A/N: This is not a happy fic. In fact, it's decidedly dark. Just be happy it's not happening to Jules, since she always gets treated rotten by you ficcers out there. And Donna gets no love, either, so I decided to give her a long piece here. Please note that the rating for this collection of stories has changed to T, just to be on the safe side. Don't ask me where this story idea came from, because I don't know. But what my muse sings, I write.
Five Things That Never Happened to Donna Sabine
Law of Averages
Intellectually, Donna knew that staring at the strip of chemically-treated paper was not going to make the result appear any faster than the instructions on the box said it would. But she just couldn't help herself.
"Is anything happening yet?"
Donna heard Chad's anxious voice right behind her shoulder. She'd sensed his hovering presence much earlier, and was impressed he'd kept his silence even this long. Minutes before, he'd afforded her some privacy in the bathroom, sheepishly slipping out the door when she told him she needed some space. He'd waited until the splashing sounds of Donna's hand-washing had stopped before he made his return.
"No, nothing yet," Donna replied with a patience she was surprised she could muster, given her own growing sense of anticipation.
She heard her husband sigh softly, and felt his arms go around her. "We've just been trying so long..."
"I know," Donna said, leaning into him. Five years of disappointments and dashed hopes...
"This is killing me," Chad muttered. "These are always the longest five minutes of my life; waiting to see if this stupid thing indicates if it's a positive or a negative."
The longest five minutes of my life, too, Chad, Donna thought, you're not the only one.
"Chad..." she said moments later, scrutinizing the home pregnancy test to be sure her eyes weren't deceiving her. "I think..."
"What?" Chad's embrace tightened, his voice anxious. "Do you see something happening?"
"Yes. It's faint, but... I think that's a blue line. I think it's positive..." She didn't want to sound too excited, lest she be wrong. She didn't want to give him false hope.
"Let me see!" Chad cried, releasing Donna and reaching for the test. She let him have a look for himself.
"Tell me I'm not crazy," Donna said, shaking her head. "Tell me you see what I see."
Chad peered at the test result, then a wide grin broke out on his face. "Like you said, it's faint, but that's definitely a blue line!"
Donna sighed in relief. "It's a positive. I almost can't believe it."
"I'm gonna be a daddy," Chad said wonderingly. "I'm gonna be a daddy!"
In his elation he grabbed Donna and spun her around, and let out a whoop of joy. Donna joined in his celebration, laughing with delight as she held on to him.
"You know what this means, right?" Chad asked her, after the initial euphoria of the good news had died down. He searched her blue eyes intently.
"What?" Donna asked. A million thoughts flashed through her mind in reply to her husband's question. It means we'll finally have a use for the nursery. It means we'll be looking at names for the baby. It means we're finally going to be parents. It means... Oh, it means so much, I can't even think straight right now.
"It means..." Chad said with emphasis, "that you don't have to be walking the beat anymore."
Donna felt as if he'd thrown cold water on her.
"Chad," she said, doing her level best to ensure she kept her irritation at bay, "we've been through this. I love my job. I'm not dropping out of the force automatically just because I'm pregnant, or any other reason, for that matter."
"So you'd willingly put the baby at risk," Chad said accusingly. Unspoken anger registered on his features.
"You make it sound like I don't care, and you know that isn't true," she tried to sound conciliatory. "I want this, Chad, just as much as you do."
"Oh, really?" Chad said, folding his arms.
"Yes."
"Prove it."
"What?"
"Prove to me that having a family is more important to you than being a cop. Talk to your supervisor. Put in for desk duty if you're really going to be stubborn about staying on the force."
"That isn't fair, Chad," Donna said. "My job isn't a hobby, or recreation. It's my career, and working behind a desk isn't why I became a police officer."
"So you're not even going to ask for light duty," Chad said sullenly."You're going to go right back out tomorrow morning like nothing has changed, putting yourself and the baby at risk, all because you're too focused on your little career."
"Chad!" Donna exclaimed, getting more upset at herself that she was allowing him to push her buttons.
