Title: Cowards
Rating: Strong T, for some strong language.
Pairing: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay
Summary: "To any New Yorker, after 9/11 an explosion of any sort was enough to send them into a blind panic. Even police officers, who were trained to be level headed through the most intense and frightening situations found themselves fearing for their lives when facing explosions." Jess' past comes to haunt her, and Flack wants to be there.
Disclaimer: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.
A/N: This is for anyone who's been affected by 9/11, and all the service men and women (NYPD, FDNY etc) who gave their lives to help. For us Brits, it's different. Heard of the 7/7 bombings? three tubes, one bus, all blown to high heavens. My dad was on the platform of one of the tubes. He was supposed to catch it. He didn't, and he's alive. So yeah, we all have a story.
nice and angsty. But hey, this story's supposed to be dark and twisty, yes?
Jess pushed through the swarms of people, panic inside her. As soon as the call had come over the radio, her heart had begun thumping wildly, flashbacks to 9/11 coming thick and fast.
"All units, be advised we have a 10-33." the dispatcher rattled off the address quickly. "Level two mobilisation, 10-85."
Jess picked up her radio instantly. "Dispatch, Deterctive Angell, #9251. 10-5?"
"10-33, initial units on-scene, 10-85, need additional support. We have a 10-54, injuries from an explosion."
"I'm on route, please advise my Lincoln of my 10-20."
"10-4, Detective."
The conversation had been quick, but given her enough information to send a chill through her bones. She'd been informed of an explosion, with injuries. To any New Yorker, after 9/11 an explosion of any sort was enough to send them into a blind panic. Even police officers, who were trained to be level headed through the most intense and frightening situations found themselves fearing for their lives when facing explosions. The things were unbeatable, most times. They couldn't be talked down, or taken out by snipers, or a seasoned cop with a duty weapon. It was only practised, specialist officers who could disarm them, and even that didn't always work.
The suburb street should have been buzzing with the excited voices of children playing, not with reporters, crime-scene units and police screaming instructions and information over the general hubub. Jess flashed her badge to the pale-looking uni at the police tape, who immeadiatley stepped aside to let her duck under the flourescent yellow tape which always made Jess shudder. Her eyes scanned the scene, taking in the remnents of a vehicle, cops moving in every direction, all talking at once, the ambulances treating the injured... the rubble that used to be a building...
0o0o0o0o0o
The rubble was more than anyone had expected. The dust clouded into the air, choking her, filling her lungs. She tentatively rose from her position, crouching behind a van. It was one of the few that hadn't overturned. For the first time in her police career (short as it may have been), she froze, completely. People were laying in the streets, bleeding from lacerations and blunt force trauma, struck from falling concrete. All that ran through her mind was the faint bang of an explosion, and the soft pop as the rivets let go, the building falling as if in a Hollywood movie. She remembered George Sanchez, her partner for the day, pulling her behind the vehicle, shielding her from the worst of the collapse. But her dark blue uniform was now grey, coated in ash and dust.
A far away voice in her head reminded her that some of the ash would be human remains, burnt to a cinder in the explosions, maybe of her friends at the FDNY. They laughed together at crime scenes, whilst Jess watched the Detectives do their thing.
Pete Young, a fireman she was good friends with. Would he have been in there?
She turned left, and saw a woman laying on the ground, eyes staring blankly at the sky, mouth twisted into a scream. Half her head was missing, brains smeared across the road on a rock. The red was darker than she'd expected, but still bright against the smokey grey of the road, now coated with ash.
Jess turned right, and threw her doughnuts and coffee back up onto the pavement.
0o0o0o0o0o
"Jess? Jess?"
She jerked back to reality. Stella had approached her, hand on her shoulder, eyes concerned. Jess realised she was gasping for air, as though her lungs were still filled with the ash and dust. Slowly, she focussed on her breathing and tried to slow it down to a regular rhythm. "Uh, yeah. S-Sorry. Uh, what the hell's going on?"
