detective promotion in homicide. Being the head lieutenant of Vice actually gave him more free time then working homicide. Go figure.
I sat down in the single chair that was in front of Jim's desk. Right behind the large framed picture of his daughter, Emma. Right next to hat picture was a picture of Jim's late wife and son. The two of them had been gunned down during a gas station hold up. A random act of violence that had changed Jim's life forever.
"We just got a call about a shooting at a drug store." Jim's news snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Where?" I asked, now fully back into reality.
"Some small one on Birch Lane. The victim is a young girl. About twelve-years-old," explained Jim. Birch Lane? That was near the Baker's house. Oh God.
"What's the victim's name?" I asked.
"Sarah Baker," replied Jim without hesitation. Shit. I groaned.
"You know her?" asked Jim. I nodded.
"She's a friend of Cole's," I replied. Jim nodded.
"If you don't want this," he began. I shook my head.
"I'll be fine. I should call Cole and let him know," I replied. Jim nodded.
"You and Sonny get over to that drug store as soon as possible," ordered Jim.
"Of course. How is Sarah?" I asked.
"Last I heard she was in surgery," replied Jim. Ah, double shit.
Cole's POV
I openly sighed into the receiver of the phone, annoyed at how the lady was partially ignoring me to take care of another pizza order. I tried yet again, but she cut me off by saying 'Hold on a moment, hon.' In her annoying southern accent.
"Look, lady, I just want a medium cheese pizza, can't you write it down then hang up the phone and take care of whatever the hell you're doing?" My voice rose, and she reluctantly took my order and my address. I slammed down the phone and leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch.
"Stupid pizza lady…"
I couldn't help it, I really couldn't. It's not like I have a temper, but I'm just…easily annoyed. Since my Mom died, I guess I never really had someone around to tell me what I can and can't do. My Dad, well, he tries, he really does, but with his job he can't really be here all the time for me. He has to leave me home alone a lot, and since he doesn't really watch his language around me (or care if I cuss) I picked up the habit. I don't like giving off the "punk" vibe, because I hate when people look at me and think I'm a nuisance or problem… the way they'll look at me, like they're disappointed with me. It sucked.
That's why I try so hard to get my Dad's attention. When he tells me 'good job' or something, and I know it sounds cheesy, but I actually feel like I mean something to him, other than the son that he has to take care of. Dad's never been good with the heart-to-hearts, so I can't really let him know how I feel about him going out all the time. I want him to know, but I think he'll get mad or something.
Another thirty minutes went by as I watched some show on MTV, and then the doorbell rang. I checked through the blinds and saw a man holding a pizza box. I opened it and handed him the money. He counted it, and then turned around to walk away.
"Whoa, you think I'd give you a ten dollar tip? Give me seven bucks back!" I glared at him and he reluctantly handed it over.
"Sorry, I didn't know—" He started, but I cut him off.
"On second thought, give me another buck back." I grabbed the dollar and slammed the door. Note to self: Never order from that pizza place again. Man, it sucks when people try to rip you off because you're a kid. It's like they think we're stupid!
The phone rang as I was biting into my second slice of pizza. It was actually pretty good, but the service was still crap. I wiped my hand on the box and picked it up.
"Hello?" I answered, taking another bite.
"Hey, Cole, buddy, you might want to sit down for what I'm about to tell you," Dad's voice said shakily, through the receiver. I knew something was up, but I couldn't refrain from putting in a little sarcasm.
"What, you think I'd actually be standing? Dad, you know me!" I laughed a little, and when he didn't even scoff at me, I knew something really big was going down. Whatever it is, it couldn't involve me, right? Or Dad?
"You're friend Sarah was shot, Cole. She's in surgery right now, critical condition…she might not make it."
What? No, that was impossible…right? I felt the pizza slice slide from my hand and onto the floor, but I didn't care. I sat up straight, panic setting in. Not Sarah…she's like a sister to me…maybe, well, a little more than that. She couldn't die, she was way too young!
