Not my characters, just my story. I only wish I owned Pete. The story is best read if you've seen the series and know the characters. If you haven't seen it lately, watch, enjoy.

A Lifetime in Eight Days

Chapter 15: Watching and Waiting

The muffled sound of soft footfalls on the light blue linoleum floor brought Lieutenant Jacoby's chin up from where it had been resting against his chest. He straightened his slumped shoulders and pushed himself sluggishly to his feet as a fiftyish man dressed in medical garb approached the area of the small waiting room where he was sitting with Edie Hart. The policeman recognized the man as one of the emergency department physicians who had worked on Peter Gunn when he initially arrived at the hospital. Jacoby turned to Edie as she too stood up, his hand resting with silent reassurance at her back as the doctor stopped a few feet away.

"How is he?"

Jacoby's question was brusque but with an undertone of worry. He didn't like what he saw on the doctor's face. Years of firsthand experience had given him the ability to read expressions in these types of situations, to look beyond calm exteriors, compassionate eyes and deflecting words. The other man must have sensed this because he was direct and to the point in his answer.

"Not good."

Feeling Edie's sudden tenseness Jacoby quickly sat both of them back down, the doctor taking a seat on the edge of a chair directly across from them that had been vacated by Sergeant Davis about thirty minutes prior. Leaning forward a bit, hands clasped between his knees, he shifted his gaze from the policeman, who he remembered from earlier, to the young blonde woman seated beside him. He introduced himself as Dr. Joe Carson. As he apprised them of Pete's condition his gray eyes tended to linger on the woman who Jacoby, sensing he'd been lax in his duties, introduced as "Miss Edie Hart, Mr. Gunn's..." he floundered for an almost imperceptible second, "...girlfriend," and cleared his throat. Girlfriend didn't sound quite the right word and he saw Edie roll her eyes a little at the doctor, who gave a quick smile and said he understood.

"We have Pete's condition stabilized for the moment but you need to be made aware that he's facing a number of issues, some that are relatively easy to manage and some that are much more complex. He has several broken ribs, some very severe chest and abdominal bruising and abrasions, facial bruising and cuts and lacerations. It looks like he's been pretty much knocked around." Carson shifted a bit more toward Edie as she sat at the edge of her seat, concentrating on every word the doctor was saying. He had a kind face, graying hair and a gravelly yet gentle voice. "Those are the types of things that, much as I hate to say it, we take care of on a regular basis and that we handle with relative ease. But when you start adding other issues to the list things aren't quite so simple anymore. And that's where we are with Pete right now."

The doctor stopped speaking for a moment and stared at the floor as he gathered his thoughts. Then he raised his head and continued.

"He has a serious concussion, just how serious we're not certain of at this point, but he's got quite a lump on the back of his head and some accompanying symptoms that are..." Carson paused to consider his words, "...that are worrisome. He's also suffering from dehydration. Add exposure to the mix, with all of the problems and possibilities that might entail, and you're looking at quite an uphill battle."

His gaze drifted to Edie again.

"I'm really very sorry that I don't have any positive news for you right now. But I do want you to know that we're taking very good care of him and that he's being kept as comfortable as possible."

"Where is he? I need to see him." Edie got to her feet, the men following suit.

"You'll be able to do that as soon as we get him moved to a permanent room. Right now he's still receiving emergency treatment and then he'll be taken upstairs for further x-rays to make sure we haven't missed anything and to hopefully get a better look at the head injury responsible for the concussion." The doctor hesitated at the determination he saw in this woman's eyes, his resistance to allowing her to see his patient wavering. He gave a sigh and shook his head, hoping to discourage her, yet also very aware of the grim reality that any personal contact she might be allowed could very well be the last she might ever have with the man. Life was short. It became even shorter when you were lying injured in a hospital bed. He continued in a softer tone. "You do realize he's pretty beat up? You might not want-"

"I need to see Pete. Please."

Carson was shaking his head no even as he acquiesced to the young woman's request. His steps were slow and measured as he guided her toward the door leading into the emergency department.

A dark-haired nurse dressed in a starched white uniform and a young doctor wearing a white medical coat that looked a couple sizes too big straightened from their positions as Dr. Carson appeared in the doorway of the small room. They spared a glance for the pretty woman with him as they continued to tend to the man on the hospital bed. An older nurse was busy making notations on a chart. Carson caught that woman's gaze as he gently touched Edie's arm and guided her into the room.

"Two minutes," the doctor quietly said, giving the face of his watch a tap with his index finger for emphasis. "Miss Hart has exactly two minutes with the patient before he goes upstairs."

