Regarding Abe

12:53 AM...

The hospital waiting room at that hour was cold and cheerless, despite the bright red vinyl-covered sofas and mish-mash of frayed-edged and newer magazines on several of the end tables. NYPD Homocide Det. Jo Martinez watched helplessly as her unofficial crime-solving partner, Dr. Henry Morgan, bounced up to his feet yet again and paced the short hallway for the hundredth or so time. He shoved his hands down into his pockets as he paced, occasionally removing one or both to rifle through his disheveled, wavy locks. His haggard, sleep-deprived look stood in stark contrast to his usually well-groomed, handsome appearance.

Earlier, 6:15 PM...

A wayward driver claimed to have mistakenly stepped on the gas pedal instead of the brakes and driven her car up onto the curb and into a crowded bagel shop. Several people, including Abe, had been injured. Another had died at the scene and a second had died in the ER. Miraculously, Abe had remained conscious for several minutes only to have slipped into a coma during the ambulance ride to the hospital. Henry had gotten the call just about quitting time at the morgue from Abe's friend, Morty, who had himself escaped injury by only inches. The awful news had immediately quashed any dinner plans he'd had with Jo.

8:30 PM...

She was met with resistance when she'd suggested he get something to eat. He finally agreed to coffee. Black. The vending machine at the end of the hall offered her a bottled latte. Bleah!

9:22 PM...

She'd succumbed to her own hunger, settling for a package of chocolate mini-donuts from the vending machine. She'd washed a couple down with some apple juice (only a bit better than the bottled latte) and tendered the package to him but he'd refused with a quick shake of the head.

10:38 PM...

She'd given up trying to convince him to go home and get some sleep, shower, a change of clothes. After he'd startled her with an angrily growled refusal, he'd just as quickly won her forgiveness with his heartfelt apology. He'd explained his ill temperament was from worry over his elderly roommate's condition and he had no intentions of leaving until he'd seen him.

1:17 AM...

They'd only been dating a little over a month but were growing closer every day. Even so, Jo still wondered just how her new boyfriend and his elderly roommate, Abe, were related. It was obvious that the two of them were close, very close, and had known each other for many years. The mutual love and respect between the two men were unmistakeable and touching to witness, if one had a trained eye like she did, but she couldn't help but feel a bit left out at times. Their banter and inside jokes sometimes escaped her and only made her further realize that there was something they both were hiding from her. She'd finally worked up the nerve to confront Henry over dinner yesterday evening, but those plans got derailed after Abe's injury and hospitalization. That could wait. Henry needed her now.

She couldn't help but think about the look of fear and worry in his eyes. Her partner, Hanson, and his wife, Karen, had worn that same look right after the birth of their second child, born premature with a hole in his little heart. The little guy'd survived but the waiting had done a job on his parents. Her own parents had also worn that look of quiet desperation, as they'd all sat vigil in this very same hospital while her younger sister underwent surgery to repair a broken neck from a fall. It was the waiting and not knowing that wearied them to the bone and aged them before her very eyes. A parent's painful vigil over a sick or injured child.

Suddenly, it hit her like a ton of bricks. But no, no, it just wasn't possible. Abe was over 70 and Henry was only half his age. She looked up as Henry once again returned from his latest pacing round and sagged back down onto the sofa next to her. He had the look of a parent who'd received dreadful news about their child ... child? ... but determinedly clung to every hope for the best outcome. Hanson's words rung in her ears when remembering that time. 'If you believe in God you'll pray to Him, if you don't, you'll pray to Him, anyway because it's your kid.'

Jo placed her hand on Henry's and squeezed it. He turned his hand upside down and grasped hers, interlacing their fingers. "He's your son, isn't he?" she whispered.

He snapped his head in her direction, speechless and dumbfounded by her question. His eyes, large with fear, met hers but gradually his countenance calmed. He was ... busted, as his young assistant, Lucas, would say. How she had figured it out, he did not know. But deep down inside, he was glad. No more lies. No more half truths. He'd planned to come clean with her over dinner the previous evening, anyway.

"Yes. Yes, he is." he answered, relief and pride evident in his voice. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. He looked sheepishly at her and confessed, "Believe it or not, I was going to tell you all about it during dinner last night." He chuckled a bit.

