While the Heart Beats
Author's Note: Guys, I TOLD you that I suck. You should not be surprised that I am slightly off-kilter with my posting schedule. :) Still, I really want to try and stick to my plan, which is why I'm typing this on a plane right now at 31,000 feet and will be posting an update from my undisclosed international location. Family Vacation #1 is underway to the tropics, and I am lucky that I was allowed to bring the laptop, LOL.
I will warn you that this chapter contains some graphic depiction of violence and injuries, so be aware of that. Possibly some mild language too. Also, this was written in one pass so I apologize in advance for any typos or goofs. I'll fix them when I'm back in the States next week and will try to bring you another chapter then as well. :) With no further ado, thanks for your patience and away we go...
"I'm at war with the world and they try to pull me into the dark
I struggle to find my faith as I'm slipping from your arms
It's getting harder to stay awake
And my strength is fading fast
You breathe into me at last..."
- Skillet, "Awake and Alive"
Last time...
Renzulli didn't think. Not for a moment. Moving still on instinct, he darted wide around the shells and blood, Pierce glued to his side. "C'mon, get to cover," he said, pushing the kid ahead of him as they ducked into the small bit of shelter where the other officers were.
Thus, he was completely unprepared for where his eyes landed as he came around that shallow corner.
Jamie Reagan was sitting back against the wall, his body still, his eyes glazed. Smeared blood on his mouth and chin was a shock of red against his colorless face.
For one horrific, endless second, Renzulli thought he was dead.
But Gordon was crouching in front of him, and had taken Jamie's face in both his hands; he was talking to him urgently, as if there was some sliver of soul left to reach for, and a heartbeat later Renzulli realized why.
Jamie was clutching Vinny's limp body in his arms.
)()()()()()()()()()(
Now...
When Renzulli himself had been a rookie (so many, many years ago), he had worried sometimes whether his higher reasoning skills - or lack thereof - would get in the way of his being able to do the job. He wasn't an idiot, not by any means, but school had never done much for him. He had wondered sometimes, lying in bed and staring at the dark ceiling somewhere above, if pure heart and desire and a decent dose of common sense was really enough to get such an important job done.
"Christ almighty, Renzulli, you worry too much," his training officer had laughed. "A cop only needs three things - open eyes, quick feet, good aim. All the rest takes care of itself."
It had taken a few years before he really got his feet under him as an officer, but once he was comfortable in the skin of the NYPD uniform Renzulli had come to appreciate the advice. He tried to impart it to his own rookies when he became a training officer years later. You can't walk a beat from inside a patrol car. Get out; talk to people. Let them talk to you. Listen. Hear. And when you need to, act.
So when Renzulli saw Jamie and Vinny together on the ground, frozen still in that moment of impossible agony, he didn't reason and he sure as hell didn't think.
He moved.
Instinct, honed in him over every one of his twenty-two years on the job, cranked into overdrive as he lurched forward towards them. An unexpected surge of emotion flooded his chest; he recognized it then as fear, but later would understand the protectiveness, too. And perhaps that made sense; these were his boys, after all. Beside him, Gordon was continuing his litany, filling the still and silent air with words that skated across Renzulli's consciousness like water on glass. "Reagan, man, hey Reagan, we're here, okay? We need to see your partner so we can take care of him. Okay? You hear me, Reagan?"
Renzulli went to the ground and hit flush on both knees, bone cracking against pavement. He felt the impact to his teeth. "Kid," he gasped. He could barely find breath for the words; his lungs were as tight as if he'd been kicked in the chest.
Jamie looked even worse up close. The blood on his face was vivid, like a rash, and his mouth was stained with it, like he had sucked down a cherry snow cone too fast. His eyes were wide open but eerily vacant, as though his soul had been violently shaken loose. Renzulli saw too that Jamie's arms were locked around Vinny, cradling the other man against his shoulder, and as alarming as Jamie's condition was, Vinny lying still (still, so frickin' still) in his lap was even worse. "Jamie," Renzulli managed, his heart sinking. He leaned forward, speaking right into Jamie's ear. "Give him to us, all right? Listen to me, kid. It's me, man. You gotta let him go."