Stella gave her one last look, before facing the wreckage. "Looks like a five-hundred pound explosive, something called Nitromethane. Took out the house, there. Flack's liasing with Agent Richardson from the FBI. One person inside the house, Felix Redman. Caught in the rubble, but seems to be okay. Adam was on-scene at the time, got him out."
Jess' head whipped round to the ambulances, where Adam was being treated by EMTs. Mac was nearby, taking a statement. To her horror, she also saw the OCME taking away a body bag. She fought back the gag reflex, remembering the body of Karen Gardener, her head cracked open like a watermelon. "Who's the DOA?"
"Jane Doe." Stella replied sadly. "We'll try ID her at the morgue, find out if she was dead before or after the explosion."
Jess nodded, watching numbly as Adam was taken away in the ambulance.
"Jess?" Stella asked tentatively. "You okay? You seem sort of shaken."
Angell nodded, not wanting to relive her nightmares, the same ones that had plagued her for years, despite seeing a shrink. "Jus' don't like explosions, I guess."
"None of us do. Flack's pretty riled up."
Jess felt stupid. Why was she so worked up, when she only saw the horrors? Flack lived them, having her insides tied together with a shoelace. She knew full well that the incident had troubled him far more than he had let on, the nightmares that had horrified him for months, left with the mass of scar tissue on his abdomen that was a constant reminder of his own mortality, to be faced on a daily basis. She had no right to be afraid. It was pathetic, really.
"I'll bet. I, uh... Is there anything I can do?" she asked.
Stella glanced round for a moment, before shaking her head. "I don't think so. We've got enough cops to take the statements. You on-shift?"
Jess shook her head. "Nope, just got the call over the radio. I'm on the anti-terror task force, but the Captain of that'll call me, breif me if I'm needed."
Stella gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "Go home, kid. You look like a ghost. Get some sleep."
Jess didn't go home.
She knew if she went home and tried to sleep, the nightmares would return.
Like so many NYPD Officers, she'd tried to help when the Towers collapsed. Her conscience was clear for that part. It was the part that came after that filled her with so much guilt that she felt like throwing up.
0o0o0o0o0o
"Officer, there's nothing you can do!" The FDNY captain held an arm out, blocking her determined path as she tried to get through to the scene.
"Jesus Christ! The frickin' World Trade Centre's collapsed with people inside and you're worried about me?" she screamed, the anger in her overcoming her panic. She was sorley tempted to punch the Captain in the face and get past him, and deal with the consequences later.
He stared her down. "Rescue teams are going in. You'll get in their way. The place is a structural minefield. You could get killed!"
"Do I look like I care?" She was in his face now, eyes levelled. "I have friends, in the FDNY, he might be in there! I have a friend who works in the South Tower! I'm not standing around out here while they could be dying!"
A Luietenant stepped forawards, sliding between the bickering pair. "Look, Cap... Give us both hats. I'll take her in. I'm trained, I'm going in anyway, and she's gonna get in there somehow... it'll be safer with me."
The Captain paused, before nodding. "Fine. Will, she's your problem. If she gets in the way, knock her out, bring her out here. We'll sort it after."
Jess bunched up her fist, raising it back, before the Luietenant caught her by the waist, leading her away. "Cool it. Name's Will Morgan."
"Jess Angell."
"I'd make a joke about falling from heaven, but it'd be in poor taste today." he replied, face sombre.
Jess didn't smile. She'd forgotten how.
0o0o0o0o0o
Jess went to the hospital. the nurse had told her where to find Adam, and she rapped lightly on the door.
"Yo." came a weary voice from within.
She opened the door to see the lab tech sat on the bed, a gash on his forehead stitched up neatly, a nice bruise developing. He looked tired and scared; the way Jess felt on the inside, she realised. "Hey, Adam. How you doin'?"
"Hey, Angell." he smiled. "I told Mac all I knew, not sure how much else I'll know."
Jess balked, before shaking her head. "No. No, I'm off duty. Just... wanted to see how you are. Y'know."