I hung up the phone and put on my shoes, running out the front door at full speed towards the Baker's house. The lights were all off, but I still slammed on the door until my fists hurt. They were probably at the hospital. Oh god, Sarah…
"Shit, shit, shit, SHIT! No, not Sarah…" I slammed on the door one last time. "Damn it!"
I sprinted back to my house and picked up the phone. I dialed my Dad's number and urged him to pick up out loud. He finally answered, and it took me a few seconds to catch my breath.
"Dad, you gotta pick me up!" I shouted, realizing just now that my whole body was shaking.
"Cole, I can't, I'm really busy and—"
"I have to see her! I need to…" I interrupted, clenching and unclenching my fists in frustration. I wished I was seventeen so that I could drive down there myself, instead of having to rely on my Dad, who would probably say no.
"Maybe I could send down a friend of mine to pick you up, but you have to promise you won't be any trouble at all…" Dad sighed, and I could hear a lot of noise and people talking on his end. I could hear Sonny talking to someone.
"Okay, okay…tell them to hurry, though!"
"Sarah's in surgery, you couldn't see her even if you wanted to!"
"I just…wanna be close to the Bakers, okay?"
"I'm sorry Cole, okay?"
"Whatever." I hung up and paced the room.
Whoever shot Sarah, I hoped, would get the electric chair, and die slowly and painfully. I couldn't believe a man would want to shoot her. She'd never done anything wrong! She's just a kid like me and Jake… She didn't deserve this!
Chase's POV
The drug store was crawling with cops when Sonny and I showed up. The owner was being questioned by a friend of mine from homicide, Angie Hammond. Angie waved Sonny and I over. Sonny excused himself to go have a look inside.
"What do we got, Angie?" I asked.
"Shooter was wearing a ski mask. The girl made a sudden move and the shooter got nervous. He fled without stealing anything," explained Angie. I nodded as I headed inside. There was blood all over the floor. Sarah's blood. Poor girl.
As I looked around the store, something didn't feel right. I don't know why but I felt like this case was going to get hard to deal with it. It was a strange gut feeling I had. And bad things happened when I had gut feelings.
Cole's POV
Dad had sent a fellow vice cop, Paul Gorman, to pick me up. Paul was a good guy and one of the funniest and nicest guys I knew. He was also six foot seven and weighed two-hundred and ninety pounds. The guy was a machine. He used to play college football but a bum knee ruined his football dreams. So now he busted down doors and fought crime as a vice cop.
Paul was driving at break neck speed. Every vice cop drove like this. Old habit. I've never been late for school.
"How much longer, Paul?" I asked, anxiously tapping my fingers against my knee.
"Another two miles," answered Paul as he made a sharp turn. I gripped the armrest tightly so I wasn't slammed into the door.
"Sorry," apologized Paul as he made another sharp turn.
"Damn it, Paul, I want to get there I one piece," I snapped.
"Sorry. Old habit," replied Paul as he made yet another sharp turn. I gave up arguing. I just wanted to get to the hospital as fast as possible. Sarah has always been there for me whenever I got hurt. Always.
Even when Jake accidentally hurt me this past spring…
(flashback)
"Throw it over here!" Sarah called lazily, waving her arms in the air. It was an unusually hot day for the end of April, but Jake, Sarah, and me had no choice but to play outside…there was nothing to do inside except chores and video games.
Believe me, Jake and I had played video games for six hours straight yesterday, when we got a new video game for Playstation 2, and when we tried to get up we couldn't see straight and we fell over because we didn't know which was up or down was. It was pretty scary, but it only lasted twenty seconds before we were normal again. After that, staying inside was not an option.
I tossed the baseball up in the air and caught it again, taunting Sarah with it. I laughed when she looked like she was going to kill me, and then threw it to her. She snatched it out of the air and threw it to Jake, who was busy giving a lady who was walking her child (on a leash) a weird expression. It hit him in the side and he looked over to me with wide eyes.
"What?" I asked, laughing along with Sarah.