"You're so selfish, you know that? I thought you wanted this, Donna, I really did. But clearly, we're on totally different pages."
Chad stalked out of the bathroom, leaving behind a palpable sense of hostility in his wake.
"What's the matter with you?" Donna called out after him. "A minute ago you were the happiest man on the planet. Chad! Come on. Don't be like that."
But he didn't answer her.
Donna turned back and faced her reflection in the mirror, and was surprised to see that she was visibly trembling. She replayed their angry exchange in her mind, trying to sort through exactly how everything had fallen off the track so quickly.
Donna sulked. You knew what you were getting into when we got together, Chad. You knew I was a police constable. If you knew you weren't going to be able to accept that, why did you ask me to marry you?
They'd had battles over her choice in profession in the past, but she'd always held her ground, arguing that she was good at her job, and that it was her choice.
But every time there was a law enforcement fatality anywhere, Chad always threw it in Donna's face as evidence that she should resign and move on to something less dangerous... and every time it infuriated her.
Donna tossed the pregnancy test in the garbage, her earlier joy turned sour. She went into the living room, thinking of ways to confront her husband and disarm the situation.
"Chad, I know you're upset," she said, approaching him calmly.
He gave a scornful snort in reply.
"What is the underlying issue here? You've never liked that I'm a police officer; I get that. I get it loud and clear. But what I want to know is why. Is it because of the hours? Is it because you think I can't handle the stress...? That I might have an affair with another officer? What?" She was grasping at straws with the last one, but she was too frustrated to care.
"Oh, gee, I don't know, Donna," Chad spat sarcastically. "Maybe it's because I don't want you to get shot! Did you ever think about that?"
Donna sighed, and did her utmost not to treat him condescendingly. She drew a calming breath before speaking, but it didn't really help. "Are you serious, Chad? Get real. If that's what you're really worried about, let me give you a little perspective, since yours is obviously skewed. In the past twenty years, approximately one hundred and fifty-six law enforcement officers have been killed in the line of duty in this country. You want to know how many of those were due to gunfire? Thirty-five."
"Is this supposed to make me feel better or worse?" Chad growled.
"Just let me finish, will you?" Donna pleaded. "Out of all those one hundred and fifty-six deaths, only fifteen were female. If you do the math, that's less that one death per year, on average, in twenty years."
Chad grunted skeptically, but Donna continued. "Out of those thirty-five shooting fatalities, only five were women. That's about fourteen percent."
"And your point?"
"My point is, if, heaven forbid, I get killed in the line of duty, it's much more likely I'm going to die due to a much more innocuous reason, like a traffic accident or something. That doesn't mean I shouldn't get behind the wheel of my squad car, does it?"
"So let me get this straight," Chad said, his voice low and mocking, "one hundred and fifty-six officers died in the line of duty in the past twenty years, and thirty-five of them were shot to death..."
"Yes," Donna replied. "May they rest in peace."
"Sure, whatever. You say five out of those thirty-five were women. That means thirty were men, right?"
"Yes. I'm so glad you were paying attention."
"So, if you do the math, as you say, that works out to thirty male gunshot victims out of one hundred and forty-one total, and five female gunshot victims out of fifteen total. Am I right?"
"You got it," Donna said with a nod.
Chad looked like he was working some quick mental arithmetic. "That works out to... twenty-one percent of all male line-of-duty deaths due to gunshots versus, let's see... thirty-three percent of all female line-of-duty deaths. Looks to me that if you're female, you're much more likely to die getting shot than your male counterparts. Great, Donna. I feel much better now. So cheered to know that one third of all female officers killed on duty died because they were shot!"
Donna groaned in exasperation. Somehow, he was finding a way to twist her statistics.
"You shouldn't ever argue numbers and averages with a lawyer, Donna," he said nastily, "we know how to make them work in our favour. Want to discuss instead the rates of divorce among law enforcement officers?"
Donna rolled her eyes. "You know as well as I do that it's a myth that divorce rates among law enforcement officers are higher than the national average."