Adam looked surprised. "Oh. Well, I'm... I'm okay. For someone that's been blown up, anyhow. Better than Felix Redman, I bet, hehe." he gave a nervous chuckle, slightly intimidated by the goddess-like brunette in front of him, who so many cops had the hots for. Who he suspected Flack was at least sleeping with. Well, that was the rumour, anyhow. But he glanced at her face, saw the knotted eyebrows, tensed jaw and worried eyes. "Um... Jess... can I call you Jess?"
"Of course." she smiled, but it didn't meet her eyes.
"Jess... you seem worried. It looks like this is an isolated incident, as far as Hawkes' told me. Doesn't follow the Al Quaeda pattern, anyhow. But... can I help?"
She seemed to hesitate, opening her mouth before shaking her head. "It's okay, I'm fine. Well, if you're okay, I'll be on my way. take care." She turned abruptly, bolting for the door.
Jess sprinted down the hallway, standing in the stairwell, battling the tears pushing in her eyes, half-sobs choking in her throat. It was as if it was all real, all happening again. Every scream ripping through her head, every splattering of blood, every broken and battered body, there in front of her. The fear, the feeling of uselessness, the paralytic panic. It all came rushing back, hitting her harder than it had in the months following the attacks.
She was suddenly aware of two hands gripping her elbows, supporting her as her legs gave way, helping her to sit down on the cold lino steps. A male voice was talking to her in a calm voice, murmuring soothing words as he rubbed her back gently. Nothing which would make Jess spin round and elbow him in the gut, but just enough for her to lean against him, the sobs wracking through her body like a tidal wave.
Slowly, the crying subsided, and she begun to regain some semblence of control over her body. After a few minutes, she turned to her mystery companion. He looked to be a few years older than her, maybe mid-to-late thirties, with reddish brown hair and kind, sympathetic eyes. It was the sympathy that twisted the knife in her gut, the guilt physically hurting her. "I-"
"It's okay." he smiled gently. "Name's Doctor Field, but you can call me Ryan. Talking to crying people's sort of my job."
Jess followed his guesturing hand to the sign where it said 'Psychology'. "Oh. I'm not... I wasn't..."
"Never thought you were." He replied quickly. "NYPD, right?"
"Detective Angell. Some sort of psycho-analysis, body language thing, doc?" she gave a slight grin.
He laughed. "No, I'm not that good. Your badge."
"Oh," she said again, feeling stupid.
Ryan looked at her. "You wanna tell me why your sat in a stairwell, crying your eyes out?"
She glanced down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. "Um... you heard about the explosion, right?"
"Today? Sure, in the 'burbs. Police said its an isolated event, though." Ryan frowned.
"It is. It's just... Makes me remember. The Towers..." she admitted.
He nodded sympathetically. "Most New Yorkers have some sort of-"
She shook her head impatiently. "No, Doc. I'm a cop, I was there. I went inside, tried to rescue..." she stopped, grinding her teeth as she fought back yet more tears. "It's not, I... they're dead, and I-"
"Listen to me, Angell. It's not your fault, none of it. You tried to help, and that makes you incredibly brave-"
"And stupid."
"Maybe a little. But you tried, and that's what counts. Angell, no matter what happened, you tried to help. Oh-" he glanced up, seeing someone approach. Jess kept her head down, not wanting to be seen after so obviously crying. "Detective, hi. Been a while since I've seen you around here."
Jess' cheeks burned. A Detective? That was all she needed. Everyone knew who Angell was, she was one of only a handful of females in the homicide squad, and looking like she did made her infamous in the NYPD.
"Hey, doc. Um... sorry, if you're with a patient..."
Her head jerked up at his voice, like a reflex. As Don's gaze met her red rimmed eyes, he moved forwards automatically, dropping to his knees, taking her face in his hands. "Jess? What... What's happened? Are you okay?"
His hands felt comforting and warm against her face, and she allowed the tears to fall, relapsing into her previous state.
Dr Field watched as Don pulled Angell effortlessly forwards, and onto his lap, cradling her against his chest. His eyes were wide with shock and worry, but he spoke calmly to her, coaxing her gently. He could've left them to it, but if he was right about Jess, she was going to need some help, and Detective Flack may have been just the person to give it to her.
