Chapter 24
"God, how could you be so stupid? The guy had a knife on him, Turner, a knife. Did you not realize that?"
They were in the car, driving back from a crime scene, where her stubborn advisor decided he was impervious to a knife and tried to talk down a distressed suspect high on meth from the ledge of the balcony, while said suspect held the knife to Turner's neck.
She was so angry, her knuckles were bone white from being wrapped around the wheel so tightly. She wouldn’t look at him, refused to note his facial expression, which would no doubt be as nonchalant and infuriatingly arrogant as ever.
There was also the little problem that the depths of his eyes would draw her in until she was no longer upset, no longer indignant about his utter lack of self-preservation, and she couldn't have that, because he needed to learn his lesson. He needed to understand that there were consequences, ramifications to his spontaneous and utterly ridiculous decisions.
They pulled up to a red light and she relaxed for a moment, still staring straight ahead even though Turner hadn't said anything, which was unusual. However, her resolve wouldn't let her turn and look at him. Besides, knowing Turner, he probably expected her to and was trying to lure her with his silence.
She opened her mouth to give him another piece of her mind, when all of a sudden a very pale and cold hand wrapped around her wrist. Something sank in her stomach, tightening into a coil of fear, reminiscent of the emotion she tried to ignore when she saw the knife poised at Turner's neck earlier and she slowly turned her head, afraid of what she would see.
Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of her advisor, slumped against the window, breathing heavily as he clutched his thigh where a steady crimson stream was staining his dark gray slacks. Turner's blood.
Oh God.
Watson registered nothing beyond that. Something didn’t feel right, but she ignored it, concentrating on getting Turner to the hospital instead of wondering where the cut came from, why she hadn't seen it before, and why Turner neglected to mention it.
She stepped on the gas, even though the light was still red and willed the car to go forward, but it didn’t. She checked the pedal again but it refused to budge; slamming the wheel in frustration, she cursed at the SUV for failing on her.
Tears blurred her vision unexpectedly as her heartbeat escalated. The pounding in her head wouldn't abate and suddenly, she didn’t feel good herself. However, even through the dizziness, she reacted quickly.
"Hold on, there's a first aid kit somewhere here and I'm going to call 911, everything will be okay."
Turner didn’t seem to hear her, so she leaned over, unable to resist running her hand through his curls. His eyes met hers and a shiver ran through her, leaving her cold and helpless. He had already given up.
"There isn't enough time," he said quietly, but it resonated deep within her, words twisting around her heart like a snake, ready to squeeze the life out of her.
She was so stunned by his reply that she didn’t realize he opened the car door, until he was already halfway out.
"Turner, Eric, where are you going?"
The desperation in her voice was unmistakable, but Turner didn’t react. Instead, he got out of the car, wincing noticeably in pain, and shut the door, pressing his hand against the glass.
He said something, but she couldn't hear him, and then he was walking away and she was calling for him, voice hoarse, body refusing to move. She was numb all over; limbs weighed down by an invisible force and all she could do was close her eyes and pray.
Tears slipped from beneath her eyelids as her fingers crept to her neck, desperate for some stability, for hope.
But her neck was bare.
Suddenly, her panic was amplified.
Where was her cross?
Her fingers searched frantically, nails scratching across the pale skin of her throat.
She never took the piece of jewelry off, not even when she was sleeping, because it's been with her through everything, a constant source of resilience and comfort, a protection that was unexplainable but very strong; something that made her feel safe.
Now that feeling had disappeared along with her necklace and the ache in her chest threatened to consume her. She couldn't wrap her mind around what had just happened. The day started out normally enough and now she was in her stalled car, alone, no Turner, no cross, nothing to make her feel safe, nothing to make her keep moving forward.
Her throat grew incredibly dry, as she realized her hand was wet with blood, Turner's blood... Oh, God.
