Chapter Nine
Nightmare
Hospitals are white, oppressively quiet and Michelle Palmer wants to cry. She's sitting on a lounge's couch in Georgetown Hospital, a Metro Policewoman in the chair across from her. She's been here for hours and hours and hours.
She'd woken up on her bedroom floor to a nightmare, a bleeding, screaming husband, her mouth coated in blood - she can't even get to a toothbrush to clean the horrible taste from her teeth - and she has no idea what's happened.
She doesn't want to believe this. She can't have done what they say, but the blood, the taste of it in her mouth... No, it can't... No, it's true. It's insane!
Her face, neck and chest are smeared and streaked with dried brown blood. She's wearing her Vampirella sex costume under her brown overcoat, the scarlet costume's high stiff white collar sticking out from the top of the coat. She has her purse clutched on her lap and this can't be happening. Under the right strap of the scandalous outfit no one but Jimmy's ever supposed to see she's aquired a large and sore bruise to her ribs. She has no idea where it came from, any more than the one to her left temple. She woke up on her bedroom floor with that one and stood up to a nightmare.
They won't let her see Jimmy and the only reason the policewoman across from her hasn't arrested her is that they haven't pieced things together any better than she has.
"Can I please see my husband?" She's getting really tired of asking, really wants to wear this woman down to the point that she'll give in. They've been fighting this argument all night.
"He's still in surgery," the brunette woman says without sympathy.
"That's what you said twenty minutes ago."
"That's where he was twenty minutes ago."
x
She supposes that, with Jimmy's blood all over her face and chest, she shouldn't hope for more kindness. She can't remember putting this sex costume on. Her medallion, the Wiccan Circle Star and Cross Jimmy gave her, is gone and she can't remember what happened to it either. Probably broke off when she found herself on the floor and that so doesn't matter.
When she woke up on the floor at the foot of their bed that was the start of the nightmare. She'd called 911 and did what little she could for her bleeding, screaming husband. But when EMTs and Metro PD got there she had no answers.
His blood was in her mouth, on her face and chest, she's wearing a Vampirella sex outfit, and to every question the best answer she'd had was 'I don't know'.
When the EMTs wheeled Jimmy out - she has no idea when he'd passed out but it was while Metro Police were demanding answers, she'd grabbed her overcoat, purse and shoved her bare feet into the calf high black leather boots, not sure why she did it except it needed no thought to rematch the outfit - but Metro had forced her into a Police car when she'd struggled to ride in the ambulance with Jimmy.
She's not in handcuffs - yet - that's probably waiting on Jimmy pressing charges, but she hasn't tried to leave the lounge and suspects she won't be able to. A regular suspect would be in a Metro holding cell. Only the fact that she's a Federal Agent has saved her from that but she doesn't feel lucky. They took away her Sig but left her ID.
She hasn't called in yet this morning, but in time someone must call NCIS and she can't even think of anything beside Jimmy.
She knows what they'll say.
'You're fired' sounds about right.
'Are you crazy?' sounds like a very good second.
x
"Can I at least wash?" She feels the tacky dried blood on her face and chest, tastes Jimmy's blood in her mouth and fights back the nausea again.
"When the detectives get here."
She pulls up her coat sleeve. It's 7:19, she's been here with this insensitive woman all night. The team is already on duty and either Gibbs or Isles will call soon - she has Jimmy's phone in her purse and what is she going to tell them? "When will that be?"
"When they get here."
"Thank you so very much."
x
The door opens and a white smocked man and a Metro PD Officer step in. The staff member's name is in black on his long coat: L. Inkinser, Internist. She doesn't care what the Officer's name is. Her "How's my husband?" comes under the Officer's "Cut her loose." Since the Internist defers to the officer, he continues "The victim woke up for a few minutes in Recovery. He refuses to press charges."
Without another word the man and woman start to leave, their jobs over and their shifts probably ended and she doesn't give a damn. Then she remembers. "My Sig?" she asks expectantly.
"That's been vouchered," the woman says no more kindly than she's said anything all night, not slowing her trip to the door. "You can retrieve it at the Precinct."
"Thank you." She won't dredge up any gratitude. When they're gone, she turns to Inkinser. "How's my husband?"
"I won't lie to you, Mrs. Palmer, you did a hell of a lot of damage."
x
She falls a step back from his hard tone. "Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired."
"Wash your face, brush your teeth and we'll talk about it."
She wants so badly to do so but "We'll talk about it now." Where'd the timid Michelle Lee go in this past year? But that girl hadn't tried to bite off her husband's-
"How is my husband?"
"He's going to require a lot of work. A penis is for more than just for sex." He makes a visible effort to moderate his manner - it can't be easy while looking at the brown smears and lines on her face. "But we have him stabilized. He's resting comfortably, or as comfortably as he can hope to be for the next few months."
"Months?"
x
The room starts to spin. If she doesn't get this under control she'll faint. Concentrating on her Centering exercises, seeking the touch of the Goddess to steady her, she barely hears the doctor say
"This isn't setting a bone. You can't immobilize soft tissue. He'll need a colostomy and for a couple of weeks he'll drain urine externally. He also needs reconstructive surgery, and at this point I can't definitely say if he will or won't regain full use."
The room flips again. If she stays here any longer she's going to faint - or try to vomit up yesterday's long expended lunch.