I guess he thought I threw it, because he stood up and whipped the ball at me, and I had to duck to avoid it. I heard the window to the Baker's kitchen crack above me, and suddenly I was showered with glass as the ball sailed through.
"Aww, crap!" Jake yelled, running over to me with Sarah right next to him.
I looked down at my stomach, eyes wide. A few shards of glass had burrowed themselves into my stomach, and it hurt like crazy. I winced, the pain just hitting me. I scooted back so that I was leaning up against the house, not caring that I was sitting on top of glass.
"Cole, are you okay?" Sarah crouched down beside me, and I heard glass cracking and moving under her sneakers.
"Do I look like I'm okay?" I snapped, and she frowned a little, more in concern than anger.
"Cole that looks really nasty…" Sarah muttered, gently pushing her arms away to see. She grimaced, and then yelled, "Mom! Mom get out here NOW!"
"No, I can get it out!" I protested, defiantly not wanting to go to the hospital over spring break again. I grasped the largest piece and tugged. Big mistake. Pain shot up my stomach and I screamed in agony. "Ow, ow, ow," I whimpered, as blood flowed over my hands.
"Cole, you moron!" Jake shouted, but I could tell he was just scared.
"Shh, Cole, it's okay…" Sarah slid her hand into mine, and I relaxed, smiling weakly at her.
"What, what is it?" Kate ran out with my Dad close behind her. They were good friends, so since Dad had a day off work today, he decided to spend the day with the Baker parents.
"Cole got glass in his stomach!" Sarah shrieked, and they crouched down beside me.
"How did this happen?" Dad asked, looking at Sarah since she was closest to me.
"Jake threw the ball at Cole because he thought Cole hit him with it, but it was really me, and—" Sarah started, but Jake interrupted her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" His voice got quieter with every 'sorry.'
"He tried to pull it out, though…" Sarah pointed to the glass shard that was the bloodiest.
I think I even saw my Dad wince, which was rare for him. I tried to get up and felt some glass dig into my palms, so I stopped. Dad put his arms under me and gently lifted me up. I whimpered and refused to let go of my stomach.
"Cole, you're pushing the glass in further!" Dad said, trying to pry my hands away.
"No, it hurts!" I didn't care how stupid I sounded, I couldn't let go. I don't know why…whenever something hurts; you want to just, well, hold it. And I felt like I was making it better, which probably wasn't true.
"You're making it worse…" Sarah was walking right beside my Dad, while Jake was still with Kate, probably too shocked to do anything else.
I let my hands slide off my stomach and around my Dad's neck as he carried me to the car. He set me down in the backseat, so I was lying down, and got into the driver's side. I saw Sarah open the car door and get into the backseat with me. I looked at her in confusion, and my Dad looked back at her.
"Sarah, I don't know if you should come," He said sternly.
"Let her stay…" I rasped, and Dad sighed before backing out of the driveway.
"Sarah Lynn Baker!" Kate shouted, following the car.
"I'm going!" Sarah shouted, and Dad drove away without another word.
Sarah rested my head on the lap, and made sure I didn't fall off the seat after every sharp turn my Dad made. My Dad works for vice, so he knows the streets really well and could get me to the hospital really fast.
I heard a police siren following our car, and I moaned in frustration and pain. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the shooting pain in my stomach, so I just closed my eyes tightly and tried to picture something other than my stomach. When that didn't work, I just stared up at the ceiling.
"Chase!" Sarah shrieked as Dad slammed onto the brakes.
The cop strutted up to the car and my Dad rolled down the window. He practically shoved the badge in the cop's face, and sped off before the officer could say anything else. I almost fell off the seat, and pushed my feet on the car door to partly steady myself, while Sarah held my head in place.
I could tell Dad was just acting this was because he was so worried about me, but I could tell Dad was just acting this was because he was so worried about me, but I didn't like how he was driving with Sarah in the car. I groaned loudly, trying to make him stop, but it was hopeless, he just kept speeding along. I sighed a little and tried to focus on Sarah's face as she looked down at me, concerned.