"So we're bucking the trend, then? You're not invincible, Donna. You do know that, right?" Chad sneered.
"For God's sake, of course I know it!" Donna snapped. "I could get killed just trying to cross the street! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm much more likely to die in a car accident than getting shot. It's the same thing for you, but you don't see me stopping you from driving to court everyday!"
"Stow it," Chad retorted, "you lost the argument. Your job's way more dangerous than mine on any given day. Putting yourself in the line of fire is foolhardy and totally unnecessary!"
"Oh, you are such a chauvinist!" Donna sputtered. "If our roles were reversed, I wouldn't be asking you to step down from your job because I was afraid our baby mightn't grow up without a father!"
"And see that's just it, isn't it?" Chad rebutted, raising his voice, "there won't be any growing up for our baby if something happens to you! It blows my mind that you can't see that! You know what? I'm done arguing..."
Chad stormed out of the living room, his face red with fury.
Donna stared after him, her fists balled in frustration. She made a move to follow him, but decided to let him cool off before she attempted a reconciliation.
After their blow-up, Chad did not speak a word to Donna for the rest of the night, and they'd gone to sleep in separate beds. He'd gone to the guest room while Donna had lain awake for several hours, hoping that he would relent, and that he would come creeping back into their room, ready to make up.
When Donna awoke the next morning after a fitful sleep, it was with an awareness that the spot next to her on the bed was empty. She got up and went through her usual morning routine efficiently, all the while wondering what she was going to say to Chad.
One thing was certain: she wasn't going to quit being a police officer any time soon. Donna determined that as long as she was physically able to perform her duties, she was going to continue. She wasn't going to buy into her husband's paranoia, and she wasn't going to let him guilt her into desk duty. She was going to take her maternity leave when she was good and ready.
Chad was already awake and reading the newspaper when Donna entered the kitchen. He pointedly ignored her presence, and kept his face hidden behind the Sports section.
She hated being the recipient of the silent treatment, and wanted to end the standoff.
"Chad," she started to say, but was rudely interrupted.
"If the next words out of your mouth aren't some combination of: 'Chad, I'm going to speak to my supervisor to put in for desk duty today', then don't bother to say another word to me, ever, because I certainly have nothing else to say to you."
Donna bit back an angry retort. She noticed he didn't even bother to lower the paper while issuing that ultimatum.
Fine, Chad, she thought. If that's the way you want it, I can play this game, too. If you don't want to talk, we're not going to talk.
Donna didn't usually like leaving for work on an acrimonious note, but this morning, she knew Chad's attitude would ensure they weren't going to be on speaking terms for quite a while.
Her partner, Constable Sheldon Wong, noticed her mood as soon as they were into their patrol. While Donna drove, he casually asked what was bothering her.
Donna liked and respected Sheldon, and appreciated that he was concerned, yet she wasn't sure how much she ought to share. The elation at finding out she was pregnant was overshadowed by Chad's attitude towards her career, and his negativity was clearly impacting her enough for Sheldon to notice.
"You know you can't put anything past me, Sabine," he said with a cocky smile. "I know you too well. Spill it."
Keeping her eyes on the road, Donna answered him. "Fine, I will. But you need to keep this completely to yourself...at least for now."
Shel put his hands up defensively. "This is me you're talking to; of course I won't leak anything you say if you don't want me to."
"Nobody else knows except me and Chad... I mean, not even my parents know yet... and I still have to confirm with my doctor, but... I found out yesterday that I'm pregnant."
"Hey, that's great! Congratulations!" Sheldon said enthusiastically.
"It is great," Donna said wryly, "except Chad's being a total ass about me being on the job. We had this big fight last night about it, and he's giving me the cold shoulder. Says he doesn't even want to hear another word from me unless I immediately put in for – get this – desk duty."
"Ouch," Sheldon said. "Sorry to hear that. What is that guy's problem, anyway?"
"He's a chauvinist pig, that's what," Donna responded. "He just has this irrational way of thinking about safety on the job. I tried telling him some simple facts about fatalities based on some stats from the past twenty years, and he instantly twisted them around."
