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Animal - Ch. 10
Forgoing the elevators I climb the four flights of stairs, not only to give Jimmy and Debra a chance to talk, but also to give myself some time to cool down. I balance the cups of coffee in my hand and hit the last flight, feeling a little bit crappy because I’m out of time.
Deb finally woke up sometime around three in the morning. The nurses rushing in ruined any chance of sleep that I had. Jimmy was there. He won’t leave for some reason.
What irks, and I know it shouldn’t irk, but it does, is that she didn’t want to be left alone. She didn’t want to be left alone with me.
I shouldn’t be mad, but I am.
I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I mean how in the hell was I supposed to know?
I mean I…fuck, I don’t know.
I should be grateful that she seems to be okay with Jimmy. She has someone here to connect with and that’s the important part.
I trudge up the last few steps and use my hip to help open the door that leads to the hallway from the stairwell. At six a.m., this place is quiet.
God, I hate hospitals.
I make a left and head straight for the last room on the left. The door’s cracked open but the only sounds I hear are from the heart monitor that’s attached to Detective Morgan. Bracing myself, I square my shoulders and walk in to the room.
Jimmy looks up and smiles at me. He looks exhausted. Hell, he looks like I feel, but for some reason, he won’t take a break.
I hand him his coffee and he motions me quiet, Deb looks sound asleep. I take the seat opposite her and resume the vigil.
“She talk anymore before she pass out?” I send through our link.
“Not much, Cupcake,” he answers as he sips his coffee. I take a sip of mine and nearly gag. I hear him laugh in my head. “Shit’s horrible ain’t it?”
I send him a sour look and say, “I’ve had worse.”
He tilts his head to the side trying to figure out when that would be.
I help him out, “Remember when we had to go to D.C. for that extradition and we ended up at the Hoover building?”
His face splits in a grin. “Oh God, I’d forgotten about that. You think the feebs know they got the worst coffee known to man or you think they’re used to it?”
I shrug. “All I know is that it took a whole bottle of Rolaids to get rid of the heartburn.”
We share a small laugh and I watch him sober. He looks at Debra and I know that look. It’s probably a lot like the one I’m wearing.
“Hey, Buffy,” he sends, “you think she’s gonna be okay?”
“God, I wish I knew.” I swallow more of the swill and let him in, “Jimmy, I knew when we left what risks there were. I just didn’t think…we should have done something different.”
“Don’t, Cupcake. That road you are headed down ain’t gonna help no one. Least of all that woman lying in that bed,” he admonishes and points to Debra. “You did what you had to do.”
“I can’t fix it. I can’t take it back. Everything that she told me, this may not have started out with Dexter being turned, but it sure the fuck is ending up that way. We’re in trouble; serious, fucking trouble.” I take one last drink of the tar and toss it in the trashcan by my chair. “Simpled up, partner, you may not think it, but I know it. This is my fault. Period. So stuff it.”
He scowls at me and presses, “So you turned him? You lit the fire that killed his wife and kids?” He stands and comes around the bed. Dropping to one knee, he gently cups my chin with his right hand and whispers, “You don’t get that burden. It’s not on your shoulders to carry. We’ll find the fucker and end it, Summers. Promise me you ain’t gonna do that. Keep your head on straight and remember who you are and what you do.”
I pull away and hiss, “I’m a damn death sentence.”
“You’re full of shit.” He stands and pulls me up from my chair, gripping me by my biceps. He’s lucky he’s one of two people that I let get away with that shit. His eyes search mine and he hisses, “You did this before, you don’t get to do it again. Pull your head out of your ass and quit feeling sorry for yourself.”
A small cough causes our heads to collectively snap to the bed. Debra’s looking at us with a funny look on her face. She rasps, “Either kiss and fuck or shut the fuck up so I can get back to sleep.”
For some reason that breaks the tension between my partner and me. We both crack genuine smiles and he rumbles a deep type of belly laugh.
I hadn’t realized I was on my tiptoes and Jimmy didn’t realize that he had such a grip on me. Sheepishly, he smiles and sets me down. I straighten out my jacket before pulling him into a hug.
He’s right. I need to quit acting like a self-absorbed asshole. I can’t make with the shoulda or coulda’s, I need to focus on correcting the mess.
