Chapter 16: starting to miss her memories;
Prompts: Moment of clarity;
Manhattan Memorial Hospital, Mid-town, January 2015
Reese had texted Shaw with the news that they'd rescued Fusco. More to come from the ER when he had something.
Hours later, he'd texted her again with a shot of Fusco in his hospital bed, the right foot elevated way up, glowing beet-red and swollen, slathered with some kind of greasy goo, and a silly grin on his face from the pain meds. The verdict was still out on the foot. Hoping it was gonna come back okay. If it did, he'd have to be careful in the future – it'd be way more susceptible to frost-bite than the other one.
NYPD had a cop at his door for now, in case another one of the "gang that had kidnapped him" showed up. The ones they'd found back at the pipe didn't seem to wanna talk, so Fusco had been more than happy to fill in the details, best he knew. How he and his friend, Detective Riley, had had a couple of beers together after work.
How, back at the parking lot, he'd been assaulted by two men, thrown into the back of a van, and brought to that storm sewer to shake him down. Never saw them before in his life.
His cell was gone. Car was in the lot behind the Precinct, if they wanted to take a look. The van was in the woods, he'd heard, across the road from where they'd taken him.
Couldn't say how they'd all been found tied up like that. He'd been out of it after the beating. In and out. Thought he might've seen someone. Couldn't be sure. And pretty dark inside that pipe. Maybe there were two. Lucky to be alive. Damn gangs. Gotta do something about these gangs…
The officer had stopped writing in his notepad when Fusco got to the part about the one or ones who'd shown up. He'd looked up over the top of the pad at him, like he didn't believe a word of it. Fusco stuck to his story, though, wide-eyed. Couldn't be much help with that part.
Did he have any enemies? Fusco burst out laughing for a second. "I carry a shield – of course I have enemies. Wanna list? I'll get back to ya in a week, after I write 'em all down," he said. Shook his head at the officer.
Gave him the number to call his buddy, Riley. They could try him at home, he said.
Reese was in the coffee shop downstairs, getting breakfast, when the call came through. Confirmed everything Fusco had said. Shocked that he'd had a problem after he'd dropped him off at his car. Said maybe he shoulda waited. Felt bad. What hospital?
Didn't know anything about any rescue. He was home, sleeping. Yeah, alone, unfortunately…
Primary Safe-house, Mid-town, January 2015
Shaw had pushed the back down on the recliner in Finch's room. She and Root had pushed it in there earlier in the day, the day before, so someone could catch a little sleep if things were quiet.
The three of them ended up sleeping-in late, after all the goings-on during the night.
Root was up first. She'd tiptoed in to check on them. Sameen was still asleep. She'd wanted to pull the blanket over to cover her a little more, but thought it'd probably wake her.
She'd crept around the bed to see how Harold was doing. Looked peaceful enough.
Root headed in for a shower while they slept, then started breakfast after that – well, the coffee and tea water, at least. She'd found some kind of breakfast sausages in the freezer and followed the directions on the back. How hard could it be?
Threw in a few eggs to cook, once the sausages were done and they'd left some of their grease behind in the pan to cook them. Smelled really good. Managed not to burn anything.
Made some toast, once the eggs were cooked, and there she had it, her meal – done.
Root dished up the food, poured water over her teabag, and walked the dishes back to the kitchen table. She kept looking toward the doorway to the hall. Hoping Sameen would show. The smell of food had always been such a powerful magnet to her.
It was after ten when Sameen finally rolled out of bed and showed up at the kitchen door, scratching her head through her hair. Half-awake, and still pretty pasty-looking from poor sleep the last few nights.
"Any coffee?"
Root pointed to a chair and slid out of hers. "I'll get it. You'll hurt yourself if you do it," she smirked. "Half-asleep."
Sameen exhaled noisily and thumped down into the chair. She leaned forward, cupping her chin in her hand.
"Hear anything from the Big Lug or Chuckles?" Root asked.
"Fusco has a bad foot. They tried to turn it into an ice cube. Not sure if it's gonna be okay, so he's in the hospital for now."
"Nothing personal, but I'm glad they didn't bring him here," Root said, clear-eyed.
"Ah, he's okay."
Root shuddered and walked the coffee and a helping of the food she'd made back to the table.
"You cooked?"
"Of course – I'm not helpless!" Sameen almost smiled.
"I remember – "
"That's not helpful, Sameen." Root had started to pout, but then she just shook her head. This wasn't going to be easy, contending with everyone else when she didn't have any of her old memories.
The Zheng had taken them away. Deep hypothermia, like a brain-freeze. Maybe not so different than Fusco's foot – then she shuddered again. Probably couldn't un-see that in her head.
Anyway, she was starting to miss her memories. When Harold was feeling better – maybe by later today – she'd go and talk with him. Thought she was ready to call that surgeon and get things moving with her implant. The sooner it was fixed, the sooner she'd be able to start working with the Machine to get her memories back.
Oh. The Machine. Damn.
Harold had gone to his room last night to figure it out – what had happened to her in the fire? How had she survived? Where did she go, and where was she now?
It hadn't seemed so incredible to Root the night before, when they'd made contact with her again. An AI was supposed to think for itself. She must have had a plan, and when the time came, she executed. Smart AI. That's what we all would have hoped, right?
Sameen had finished her food and was looking for more. She padded over to the stove and looked. Better save the rest for Finch. More toast? Shuffled over to the sink area. The toaster was there, near the coffeepot.
She downed a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and poured more coffee into her mug. Stood there, patiently, waiting for her toast. A slather of butter on top, when they popped.
"So, Sameen."
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I could talk to Finch today? Is he better?"
Sameen thought it through for a moment.
"Better do it before I have to go in and debride the burns again. He's not gonna wanna talk very much after that, Root."
"Okay. It'll just take me a minute. I need to ask him something."
"Knock yourself out."