Flashes of Turner smiling, Turner kissing her, Turner holding her morphed into the lasting image of Turner hurt, Turner silently saying goodbye, his naturally vibrant eyes sunken, hollow, devoid of life. It cut her deeply, made her shake with unbidden sobs. Bitterness seeped in, numbing her again, until she couldn't feel a thing, not even her own fingers as she clawed at her neck in hopes of finding that elusive strength that kept her going all these years.
Her own voice seemed miles away even as she called for Turner again, though she knew he was too far away to hear her...
As per the doctor's instructions, she was supposed to wake up on her own, but watching her thrash around like that, tears escaping past fluttering eyelashes as she whispered Turner's name was almost too much to bear, even for the normally composed and difficult to faze analyst.
So after checking that no one was about to come in, Ng put his latest novel down, and leaned over his boss, hand lightly prodding her shoulder.
The motion didn’t do much, except make her jerk even more violently, and Ng feared she was going to rip her stitches, so he gave her a rougher shake. Though he was anticipating it, Watson fingers wrapping around his wrist was somewhat of a shock, her panicked eyes connecting with his as recognition fills her gaze.
He has never seen her look so disoriented, so emotionally overwhelmed, but her warm breath was grazing his knuckles, and he could feel the beat of her heart beneath his palm, and everything else seemed almost irrelevant at that point, because she was alive. He was not going to deny that ever since Turner's call earlier that morning, he had needed the reassurance of seeing Watson awake to confirm she wasn't going anywhere.
Despite her worried gaze and Turner's name falling from her lips again, Ng managed a small smile and replied to her anxious inquiry.
"Turner is okay. He's in another room though, being examined."
He didn’t miss the flash of fear and confusion that slowly morphed into realization as Watson struggled to sit up. She didn’t ask for an explanation, but Ng continued, understanding by the look in her eye what she needed to know but could not ask yet.
"He suffered a severe concussion, which was only exacerbated by his resistance to medical attention."
He picked up a carafe by Watson's bed and poured her a cup of water. She took it eagerly, draining it in a continuous sip while Ng contemplated whether or not to tell her about what brought on Turner's blackout.
Watson cleared her throat, coughed a little, and then sighed.
"Figures. Stubborn man, is he going to be alright?"
She looked at him with an expression he has never seen before, her large, emerald orbs were filled with a vulnerability that made the decision for him. Some details were better kept concealed until later.
"Don't worry. He's a tough bastard, we all know that."
He couldn't help the sense of triumph at the small smile that tugged at her lips. She looked down, eyes undoubtedly connecting with the large gauze wrapped around her thigh.
They managed to stop the bleeding long enough to assess the damage, which turned out to be far less than anticipated. Even so, after stitching her up and doing an x-ray, they put her on a course of antibiotics, just to avoid infection.
Ng wanted to tell her this, explain that everything would be fine, that she was incredibly lucky that the drugged up creature missed all the vital areas and that Turner, barring a few weeks of discomfort and forced bed rest, would be okay. The way her shoulders immediately slouched as she stared at her leg, realization of the last day's events invariably washing over her, made him sit in silence beside her, realizing that any words of comfort had no place at the moment.
“So, I'm assuming since you're here, everyone else knows?"
He really shouldn't be surprised that despite the injury she suffered and learning of Turner's concussion, that Watson's mind would still be on business.
He couldn't begrudge her that, however, realizing that under those circumstances, where she must feel so helpless, it would help her to focus on work, and figure out what her next step would be. She had obviously thought about the repercussions and what-ifs, if her look of determination was any indication.
He was about to open his mouth to concur, maybe give her a little heads up. He thought it might be a good idea to warn her that Harper was somewhere in the vicinity, fuming with equal parts guilt and annoyance over aggravating Turner's condition, and really over the whole messed up situation. He was about to fill her in when he suddenly heard the aforementioned detective's voice as it filtered through the curtain separating Watson's bed from the other occupant of the room, and his eyes immediately fell on Watson, who suddenly looked beyond panicked and anxious.