“Sweetcheeks,” Jimmy says softly, “I love my partner and I’d do most anything for her. But my pen ain’t goin’ anywhere near that ink well.”
She laughs a little, but the small laugh sends her into a coughing jag. Once she’s got her bearings, she looks at me and says, “Fuck Summers. I don’t blame you. You need to know that. Who I blame and who I want to get is that bitch that started all of this.”
“You’ve mentioned her, Debra. The vague description, pale, long dark hair, accent and crazier than bat shit on a full moon, don’t do much for us,” Jimmy says. “Is there anything else that you can remember?”
She sucks in her split, stitched bottom lip and winces when she realizes that was a mistake. “No. When we were nabbed, I was knocked unconscious. The rest is a damn fucking blur.” She winces as she takes a deeper breath. “The only things that I can remember right now are a lot of fucking pain.”
Jimmy and I both nod. I don’t want to press any more. I know she’s been through enough. The injuries that Willow went over on her chart all indicate that she should really be dead right now.
Four broken ribs, a cracked skull, a broken left femur, four broken fingers and a thumb on her left hand, a broken wrist, cracked tibia and fibula on her right leg and we won’t count the cuts, abrasions and bruises.
The funny…alright not so funny, thing is that if I didn’t see the drawing the kids had provided, I’d swear it was a less-crazy version of Drusilla.
I’m just not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’m not sure if she was ever dusted. I don’t think so, but you can never really be sure, and there’s where things really get tricky.
Is it her? Could it be her crazy cousin?
I sigh and tune back into the conversation that Jimmy and Debra are having.
“I’ll have someone bring me by some clothes.” Jimmy takes up a seat next to Debra and folds his arms across his chest.
Okay, what’d I miss?
“Really,” Deb manages to rasp, “It’s not necessary.”
A bushy eyebrow rises in her direction and I take an involuntary step back. I know that face on Jimmy. Deb isn’t gonna win this argument.
“And we still got crazy ass vampires running around the streets of New York. They had you captive. They tortured you.” His jaw muscles clench a bit and he finishes, “So over my fuckin’ dead body are you gonna be left here to fend for yourself when you can barely talk. Can it there, Sweetcheeks. You’re stuck with me or someone else from our unit until you get discharged.”
I help make her decision and say, “Look, you can have someone that’s a cop like you or I post a slayer at your door. Which do you want?”
Deb rolls her eyes and tries for grumpy but she can barely move without crying out in pain. My hands go to my hips and I stare her down. She looks at me, then looks at Jimmy. Both of us giving her what Jimmy likes to call “The Eye”.
She sighs and says, “Fine, looks like I’m stuck with you. Now would both of you shut the fuck up so I can go to sleep. I have been tortured for Christ’s sake.”
Jimmy nods and I relax. I motion with my hands that I’m gonna head out, he pantomimes the ‘phone me’ signal and I nod.
Turning away from the bed, I make my way out of the room and hospital. Might as well see what’s going on at headquarters. The two hours I got in that god-awful chair will have to do me for a little while.
I knock the pen in my hand against my knuckle, trying to make sense of the report in front of me I’ve been staring at Debra Morgan’s medical record for an hour trying to make sense of how a person can live through the injuries that this woman has.
The chart of broken bones, cuts, abrasions and pure assault astound me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone take this kind of beating. The report indicates that the torture lasted at least six weeks maybe longer. Considering what we know, I’d say it’s been going on since the end of January. I look at my desk calendar and check the date, Saturday, March Seventh, Two-thousand-nine.
The other thing that I don’t get is that the federal agents that have come to assist have been all but absent today. I know they left with Buffy from the hospital last night, but that’s the last Alex and I have seen of them.
And there’s the other thing today that just won’t allow me to function like I need to. Like I know I should when lives are on the line.
Alex.
She’s this distraction that…I can’t lie, I can’t say it’s not unwelcome. She’s the only person I’ve ever spent time with that allows me a modicum of release from the hell that is my job. It’s not like I don’t know most people would run screaming from what I see every day.
