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Animal - Ch. 1
I think some days being in less demand would be good. I rush along the east corridor trying to get to one of the private exam rooms when a nurse calls my name from the station I just left.
Criminey woman!
Clenching my jaw, I spin around and head back the way I came. Plastering on the smile to end all plastic smiles, I chipper my way through the annoyance, “Yes, Nurse Johnson? What can I do to help you?”
“Doctor, you have a call on line three.” She passes the phone to me and clicks the line over.
“This is Doctor Rosenberg,” I respond.
“Will, It’s me,” Buffy’s apologetic voice comes through the earpiece.
I keep my features schooled and reply, “What’s wrong?”
I lean against the station and allow even her whiny, repentanty voice to soothe some of my frayed nerves. “I know I was supposed to stay here with the movers, but Jimmy called and we just caught a case. Any way you can find some coverage?”
Drawing in a deep breath, I exhale before answering. “I can’t leave here for another...,” I look down at my watch and cringe, “I was supposed to be home an hour ago wasn’t I?”
I hear the way she stifles her giggle and it grates just a little too much, “You may have been, but I wouldn’t have called unless there was another option.”
“I’m sorry. What about James? Can he come over?” Oh please, oh please, oh please tell me he can. I know I was supposed to leave; I’ve had three residents call off today. Stupid flu.
“Are you really that swamped?” she asks. Granted the back-to-back eighteens I’ve just pulled are starting to catch up with me, but I just need another two hours here until my other rotation of doctors are due in.
Snapping, I answer, “I’m down three doctors, with only Padesh, Laevowitz and myself covering the flu season from hell. Yes, I’m really that swamped.” I’m not the only doctor here that’s exhausted.
She back peddles immediately, “Okay, okay. I’ll figure it out. I’m gonna go. Love you.”
“Lov…,” I try to respond, but the line’s dead before I can even respond. Clenching my eyes shut, I pass the phone back over to the nurse and regroup as I start back down towards exam two.
I rub at my burning eyes and mentally kick myself. I should have been nicer. Goddamnit. Way to go Willow, snap at the worried fiancé. I’m sure that instills all sortsa warm tinglies.
I can’t help but feel like the big mean and grumpy. I’ve been working non-stop. I thought that taking the E.R. rotation would be a good thing until the medical examiners office called back. Instead of good, I find myself working back-to-back shifts six days a week.
I make it to the end of the hall and decide on a mental tidy before I enter the room. Sitting on one of the hard, orange plastic chairs, I rest my arms on my knees and cradle my head in my hands. With moving back to Manhattan and everything else, I know Buffy’s at her wits end with me.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
The tears pool in my eyes and I brush them away. I can’t do this now.
I shake off the urge to call her back and apologize before entering the room. I push open the heavy wooden door and reach for the chart on the side tray. There’s an E.M.T. sitting next to the bed. The tech is whispering soothing words to a small form huddled there.
She looks up and meets my eyes and I give the woman a nod that she is free to leave. Instead, she leans over to the child on the bed, whispering, “Sweeetie, the doctor’s here. I’m going to step outside with her and talk for a moment and then she’s going to take over, okay?”
There’s a slight nod from the little girl and the E.M.T. rises and walks out the door, motioning for me to follow her. Once the door shuts, she spins to me and starts filling me in on the chart, “We picked her up wandering around Riverside Park; the girl’s lost a lot of blood. She can’t remember a lot and we didn’t pull enough info out of her to get much. We radioed for police to meet us here and they should be here soon. Be careful with her, doc.” With that final warning, she takes off down the hallway.
I shake my head and begin to familiarize myself with my newest patient. Everything on the chart’s consistent with what the E.M.T. shared. I scan the physical evaluation form and stop at the indicators on the neck.
I rush into the room and approach the bed cautiously. The girl is sunken into the mattress, clutching a small brown teddy bear. I smile my first genuine smile in nearly two days and try to soothe the scared little girl before me.
“Hello, I’m Willow.” I look at the I.V. drips hanging, blood, saline and antibiotics flow into her left arm. “Can you sit up for me?” The girl complies as best she can.
Snapping on a pair of gloves from my pocket, I look at the bandages I’m most concerned about. Peeling back the tape, I expose the markings on her neck.
Shit! Damn! Piss!
My partner gives me the most imperceptible of nods as he pulls the latest piece of work out of the chair, escorting him from the room and back down to the holding cell. Tired, I pull in a deep lungful of air that causes my nostrils to flare. The scents, the perfume she wears mix with the smell of sweat, fear and misery, creating a barrage of images I’m barely successful at stopping.