"What are you going to do?" Sheldon asked.
"I don't know," Donna answered with a tired sigh. "He won't listen to reason, but I am not going to be sitting behind a desk for the next nine months."
"Well, I for one wouldn't want to be involved in a standoff with you," Sheldon said. "Clearly Chad doesn't know how strong-willed you are -Whoa! Did you see that? That red Toyota just blew through that red light in the intersection ahead of us!"
"I saw it! He almost nailed that poor pedestrian, too," Donna said, and kicked into pursuit mode. Sirens blaring and lights flashing, she maneuvered the squad car into a position behind the car that had just violated a couple traffic laws. She had a gut feeling by the end of the chase, it was likely the driver would be slapped with a few more violations, too.
While Sheldon radioed in their position and pursuit, Donna kept her eyes focused on the Toyota that was travelling at speeds in contravention of the posted limits.
"I can make out two people in there," Sheldon said. "Driver and passenger-side occupant. License plate is obscured by dirt, though," Sheldon muttered.
"Probably on purpose," Donna said. She pushed the speed of the squad car, all the while making sure their quarry didn't also push things to unsafe levels that might endanger innocent civilians.
Fortunately, they were now racing along a stretch of highway that at present wasn't terribly busy. The risk was so far minimal, and Donna hoped to keep it that way.
Then, as if the driver sensed that a chase wasn't worth it, the Toyota slowed and pulled to the shoulder, coming to a complete stop.
"Smart move," Donna said aloud. She looked to Sheldon. "I'll get this one."
"Go for it, partner," he said.
Donna stepped out of the squad car and slowly and deliberately approached the driver's side of the Toyota. Even on a supposedly 'routine' stop, she knew she couldn't afford let down her guard for a moment.
She didn't have to prompt the driver to roll down the window, as it came down as soon as she reached it. Donna stole a glance inside, and took in as many details as quickly as possible. The driver was a white male who looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties. He was casually dressed in a denim jacket, black T-shirt and jeans. He had a few days' worth of stubble on his face, and had a head of closely-cropped, dark brown hair.
His occupant was a white female, and looked to be in her mid-to late twenties. She had long, black hair, and wore a sleeveless white blouse and black jeans. She wore no makeup, but had an expensive-looking diamond ring on her left hand.
Donna wasn't sure if it was an engagement ring, so she wasn't about to jump to any conclusions about the possible relationship between the couple before her.
"Good morning, folks," Donna said to them. "I'm Constable Donna Sabine. Thanks for pulling over. Now, I'm quite sure you know why you've been pulled over, but I'm going to tell you why, anyway. You were observed speeding through a red light. You were observed nearly striking a pedestrian in a crosswalk. You were also observed driving above the posted speed limit. You're also driving with obscured plates. I want to see your license and registration now, please."
The man shot his passenger a sideways glance. She sent a look back to him.
Donna felt slightly uneasy at the silent exchange, and kept her eyes on the driver's hands which were sitting idly on his lap.
"License and registration? Sure, Constable," the man said amiably, while the young woman reached for the glove compartment.
The man made a show of squirming in his seat in order to slip his hand into his back pocket for his wallet.
The woman popped open the glove box while Donna watched. The hatch dropped down, and the woman reached inside to grab at the contents.
With a flash of alarm, Donna saw the woman withdraw a handgun. Her hand flew to her sidearm at her hip, as she simultaneously yelled: "Put it down!"
But her shouted command was drowned out by the sound of gunfire as the woman quickly fired off two shots through the open window.
It took a few moments for the impact of the bullets to register, and Donna reeled from the force of them striking her in the abdomen. She struggled to maintain her balance, and eventually toppled backwards, collapsing to the asphalt.
"Sabine!"
Donna heard Sheldon's frantic cry of alarm, and the sound of the Toyota's engine roaring to life. She then heard the squeal of tires, and smelled burning rubber and exhaust fumes as the car sped away.
"Officer down! Requesting immediate assistance! Shots fired! Officer down!"