Hell, I want to sometimes. Then, something'll just catch me. Something small usually, the way a kid looks at me, thankful and full of hope, or a woman who knows that we’ve caught her attacker and they aren’t going to get away with it.
Those moments let me know I am doing the right thing.
Alex just kind of makes it all bearable and it’s so weird.
I expected more resistance from her and from me, but she keeps on doing small things that chip away at my walls. It’s totally unexpected and not for the first time I find that I’m falling under her spell. Except it’s in such a radically different way. There are the arguments at work. We clash there. It’s no secret, but outside of it, it’s…I sigh and lean back trying to find the words. She’s my knight in shining armor that’s coming to rescue this messed up princess. She just doesn’t know what this princess is really like.
I’ve got mommy and daddy issues combined with a need for control and commitment issues as long as the incidents listed in my jacket.
I don’t think she deserves it, but I don’t know how to show her or if I even can...or really want to.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair and stretch. As I right myself, I see Doctor Rosenberg come trotting into the squad room. I smile at Willow. She’s kinda hard not to like.
You look at her and you get the sense that she’s the type of woman who will stick by you. You know she’s seen her fair share of shit, but she doesn’t back down from it.
At the very least, the doc has my respect.
“Hi Olivia,” she chirps.
“Hey yourself.” I look behind her and expect to see Jimmy or Buffy, but no one else comes in after her. “Where’s everyone?” I ask.
“Everyone, who?” she replies, tilting her head.
I stifle the small laugh and look her over again. She has a knee length, pink and brown skirt on with a shirt that may be similar in color covered by a cream colored pea coat. “I just assumed,” answering her question, “that your people would be behind you.”
“My people?” She thinks on this for a minute and says, “All of my people are either in Cleveland or Londo…oh…you mean Buffy and Jimmy.” She blushes a little and pulls a chair up to my desk.
Well make yourself right at home why don’t you.
“The last time I talked to either of them, they were both still at the hospital waiting on Deb.” She flips open the folder that she was carrying and draws my attention to its contents. “First, let’s get through this and then we can play Where in the World is the Slay…uh…”
“The slay…uh…what?” I ask. What in the hell is she talking about?
“The slayer of my heart. Yep, that’s Buffy alright. Slayed me the first time I laid eyes on her,” she stammers and turns an interesting shade of red, a red I didn’t think was possible for a human being to turn. And really, her little over share, I could have lived without.
I try to salvage this, bring it back to a more professional level and tap the folder. “You were showing me what?”
“Some of the reports on the trace evidence that came back from the labs.” She flips through a few reports and starts in, “We started with Debra’s clothing. For the most part, there wasn’t a whole lot to be found on the majority of what was left. They did…she was hurt a lot and over a long period of time.”
I scoot closer and read some of what she’s got in front of her. Pointing to a graph, she says, “There were significant amounts of particulates that were found on the tattered calves of her jeans and more pulled from her ankles and heels.”
I look at Willow and confirm, “That’s consistent with her being dragged.”
She nods and says, “At the base level we can confirm that given the particulates found, she was kept and tortured in Manhattan which is good…well, not the torture, but that she was kept in one place. I have a girl that’s trying to narrow down a more concrete area in terms of where they could have been kept.”
“Do you think that will yield anything?” I ask. If the lab rats can find us anything to use, I’ll be thrilled.
Willow shrugs. “We’ll see. What worries me is the extensiveness of her injuries.” She reaches for Debra’s medical chart and smirks. “It seems I’m not the only one.”
“Do you think she should have survived?” I wheel my chair back around to my desk and await her answer.
“No,” she answers bluntly. “There’s only a few people I know that could have survived the attack that Debra did.”
“She’s lucky.”
Willow only nods as her pocket starts playing a melody. She slips the Blackberry from her pocket and answers, “Rosenberg.” Her face scrunches and then she laughs. “Xander, I’m telling Buffy you said that.” I hear a man laugh on the other end of the phone and watch a little, amazed as Willow seems to loosen up a little. “Look, I’m not sure. I know there’s been some problems. Dawn talked to me about it.” She nods and continues, “Uh-huh, but we’ve been out of that loop.”
I sit back and listen. For some reason, I feel this is important. “Xander, don’t. Look you need to protect the girls you and Faith are responsible for. Dawn’s taken care of giving us some extra muscle here.” Her face goes a little red and her lips purse. “She did what?”