Though outwardly she remained calm, Watson's eyes went wide with fear and perhaps a hint of humiliation. However, Ng never once questioned Watson's credibility, nor questioned her competence in the wake of this mess. Briefly, he wondered if he was blinded by his loyalty to her, but as the last few years being her second-in-command flashed through his mind, he shook away his doubt, knew his judgment was sound.
No, Watson was the most capable, level-headed, and astute detective he knew. He was sure that once Turner had found out about Evans, there was no stopping him. Ng only wondered why Watson never brought a weapon with her, or her badge.
He would have to ask her about it later.
"Ng?"
The hint of panic in Watson's voice broke his reverie. Shooting his gaze to the door, Ng gently instructed her to close her eyes as he edged the curtain back into place. He was back in his chair, novel splayed haphazardly in his lap seconds before Harper poked his head in.
His gaze drifted to Watson for a second, glazing over in brief reverence before narrowing his gray eyes at Ng again.
"I thought Natalie was awake." He stated with an edge to his voice that, if Ng didn't know any better, would make him think he was being interrogated. Well, he didn’t take well to being questioned, so the lie rolled easily off his tongue.
"No, she's sleeping," The younger man responded without so much as a glance back at the detective, who was getting more irritated by each second of no eye contact.
"Thought I heard you talking to someone," Harper continued, having the audacity to wrap his arms across his beefy chest, tone almost accusatory, not that Ng blamed him, considering he was right.
"Unlikely. I don't read out loud and I doubt even in her sleep, she would find what I'm reading at all interesting," he replied nonchalantly, expression unmoving as Harper narrowed his eyes at him even further. Ng finally met his gaze, silently challenging the detective to probe some more. Eventually, Harper nodded and turned to retreat, and asked Ng to let him know when Watson did wake up. He nodded in return; turning back to his novel. However, at the last second, he changed his mind, and called after Harper.
"Any word on Turner?"
The detective stilled, shoulders tensed up just slightly. Ng counted his blessings when Harper didn’t turn around, because upon hearing of Turner, Watson's body trembled ever so slightly.
"His CT scan came back clean. No sign of a subdural hematoma, but they want to keep him overnight just in case. He does have a severe concussion so he can't be sleep for more than two hours at a time. I'm sure you can imagine the fun his nurses are having. I think he's managed to scare off two since he's been awake."
Despite his innate stoicism, Ng couldn't help the hint of a smile at the thought of the advisor wreaking havoc from his hospital bed. One quick look at Watson told him she was more relaxed now than she was moments ago. Her lashes fluttered imperceptibly against her cheeks and he knew she contemplated waking up.
"Yeah, I can imagine," Ng smirked and Harper finally easesd up a little.
His eyes flickered over to Watson again, but his gaze didn't linger, instead he sighed and drew his attention back to Ng.
"They'll probably discharge her as soon as she wakes up if she passes a few neurological tests, so let me know when she does."
When Harper finally slipped out of the room, Ng released all his tension in a steady stream of air and immediately pulled his chair up closer to Watson's bed, touching her arm softly as her eyes fluttered open.
Blinking as her vision came back into focus, she turned to her second in command with a soft smile.
"Thanks, Ng."
"No problem, I'm glad you're okay," he admitted in a moment of rare emotion, and the compassion in his dark eyes formed a knot in Watson's throat. Unwelcome tears burned beneath her eyelids as if his words unlocked the place where she kept everything hidden, reality suddenly engulfing her, making it almost a little too hard to breathe.
Ng noticed the change in her demeanor right away and couldn't help the little bubble of panic that rose in his throat. He didn’t really know how to handle these situations, but especially where Watson was concerned, he was extremely out of practice, so used to her always being in control.
However, be it his luck or her unfortunate circumstance, his need to comfort her became moot when the curtain was roughly pulled back and they both looked up to find their superior gazing back at them.