"The turn, Chase you're going to miss it!" Sarah said loudly, and Dad swerved into the parking lot, parking near the front and hopping out of the car.
"Sorry, Sarah, I'm just a little worried," Dad picked me up, as gently as he could, and Sarah slid out as well.
"That's okay. My Mom and Dad drive minivans…I like going fats once and a while." She flashed my Dad a grin, and he gave her a small smile as he practically sprinted to the entrance.
As we entered the hospital, I closed my eyes tightly at the bright lights. I hated hospitals, no matter how many times I go to one. They smell weird and they're too bright and unfamiliar, and dreary. It's like you can feel sadness clinging to the walls or something.
Dad marched up to the counter and as soon as the nurse saw me she picked up the phone and called for a stretcher. I opened my eyes and glanced over at Sarah. She looked pretty nervous, but she wasn't expressing it in any way other than tugging at her pigtails. My Dad kept fidgeting in impatience, which hurt my stomach, but I didn't say anything.
The stretcher came and Dad placed me on it before it even came to a stop. They wheeled me away, and Sarah went to follow, but Dad put and arm out to stop her. Now I only had my stomach to focus on, and I had to grip the sides of the stretcher so as not to grab at the glass and tear it out myself.
I got to a room where there were a couple of doctors. They cut off my shirt and inspected my injuries, then discussed something about surgery. I sighed quietly, not wanting to go into another surgery. I'd have to wake up and go through the pain all over again, only in a bed with some IV shoved in my arm.
The doctors wheeled me into the OR and they held a gas mask over my mouth, telling me to count backwards from a hundred. I didn't bother, I just waited for the blackness to come.
--
Pain. When I woke up, that was all I felt. My stomach was on fire, and it hurt so bad that I felt like screaming. There was something in my mouth and throat, and I felt like ripping out whatever it was. It felt so unnatural and uncomfortable. I blinked open my eyes and lifted my arm weakly to feel at my mouth.
Something hard and plastic. A tube! But that meant… The memories of baseball and Sarah and the surgery flooded back to me, and I looked around the hospital room. Dad was right beside my bed, his hand on my left hand and his eyes on the TV, which was practically muted. I moved my hand a little and his attention went from the TV to his son.
"Cole, hey buddy how are you?" Dad brushed my hair out of my eyes for me.
I murmured a response, finding it hard to talk with the tube in my mouth.
"Sorry. The surgery went well. Sarah's out in the waiting room with Kate and Jake, if you want to see them," Dad said.
I nodded, and he stood up to go get them. I felt gingerly at my stomach and could tell there were bandages there. The door opened again and Jake and Sarah walked in, staring at me with a mixture of concern and amazement. Dad didn't come in after them, so I assumed he was talking to Kate.
"Chase said Cole can't talk, so don't bug him," Sarah said to Jake, who lip-mocked her and rolled his eyes.
I laughed a little then stopped because it hurt.
"I'm really sorry that I threw the ball at you…I thought you threw it at me and I didn't mean to hurt you that badly," Jake inspected the tube in my mouth, looking a little disgusted, yet strangely fascinated.
I nodded in response, and Sarah said, "My Mom brought Jake over, like, an hour after you went into surgery. Your Dad was telling me about car chases and stuff, it was really cool." Sarah smiled at me, and I flashed a thumbs up, wishing I could grin.
"How does it feel?" Jake was talking about the tube, I was sure.
I rolled my eyes in response, and he got the picture.
I wished I could say so many things. Like, thanking Sarah for being there for me, and give Jake a hard time for throwing the baseball, just to mess with his head. But right then I was perfectly fine with them talking to me, because who wouldn't' want their two best friends there to make everything seem better than it is?
(end flashback)
Sarah and Jake have always been such good friends... What if she died? We'd never see her again, Jake wouldn't be the same… hell, I wouldn't be the same! Sarah being murdered? An innocent twelve year old? Who would do that? I don't know what I'll do if Sarah dies. I don't know what any of us will do…
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