Force Chapter 5
Author's Notes: Okay, so, I had anticipated chapter four to encompass more than it actually did, but I hope now I can finally write a hospital scene! We all know those are the best (see 'Blind Spot' LO:CI and that episode of SVU with the Nazis.) Okay, now that I've gone off on a tangent, happy reading! Reviews always appreciated—Wendell has actually taken a whole step out of my closet. He is surprisingly like Howie from 'The Benchwarmers'.
Disclaimer: Okay...I don't own Law and Order. Whoo! Glad I got that off my chest.
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When Mike Cutter heard Connie whisper his name, he let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't thought twice about plunging into the freezing river to retrieve his assistant ADA. The pain of the cold water surrounding his legs didn't register in his mind until he turned Connie over and saw she was still breathing.
They were both shivering as he picked her up and carried her back to dry land. A uniformed officer ran down the bank, handing a grey wool blanket over to Jack. He opened it fully, wrapping it around his ADA. She was beginning to turn blue, and her breathing was shallow.
"The ambulance has just arrived, sir." The uniformed officer said to Jack.
"Come on," McCoy said to Mike, gripping his shoulder in an attempt to help him up the slight incline. His legs were beginning to feel numb, and the cold was spreading to a place that was fairly important to a man.
The ambulance workers had a gurney already laid out on the nearest available spot of flat land. Mike lifted Connie up and laid her on the thin cotton- covered bed. The paramedics immediately began to check her vital signs, peering beneath her closed eyelids and taking her pulse.
"How long has she been in the water?" The taller of the two paramedics asked Mike.
"I- I don't k-know," Mike replied, shivering uncontrollably. The paramedic handed him a thermal blanket to wrap himself in and turned his attention back to Connie.
"Let's get her to the emergency room," the other medic said quietly. "It looks like she might be hypothermic."
The two of them loaded Connie into the back of the ambulance and the tall medic jogged over to the driver's side. Mike climbed stiffly in beside Connie. Leaning back against the side of the ambulance, he sighed as the vehicle thundered to life and lurched forward.
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She was heavy. Really heavy, like she was being weighed down. Connie didn't even have the strength to open her eyes. Was this death? She asked herself.
After a few moments of sluggish thought, she decided it was not. There was still pain in her wrists and ankles where she'd been bound, and her body was sore from bruises and the water. More than that, she could hear the beeping of a heart monitor somewhere outside her immediate consciousness.
The longer she thought, the easier it became; eventually she could open her eyes.
She was in a hospital; white walls and sterilized equipment surrounded her. It was average, but stiflingly so; she felt like a nameless patient, known only by the medical records hanging on the end of her bed. Now I would guess that my medical history is more like a John Grisham thriller than a government file.
Turning her head painfully to the left, she watched someone that most definitely did not think of her as nameless; Mike Cutter sat in a chair next to her, his head and shoulderson top of her bed. Connie smiled at the sight and watched his breathing for a moment before reaching out to grasp his shoulder. Her joints screamed, but she gripped harder, wiggling a bit to get her boss to wake up. He did, eventually, with a pain-filled groan that made her laugh despite the obvious rasping in her lungs.
"Wake up, you baby—you weren't the one kidnapped by a gang," she said in a voice that was gravelly from lack of use.
Connie couldn't positively identify when it happened—whether it was after a case or on one of the long nights in his office preparing a summation, but she and Mike had become more than colleagues, more than after- work friends. Nothing had happened, physically, to change their relationship, but it hung there in the air, the elephant in the room, whenever they were alone together. Now was no different.
"Hey," Mike said, sitting up and rubbing the small of his back. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore...tired."
"You should sleep some more."
"No, I don't want to. What happened?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I don't really remember. I was so cold, and I just...shut down. I heard those sirens...but it was like a dream. Then Jose hauled me up, and then everything just—hurt."
"He threw you in the river," Mike began, tensing when he saw the look of pain and bewilderment on her face. "But we got you out; you weren't in the water for very long. We could still see the ripples when I waded in."
"You what?" She asked, trying in vain to sit up. He'd waded into the East River in March to retrieve her? It was insane, it was unhealthy, it was...well, it was incredibly nice of him. Something that she thought of as unlikely to happen, but not impossible given their relationship.
"I went in and got you. Then I carried you to the ambulance." Mike muttered, his cheeks turning pink under her disbelieving and grateful stare.
"Thanks, Mike." Connie whispered, hoping to convey something deeper in those two words. She didn't have the strength right now for the conversation they would have to have, but she wanted him to know she was thankful.
He smiled at her, one hand encasing hers. "Jack, van Buren, Bernard and Lupo went back to work a while ago, and I had orders to call them the minute you woke up." Connie scoffed in response as her boss pulled out his blackberry.
"It didn't get wet in the river, did it?" she asked in fake concern for his favourite toy. He shot her a rueful smile.
"No, as a matter of fact it did not, smartass."
Connie laughed huskily, ignoring the grating pain in her throat. Jack picked up after a moment and Mike informed him that Connie was awake and taking part in coherent conversation. He listened for a few more minutes before hanging up and turning back to her.
"Jack said you should rest and he'd come see you later today. You really should sleep," he admonished quietly, sitting on the side of her bed. "You were blue when I pulled you out of the water."
"You really should be resting, Ms. Rubirosa," a tall black man in a white lab coat informed her as he charged into the room. She vaguely wondered who the hell he was, but she didn't have to wait long. "I'm Dr. Harrison. You gave us quite a scare." He looked briefly up at the monitors surrounding her, checking her vitals. "Everything looks good for now, but we are giving you plasma and fluids and some medication to fight off the pneumonia. Hopefully you should be able to go home the day after tomorrow."
She groaned. "Another two days! What am I supposed to do for two days?"
"You are going to rest, absorb fluids, and spend time with your boyfriend." The doctor smiled, looking at Mike.
Connie nearly choked on her own laughter; Mike had turned into a sputtering pink mess, and, by the heat radiating from her own cheeks, she could say she wasn't faring much better.
"No, uhm... he's my boss." She said weakly. Dr. Harrison nodded.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed. You came in together, and Mr. Cutter hasn't left your room since you were stabilized...anyway, I have some more rounds to do, so I'll come by and check on you later."
They watched the doctor walk away in silence, avoiding eye contact.
"How long have you been here?" she asked.
"We've been here about 12 hours, I guess," he replied, looking at the clock on the wall above her bed.
"You should go home, get some rest. I really doubt that chair is comfortable."
"Nu-uh. I am bugging you until you are 100%." He grinned. "I'll get a nurse to bring me up a cot."
Connie smiled and shook her head, admitting defeat. The next two days were going to be interesting, to say the least.