0o0o0o0o0o
"Follow me, okay? Jess, you listenin'?" Will's voice snapped her attention back, forcing her to look ahead, not at the wreckage around them.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, 'm listenin'." she replied. "I just... I-"
"I know." he cut her off, empathising. "So, who's your friend in the FDNY? The one you're riskin' your ass in here to see if he's in here."
"Pete. Pete Young. He, uh... was at a coupl'a my scenes, we got chatting. Good friend, actually."
Will nodded, the light attatched to his helmet bobbing. "Yeah, I know him. Hey, you wouldn't be the Jess he keeps talkin' 'bout all the time, would you? The one with enough brothers to beat the hell outta him?"
She chuckled. "Nah. I've sparred with Pete. I could beat the hell outta him."
"Jess, he lets you win. You seen the size a'Pete? He could take on bouncers and win."
"So could I! They're slow, and full a'steroids. Feint left, duck right and slug 'em with a right hook to the jaw, and a kick to the-"
"Jess, he lets you win cause he likes you." Will exclaimed in exasperation. "Jeez! We all wondered why he didn't ask you out, but after spending ten freakin' minutes with you, I realise he probably did, you just didn't realise. For a smart person, you're pretty dumb at times."
Jess was about to respond, before her eye caught something, and she turned to look, her headlamp illuminating the twisted body in front of her. "Oh, oh God... Will! Will, get over here, now!"
Will shuffled back, shoulders rounded against the debris which was all around them. His face was streaked with ash and sweat, filled with worry. "What? Oh-" He followed Jess' gaze to where Will was laying, blood spreading from his thigh at a rapid rate where a long shard of metal had become lodged. "Jess! Check for a pulse, I'm gonna try put his leg back together..."
Jess' shaking fingers sought out her friends neck, and pressed against it. She gasped as she felt he blood flow, albeit weak. "I've got it! Barely there, but..."
"Check breathing," Will instructed. "Damnit. Shards pierced the femoral artery... You got a bootlace?"
Jess nodded, fumbling slightly as she passed it to the fireman. "He's breathing."
"Good, make sure he stays that way. If he needs CPR, can you do it?"
"I'm a cop. I know CP-freaking-R!" she shot back, the hysteria beginning to set in.
Will ignored her, trying to feel through the blood around the metal for the artery walls, not wanting to remove the shard until he could fix the torn artery, as Pete would only have a couple of minutes until he bled out. "Damnit!"
Jess watched him warily. "What?"
"Everytime I try get hold of it, it shrinks up into the groin." Will muttered, frowning in concentration. "I just need... Come here."
Jess looked confused. "But, I thought-"
"Look around, Jess. You don't have time to think. The goddamn World Trade Centre's collapsed. Now, if you want to help me save his life, come here."
She moved obediebtly.
"Right, you squeamish?"
"Not hardly."
"Good." He held her fingers lightly, guiding them through the deep laceration and up towards Pete's groin. "Feel that? That's part of the arterial wall. Hold onto it. Do not let go, you hear me?"
She nodded. "I hear ya."
Will moved his fangers, working quickly to secure as much of the tear as he could before he removed the metal, so there was less to do in the short space of time he had available. It was unfortunate that the only equipment he had with him was a rudimentary field kit, with a needle, thread and some superglue. In this situation, he felt superglue was going to be the quickest option. the hospital could dead with the infection once they were all out of there. Once he'd repaired as much damage as he could, he turned to Jess, grimacing. "Okay, I'm gonna pull the metal out, an' I want you to hold on tight, and pull the artery down to me, okay?"
"Okay."
"On three, one, two... three!"
They worked quickly, pulling, glueing and soaking up the steady stream of blood in silence for a few minutes, until Will sat back with a sigh of relief. Jess grinned as she pressed her fingers to Pete's neck. "Pulse's there. A little stronger now."
Will beamed in response. "See, I told ya-"
Something caught Jess' eye. The beam above them, swaying precariously, about to - "Look out!" she screamed.
Will tried to move, but it was too late. The beam fell, crushing his chest in an instant. Jess screamed again, horrified at what she was seeing. Her first instinct was to run, but she swallowed it, moving to where Will's head was. She leaned forwards, pinching his nose and covering his mouth with hers, giving two short puffs.
