Somebody's Miracle
By: FlowerPotBloom
Summary: He was a living dead man racing toward God because he was so badly in need of redemption… 8x17-For Gedda AU WS in which Warrick survives. Miraculously, Warrick survives McKeen's attempt on his life. His road to recovery-and redemption-is a long one, but he knows that he has to make it not just for his own sake, but for his son's. On his road back, things will never be the same, especially between himself and Sara. Content Warning: PTSD, divorce, bitter custody battle, addiction, course language
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, nor any of its characters. They are the sole creative property of Anthony Zuiker.
A/N: I'm "going there" with this one. I didn't think Warrick's story should have ended the way it did on the show. So this is my attempt to keep him alive in the fandom and get a second chance at getting back to the guy we all know and love from earlier seasons. So, here we go.
~one~
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Johana hanging strangely artfully still out of his car…blood stains…a corpulent, lifeless Gedda in the barber chair…Tina sobbing and yelling at him…baby Eli squirming and whimpering in his arms…McKeen putting two bullets into his body…
Warrick slowly surfaced from his seemingly endless hazy memories and dreams, and the first thing he immediately felt was pain in his neck and chest. Then he heard the steady beeping and mechanical whirs of the machines that he was hooked up to. He wasn't sure, though…was he alive? Or dreaming more?
He blinked his eyes open, and he saw the sterile white of the ceiling and lights, then he could feel the scratchy bed covers and the give in the mattress on the hospital bed.
The hospital.
He was alive…
McKeen, he thought frantically. I gotta tell Gris… I need to get out of here!
The machines picked up on his racing heartbeat, and beeped faster and faster as Warrick squirmed and attempted to maneuver himself into a sitting position. It was difficult and painful, and he was working up a sweat as he tried to sit up. The respirator tube in his throat choked him as he tried to lift his head, but then there was a sharp pain in his neck as he did so.
Alerted to Warrick's distress, Helen, the head nurse in charge of his care, came rushing in.
"Whoa, okay," she said calmly and sternly as she immediately began to get him situated back to calm. "Welcome back, Mr. Brown. Okay, okay, let's get your stress level down."
He was fighting her, but given the state he was in, she was able to get him lying back down against the pillows in no time, which irritated him.
"You can scowl at me all you want, but as long as I'm on, you're not leaving this bed," Helen said firmly.
He squirmed again and tried to get himself up again, but she overpowered him once again.
"This is not gonna go your way," she said, matter-of-fact. "You may as well relax."
Tired out, Warrick relented.
"That's better," she said, nodding her approval at his lowered heart rate. "There we go. Okay Mr. Brown, I'll go get the doctor and I'll bring back some water for you. Hold tight."
With that, she left his room.
He laid there, completely vulnerable.
What if McKeen came back to finish him off?
He prayed that Grissom had put the dots together…
McKeen was the one pulling the strings of this whole mess, and had been manipulating the system for his and Gedda's own personal gains, while climbing up the ladder of the department for years. Surely, there had to be some evidence of this, some paper trail left somewhere to bring McKeen down.
Warrick never thought it would be McKeen. He didn't like the man, but he had trusted him.
Trust.
Where did he go wrong? He put his trust in McKeen, the bastard, but he couldn't trust his own wife?
How fucked up was that?
He prayed that they got the son of a bitch, and Warrick was going to make his pulling through and testifying against McKeen and putting him away for the rest of his natural life when the time came the biggest FUCK YOU ever.
Warrick had to get out of the hospital first.
Helen returned, this time with a pitcher of water and a cup, and the doctor.
"Welcome back, Warrick, I'm Dr. Patel. First thing's first, I don't say this very often, but it was nothing short of divine intervention that you're alive. You're very fortunate. The gunshot to your neck was a through and through and with the blood loss, and thoracic hemorrhaging from the bullet in your chest…you should've died. I don't know what kept you hanging on, but you pulled through. We were able to perform surgery on your neck and chest, and transfuse you. You've been touch and go for about six weeks. It's good to see you awake and alert. I'm going to remove the breathing tube as you're breathing steadily on your own and we'll talk next steps."
Next steps?
What did that mean?
Dr. Patel pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then he proceeded to remove the tube.
Warrick gagged as the tube was extracted, and finally, it was done.
He took in gulps of air, and it burned his lungs and throat.
He was exhausted now, and he just wanted to be alone and sleep.
"Alright," Dr. Patel said, snapping off his gloves. "Now, I want you to try talking. Warrick, what's your pain level at present? One being no pain, ten being severe pain."