More chatter on the other end and she says, “Well, then it looks like Satsu and I are going to have to have a talk.” She shakes her head and says, “Over my Jewish ass. And yes, I know, I’ve been around Buffy way too long…okay that was all Jimmy. He’s a bad influence.”
I see Alex step into the pen and smile. She gives me a half smile, half smirk that makes me flush. It’s very similar to the one she was wearing the other night, the night I got called to the hospital.
Willow looks behind her and waves at Alex. “Look, Xander, don’t worry about that and if anything happens I’ll call you. Take care of the school. Take care of those girls. I gotta go.” With that she takes the phone from her ear and hits end.
Looking between Alex and myself, she offers, “I’m sorry. That was sort of rude. Olivia, I’m going to leave this here with you and if anything else comes up I’ll let you know.” She stands and turns to Alex. “Alex, call me later, maybe lunch tomorrow?”
Alex nods and Willow gathers her things to leave. Her phone is at her ear before she’s out the door barking the name of the Japanese federal agent as she scurries from the squad room.
Well that was certainly interesting.
I grin at Alex and look around the room. Surprisingly, there isn’t anyone here. Munch and Fin are tracking down two of the guys that were named in the bust yesterday. Elliot went to pick up our lunch and everyone else that usually runs around seems to be elsewhere.
Taking advantage of our alone time, I pull Alex’s chair around to face mine, leaning in, I capture her lips and give her a soft hello kiss.
This isn’t something I would do under normal circumstance. For some reason I don’t find these circumstances normal. She smiles back at me and I return her grin.
She hooks a thumb behind her and says, “You ever get the feeling that Willow doesn’t play with a full deck?”
I lean back and laugh, wondering if she read my mind. The doctor really is something else. I’m not sure if it’s genius or insanity.
In my line of work I find that it’s usually both.
Exhaling I reach the bottom of the station house steps. I can’t believe I let Olivia hear that much of my conversation with Xander. It takes a second, but the cold finally registers and I secure my scarf around my neck and make sure my coat’s buttoned.
The phone goes back to my pocket and I curb the urge to go find Satsu and show her who I really am. I huff and then breathe in a lung full of cold, frosty, winter air.
Not that much better, but the homicidal tendencies are subsiding and that’s the important part. Stupid Slayer. Why would go to a known demon bar…a known demon bar that is protected by Buffy and cause a buncha hullabaloo.
Huffing, I turn right outside the doors and stalk towards Eighth Avenue. I need to catch a cab back to the apartment.
It takes a bit longer than I like, but the driver finally, after arguing with him for four minutes, lets me out at Amsterdam and Ninety-Fourth. I’ll take the block walk to my apartment. I start west, hang a left on Columbus and my building looms ahead.
I know it’s warm in there. My cheeks are stiff and frozen and I can never seem to use enough moisturizer during the winter.
Making it into the lobby, I stamp my feet on the entrance rug and shake some of the snow from my body. Criminey, it’s cold.
And did I mention the snow? Yeah, that’s always fun. I start towards the lobby when a voice calls out, “Willow!”
I stop mid-step and try to make myself smaller. I really don’t need this, not today.
I brace myself for the encounter and pretend like I’m dealing with a really sick patient. I spin on my heal and plaster a smile across my face. “Susan.” I wave a gloved hand in her direction and she strides over.
She scowls at me and says, “Dad called wanting to know if I could pick up some clothes for him.”
I raise an eyebrow and shrug. “Sure, come on up.” I let her follow me to the elevators and we’re silent on our ride up.
I look at her out of the corner of my eye and still can’t figure it out. Her brother, James, or Junior if you’re speaking to Jimmy, is probably one of the sweetest guys you would ever want to meet. His father and him are similar, both loyal, fiercely protective and if they accept you into their inner circle, which is hard, there isn’t a thing that either one won’t do for you. Both are funny, sarcastic and cute in that guy-type way. Although James is gay. Jimmy’s like the anti-gay, not the homophobic gay, but just that…
There was this study done that surveyed an anonymous set of men varying in age, race and the like. The study concluded that of the seventy percent of the men that listed themselves as heterosexual, they would in the course their life; on average have four to seven dreams or fantasies of a sexual nature regarding the same sex. I would bet the entire planet that Jimmy is of the thirty-percent that won’t.