The voice of her partner seemed to be coming from a great distance away, even though Donna knew he was shouting at top of his lungs into his radio.
I've been shot! Donna thought incredulously as she lay supine on the road, sprawled perpendicular to both lanes of highway. That woman shot me! She didn't have to shoot me... she had no reason to shoot me! This isn't supposed to have happened. The law of averages is supposed to be on my side!
Without warning, the pain hit. It came on suddenly and unrelentingly, and Donna clenched her teeth in agony. A groan escaped her lips, and she knew with sickening certainty that her vest hadn't stopped the bullets.
She became aware of Sheldon kneeling at her side.
"Don't try to move," he said, his hands swiftly pulling open her uniform shirt to assess the damage.
"The vest didn't stop..." Donna gasped. She saw him send her a look of consternation.
"You're bleeding," Sheldon said, his tone edged with panic. "A lot. But I've called for help."
Donna nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and clenched her teeth once again against waves of pain.
"Just stay with me, okay? You're going to pull through this," Sheldon said, putting up a brave front. He took one of her hands in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Help is coming...stay with me..." The words became a kind of mantra.
Donna's vision began to swim, blackness pressing in on the outer edges of her periphery. The world began to spin, and Sheldon's voice became little more than soothing background noise. It would be so easy to go to sleep now; to succumb to that blackness that was slowly creeping across her entire line of sight.
Chad... the baby... Oh, no... Chad's going to kill me...
Going to sleep seemed a much more attractive option than the physical and emotional pain she was experiencing...
"Don't, Donna!" Sheldon ordered, snapping her back to the present moment. "Don't you dare let go!"
Sirens. Through her groggy, near-unconscious state, Donna recognized ambulance and cruiser sirens. They were coming for her.
She let out a sigh of relief, and allowed herself to drift off.
When Donna awoke, it was with a sense that something was very wrong. She heard the beeping of machines, and the hiss of blood pressure monitors. She felt stiff and cold and nauseated.
I'm in a hospital, Donna felt as if her whole midsection had taken the brunt of a blow from a wrecking ball. What happened to me?
Then the memory of what had transpired earlier came back to her. The red Toyota. The man and woman; the gun... getting shot... Sheldon's frightened face just hovering above hers as he tried to stem the flow of blood...
How bad was I hurt? The vest was ineffective. Is anyone out there aware I'm awake? Have they taken steps to make sure the baby is okay?
Fear that her pregnancy was in jeopardy made her breath catch in her throat and her skin prickle.
Eventually, nurses and doctors came, assessing and talking with Donna about her condition.
"You were out of consciousness for two days," one doctor informed her.
The badge on the white coat identified her as 'Dr. Phoebe Bennett'.
"Why that long?" Donna asked, surprised by this.
"You incurred massive blood loss due to the trauma suffered when you were shot, Constable," the doctor replied. "There was some concern about coma, but you didn't slip that far, and thankfully, you're awake now."
"How bad was it?" Donna asked.
"The first bullet missed your vital organs, but nicked an artery, which would account for the blood loss. The second one penetrated your liver. However, we expect you'll make a full recovery."
Donna was wondering how she should even ask about the status of her pregnancy, since Dr. Bennett hadn't addressed it.
"Doctor, when I was brought in, did my partner say anything about me... expecting?"
The medical professional frowned. She flipped through Donna's chart. "I wasn't on duty when you were brought in," she said guardedly.
"The thing is, I took a home pregnancy test yester – no, three days ago now, I guess. It was positive." Donna stared uneasily at the other woman. She had a terrible feeling that the doctor was holding something back.
"It's standard procedure to perform a urine pregnancy test on females admitted with penetrating abdominal injuries like yours," Dr. Bennett explained. "At the time, levels of the hGC hormone indicated you were probably pregnant."
Were? Probably?
"We could check the levels again from a blood draw if you like, but... you're actually menstruating right now."
No, Donna thought. This is a nightmare! This can't have happened. I can't have lost the baby. She wiped away tears that were spilling from the corners of her eyes.