Forgetting who’s in the room with me, I clamp my eyes shut. I force away the memories of what seems like forever ago. As sick as it is, it’s one of the most comforting things. It would be a lot better if I didn’t hear the click of her heels against the cold, concrete floor. All it does is annoy me and solidify the memories that I thought I had let go of.
“Olivia?” her voice, double edged, brings a sense of happiness and regret all in one go.
I crack one eye open and turn my head to look at her.
I’m not really sure what you want, but whatever it is, good luck getting it from me, princess.
Instead, I respond, “What?” My tone harsher than intended. Guess that last cup of coffee didn’t help after all.
“Can we talk somewhere?” She looks to the mirror then back at me.
My fingers drum across the metal of the tabletop and I’m really tempted to tell her to go to hell. I can’t. I never could. Not really, at least not really mean it.
Christ.
Grudgingly, I stand up and motion for her to follow me. I make my way back to the crib not even looking back to check to see if she is keeping up with me. I know where she’s at and looking back just seems masochistic. I don’t really want to put myself through that right now.
I push the door open and flick the light switch on. Motioning her through, I shut the door quietly. I study her for a moment; shoulders slightly slouched, not meeting my eyes. The crib’s low lighting barely reaches the corners of the room, the linoleum floor shines dully where exposed; where it doesn’t cots cover the space. El should be here if she’s gonna try and explain why we’ve rated so damn low on her totem pole over the past three years.
The moment she looks up our eyes lock and her posture stiffens. She holds her hand up and starts to speak, “Before you start, there are some things I need to say to you. I know I need to talk to Elliot and I will, but for right now, I need it to just be you and me.”
My jaw refuses to unclench so I release the breath through my nostrils, sighing. I only nod.
She sits further up and drops her hand. Standing, she begins a tight pace across the length of the crib. “You know, I’ve prepared for this conversation for five years. I had originally planned on having it three years ago, but things got in the way.”
“Things?” The question’s spat out before I even have the chance to censor myself. What’s worse is that the rest just tumbles right along with it, “Enlighten me, Councelor. What possible ‘things’ could get in the way?”
“Yes, Olivia. Things. Please, just let me get this out and then…I don’t know,” her voice is quiet as she stops pacing and looks at me. Looking into the sapphire eyes that haunt my dreams I can only give her the time to speak her mind. She starts up again, this time more forceful, “I know what I should have done, but I didn’t. Then more time passed and I just couldn’t. It felt like every time I picked up the phone or drove past here that I was going to come in fighting against someone or thing that didn’t exist anymore.”
She stops and looks at me. Her gaze burns and cuts as I realize just how much her silence has hurt both of us. It feels like a band snapping in my chest and the regret I see almost makes me want to forgive her.
Maybe I can. Not tonight, but soon.
I think.
She moves and I blink. “Liv,” her voice a whisper. She’s standing right next to me invading every sense that I have and I remember the last night that she was this close. I push back those memories and swallow hard. “I need you, above anyone else, to…I just…I’m not proud of the way I’ve handled this. Not even close. There’s nothing I can say that’s going to make this right, at least not right away,” she stops and moves back a bit making sure to catch my eyes, “but I’m going to try. You deserve better than what I’ve been.”
She breaks eye contact first and starts pacing again. “The only thing I can ask of you and everyone here is your forgiveness. I’m sorry.”
That’s it? That’s her closing argument? I’m sorry? Come on, Alex, I didn’t think you were capable of such a lame ass argument. Scoffing, I start, “You’re sorry?” I comb my fingers through my hair and gather my thoughts. “This is only going to be said once, so listen.” I push off the wall I’d been leaning against and start a tight pace of my own.
“I won’t sit here and pretend to know what you went through in WitSec. I can’t know what it was like being back either, but of everyone you would think, hell you should know, that if anyone in this city could at least help, it would have been us.” I stop moving and slump against the wall again. “I,” stopping, I cough trying to gather the strength I need for this; “Instead, you cut off the only people that could have helped you. That was your decision, Alex. We tried to call you. I tried,” my voice drops on the last bit and I finally look at her. “You may have ‘died’, but it wasn’t you, here, that had to live with a ghost.”
Emotions that would once have been hidden by the mask she used to wear are visible and my chest tightens in response. Fuck.
Damn you, Alex.
I refuse to let the tears fall. Biting the inside of my lip, I reach the only decision that’s left. “I’m not sure how this is gonna work, for us, but with the squad, it’s ground up. Show them.”
“And us, Liv?” her voice hesitant as she asks.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” I look up at the ceiling deciding on how much I want her back in my life. The answer’s easy. As much as she’ll let me. Knowing I’m setting myself up for inevitable pain, I offer her the only thing I can right now, “I think maybe we can be friends again, Lex, but it’s gonna take work.”
