Black Tie Event

Chapter Twenty Five

"You've been sitting there for quite a while," the woman behind the desk in the ER called out into the silence. "Is everything alright?"

"Great," I said under my breath, obviously not meaning it.

I was nearly the only person in the waiting room that afternoon, whatever the reason was. The quiet was startling, and in it, I was left alone with my thoughts, which wasn't a good thing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered. I thought that was a weird request - far outside of her job requirements - but it was then that I realized that I kind of did, because the silence was driving me nuts.

"I'm a detective," I began, the only way I knew how. "I used to work homicide, during which time, I managed to make enemies with an entire narcotics gang. I apparently just ran into one of them. He tried to kill me, but my partner took my bullet, and...now she's been in surgery for an hour and a half and I have no idea what's happening in there."

"That must be so scary," she almost whispered, evidently taken aback by my story. I didn't know what she was expecting me to say, but clearly, the story she was anticipating had been of a more benign nature - my sister was in labor, maybe? My daughter broke her wrist?

"I don't usually like to admit it when I'm scared," I said both to myself and this random stranger. "That's the thing. I can be angry, sure, sad, even, with no problem....but I can't deal with fear. I feel like I'm not entitled to it. And, for five years, you know, this was my life. I worked homicide for five years, and I dealt with shootings every day. But this one I couldn't even begin to handle."

"It looks like you handled it," she noted. "How did you get her here with the blood loss?"

"Compression," I said simply. "I don't normally show up to the ER in jeans and lacy camisoles, in case you're wondering, I took off my sweater to compress the wound."

"You must be a hell of a cop," she smiled back. "The force needs people like you."

"Oh yeah," I sighed. "Cops who let other people get shot in their place. I'm a real asset."

"I bet you're really selfless," she coddled. "I have some sweaters that I'd probably put before a friend's life."

I allowed myself to laugh slightly, but it didn't last long. "I'll keep that in mind," I said, my real thoughts way off somewhere else.

"It'll take time, but you'll be alright," she assured me, knowing that I still had not been satiated. "And I'm sure she'll pull through."

"You know, she can pull through anything," I characterized. "Allison...my partner...all she does is fight. She doesn't stop fighting, not with me, not with suspects...in fact, not with our lawyer. I have no doubt she'll fight a bullet hole."

"See? You have nothing to worry about."

"Well, that's not all that's on my mind. I just killed a man."

She blinked a few times, and I wondered if she wished she'd never asked. "Oh, boy."

"Her shooter," I illustrated. "It was in defense. But, I've only had one kill on duty in my entire time as a detective. And, it's not like, you know, playing the piano, or, sex, or something. It doesn't get easier as you go."

"You did what you had to do," she tried to assuage my trepidation and ignoring the weird analogical parallels that I'd drawn. "You saved your partner, and yourself."

"Then why do I feel so awful?"

"Because you just had a traumatic experience. You'll be okay. It just takes time."