A surprise invalid
Shit. Shit. How is that-
Her heart stopped! Whose heart stops from exercise? Okay, she's stressed, she's doing the judo or whatever . . . and bam, her ticker just gives out? What the hell?
Damn. Damn. Damn. Gotta go bang on Rossi's door. Vincent's. Are they on-shift tonight? No idea. Will leave messages if so. Phone messages. Notes stuck under the door. Will call the damn station if I have to.
Her heart stopped.
My God. That poor girl.
Kinda puts my will-they-won't-they job freakout in perspective, huh?
9/15/2005 [backdated to 9/14/05]
Logfile from Leah.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nervous restlessness, even at this hour: Detective Rossi doesn't have the corner on the energy market. Leah is pacing out her stake on it, angling straight paths around rooms and furniture in her apartment like the painstaking articulation of a ninth-grader's geometry homework. Muttering goes with her, and the occasional hand run through bristling bronze hedgehog hair. Distraction. Tension. Worry. And every time she passes the kitchen counter, she eyes the cordless phone resting mutely on it and then launches herself once more into the fretful patterns.
And that phone, it does ring! On the other end is a Sabitha, lounging in a hospital bed, tired, but with a determined expression set on weary features. She is calling Leah. Because she /wants/ to.
And Leah is there to hear and see it ring, and does shriek a little for the surprise. "God," she mutters shakily, shakes herself, and snatches at the thing. Asks hopefully, "Bruce?"
Sabby blinks in confusion for a moment. "Leah?"
"Sabby?" Oh, this could go on all night. But no, Leah shakes her head sharply, rattling out worry's cobwebs, sucks in a breath, focuses. "Sorry. Expecting someone else." A ragged chuckle. "About a job. Anyway. Hi."
"Um. Hi." Sabby's silent for a minute after that, and she belatedly regrets not planning this out more thoroughly. How /does/ one start a phone call like this? In search of that answer, Sabby reaches out and comes up with, "How are you?"
Leah wonders, "Besides freaking out? Right out of my freaking mind? --Ha, that sounds funny. Have to remember that." She rustles through the cabinets above the counter. Goes for the fridge next. Sighs frustration. "And out of munchies. Um. Guess I'm okay. You?"
Sabby shifts herself upward, just a little, and twirls the cord of the phone around one finger, hesitant. "Um. Not so good, actually," she replies after a minute. "In the hospital."
The cordless phone drops right out of Leah's stiffened, ennervated hand. /Clatter./ And bounce and skitter. She scrabbles around on the kitchen floor to get it back. "--Jesus. Sorry. /Jesus,/ Sabby! What happened?"
Sabby frowns in quick concern as the phone goes clattering. "Leah?" she questions, and then moves to explain, in slow tones. "Um. Well. I collapsed while working out," she shares. A tired pause, and then she adds, "And there were complications on the way here, in the ambulance. So they're keeping me here for awhile."
Leah says quickly, "Fine, just dropped it. Surprised as hell -- /complications/?" Again, the skirling emphasis in borough-flat alto. "Do I even want to know? Are you /okay/?"
"My heart stopped," Sabby admits quietly, and then rushes on to add, "I'm ok! They told me I can have visitors now that I've been awake for awhile."
"My God," wails Leah softly as she leans over the counter. She rests her forehead's slump on the back of her hand. "Are you serious?"
"Well. They say so, anyway," Sabby offers, and then remphasizes, "But I'm ok! They just said a couple more days."
Leah's sigh soughs over the line. "Well, that's good. I'm sorry. Just worried. And -- /God./ You're so young!" She injects a little tired, optimistic humor. "What kind of exercise program you got going on over there?"
"Just regular stuff," Sabby assures Leah, and lets her head fall back tiredly to the bed. "And judo. They think it was because work's been so busy. And things have been. Y'know. Stressful."
"Yeah, I remember." Guilt skirts darkly through Leah's reply, and she clears her throat as if to chase it away. "Guess those margs didn't help much, huh?"
"Oh. Um. I dunno. They were nice," Sabby answers, and runs a hand up through her hair before frowning darkly and the unclean feel of it. "Anyway. I just wanted to let you know. Oh, and I should give you the information and stuff, because they're weird about giving out patient information if you're not family. I don't think they will, at the desk. I can give you my phone number and my room number?"
Leah mutters with true-blue experience, "Tell me about it. Nurses should be guarding Fort Knox and the Pentagon, they're so good. --Oh, okay, got a pen. Shoot."
Sabby rambles off both sets of numbers and then waits, giving Leah time to scribble them down before she requests in a quiet voice. "Do you think you can call Chris, and Vincent?"