Edie's gaze had gone immediately to the man lying on the narrow hospital bed. Several hospital-issue blankets covered most of his still form, tucked around him to provide extra warmth. The dark-haired nurse pulled the top portion of the sheet beneath them up to cover the upper half of the man's chest as she moved to one side, ostensibly to confer with the other nurse regarding the patient chart. The young doctor, most likely still an intern, merely stepped away from the bed to silently watch and keep an eye on the patient.

He was breathing. That was the very first thing Edie noticed as she moved to stand next to Pete. His face was bruised and his eyes were blackened and his lip was split and swollen and other damage was visible beneath the week's worth of dark stubble. But he was breathing. His chest was moving up and down with a gentle motion. She had seen his face beaten and bruised in the past, though not nearly as badly. But never had she seen him not breathing. And she wouldn't trade between the two. She would take him battered and bruised over not breathing any day of the week.

Reaching out one hand Edie let it hover just above the light blue of the blankets covering Pete's lower chest. She could feel the radiating warmth the blankets created, could feel the fuzz of the little fibers tickling her palm. Moving her hand upward she let it rest gently against his cheek. It was cooler to the touch but she could feel the life beneath her fingers, could feel against her wrist the small warm puff of air released each time he exhaled. His eyelashes lay in dark arcs against darker bruises, those lashes that she found so attractive and which lent such an innocence to his face when he slept. Edie reached beneath the blankets to find Pete's hand, lacing her fingers between his, taking joy in the familiarity of his skin against hers. A tender smile curved her lips, causing the older nurse to pause as she approached to let her know her time with the man was up. As a result the two minutes meted out to her became three minutes and then four, coming to an end only when Dr. Carson entered the room to find out what the holdup was and to subsequently usher her back into the waiting room.

Mother was sitting in the waiting room and Lieutenant Jacoby was gone. Edie glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost a quarter past seven in the morning. She looked at Mother with a question in her eyes. Jacoby had been called back to the station. Someone had been arrested and he was needed to lead the interrogation. Mother thought it might have something to do with Pete's case but couldn't be certain. The policeman had been tight-lipped and just asked that she tell Edie he would return as soon as possible. Mother was there because she was tired of sitting around Pete's apartment wondering what was going on and waiting for news about the detective. And because she figured Edie could use the company. And because Frank Gunn had called back about an hour ago with his flight information. He would be there late tonight, close to midnight if his connection was on time. Mother asked about Pete and Edie told her what she could, all that she knew. That he was alive. And that someone would let them know what room he had been moved to once they were done taking more x-rays. Edie sat back down on the small couch next to the older woman, who had taken the seat vacated by Jacoby. And they waited together.

Joe DeVito had been detained, arrested and transported to the 13th Precinct. With Pauly Denner and Charlie Malloy both dead, taking what secrets they might have had to their graves, DeVito didn't appear concerned that the police had anything solid against him that would bring charges or that he could be held for very long without probable cause. His attorney was insistent that he be released immediately unless the department wanted to face the consequences of a false arrest lawsuit. What evidence did the police have that warranted his client's arrest? Lay it on the table or turn Mr. DeVito loose.

Lieutenant Jacoby laid it on the table. Pauly Denner was directly responsible for the abduction and attempted murder of Peter Gunn. Mr. Gunn was found, seriously injured, in the presence of Pauly Denner and one of his associates named Charlie Malloy, in the trunk of an automobile inside a warehouse owned by Joe DeVito. That in itself tied Joe DeVito to the Gunn case and warranted probable cause and legal detention.

Neither DeVito nor his attorney appeared impressed. Jacoby stared at DeVito and dealt his trump card.

"Your cousin, Bennie Marconi, has agreed to a deal. He copped a plea and is turning State's evidence." He raised his eyebrows, his face remaining expressionless otherwise. "He has provided us with quite an interesting assortment of information." Jacoby rose from his chair in the interrogation room and laid his hands on the table, leaning toward DeVito and his attorney, a grimly satisfied gleam in his brown gaze. "Information not only related to the current investigation, but information dating back six years to the Eleanora White murder case, including your involvement in said case. We know you provided Denner with fake alibis and we know that your warehouse where Mr. Gunn was found was also used to hide the White girl before her body was dumped across the tracks." His voice was soft. Just the hint of a smile touched Jacoby's lips. "There is nothing false about your arrest, Mr. DeVito. I have a feeling you are going to be a guest of the State for a very, very long time."

With those words Jacoby walked out of the interrogation room, leaving things in the very capable hands of Detective Harmon. He grabbed his hat and raincoat from his office, shrugging the coat on as he passed through the squad room. He eyed Sergeant Davis, who was at a desk filling out a report on a typewriter, his fingers laboriously hunting and pecking the keys.

"Any word on Pete?" He paused next to the desk where Davis was working.

