Spoiler! :
/*/*/
Day 4 - 4:24 pm
Sammy had already come and gone today. She still had a lot of work to do, so she was only able to stay for an hour or so during her lunch break. Ryan, on the other hand was able to stay with his friends for quite some time.
“Alright bro, I’ve gotta get going now. I still have some things to do before heading to work tonight,” Ryan said to James, hours after he had arrived.
“Okay, drive safe man. Thanks for coming by.”
“No problem at all. You guys are practically family.”
James smiled in return. They both felt considerably better since the heavy conversation that had seemed to burden them since the day before.
After having briefly clapped a hand to James’ shoulder and saying goodbye to the man's wife, Ryan departed just as a nurse walked into the room. James’ face grew serious again. He and Nurse Julie had become quite nice acquaintances, or maybe even friends, over the past four days. After all, he had been in the hospital with Abigail almost as long as Abigail herself. But the nurse’s being there in the room again, in her uniform, reminded James of the gravity of the situation. And it unnerved him.
James clutched his love’s hand a little tighter than necessary, suddenly needing some sort of reassurance that his wife was indeed still fighting.
"Why isn’t she awake yet?” he asked the nurse. His tone was almost pleading, crazed.
Nurse Julie let out a small exasperated sigh before speaking. She had had a long day and James’ failed attempt at hiding his sorrow only made things harder for her.
“Mr. Fischer, I understand you’re worried, but it takes time. Dr. Francis specifically told you that your wife has her own window of recovery time. She had to be put under for a few hours following the surgery, but she’ll come back as good as new. Her body just needs the extra rest after experiencing the trauma it has been through. But she will wake up when she’s ready.”
Julie had spoken to him behind her nurse persona, practically echoing the doctor’s own words. She really didn’t know how to help him anymore. She knew words could only go so far, and at that point, she thought they had.
But she couldn’t bear the sight of witnessing such a distressed, distant – hopeless – James Fischer. So, after changing the IV bag hooked up to the woman lying on the hospital bed, looking eerily akin to lifelessness, Nurse Julie turned to the man as a friend, and gave words another shot.
“James, I assure you. Your wife will be awake and well before you know it. Your friends have shared stories with me. She seems like a very strong and able woman. Even your daughter seemed to agree.”
His daughter had only been brought to visit once or twice. She was too young to see her mother so beat up. It wouldn’t have been fair.
“Mr. Fischer, what do you believe?”
“She is,” he answered. “She’s the strongest woman I know.” He smiled weakly but warmly towards his unconscious wife before finally meeting the gaze of the nurse from whom the unexpected encouragement was coming.
Some silence passed before he added quietly, as if unsure of whether or not he should continue.
“I think most of her strength comes from Leah, and knowing that no matter how heavy her job weighs down on her, how horrible the world gets, that one thing’ll never change. Our kid, she… she’s as amazing as her mom. She doesn’t even know how much strength and courage she gives her mother just by telling her that she loves her – that she’s the coolest… She still has a really innocent view of the world and the people it in. It’s refreshing and hopeful.”
James’ eyes suddenly darkened, as if referring to the people of world he considered to be relatively evil was the worst betrayal, greatest upset one could ever cause. For him, because of the situation, maybe it was. Though, just as quickly as the feeling of unrest came, he had shaken it off not moments later.
“My wife would never admit to it,” he continued musingly. “But I know it’s getting to see that innocence and pure joy in Leah’s face that gets her through the day-to-day sometimes. It’s the unchanging thing that keeps her afloat – sometimes even for me.”
As Mr. Fischer spoke about his wife and his daughter, the nurse had noticed his features soften, even almost relax. He seemed to have come alive with a look of joyful hope that had begun to momentarily claim his expressive green eyes.
“Wow,” he said after silence. “Where did that come from? I don’t think I've been so sappy since my wedding.”
The nurse chuckled. “Well regardless, she sounds like a remarkable woman, with a lovely kid and husband to match…” She smiled with what James perceived to be genuine kindness. “And so as her husband, I’m sure you should know better than I that it would take a lot more than a bullet to the chest to take your wife down.”
Julie allowed a pause, hoping her words were sinking in properly. James looked back to his wife. His face had yet again begun to reveal an absolutely forlorn expression. He didn't want to believe any of this was happening, but it was.
“Everything will be fine, sir,” Nurse Julie soothed, her tone hardly hardening as her professional self returned to the surface.
James was quiet as he kept his eyes on the sleeping form of his wife, but Julie saw that a faint smile had allowed his lips to curl.
Words still helped after all. She was glad to have been of any help. With that, she slipped out of the room and into the expansive hallways of the hospital.
Day 3 - 8:37 am
James had just dozed off maybe ten minutes ago and it was evident that he was already dreaming. His best friend Ryan and Abigail’s sister Sammy walked in to find him sound asleep. His hand was joined with Abigail’s as he inadvertently used the contact as a makeshift pillow.