If she could keep him alive, maybe things would be okay.
0o0o0o0o0o
Dr Field had moved them both to a patient room, instructing Jess to sit on the bed. "Now, Jess... I think you may have a case of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder, commonly known as PTSD. It's a disorder-"
"I know what it is, Doc. I'm a cop. We have a departmental shrink, even if his head is up his ass." She replied scathingly.
"Well-" he glanced hesitantly towards Flack, who was leaning against the door, casually blocking the window so that no-one could see in. "Do you mind if I tell her?"
"Go ahead."
Ryan turned to Jess. "I know how cops feel about shrinks. But you need to talk to someone, otherwise this isn't going to go away. Now... After the bombing, Flack also suffered from PTSD."
Jess didn't give any reaction. She'd known about the nightmares, of course, but never thought anything of it. Her Dad used to tell her that as a cop, the day you stop having nightmares about what you see is the day you should retire.
Flack shrugged. "Look, Jess... I know how you feel, alright? It's a weakness, it's shameful, etc. But listen to me, it's not your fault and it will eat you alive if you don't conquer this, okay? So just... tell me what happened. Talk to me."
So she did. Everything.
0o0o0o0o0o
"Breathe, Will!" Jess screamed at the lifeless figure in front of her, cradling the firefighter's head in her lap. "Breathe!"
A light flashed past, shouts echoing in the wreckage. But she ignored them, focussing instead on the two casualties in front of her.
Pete had stopped breathing also. She'd taken it in turnes for their CPR, two minutes a'piece. She was scared. Because neither of them would wake up. Neither of them would breathe.
"Officer Angell!"
She vaguely recognised the firefighter in front of her, eyes widened as he took in her disheveled appearance. The uniform and protective gear that Will had leant her was now covered in blood, smeared with reddish brown stains, just like everything else around them.
"Angell, you alright? Are you hurt?"
"They won't breathe..." she whispered.
He reached forwards, twisting her arm as he yanked her away from the bodies, pulling her closely to him as he guided her towards the glimmers of daylight. "It's okay, I gotcha."
"They won't breathe..." she repeated, feeling numb.
The Captain greeted her as she blinked rapidly, stumbling in the harsh light. "Officer Angell, I'm glad-"
"They won't breathe..." she insisted.
"Who?"
"Will and Pete." The firefighter explained bleakly.
The Captain nodded. "Okay, Angell. It's okay. You're a hero, okay?"
"No." she whispered to herself. "No, I'm not.
0o0o0o0o0o0o
"It's not you fault, Jess." Flack told her sincerely when they arrived back at her apartment. "You did everything you could."
"Will's dead because of me." she reminded him.
He grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Jessica, it is not your fault. You don't think Will'd have gone in there anyway? You tried, and that's all that matters. It is not your fault."
They both jumped as his cellphone rang loudly.
"Danno." he greeted his friend.
"ImarriedMontana."
"Huh? Say that again, slowly."
"I married Montana. Lindsay."
"What?" Shock ran though his body like ice water.
"Look, I'm sorry you weren't there, neither was the doc. But... I love her, man. All I want is her. So-"
"No, I'm happy for you, really." Flack insisted, one hand still holding Jess' shoulder. "Uh... congratulations." He mouthed one sec to Jess, and headed for her bathroom, familliar with the layout.
"You wanna come for a drink?"
"Can't." he sighed. "Uh... a little busy at the moment."
"Girl problems?"
"Jess problems."
"Good luck, brother."
"Yeah. Congratulations, bud. My best to Mrs Messer."
Jess looked startled as she strode back into the room, locking his hand around the back of her neck and kissing her deeply, his tongue tracing the line of her mouth. Her arms reached up, locking around his neck as his slid to her waist, pulling her tightly against him. And she knew that things would be okay. Not great, happily ever after, but okay. better. Because the kiss wasn't the anger it usually was. It was filled with hope and passion as he leaned into it, walking her back against the wall. There was something different.
So yes, the nightmares would come.
But he would be there.