"Mother called." Davis made a face at the typewriter and ripped out the ruined report form, wadding it up and throwing it in the trash can. "He's been moved to the third floor. She wasn't sure of the room number yet." He stuck another form in the typewriter, rolled it to the proper position and started over on his report.

Jacoby nodded his thanks and donned his hat.

"I'll be at the hospital for a while. Then I'm going to stop by my house and see if my wife still knows who I am." He exchanged a brief but tired smile with Lee Davis. "Call either place if you need me."

Room 319 was directly across from the nurses station. Jacoby had run into Mother as he stepped out of the elevator, the tall woman walking the halls to try to get some feeling back in her legs after doing so much sitting. When he asked after Pete she supplied his room number and pointed in that direction. The door was standing open about a third of the way. He could see that the window blinds were pulled shut and the lighting was muted. The policeman pushed the door fully open and stepped into the room. Edie Hart was seated next to the bed, her back toward the door, the fingers of one hand laced with those of the man's hand where it lay partially outside the blanket. Jacoby removed his hat and walked over to stand next to Edie, making as little noise as possible but enough to let her know someone was there.

He stood for a few minutes gazing at his friend lying engulfed in white sheets and blue blankets, surrounded by hospital paraphernalia, medical chart clipped at the foot of the bed. The bruises and cuts on Pete's face looked worse than the policeman remembered, perhaps because of the lighting in the room. Or maybe it was because someone had done some haphazard shaving of the week's worth of beard stubble on his cheeks and chin in order to treat the injuries beneath, so there were actually more bruises and cuts visible. The blankets were pulled up over his chest to his shoulders, and Jacoby was glad of that, memories from what he'd seen in the emergency department rushing at him. There was a slight but visible rise and fall of Pete's chest as he breathed in and out but beyond that there was no movement at all, not even the twitch of an eyelid.

"How is he?" he finally asked. Really dumb question he told himself, but the words had already slipped out.

"About the same," Edie murmured in a low voice. "He has a severe concussion. Dr. Carson spent some time trying to explain it to me, and I guess now I know more about concussions than most people do, but a lot of it was still over my head. He did say if Pete had received treatment right away the prognosis would be much better. But after this many days without treatment..." She ran a tired hand through her hair, her eyes never leaving Pete's face. "He said the number of times he was hit in the head afterward just made it worse. And they're still concerned about the dehydration and exposure and the shock to his system from all of the-"

Jacoby turned his hat over a few times in his hands, his expression somber. From all of the beatings. The woman couldn't get the word out but he could hear it in her voice. He asked Edie when Pete's dad was supposed to arrive and offered to meet his flight at the airport and bring him to the hospital. She shook her head, offering up the information that either Emmett or Barney, maybe both, would accompany Mother to pick him up.

"Look Edie, I'm sorry I talked you out of notifying his dad when you wanted to." The hat went round and round in his hands again, a sign of the policeman's discomfort over the issue. "I should never have done that and I'll make sure he knows it was my call."

The blonde shook her head, her gaze flicking toward him briefly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he entered the room.

"That's not necessary." Her voice was low but determined. "I'm a grown woman and I can take responsibility for my own actions. But thank you anyway."

Jacoby meditated for a while on her profile as she turned her attention back to the man in the bed. He appreciated and respected her desire to handle things for herself but he told himself that he would still inform Frank Gunn that not contacting him was the consequence of his actions and not the woman's. Telling Edie he would be back later he walked out of the room to go home for some time with his family. He was pretty sure she didn't even notice when he left.

She didn't. Just as she didn't really notice the nurses when they came in at regular intervals to hover over their patient, checking vital signs and marking them down on his chart. She answered any questions they had almost without thinking, extended her appreciation when she was brought coffee, declined when offered lunch because she doubted she would be able to eat anything or keep it down if she did. She was simply glad for the solitude as she kept watch over her man.

Dr. Carson stopped by every hour on the hour, checking the notations on Pete's chart, listening to his heartbeat, gently feeling at the lump on the back of his head, pulling out a small instrument which he used to shine a light into his eyes. During one of his visits he sat for a while and explained more about Pete's condition and what they were doing medically to alleviate the problems associated with his dehydration and exposure, told her what medications he was being given and talked about the recovery process with concussions, what signs were indicators that he might be regaining consciousness, the length of time it might take, that it could happen suddenly or gradually, and what they might expect from Pete when it happened.

The conversation gradually shifted from the medical to the personal. He asked about Pete and his job as a private investigator. He smiled upon discovering that Edie was a singer at a club owned by the tall woman who had been haunting the halls all day.

"So how did a girl singer ever end up with a private investigator?"

Dr. Carson watched as the woman looked toward the man in the hospital bed and a truly brilliant smile appeared on her face.

"She was very, very lucky..."