“This is probably the only time he’s slept since she’s been here, huh?” Sammy whispered to Ryan.
“I believe so.”
They were in the same positions they had been in last night, quiet and waiting on the extra visitor chairs set up against the far end of the room.
Abigail Fischer’s chest rose and fell with every breath, just as it should. Ryan and Sammy watched her unconscious body so keenly it was as if they expected her to jump up at any moment and tell them it was all a joke. It sounded like something she would do.
They watched her with tired eyes, hoping and praying, as images flashed through James’ dreaming mind. They were all too similar to the scene that actually caused this tragedy.
He saw the moment as if the memory Detective Collins had relayed to him was his own. He saw himself there as Abigail was doing her job.
“Ben, put down the gun. We only want to help,” she said to the man at the other end of the hospital room, their guns raised at each other.
“Help how? By shooting me down and taking me to jail?! I can’t DO that! There’s no way in hell I’m leaving her again! I can’t.” The gun in his hands wavered for just a moment as he glanced down at the woman lying achingly still on the hospital bed between them. His fiancée.
“No one’s shooting anyone here, okay?” she said. She waited a beat before seeing the near impossibility of merely talking him down. She had to do something about it. “Look, my gun’s going to the floor. Do you think you could extend me the same courtesy?” Abigail bent to lower her gun to the ground.
Ben didn’t budge. His desperation to save his fiancée, or at least to stay with her, was throwing him into complete hysteria.
Collins, Abigail’s partner, shot her a disbelieving look when he saw her releasing her gun to the floor.
“Rowan! Seriously?” He stared at her incredulously.
Rowan. It was her maiden name. She opted to continue using it at work even after she had married.
Collins was angry at the sheer stupidity his partner was showing, but that anger was soon replaced with reluctance and slight worry when Abigail said what he hoped she wouldn't.
“Collins, give us a minute.”
Her stare was pleading but steady, as if saying, “I’ll be fine”.
Collins wanted to object and disregard her request, but he saw such determination burning in her eyes. It was apparent that she knew what she was doing – or at least, that she believed she knew what she was doing.
Although he had been more than reluctant, Collins conceded and began inching his way out the open door, though staying close and lingering near the threshold to watch – to wait for Abigail to say the word so that he could jump the sorry bastard before any blood could be shed.
There were too many people outside that room – all civilians. Some were peering through the hospital window like idiots asking to get killed while others were fear-stricken and balled into the fetal position in a corner of the lobby.
“Okay, Ben. It’s just you and me now –”
“–And Ellie.”
“And Ellie,” Abigail confirmed. “Now, no one wants to hurt anyone here. I think you know that.”
Ironically, that was when back up could be heard lining up against the other side of the wall, ready to charge at any minute.
Abigail bit her lip in frustration when she noticed the expression of desperation deepen on the man’s face in front of her.
Ben was aware of the growing police force outside that room. His grip visibly tightened around the handle of his gun as he absently, perhaps even a bit frantically, stared at the only other conscious woman in the room.
A thought occurred then to Abigail – that she might lose this one. But she quickly dismissed it. She couldn’t afford to think like that. She couldn’t lose this one.
“Ben, I understand why you did it. Really, I do. I probably would’ve done the same as you. If my own husband needed such an operation, I would most probably do anything to make it happen.” Tears filled his eyes, she noticed. “The two shots, they were just an accident, I know. There was chaos in the bank, people were scattering like crazed bees, you panicked. Bullets flew through the air before you could realize what was happening.”
Abigail truly believed her words. Ben Chambers wasn’t a bad man. He was just a desperate man with bad luck, looking for his lost hope.
When Abigail had finished her words, Ben started to slowly lower his gun, and it was then Abigail started a slow but steady pace towards him. She thought they made progress; she thought he was breaking.
She was wrong.
Ben straightened up and hardened his gaze against her. Abigail froze in mid-stride. The fear and regret that had plagued the man’s looks for so long was then veiled by a fleeting, but no less unnerving, look of anger.
He was getting ready to shoot. It took a moment before the anger settled and intermingled with the fear and regret that his expression had long been harboring. He was feeling defeated and he couldn’t hide it anymore.
“Don’t step any closer, Detective, or I swear to God I’ll shoot,” Ben said rashly.
“You know, no one blames you, Ben,” Abigail continued firmly but kindly. She disregarded his threat and kept on towards him. “You just wanted a chance to save her.” She gestured to his fiancée and saw the tears well up once more behind his hardened eyes. “But do you really think that she’d want you to be doing this? Shooting up banks and fighting cops? Would the love of your life really want you to sacrifice your own life so that she could live one that didn’t have you in it?”
Abigail stopped and allowed her words to weigh through the silence of the room. She hoped to God that this was going somewhere.