"I can tell them as soon as I hang up with you," Leah immediately promises. "If I thought my phone would work that far from the base, I'd be already out the door and down the stairs to get 'em. Oh, Sabby. I just ... dammit." She rubs her face as she straightens and turns against the counter to rest her back to it. "Is there anything I can do? Now's not the time to have heart-to-heart talks, but you know I'm here, okay? For /any/thing. I swear it. You don't have to go through this alone, and I'll send the boys to you, and I'll bring you flowers and bake you Italian goodies until you're singin' 'Amore' ... but if you want to talk, okay? Got that?"
In the hospital, Sabby turns her cheek against her pillow and breathes in deeply through her nose. Fights to steady her emotions, and her tone. "I'm ok," she repeats after a moment. "I mean... I appreciate it. I'd like to see... everyone. I just don't know if I'm very good company right now."
Leah laughs a small, cracked noise. "I'm not going to go tearing down to see you tonight. When's good? When would you feel up to it?"
"I don't now," Sabitha answers tiredly, and then tries, "Tomorrow, maybe? Dr.... the doctors said I can have takeout and everything." She adds, ruefully, "And I think maybe a shower. Overdue."
Hesitation on the line. "If I can," Leah finally says. "I can't promise, but I'll really try. Okay? With takeout, even. Just tell me what you'd like. I don't even care if you stink up the place." Such loyalty, and a ghost of easier humor behind it. "That's what friends are for."
Sabby blinks into her empty room in tired confusion. "You don't have... I mean. I'll be here for a few days." She falls silent, and then repeats, "I just wanted to let you know."
"And now I do." Leah gentles her tone and the anxious and helpless energy behind it. "I hear you. I have the info, and I'll tell Rossi and Vincent for you. We'll all come visit at some time. Do you want to rest now? It's getting late for you, I'm sure."
Sabby hesitates, and then finally nods. Not useful to Leah, perhaps, but echoed in, "I've been sleeping a lot. Um. Thanks for making calls for me."
Leah laughs again. "I'm going to go pound on doors. Calling is the backup plan. You take care. Do exactly what those scary nurses tell you."
Sabby laughs, shortly, and there's another unseen nod. "Yeah. Of course. Thanks, Leah." And then she unwinds the cord from round her arm to slide the phone back into its cradle.
[Log ends.]
Her heart stopped! Whose heart stops from exercise? Okay, she's stressed, she's doing the judo or whatever . . . and bam, her ticker just gives out? What the hell?
Damn. Damn. Damn. Gotta go bang on Rossi's door. Vincent's. Are they on-shift tonight? No idea. Will leave messages if so. Phone messages. Notes stuck under the door. Will call the damn station if I have to.
Her heart stopped.
My God. That poor girl.
Kinda puts my will-they-won't-they job freakout in perspective, huh?
9/15/2005 [backdated to 9/14/05]
Logfile from Leah.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nervous restlessness, even at this hour: Detective Rossi doesn't have the corner on the energy market. Leah is pacing out her stake on it, angling straight paths around rooms and furniture in her apartment like the painstaking articulation of a ninth-grader's geometry homework. Muttering goes with her, and the occasional hand run through bristling bronze hedgehog hair. Distraction. Tension. Worry. And every time she passes the kitchen counter, she eyes the cordless phone resting mutely on it and then launches herself once more into the fretful patterns.
And that phone, it does ring! On the other end is a Sabitha, lounging in a hospital bed, tired, but with a determined expression set on weary features. She is calling Leah. Because she /wants/ to.
And Leah is there to hear and see it ring, and does shriek a little for the surprise. "God," she mutters shakily, shakes herself, and snatches at the thing. Asks hopefully, "Bruce?"
Sabby blinks in confusion for a moment. "Leah?"
"Sabby?" Oh, this could go on all night. But no, Leah shakes her head sharply, rattling out worry's cobwebs, sucks in a breath, focuses. "Sorry. Expecting someone else." A ragged chuckle. "About a job. Anyway. Hi."
"Um. Hi." Sabby's silent for a minute after that, and she belatedly regrets not planning this out more thoroughly. How /does/ one start a phone call like this? In search of that answer, Sabby reaches out and comes up with, "How are you?"
Leah wonders, "Besides freaking out? Right out of my freaking mind? --Ha, that sounds funny. Have to remember that." She rustles through the cabinets above the counter. Goes for the fridge next. Sighs frustration. "And out of munchies. Um. Guess I'm okay. You?"
Sabby shifts herself upward, just a little, and twirls the cord of the phone around one finger, hesitant. "Um. Not so good, actually," she replies after a minute. "In the hospital."