As he spoke, Gordon released Jamie's face to grab at his hands, trying to pry his grip loose. He was working quickly, as behind them Doyle crouched with his gun drawn, eyes flying across the rooftop edges and hundreds of empty windows that stared down at them blankly. "Where is our backup?" Renzulli heard him snap into the radio. "We've got an officer down; where the hell's our backup?" As if in answer, Renzulli began to hear the sirens in the distance at that moment, an eerie harmony of wails growing ever stronger. Backup on the way, probably dozens and dozens of guys.
But none of this activity had shaken Jamie back to reality. Finding himself desperate to break through, Renzulli grabbed at Jamie's arm, intending to squeeze it reassuringly. We're here, Jamie. Stand down.
The wetness that met his hand - hot, sticky - surprised him, and he looked closer. The shoulder and upper sleeve of Jamie's jacket were soaked through, and when Renzulli let go, his palm and the pads of his fingers were smeared generously with blood. "Jesus," he gasped, and whipped around to face Pierce, who was watching, bug-eyed, behind him. "You confirm! Two officers down!" he snapped, holding up two bloodied fingers for emphasis. The kid nodded rapid-fire, reaching for his shoulder-mounted radio.
Gordon was twisting at Jamie's hands now, almost frantic, trying to pry Vinny away from Jamie's grasp. He's going to break fingers, Renzulli realized in some distant part of his mind, and he rushed to help, pressing his own hand down over Jamie's to ease it away. Jamie's skin was cold as ice, but he ignored it, just as he ignored Jamie's empty eyes. Together with Gordon, they managed to pull Jamie's grip loose just enough, and Gordon was quick to take Vinny's weight as he fell away from Jamie's shoulder, tumbling loosely from Jamie's hold into Gordon's waiting arms.
Renzulli caught only a fleeting glimpse of Vinny's slack, blood-covered face before he dropped himself directly in front of Jamie, grasping his shoulders. "Kid, it's all right. Tell me where they got you." He was anxious to check him over for injuries, but pressing his hands into Jamie's shoulder and skating them down over his side was useless - blood was everywhere, and he had no idea whose was whose, or even which of them was hurt where.
"Sarge!" Gordon cried. His voice sounded panicked.
Renzulli twisted abruptly to peer over his shoulder, but the question he was about to ask died on his lips when he saw Gordon easing Vinny down onto the stained pavement, checking his breathing, checking his pulse. The motion was jostling Vinny's body, and Vinny's head rolled toward Renzulli.
Three things were impossible to miss.
Vinny was even bloodier than Jamie was.
Vinny had a hole the size of a golf ball torn in his throat.
Vinny's eyes were, mercifully, closed.
Renzulli's stomach began a slow roll, like a rising tide in the core of his belly, and he might have been sick right there had Pierce not beat him to it. Crouched just feet away from where Vinny's body had spilled, Pierce got a technicolor eyeful of the damage and twisted violently away, bowing low to the ground as he lost his lunch at the sight. Gordon completely ignored him, rushing to pull Vinny's head back around. "Quick, quick," he said, almost hysterically, and tilted Vinny's head back, sealing his mouth over Vinny's. A small trickle of blood oozed from the wound at the movement, but nothing more.
Renzulli didn't have a medical degree, but even he knew what it meant when gaping, awful wounds like that didn't bleed.
"I tried that already."
The voice was weak and shredded at the edges, but unmistakably-
"Jamie," Renzulli said, spinning back to him. "Jamie?"
Jamie hadn't moved from where he sat, slumped against the wall. His eyes still looked glazed and dead, but they had at least focused on Gordon now, who was frantically breathing for Vinny as the sirens' wails drew ever louder. "I tried that," he said again. It was almost impossible to hear him, and his face remained eerily still. "Didn't work."