"How did he ever decide not to have me busted?" she wonders, realizes too late she's said it aloud.
"You can thank his priest."
"His priest?" They've never settled on a church to call theirs, let alone selecting a - NO!
"When he came in he'd lost so much blood we might have lost him." The room cartwheels and she clutches her stomach. The Centering exercise becomes an Anchoring one, clutching the stability of the building down to the bedrock before she's sure she can stay on her feet. "He had an Emergency Alert card in his wallet. Since we couldn't call you and couldn't reach his physician, a Doctor Mallard, Reverend McGee was the only name left."
She closes her eyes and watches her doom play out on the dark screen; Siobhan to Tim to Special Agent Gibbs to...
"She convinced him not to act until he's spoken to you. She was very persuasive."
She's really getting tired of asking "Can I see him?"
xxx
Recovery is a too large chamber separated into curtained segments and when she's escorted to the proper curtain the room is turning over and over, spinning in the wrong direction and she's sure she's going to faint.
She's managed to wash her face, neck and chest, the coat is closed but he's going to take one look at her and hate her forever.
The nurse escorting her steps through the slot between two curtains and comes back out a moment later. Her expression is so kind Michelle is sure she doesn't know she's the one who hurt him.
"He's sleeping now. He's been sedated but you'll be able to wake him for a few moments."
"Thank you," she whispers. She tried to say it but her voice won't go any higher.
The woman leaves her, but she can't reach out, can't touch that curtain. She can't.
x
"Mrs. Palmer?" behind her almost makes her jump out of her skin but she turns to the white dressed blonde nurse who's even smaller than she is. "It is Mrs. Palmer, is it?"
"Y - yes." For at least until Jimmy calls a Lawyer and divorces her.
The woman holds out a small piece of paper. "Mother McGee asked me to see you get this."
"Thank you." She takes the paper and unfolds it, doesn't even see the woman depart. In Siobhan's flowing script the note says 'When you are ready, meet me in the Pastoral Care Office, 207. S McG'.
She wonders if this will be like throwing herself on the mercy of the Court.
x
Pushing the note into her purse, she turns back to the curtain. Jimmy can't be in here, he can't.
But the blood that'd coated her mouth and stained her teeth, that'd covered her lips and chin and had dripped down upon her half-bare chest won't let her deny what she'd done. Washing it away doesn't change anything. He'll drive her away, call a lawyer the minute he can reach a phone, throw her away, hate her forever.
Maybe he's not here. Maybe this is one long nightmare.
She reaches out and her hand is trembling. She touches the material and wants to be sick, wants to die. This can't - she can't have done what they say she...
She pulls the curtain aside, steps in, lets go and it falls shut behind her and he is here. It's true.
x
She doesn't want to cry but can't stop it. Fear and grief war with guilt. How can she have done...?
Tears flow down her cheeks. She can't wipe them, can't stop them. She tries to cry quietly, tries not to wake him.
He's still, placid, asleep... and she's scared to death to wake him. She covers her mouth with her hands, tries to clamp back the sobs, can't breathe then. Doesn't want to breathe. Wants to die. He should have hurt her, not her hurt him. She should be lying there, suffering in agony, facing months of operations. A colostomy bag for months - maybe forever? Maybe he'll never recover? Isn't that what the doctor said?
She cries harder, smothers herself to quiet the weeping. She can't keep it in, it tears through everything she can do. The tears rip at her until she can barely breathe, can barely stand up.
He'll hate her. He must hate her now. What she's done... she can't remember it, but he's so still, and she can't stop crying.
There's an IV bag leading by tube to a taped needle in the crook of his right arm. A bag on his left drips blood into that arm. He lost so much blood into the mattress...
He's still. He's asleep. She stands beside him, sobs breaking through her clamped hands, terrified to wake him and can't stop crying. She can't wake him. She wants to touch him, reaches out but can't touch his hand. He's asleep and she mustn't wake him.
As long as he's asleep she's still married to him.
x
She tries to take a step on trembling legs and crashes hard to her knees, her clamped hands holding back her pained cry. She kneels beside him, bent low, sobbing. If he wakes up and finds her kneeling she might be able to get an apology out before he curses her.
But it won't work. His love is over. Their marriage, so few months new, is over.
She forces herself back to hr feet, wincing at the pain, knowing she's raised new bruises but these she knows.
"Jimmy...?" she whispers behind her hands, the tears so distorting she can barely understand herself. "I'm sorry. Goddess, I'm so sorry!"
She can't breathe, crying harder still.
She's not sure if she should beg the Goddess for mercy or beg to die.
She wants to die.
For now she'll pray.
For now Jimmy's asleep.
For now she's still married to him.
She reaches out, touches him through the blanket and quickly clamps her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. She doesn't want to wake him, doesn't want anyone outside the curtains to -
She can't; they break through and shatter her. She falls to her knees, welcomes the pain, wishes she were in Hades where she can get the punishment she deserves. "Jimmy, I'm sorry! Please believe me. I'm so sorry!"
The tears, once almost half controllable, shatter her. She weeps into her hands, kneeling beside him, begging for forgiveness though she can't even understand the words.
She's so weak she's sure she's going to faint.
She'd rather die.
She sobs so hard she can't form words, no longer cares who hears.