The cordless phone drops right out of Leah's stiffened, ennervated hand. /Clatter./ And bounce and skitter. She scrabbles around on the kitchen floor to get it back. "--Jesus. Sorry. /Jesus,/ Sabby! What happened?"
Sabby frowns in quick concern as the phone goes clattering. "Leah?" she questions, and then moves to explain, in slow tones. "Um. Well. I collapsed while working out," she shares. A tired pause, and then she adds, "And there were complications on the way here, in the ambulance. So they're keeping me here for awhile."
Leah says quickly, "Fine, just dropped it. Surprised as hell -- /complications/?" Again, the skirling emphasis in borough-flat alto. "Do I even want to know? Are you /okay/?"
"My heart stopped," Sabby admits quietly, and then rushes on to add, "I'm ok! They told me I can have visitors now that I've been awake for awhile."
"My God," wails Leah softly as she leans over the counter. She rests her forehead's slump on the back of her hand. "Are you serious?"
"Well. They say so, anyway," Sabby offers, and then remphasizes, "But I'm ok! They just said a couple more days."
Leah's sigh soughs over the line. "Well, that's good. I'm sorry. Just worried. And -- /God./ You're so young!" She injects a little tired, optimistic humor. "What kind of exercise program you got going on over there?"
"Just regular stuff," Sabby assures Leah, and lets her head fall back tiredly to the bed. "And judo. They think it was because work's been so busy. And things have been. Y'know. Stressful."
"Yeah, I remember." Guilt skirts darkly through Leah's reply, and she clears her throat as if to chase it away. "Guess those margs didn't help much, huh?"
"Oh. Um. I dunno. They were nice," Sabby answers, and runs a hand up through her hair before frowning darkly and the unclean feel of it. "Anyway. I just wanted to let you know. Oh, and I should give you the information and stuff, because they're weird about giving out patient information if you're not family. I don't think they will, at the desk. I can give you my phone number and my room number?"
Leah mutters with true-blue experience, "Tell me about it. Nurses should be guarding Fort Knox and the Pentagon, they're so good. --Oh, okay, got a pen. Shoot."
Sabby rambles off both sets of numbers and then waits, giving Leah time to scribble them down before she requests in a quiet voice. "Do you think you can call Chris, and Vincent?"
"I can tell them as soon as I hang up with you," Leah immediately promises. "If I thought my phone would work that far from the base, I'd be already out the door and down the stairs to get 'em. Oh, Sabby. I just ... dammit." She rubs her face as she straightens and turns against the counter to rest her back to it. "Is there anything I can do? Now's not the time to have heart-to-heart talks, but you know I'm here, okay? For /any/thing. I swear it. You don't have to go through this alone, and I'll send the boys to you, and I'll bring you flowers and bake you Italian goodies until you're singin' 'Amore' ... but if you want to talk, okay? Got that?"
In the hospital, Sabby turns her cheek against her pillow and breathes in deeply through her nose. Fights to steady her emotions, and her tone. "I'm ok," she repeats after a moment. "I mean... I appreciate it. I'd like to see... everyone. I just don't know if I'm very good company right now."
Leah laughs a small, cracked noise. "I'm not going to go tearing down to see you tonight. When's good? When would you feel up to it?"
"I don't now," Sabitha answers tiredly, and then tries, "Tomorrow, maybe? Dr.... the doctors said I can have takeout and everything." She adds, ruefully, "And I think maybe a shower. Overdue."
Hesitation on the line. "If I can," Leah finally says. "I can't promise, but I'll really try. Okay? With takeout, even. Just tell me what you'd like. I don't even care if you stink up the place." Such loyalty, and a ghost of easier humor behind it. "That's what friends are for."
Sabby blinks into her empty room in tired confusion. "You don't have... I mean. I'll be here for a few days." She falls silent, and then repeats, "I just wanted to let you know."
"And now I do." Leah gentles her tone and the anxious and helpless energy behind it. "I hear you. I have the info, and I'll tell Rossi and Vincent for you. We'll all come visit at some time. Do you want to rest now? It's getting late for you, I'm sure."
Sabby hesitates, and then finally nods. Not useful to Leah, perhaps, but echoed in, "I've been sleeping a lot. Um. Thanks for making calls for me."
Leah laughs again. "I'm going to go pound on doors. Calling is the backup plan. You take care. Do exactly what those scary nurses tell you."
Sabby laughs, shortly, and there's another unseen nod. "Yeah. Of course. Thanks, Leah." And then she unwinds the cord from round her arm to slide the phone back into its cradle.
[Log ends.]