Renzulli's hand found Jamie's shoulder, and he squeezed it reassuringly, blood or no. "Well, the EMTs are almost here, so we're gonna keep trying, okay? Tell me where you're hurt."
Jamie didn't reply. His eyes were on Vinny.
"Kid? Where are you hurt, huh? C'mon, Jamie."
"I'm fine."
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna need more than that," Renzulli warned, as Pierce fell on his ass a few feet away, wiping his mouth against the back of a trembling hand. His eyes were on Vinny, too, and they were filled with horror.
The sirens screamed to a stop only yards away, and the sound was enormous now, filling every space in the quad and bouncing off the concrete, the wails careening into each other. They seemed to be making the sounds Jamie could not, but they did galvanize him a little. He turned his head, then leaned abruptly leaned forward, rolling shakily onto his hands and knees and nearly toppling over altogether. Renzulli grabbed at him to steady him. Jamie was leaning down towards Vinny, bending almost as close as Gordon. Renzulli watched as, without hesitation, Jamie reached out and laid his hand gently over the gash on Vinny's neck, and leaned down to whisper into his ear.
Renzulli was still staring when two EMTs rushed onto the scene, moving quick and low despite bulky equipment bags and a backboard balanced between them. A small but well-armed compliment of a half-dozen cops fanned out along with them, moving into the area with eyes intense and weapons drawn. As the officers pushed forward into the quad, intent on securing the area, the EMTs came skidding in next to Renzulli and were upon Vinny in an instant. "How long has he been down?" one asked aloud.
"At least five or ten minutes," Gordon replied, gasping it out between breaths.
Jamie drew back, and Renzulli tugged him clear as the EMTs began working on Vinny. Officers were beginning to pour in from everywhere, as if floodgates had been opened, and Renzulli paid them only the barest attention as they set up a defensive perimeter around them, around Vinny bloody and probably dead on the pavement; around Jamie, leaning heavily into Renzulli's side now; around Gordon and Pierce and Doyle, all watching helplessly. The second EMT fixed a mask over Vinny's face and began forcing air into his lungs with an AMBU bag. "We've got to go, now," he said sharply, and his partner nodded. "We need some hands!"
Willing officers moved quickly around Vinny and the EMTs. Gordon, Doyle and Pierce were among them as they slid a backboard underneath Vinny's limp body and transitioned him onto a stretcher. Renzulli remained where he was on the ground, with Jamie still slumped heavy into his shoulder. "Kid, c'mon," Renzulli said, shaking him a little, his concern beginning to grow. "Jamie, let's get you to the hospital, okay?"
"I'm fine, Sarge," he rasped.
"Uh-huh." Renzulli saw two more pairs of EMTs coming into the scene, and he motioned them over sharply. "I've got the second officer here," he hollered, and as they made a beeline for him, he turned back to Jamie, speaking the words softly into his hair. "Your ride's right here, kid. Vinny's going to the hospital and you're gonna be right behind him."
"No hospital," he muttered. "I don't need that."
"Actually, kid, I think you do." He nodded at the EMT who dropped down in front of him, reaching out for Jamie. Renzulli caught the man's eyes, lowering his voice. "I think he's in shock pretty bad. I don't know where he's hurt. Not all of the blood is his but..."
"We got it," the EMT said. He and his partner eased Jamie away from Renzulli, and he felt a sudden and unexpected pang of loss. He stayed close by as the EMTs fitted a neck brace on Jamie and stripped him down to his vest right there in the field, and Renzulli saw the bloody tears in his right arm and shoulder then; the blood on his skin; the impact of at least one bullet into the chest of his tac vest. His stomach rolled again, but he ignored it, forcing himself to stay close. The EMTs were firing questions at Jamie that he ignored. Finally, though, when they turned to prep the stretcher, Jamie's eyes found Renzulli's. Renzulli leaned in close as Jamie fumbled the oxygen mask off his face. "Sarge."