Watson tried to hide her surprise at seeing Rodrigues, but invariably failed, as his appearance reminded her once again where she was and what she was doing there. Her relief over knowing that Turner was relatively okay was overpowered by a deep feeling of shame as she tracked the disappointment in her superior's eye.
She was not surprised by Rodrigues's reaction, but it hurt all the same. She bit her lip uncharacteristically, pulling the chapped flesh between her teeth, if for nothing else than to feel something other than the tight knots in her stomach.
"Don't worry. I sent Sam on a coffee run."
Watson was not sure whether she should thank him or be even more ashamed that Rodrigues knew about her little deception.
"It was my decision, sir. I thought Watson needed some-..."
Ng tried to speak up, but Rodrigues cut him off with a raised hand reflecting exactly how he felt about the situation. The dryness in her throat returned and no amount of water would be able to get rid of it this time.
"Ng, give us a few minutes, okay?"
The older man finally turned to the junior officer, his tone almost apologetic, almost. Yet, Ng held no grudge. He simply nodded and exited the room, but not before shooting Watson an encouraging half smile, something that despite her current circumstance warmed the detective's heart. It reminded her that even if her superior was about to give her a stern and much deserved reprimand, her team was still fully behind her.
That knowledge gave her a little strength, at least enough to look Rodrigues in the eye as he geared up to launch into his tirade. She bit the inside of her cheek, preparing herself for the tongue-lashing that she knew was justified. However, her boss caught her off guard by leaning against the window, pushing back the curtain to peer into the street, and heaving a deep sigh.
"Why didn't you bring your gun with you? Why didn't you even run a background check on this guy before going unarmed to his residence? How could you be so stupid and careless? This is not how I run my unit, Natalie. This is not what I trained you to do when you first joined the force. What happened?"
He finally returned his gaze to her and the hint of desperation in his voice paired with the concern marring his blue eyes was no match for Watson's emotional control. She blinked back tears as she stared mutely at the older man, fighting fiercely against disappointment welling within herself. The fact that Rodrigues' reprimand felt more like that of a father than a boss didn’t help matters.
Clearing her throat, she stared down at her hands as they twisted nervously in her lap.
"I just didn't want the PPB to be involved in any way, in case things did go wrong."
Although it really was her impetus for going to see Evans unarmed and she let Turner know as much when she consented to it; now the idea sounded ridiculous coming out of her mouth.
"The PPB is always involved, Natalie," he replied patiently. "Anything to do with the Red River Killer means the PPB is involved, especially when there's a mess to clean up. I thought you knew that better than anyone.”
“I did.”
Her response was mechanical. She didn’t know what else to say. Despite her perpetual role as damage controller, especially where Turner was concerned, Watson suddenly couldn't justify her actions, couldn't for the life of her understand how she ever thought it would be possible that this was going to be simple. She hadn't thought beyond the conversation with Evans, but even if they had been successful and the kid did have knowledge of the Red River Killer's identity, at what point would she inform the PPB? They would have had to be notified eventually. Even if Turner resisted, she would have had to go to Harper sooner or later.
She was certain that it would have destroyed her relationship with Turner and the knowledge that that could have possibly played a role in her decision sent a powerful wave of nausea crashing through her system. Desperately, Watson grabbed the cup of water of the table, draining it greedily in the hopes of forcing the wave back down.
All the ire and frustration that had been building within Rodrigues since he received word of this mess disintegrated into dust at the first sign of Watson struggling. Slowly, he made his way to the bed, gingerly perching himself on the edge as he took her cup and refilled it.
She watched him over the rim of the cup, her eyes a mixture of confusion and apprehension at the change in his demeanor. Rodrigues really couldn't blame her. He couldn't make up his mind about which role to play here.
He knew he needed to be the boss, make the difficult decisions, and he already made up his mind on that issue. However, he should have known it would be impossible to remain cold and detached in the face of Watson injured and scared, staring up at him from her hospital bed. She seemed to read the expression on his face, understanding his misgivings and ambivalence as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and exhaled carefully.