"I am sorry, Constable," the doctor said with genuine compassion. "The trauma your body's been through over the past 72 hours..."
"Does my husband know? Is he here?" Donna asked, dreading Chad's reaction.
"I don't know," the doctor answered. "But your partner - Constable Wong, I think - he's been stopping by every day. He asked to be informed when you woke up."
Donna nodded, her sense of loss threatening to overwhelm her. There was the tiniest modicum of relief at the prospect that at least Sheldon was concerned about her, and it helped buoy her sinking spirits.
After asking the usual questions about Donna's comfort level and pain tolerance, Dr. Bennett finally left the room.
There wasn't much time to reflect on how badly things had gone, for Sheldon poked his head into the room two minutes after Dr. Bennett's departure. In his hand was a bouquet of red carnations and yellow roses.
"May I come in?" he asked, his face filled with concern and worry.
Donna nodded, and gave him a faint smile of welcome.
"I brought you these," he said, placing the bouquet on the bedside table. "Red carnations mean 'admiration' and 'my heart aches for you', and yellow roses can mean 'friendship' and 'welcome back'. It's corny, I know, but... damn it, Sabine, you had all us really worried for a while there."
"Thank you, Shel," Donna said appreciatively. "I don't know how many guys even care about what flowers mean these days."
"Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm a romantic at heart. But seriously, Donna... how are you feeling?"
Donna wasn't quite sure how to answer. "Not good, Shel," she managed to say, before her eyes began to brim with tears again. "That woman shot me! Remember how I told you I had a positive pregnancy test result?"
"Yeah..." Sheldon answered.
"I'm not pregnant anymore," Donna said bitterly.
Sheldon lowered his head. "I was afraid of that. I'm sorry, partner..."
"Chad will never talk to me again."
"Of course he will," Sheldon said, though to his own ears, he knew he sounded unconvincing.
"Did you at least catch them?" Donna asked, knowing her buddies on the force would have pursued her assailants without cease.
"Yeah, we got 'em," Shel replied. "SRU brought them down after a standoff in a mall parking lot."
"I guess I'm just looking for answers," Donna said. "Why did that woman open fire on me? They must have been running for some reason we didn't know about..."
"You're right," Shel replied. "The woman's dad owned a jewellery shop. One of the SRU team members found him and the wife shot to death in their home, the safes in the house and the store open and emptied. We think the daughter – your shooter – knew combinations, and the boyfriend – that's the driver, helped her clean out all the valuables. They then proceeded to steal several cars in succession. The owner of that red Toyota we chased? He didn't even know it was missing until he saw the news report about it. Then, in the mall parking lot, they tried to steal another car. I guess the driver wasn't fast enough and they shot him, too."
"They were out on a crime spree?" Donna asked, her gut lurching at this revelation.
"Looks that way," Shel said. "I can't tell you how much I wish I'd insisted on taking that one, Donna. When I saw you go down..."
Donna shut her eyes. "Please... I don't want to think about it anymore..."
"Sorry." He quickly changed the subject. "Your parents flew in from Montreal. They're staying at the Ramada, I think... I should probably find out if the hospital has told them you're awake."
"Would you? They've probably been worrying themselves sick," Donna said. She didn't really want Sheldon to leave. At the moment, she was craving human support and contact, but she knew it wasn't right to expect him to provide it. What she wanted most was for Chad to be the kind of husband she desperately wanted and needed him to be.
A half hour after Sheldon left, Donna saw a familiar figure standing in the doorway.
"Chad?" she said, looking at him, silently begging for him to enter. She so wanted him to comfort and console her, but instead, his face reflected anger, disgust and... hate; ugly, unvarnished hate.
His eyes pierced her to the soul, convicting her, sending a shiver through her whole body.
Without a word, he spun on his heel and left.
After that, the only words that were ever exchanged between them was through their divorce lawyers.
END
A/N: The statistics used in this story are for the most part an accurate reflection of police fatalities in Canada from 1987 - 2007. God bless those men and women who've made that ultimate sacrifice while fulfilling their duty.