Warrick swallowed thickly, and it hurt a whole damn lot.
"Ten," he croaked out.
"Alright, we'll get you some pain medication. Let's talk next steps. Once you're downgraded from ICU, you'll be doing some pulmonary and occupational therapy for your lungs and neck. I've set you up with specialists for both. When the time comes for you to be discharged, you'll need at least another three months of bedrest to make a full recovery. In the meantime, would you like me to contact anyone?"
"Grandmother," he said, barely audible from his weakened voice.
"Alright," Dr. Patel said. "Good luck, Warrick."
With that, Dr. Patel headed out, and it was just him and Nurse Ratched-Helen-again.
"I know it seems impossible right now, but you'll get all the way through this," she said as she poured him a cup of water and guided the straw to his mouth. "Here, drink. I'm sure you're more than parched."
He took a long drink of water, which relieved his overly dry throat and mouth.
"There we go," she said. "Alright, I'm going to get the orders for the pain medication and set you up on the IV. In the meantime, you're obviously not going anywhere fast, so relax. Just focus on getting better."
She walked out of his room and pulled the door closed.
He closed his eyes, replaying Dr. Patel's words…
I don't know what kept you hanging on…
Fear…Grissom's voice…Eli…
He didn't want to go.
All he could think about was that he was dying and his life, his legacy, was in shambles. He wanted in that moment-needed-the chance to make it right.
He was dying and he thought about Tina and Eli, how they would be alone in this terrible world, and how his son would grow up without him.
He thought about all the things he still wanted to do, to be, and all of the opportunities that would be missed.
Eli…
His son, his legacy, his first born. God, he was so proud, and how he just loved that baby boy to pieces. His boy. His.
But what was going to happen now?
Before all this, Tina didn't want him near Eli, and he understood, he was a miserable wretch, and she took every opportunity she had to tell him so.
I'm taking Eli away from you, this goddamn city…I never want to see you again! I want you out of mine and Eli's life! You're a piece of shit! I hate that I married you, I hate that I ever met you, I hate you!
Those had been her parting words to him after the first custody hearing.
It tore him up inside, his heart was in shreds because he couldn't bear the thought of never seeing his son again.
Oh, what a beautiful, handsome boy Eli was! Just utterly perfect, and…Warrick didn't deserve him.
Warrick began to cry.
He hated himself.
He hated that he had allowed bitterness and insecurity to take root in his heart against Tina to the point where he was denying his child. He never thought he'd be that man, for he always wanted children of his own, a family to come home to and teach and love.
God, he was a fool.
He held on because he was afraid of where he'd end up if he did let go.
And praise God for his mercy!
God had taken mercy on him, God had preserved his life, and Warrick wasn't going to squander that blessing.
It'd been too long since he'd said a prayer, even longer that he'd lapsed from his Catholic faith that his Grandmother and Aunt worked so hard to pass along to him.
He felt that he'd gone too far, that he couldn't even pray about his deepest wounds and flaws. He'd closed his heart to and turned his back on God.
And didn't it just always go that way? When calamity struck, he was beseeching God to help him get off the out of control carousel that his life had become.
Waking up, surviving, that was God telling him well, this is your chance.
It was both life affirming and terrifying because he had to face himself now. Face all the hurt, the guilt, the wounds.
Warrick opened his eyes when he heard the door to his room open, and he saw that it was his Grandmother, Gertrude, and his Aunt, her sister, Bertha.
"Warrick, baby," Gertrude said, a joyful, tearful smile appearing on her face. "Oh thank the Lord…"
"Thank God," Bertha said.
"Mama Gert…"
"It's okay, you don't have to talk. Praise God in his perfect will…"
"You're a miracle, baby," Bertha said, kissing his forehead.
"We love you so much," Mama Gert said, sniffling and wiping her tears. "There's someone else here to see you…"
Aunt Bertha left the room, then returned a moment later, with Tina, and she was cradling his son.
She was crying as she approached him with Eli in her arms.
"I'm so glad you're alive," she wept as she leaned in and pressed her forehead to his. "Here's Eli."
She placed the three months old infant onto his chest and he wept with her at the feel, the smell, the sound of his baby boy.
There was so much that he needed to say, but he knew that it wasn't the right time yet.
She picked the baby up and cradled him again.
"Goodbye, Warrick," was all Tina could manage before she left with the baby.
"My son," he said quietly.
"You'll get him back," Mama Gert said. "Right now, you just need to get better."
Warrick knew the way back, and it was a long, hard, rocky road ahead.
He would start by getting on his knees because now, he was a living dead man racing toward God, in need of redemption.
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