But James is great. He’s like Xander, but not geeky and very gay. Even James’ partner Tim, is like the sweetest guy. On the other hand, Jimmy’s daughter, James’ sister, Susan has a stick the size of Gandalf’s staff shoved up her tush.
And the kicker is she’s an elementary school teacher…I feel really really bad for the kids she teaches.
We finally make it to the apartment and I show her around. She hasn’t been here since we moved. When she found out that Jimmy was moving in with us and we were moving back to Manhattan she nearly stroked out.
Jimmy wonders why we don’t tell her the truth about us. I can see that going well.
“Susan,” I say, trying to be polite as possible, “I was actually waiting on someone from work to meet me here and then head over to the hospital. I’d be happy to take the clothes to your dad.”
Her eyes narrow and she says, “I told him I would. Where’s his bedroom?” I point to the short hallway left of the apartment entrance.
She moves out of the entryway and into her father’s room. I slip into Buffy’s and mine to quickly change. As I pull a sweater over my head the phone rings. I scramble to pick it up, “Hello?”
“Doctor Rosenberg, this is Nacia from downstairs. There’s a woman by the name of Isabel Cohen to see you.”
“That’s fine. Tell her the doors open and to not bother knocking,” I instruct.
“Very well. I’ll send her up right away. Have a good day doctor.” Nacia says. I wish her the same and disconnect.
A light knock turns my head in the direction of my bedroom door. “Come in,” I say.
Susan’s head pokes in and she says, “Dad also wanted to know if you had any clothes for Debra? Who’s Debra?”
I bite my lower lip and think. She’s taller than Buffy or me but maybe I have a coupla t-shirts I can take her and some sweats that won’t be too short. Distractedly, I answer, “She’s one of the victims from a case Jimmy and Buffy are working.”
I shuffle through a few drawers and come up with a few pairs of sweats that don’t look twenty years old and some plain t-shirts I use to bum around the house in.
That should work.
I stuff them in a clean gym bag when I hear the front door open.
“Hello,” Isabel calls out.
“In here,” I call back.
“Willow,” Isabel moves around Susan and comes in for a hug.
I return the gesture and smile. “Sorry about not…at the precinct…,” I fumble.
She smiles warmly. “It’s okay. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m glad I’m here.”
Susan coughs from the doorway and I swivel my head in her direction. Right. Guest.
“Susan McAllister this is Federal Prosecutor Isabel Cohen, Isabel this is Jimmy’s, you know who he is?” At her nod, I say, “This is his daughter.”
Isabel lights up, “Wow, it’s so nice to meet you.” She jumps over to Susan and starts pumping her hand in a firm shake.
I snort and turn away to fix the rest of the bag Jimmy asked for. Behind me I hear, “I’ve heard a lot about your father, he’s such an amazing guy. The things Willow has said, you are just so lucky…”
Isabel continues to gush as I brush past them and move to the living room to find my tennis shoes. They follow me out and right before I know Susan’s about to explode, I interrupt, “I’m ready. Susan do you have everything that your dad asked for?”
She glares at me, but holds up the bag and gives it a good rattle for emphasis.
“Well then,” I say, grabbing my coat and purse, “Let’s boogey.”
We all agree on a cab and pile into the backseat. Heading away from my apartment, Isabel cuts into my thoughts, “Does Susan know?”
I reply, “No, and she shouldn’t”
“Sorry, Willow. It’s just that…,” she stammers.
“Isabel, I get it sorta.” Sighing out loud, I try for nice and say, “Look, Buffy and I have been out of the game, like the real game for awhile. I can’t imagine what the rumors are about us considering, but I’m going to give you piece of advice.”
“And that would be what?” she asks eagerly.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to say as nicely as possible, “When this is over, Buffy and I are staying where we are at, retired. She isn’t some mythical creature and neither am I. Treat us like people and Buffy won’t have to rip off important body parts.”
I smile brightly and see the color drain from her face. Good.
She knows I’m not kidding.