Rodrigues was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t hear her soft apology but it echoed in the room, drawing his eyes back to his detective. Her eyes were set within dark circles and their usual green vibrancy was missing. The fire he saw in her, what assured him when he first met her that she would make a superb team leader, seemed to have been extinguished. It sapped the last bit of anger out of him, replacing it with concern, which she probably didn’t deserve at the moment.
"Don't be sorry. It already happened," he replied and Watson cast her glance down, nodding stoically, mouth opening and closing as she realized there wasn't much she could say in her defense.
Instead, she continued to study her lap, eyes darting every once in a while to her injured thigh. She couldn't feel it at the moment due to the copious amounts of painkillers being pumped into her system. For now, she was numb to the pain, but much like her situation, she knows she will feel the ramifications, both physical and psychological, soon enough and reality would not be as easy to ignore then.
The drugs left her lethargic, fighting to stay alert as Rodrigues spoke, wishing fruitlessly that she never put him in this situation. She saw the worry lines etched on his forehead and the way he oscillated between reprimanding her and fretting over her condition.
"You know that you and Turner are both suspended effective immediately?"
It was not really a question, but the regret in Rodrigues' voice only managed to seize her heart even more. Still, resigned to her fate, Watson nodded mutely, finding a sudden interest in her fingernails.
Her boss exhaled deeply. "I mean it, Natalie. I don't want to see either you or him in the office for at least two weeks after the holidays, until the storm had settled. I don't want you making excuses to come back in and make sure Turner didn’t either."
Despite the realization that she would likely be cooped up in her house for fourteen days without much else to do but ruminate on the idiocy of her actions, and making sure Turner didn’t lose his mind from having nothing to do as well, she felt a little restored when Rodrigues asked her to keep Turner in line.
Even if it was superficial, she was glad to know that she was still trusted with some responsibility and following orders left her with some sense of normalcy. However, the punishment didn’t seem to fit the crime and of its own accord, her gaze seeking, she slipped her hand to Rodrigues' shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
He seemed a little stunned by the physical contact, but his expression softened considerably as his blue eyes settled on her and she found the courage to speak.
"I understand the suspension, but I don't want you to take responsibility for something I did. I'm a grown woman, I knew the consequences going in, and I should face them now."
"No, what I think you should face is the reason why you did what you did."
Her eyes grew wide at his words, the blunt reply sinking deep into her bones, leaving her cold and defenseless, forcing her to confront what she had been trying to ignore all along.
"You need to remember that you weren't in this alone."
She met his gaze then as he rose to stand at the foot of the bed. The knowing look in his eye makde her blood run cold. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to even think about it, but she could't escape his look and she realized that he knew.
"It's not against the rules because he's on retainer and not a full fledged employee, but I hope to god that didn't cloud your judgment in this case." He continues when she couldn't seem to find any words, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Natalie, just because I know Turner and he probably would have gone along and done it anyway, but do not put me in this position again. Are we clear?"
For a second, she was mortified as the implication of Rodrigues' words settled in, but she didn’t break his gaze and forced her feelings down as deep as she could.
"Yes, sir. It won't happen again."
He nodded in return, and a heavy silence fell over them. She was sure he didn’t believe her and she really couldn't blame him. She never let it get this far before, but it's not like her credibility hadn't been questioned by everyone else. She just always assumed Rodrigues was the exception and the coil around her heart only tightened at the realization that he may not be that anymore and there was no one to blame but herself.
Perhaps having noticed her inner turmoil, Rodrigues drew her attention back by clearing his throat and catching her glance, "Taking some time off might do you some good."
He stood silently by her bedside for a few more minutes, eyes darting every so often to her injury, until Watson couldn't take it anymore. It was not his uncontrollable outward display of concern that got to her; it was that she felt she didn’t deserve it after dragging him into this mess.