She squeezed his hand again and let out her own little chuckle. "Believe it or not, I was going to confront you about Abe over dinner last night." He lifted their hands and kissed the back of hers. They smiled for a few moments at each other until they once again realized the reason for their vigil. Then the serious expressions returned to both their faces.

"I wasn't ready for this, Jo. After all these years, you'd think that I would have been, but ..." A sob crushed the rest of his words. He'd been trying to hold it in. No one else understood the pain and anxiety he was going through, simply because they didn't know Abe's true connection to him. But now that Jo had figured it out on her own, he felt it was okay to let some of his emotions drain from him before he burst at the seams.

She scooted closer to him and caressed the back of his head. "We're never ready for something like this, Henry. We want our loved ones to live long, happy lives free of suffering and pain, but it just doesn't work out that way."

He nodded, his eyes darting everywhere but at her. He sniffed and covered his mouth with his hand and then plunged his head into both hands. "I'd gladly trade places with him, Jo." he told her with a shaky, muffled voice.

"I know, Henry, I know."

"He has to get better. He just has to. I'm not ready to let him go." He sat back and then turned to look at her, his eyes red and puffy, cheeks still glistening with tears. "Is that being selfish?"

She shook her head slowly and smiled slightly. "No, Henry, that's being a parent. People say that parents should not b- " she suddenly stopped herself, horrified at what she almost said.

He nodded and turned away from her. "Parents should not bury their children."

"Henry, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

He grabbed her hand in both of his and squeezed it. "No, don't feel bad, please. I have yet to thank you for having stayed with me all this time. And how thoughtless of me - you must be exhausted." He looked at the empty donut wrapper on the coffee table. "And starved."

She sighed and smiled at him.

"You. Go home. Get some rest." He shook his head when she began to protest. "No, Jo. I'll be fine." He raised both eyebrows and pointed at her. "Home, young lady. Rest." His smile was more genuine now, more relaxed. They both jumped to their feet as an alarm sounded (Code Blue! Code Blue!). A handful of medical personnel raced down the hall past them and disappeared into the stairwell. The alarm continued (Dr. Werner to the ER! Code Blue!) as their thudding footseps faded away.

It wasn't for Abe. He practically collapsed back down onto the sofa, exhausted from lack of sleep and weak from hunger. But relieved because the alarm, the emergency, wasn't for his boy.

"I'm staying, Henry." She knew he was concerned about her, but she repeated, "I'm staying." She checked her phone for messages and for the time. Almost 2:15 AM; they'd been there since a little past 8:00 PM, the previous night. "Now, I'm gonna go visit the gourmet vending machine again for us and we can curl up right here and wait together." She dipped her head decisively. He smiled up at her and leaned back against the sofa. Just as she rose to leave, a 40-ish East Indian doctor in scrubs stepped in from the hallway and approached them, his surgical mask hanging from his face. Henry jumped up to anxiously face the medical man who'd just operated on his son.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Malhotra." They all shook hands. "And you are ... ?"

"I'm Dr. Henry Morgan, this is my friend, Det. Jo Martinez NYPD." he quickly replied. "Abraham is my, my cousin. We're cousins." He took a deep breath. "How is he, Doctor?"

"Well, surgery went well and he's resting. The next 24-48 hours are critical to a full recovery."

Henry gave a huge sigh of relief and rubbed a hand over his face as Dr. Malhotra ticked off Abe's injuries: two broken ribs, punctured lung, several scrapes and bruises, and a mild concussion causing some brain swelling. He was familiar with those types of injuries but there was added concern because of Abe's age. Still, he was confident that the proper care was being administered to him. Naturally, though, he would double-check everything. Just to make sure. Nothing but the best for his boy.

"When will I, we, be able to see him?" Henry asked anxiously.

"It's really best that he not be disturbed. Rest is what he needs right now." Malhotra took in both their dishevelled appearances and suggested that they go home, get some rest, and return after lunch. "You can see him then. But only for ten minutes, and only one at a time." He noticed the dismay on both their faces and quietly added, "But then, most people ignore me and stay til visiting hours are over." He smiled at their smiles and nodded his goodbye.

Jo bit her bottom lip and cast a concerned look in his direction.

"Well. It appears he's in good hands, at least." He stretched and yawned. "In spite of several injuries, brain swelling is quite common after a concussion." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "But I have to believe he'll be fine. Despite his age, he's strong, he's a fighter."