A flicker of hope crosses her features as she stands. I blink and she’s in my space again. Her hands rest over mine in a gesture more intimate than I should allow her. “I will, Detective.” Her eyes catch mine and a moment, a feeling so fleeting that I barely notice passes between us. She drops my hands and I watch her move out of the crib, her footfalls growing fainter as I slump against the exposed, painted brick wall.
The door opens and El’s head peeks through, “We gotta go, vic’s waiting for us at Presby.” I nod and push off the wall. And the cycle continues.
New York in the fucking winter’s gettin’ me to think retirement somewhere warm and sunny. Definitely not Florida. California’s out for the obvious reasons. Texas? I stumble over a crop of rocks and curse my way through keeping my balance. Fuck Texas. Maybe North Carolina…nah, I’d end up shooting someone there too.
It don’t matter how cold it gets, climbing down the side of an embankment to get to a scene in dress shoes will still make you break a sweat. Only now, the sweat just freezes on contact with the winter wind.
Some days I just love my job to pieces. And fuck me; I’ve been around Cupcake way too long. She’s bad for my manly sensibilities. And thinking of…where the hell is she? I called her twenty minutes ago. Her ass was closer than me. She was at home with the movers. Wonder if Red didn’t show. That wouldn’t be a complete shock. Kid’s been run ragged at the hospitals. It’s a wonder she’s upright.
I finally stumble my way down to the edge of the river where C.S.U.’s waiting on me. I fish my phone from my inside coat pocket and check the display. No missed calls. Raising my right pointer finger up at our new tech, I turn around and hit the button to dial my partner.
“Summers,” her voice answers crisply on the other end.
I smile despite my better judgment and say, “So I’ve managed to make it down here from the two-four and stop for coffee along the way. You’re ten blocks away and you still can’t make it here before me. Cupcake, we’ve talked about this. We’re right by the new place. Riverside Park and all.”
I feel a tap on my shoulder and spin around. Her smiling face looks up at me. The glint in her eyes is way too ‘I told you so-ish’ for my liking. I roll my eyes and snap my phone shut. “Where’d you come from?”
I follow her line of sight about twenty yards from where we’re standing; a set of steps and a hand rail make themselves clear. Sonuva…damn smartass.
“I jogged down Ninetieth,” she smirks at me and I know she saw me stumbling down the embankment. The blush burns my cheeks as she continues, “and if you stopped for coffee, where’s mine?”
“It’s in the car,” I huff. “So, lemme guess, Willow's still at the hospital?” Her jaw twitches just a little and the flash in her eyes tell me everything I need to know. Before she answers verbally, I step in and redirect, “Just so you know, we caught a floater. Runner called it in about forty-five minutes ago. You wanna go have a look?”
The tight smile answers my question again. Funny thing about being someone’s partner, on some days, in a lot of ways, you get to know your partner more intimately than the person they’ve married. With Buffy, it’s proven to be true, but then I’ve gotten to know Willow just as well.
We walk side by side as I slip my hands into a pair of gloves and snap them in place as we reach the body. I hunker down and take in the person at my feet.
No matter how many times I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise, regardless of the absence of life, this is still a person. It was someone’s husband, father, son, uncle or someone. This body holds the key to why I do what I do.
“Old Man,” Buffy’s hiss of a whisper causes me to shake myself clear.
My eyes dart to her and then to her line of sight and I grumble right along with her, “Fuck me.”
It’s hidden by the jagged slash running along the curve of the dead man’s neck, but she’s shown me what to look for. The jagged marks are more pronounced where the jugular was exposed. Poor guy was bit first. I stand back up and remove my gloves. Dropping my voice to a stage whisper, I half joke, “So, Cupcake, I thought you put word out on the street that N.Y.C. was your turf. Didn’t think that many vamps hunted here anymore, least not the ones that don’t like to fill an ashtray. You’re like the mafia, but worse.”
She sighs and stands up. “I did. This one tried to cover it up.” She scans the area and a cold, biting wind sends her scarf tales flying behind her. Some days it’s so easy to see the hunter inside her. Today, you could mistake my partner for a small blonde kid playing dress up. And tonight, tonight I know she’ll leave home and go hunting for the thing that did this.
I don’t envy her in the least tonight. ‘Course I don’t envy me either. With Red being Hawkeye, I’ll be heading out with her.
Gotta love it.
I flash her a winning smile and we head back to the squad car as she silently broods. We get in the car and I crank the heater. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as my hands warm up from the hot air blowing from the dash. She sips her coffee and stares down at the body.
“Hey, Buffy.” The use of her name brings her back to me. I rest a supportive hand on her knee. “We’ll find it, and you'll get to play at being Montana while in the process, screwing our close rate.” My lopsided grin is the last thing I offer before pulling out into the flow of city traffic.
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