And it was, but Ben caught himself. “Stop with the words! You sound like you care about us, but you don’t!” He had shaken off the effect her words were having on him, just enough to issue another threat. Except, this set of words sounded much like what he said at the bank. “Stay back and shut up!” Ben let a wave of emotions overtake him before saying again, “I said stay back!”
His arms went limp and moved as if they were dancing to the lull of his next words, no longer a repetition of the bank scene. “I told them, I really did. But they didn’t stop. They just wouldn’t shut up. I told them, I told them… Why didn’t they stop?”
Ben looked at the detective pleadingly, almost desperately, as if her answer was the only thing that could save him from self-destruction. Tears of remorse and anguish could no longer be held back as they paved new paths down his hot cheeks.
Abigail had been able to get within five feet of him by then and she was still inching closer.
“It’s alright, Ben. I can help you. I promise I can help.”
He unconsciously bobbed his head in response as his tired arms began their tentative journey down to his side, gun in hand.
This was almost over. She could feel it. Just a few more minutes with him and she could take that gun safely out of his hands before a blood bath could ensue.
Or so she thought.
“Get out! Get out NOW!” Ben was yet again enraged. Nervous rage. His gun was raised towards the door. An idiot uniform cop decided to sneak his way into the hospital room. “Get. Out!” Ben viciously repeated, but the Uniform stood his ground near the open door.
Abigail’s body tensed momentarily before she threw a quick, angry glare at Collins. He was standing heedlessly behind the rookie he just allowed into the hospital room. He wasn’t normally so absent minded and to be so now of all times peeved Abigail to the bone.
It took a mere three seconds for Abigail to set a satisfyingly cold glare on her partner and then compose herself for the situation at hand. She shifted her gaze towards the Uniform in the room with such chagrin and irritation; it was a miracle she didn’t shoot the cop right then and there.
Looking at the cop, Abigail saw a look of misplaced determination (to kill Ben Chambers) on his face. In return, Ben stared the rookie down with such rage in his eyes, he looked nearly crazed.
There were going to be bullets flying at any moment, and she knew she was out of time. She couldn’t think up a plan, nor could she talk anyone down.
No time. She knew this as it began, as it was happening.
Ben squeezed tighter on the handle of his gun, jabbing violently towards Abigail with the point of it. He released a deep cry of frustration, unable to shake the feeling that he had lost all control of the situation (if he ever had it in the first place).
He had met his breaking point, and from there, everything happened all too fast.
The Uniform by the door must have been startled by the suspect’s holler, because before Abigail could even think to move, two bullets cut through the air. Barely a second apart. Just like at the bank.
The cop pulled the trigger of his gun to let a bullet rein free and Abigail’s voice was all that seemed to be heard. “NO!” she yelled at him. But it was obviously too late.
When the cop’s bullet contacted Ben Chamber’s shoulder, the shocking force caused his fingers to involuntarily tense and pull back against the trigger of his gun. Before he could even think to regret it, a bullet flew out of the barrel of his gun and high into Abigail’s chest, the air in her lungs unequipped for its sudden expulsion.
Ben was hit. She was hit.
There were two shots that Tuesday afternoon in some room of some hospital in some big city in America. But only one body hit the floor.
Ben Chambers staggered backwards from the bullet he took to the shoulder, but he found support against the wall behind him.
Abigail was shown a more “ominous” kind of mercy, if it was at all a mercy.
Gravity threw her like a football to the floor with such a vicious-sounding thud, it should have been considered inhumane.
Then, silence.
It was as if the world, and time itself, stood still, taking a moment to pay reverence to the fallen wife and NYPD Detective, Abigail Rowan-Fischer.
Ben Chambers could do nothing more than stare in disbelief at the scene before him. Of all the things he had done and come to regret in the past week, this topped all of them. The woman who promised to help him had just been shot down – because of him, by his own gun.
He slid to the floor with a heavy heart. “Unforgivable,” he thought, perturbed and unstable.
There was no New York traffic blaring through the open window, there were no chirping birds, no whirring sirens. No sound of whimpering civilians coming from the other side of the hospital room wall.
Only dead silence.
Ben Chambers wanted to wound the world’s false serenity. He wanted to whisper his apologies though he knew they were falling on deaf ears.
“No, no, no… I’m sorry, no, you didn’t deserve… No, I’m sorry.”
She lay so still, so lifeless.
Ben whispered and murmured his apologies before the detective’s own body temperature could match the chill of the hospital room floor, before cops could storm the room and capture him like a rabid dog that was cornered, before chaos could yet again arise because of him.
Then, silence. Only dead silence. She lay so still, so lifeless.
Suddenly, James woke up, nearly falling out of his seat in the process. He tried desperately to block it out, but images of his wife’s maimed body intermingled with one single, dreadful thought in his mind.
/*/*/
Any and all feedback is more than welcome!
The next part will most probably be up tomorrow.
Gender:
Points: 520
Reviews: 30