"Kid, leave that alone." He found Jamie's hand; grasped it tight. "You're in good hands, all right? These EMTs-"
"He's dead, Sarge." Jamie's gaze, so expressionless and empty before, was filled with a deep sadness now; a lilting pain and regret that seemed bottomless in his eyes.
Renzulli swallowed. "No. Not yet, he's not. The doctors-"
"Sarge," Jamie broke in, his voice cracking. "I'm not... I'm not asking."
Renzulli's heart sank. "I'm..." He swallowed again, his throat so dry the sides stuck together, and fumbled for Jamie's hand. "It's gonna be okay, kid."
Jamie looked at him, then closed his eyes as the EMTs and volunteer officers surged back around him to transport him to the ambulance. Renzulli allowed them to pull Jamie away, and he was left standing there in the middle of the shattered and bloodstained quad, the memory of Jamie's hand still ghosting across his own.
He could tell in the kid's eyes that he didn't believe, not for a second, that anything was going to be okay.
)()()()()()()(
Sitting opposite him in the booth of a small coffee shop in Brooklyn, Jamie slumped against the back of his seat, eyes fixed on the cold cup of coffee before him. A slant of warm, welcoming morning sun splashed across the aged grain of the booth and upon Jamie's dress hat, which he'd tossed on the table before Renzulli began his story. The sunlight was a lone bit of cheer stabbing into their solemn corner. "I don't remember any of that, Sarge."
"It happened," Renzulli replied. "Every word."
"I'm glad to know." Jamie glanced up, but didn't make eye contact. "I'm glad you and the other guys were there."
"What do you remember?" he asked curiously.
Jamie hesitated, then took a deep swallow of the coffee. "About the shooting, I remember everything," he said quietly. "I remember what we had for lunch. I remember joking about the parking tickets we were going to give out on Bedford. And then we heard the woman screaming about her purse." Jamie shook his head. "I remember everything - right up until, you know. But after he died..."
Jamie's voice faded away.
Renzulli swallowed hard, then brought his own into the painful, empty silence. "You, uh... they said you tried to give him CPR. That's why you had blood on your face. And then when you knew it was too late, you just hung onto him, and we found ya not long after that."
"Well," he said. "Thank you for being there. And for everything you tried to do."
Renzulli pressed his lips together to suppress the building sigh. "Kid... listen, okay? Just listen. I mean, you're not the only one who wishes he could've done more. I was your sergeant, you understand that? I was responsible for both of you out there. Hell, I trained you for two years. You don't know what it's like to hear those calls over the radio, kid. I knew it was the two of you. And I knew..." He stopped, surprised by the sudden swell of emotion in his throat, and forced himself to swallow. "I knew I had to get there. I knew I should've been there. I'm never gonna forgive myself for not being there."
Jamie watched him curiously. "But it's the job, Sarge."
"I know," he said honestly. "But sometimes... the job freakin' sucks, Reagan."
"Yeah," he replied quietly.
Renzulli watched him, taking in the bags under his eyes, the sunken cheeks. "What can I do now, kid? Just say it. Anything."
A flicker of amusement crossed Jamie's face, and he looked up with a smirk. For a moment, Renzulli caught a glimpse of his old partner, and hope surged in him. "Anything, Sarge?"
"Well, within limits," he grinned.
"Can we just sit here?" he asked. "Just for a while?"
"Sure, kid."
And together, in the silence with cold cups of coffee before them, they did.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. I don't think this is up to my usual standard but I'm flying to try and get something up, LOL. To the lady on American Airlines who sat next to me and read this entire thing over my shoulder as I was writing it, I expect a review, LOL. Once I'm back in NYC next week I'll absolutely get caught up with all PMs and reviews - can't wait to hear from you all on what you thought of this! I'm looking forward to checking out your feedback when I get back.
Next week - Jamie attends the funeral of his partner, Officer Vinny Cruz. And he won't leave after it's over. Why? Because Jamie Reagan needs to have a talk with God. Don't think for a second that it's going to be pretty.