"Hey," she said softly, peering up at him through hooded lashes, "You don't have to watch over me. I'll be fine."
His surprise only lasted for a moment before he managed to regroup.
"I know that. Just take it from someone who has been there and don't try to play hero and refuse pain meds. Trust me; they'll be your new best friend for a while."
Watson couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her throat or the smile that formed on her lips at his words, and she nodded, bangs falling over her forehead.
"I won't. I think I've had enough playing hero already."
The words slipped out before she could stop them, but before they could kill the lightheartedness of the moment, Rodrigues managed to smile back, holding her gaze for a while longer.
"I'll go get the nurse then so we could get you out of here."
Watson nodded in agreement and bit back her desire to apologize again as her superior disappeared behind the curtain, only to be replaced by Ng who looked uncharacteristically concerned as he stepped back into the room.
"Everything okay?"
She smiles as warmly as possible at her colleague, "Yeah, nothing I didn't expect. Don't worry about it."
Ng remained as stoic as ever and returned to the empty chair by her bed and sat down, prepared to open his novel again and continue reading. At first, Watson was okay with his company, preferring not to wait for the nurses and the doctor alone, but the sound of Christmas jingles somewhere down the hall reminded her what day it was and she no longer wanted him to stay.
“Ng".
The Asian man looked up from his novel, his expression immovable and she almost couldn't handle his nonchalance. His loyalty in the face of the last few hours, hell the last few years baffled her sometimes.
"Could you do me a favor?"
He stared back expectantly and Watson couldn't help smiling as he looked at her attentively.
"Go home and spend Christmas Eve with your family."
If Ng could ever look surprised, it would be then as he shut the novel and gazed at her pointedly, "No. I'm good. April is with her family and my mom is with my aunts. It's fine."
"No, it's not," Watson exhaled, wishing for once he would disagree with her. "First of all, it's not fine that you're sacrificing time with your family for me and second of all, I'm fine. As soon as they discharge me, I'm going up to Turner's room, so you don't have to worry about me. I'll have my hands full with him."
Despite the smirk that penetrated his calm facade, Ng still didn’t seem convinced and Watson let out a sigh before propping herself up and reaching out for his hand, "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, but you've done enough. Besides, you need to keep your strength up considering you'll be running the unit for two weeks after vacation."
Ng blinks, opened his mouth to say something, but Watson cut him off, "Rodrigues suspended Turner and myself after the holidays. It's officially two weeks but could be longer depending on how intensely Internal Affiars gets involved."
She thought it would be painful to repeat those words, to finally accept the reality of her situation, but surprisingly, the explanation rolls easily off her tongue, as if this suspension, this punishment wasn't happening to her, but to someone else.
Ng's eyebrows migrated to his hairline, but soon his features relaxed and Watson looked away. Not strong enough to dwell on the situation any longer.
“I’m sorry."
"It's fine," she said quickly, finding it annoying that this particular word kept popping up. She never believed anyone who's told her they were 'fine' and now she's being the hypocrite. Ng was once again skeptical, but didn’t say anything, instead chose to remain silent and strong by her side and Watson was forever thankful to have him as her second in command.
Watson wanted to thank him, communicate to him how grateful she truly was for his unquestionable loyalty but the words died on her lips. Somehow, a generic thank you didn’t seem like enough, so she remained quiet, closing her eyes to catch a moment of respite before the storm of nurses and doctors begin to probe and examine her before hopefully releasing her.
She tried to block out the beeping of the machines and the cheesy Christmas music in the distance. Instead, she imagines she was back on her porch drinking spiked coffee with a smiling Turner telling her this is the happiest he has been in years.
She held onto the memory as long as she could, letting it wash over her in hopes that it will fill her with calm, warmth, everything that had eluded her since she woke up. Letting her thoughts stray would burst the bubble of hope she built that everything will be alright.
Watson preferred to entertain that delusion for as long as she possibly could.