Prompt response #2
May. 5th, 2006 09:53 pmHere's
settiai's prompt:
Dietrich & Harris, an arrest gone wrong.
Of course everybody wanted to go when the call came in. "Shots fired, officer down" can clear the squadroom faster than a fire drill. Barney took just me, though, leaving Wojo in charge of the squadroom with Levitt to help him. I think Barney wanted someone less excitable along. I grabbed my tan leather jacket and off we went.
When we got there, the scene was under control - plenty of uniforms - and the paramedics were loading Harris into an ambulance. I couldn't really see much of him as we got closer; he was under blankets and there was an oxygen mask over his face. One of the paramedics climbed into the back of the ambulance with him, carrying an IV; Barney went over to talk to the other one.
I saw Dietrich just a few yards away. He was in his shirtsleeves, wiping a lot of blood off his hands with a towel. I went over to him. "Hey, Nick," he said.
I nodded to him. "Dietrich," I said.
Those two. Dietrich and Harris. They pretend they don't like each other. But I've seen them when they're so involved in a case that they forget about pretending, and they talk like a married couple, all half-sentences, sometimes even just looks, and each knows what the other means.
There was no pretending now; Dietrich was white and shaking, even though he was trying to act calm. I could hear snatches of what the paramedic was telling Barney: "pressure... controlled the bleeding... shock... probably saved his life..."
It looked like Barney was asking if Harris would be all right. The paramedic shrugged; I'm sure he had seen a lot of promising patients go south and wasn't going to offer false hopes to anybody.
Barney came back to where I was standing. "I'm going to ride along to the hospital with Harris," he said. "Nick, why don't you take Dietrich home."
"Is--is there any prognosis?" Dietrich asked, trying to sound distant and academic and failing miserably.
Barney put a hand on his shoulder. "If he pulls through, it'll be because of you. That was quick thinking and good first aid." He looked Dietrich in the eyes for a long moment. "We don't know anything for sure," he said more quietly. "Let's keep a good thought."
He always says that. But he always means it. He's a good man, Barney.
Dietrich waited until the ambulance had left before he spoke again. "I don't want to go home, Nick," he said. I'd been expecting that.
My grandmother had a lot of wise sayings, little cryptic nuggets of wisdom to be deciphered and applied in every area of life. As I tried to figure out what to say to Dietrich, a hundred of them floated through my brain like little slips out of fortune cookies. Sometimes, though, you have to set aside all the handed-down wisdom of the ages and just take the plunge.
Come to think of it, that was one of her sayings, too.
"I'll drop you at the hospital," I said, turning toward the car and beckoning him to follow. "But I think you'd better tell him when he wakes up."
He gave me one of those detective looks, like he was trying to work out what I was saying without revealing anything himself. He didn't say anything until we were both in the car and he was buckling his seat belt. "Tell him what?" he asked.
I put the keys in the ignition. "That you love him," I said, and started the car.
Dietrich & Harris, an arrest gone wrong.
Of course everybody wanted to go when the call came in. "Shots fired, officer down" can clear the squadroom faster than a fire drill. Barney took just me, though, leaving Wojo in charge of the squadroom with Levitt to help him. I think Barney wanted someone less excitable along. I grabbed my tan leather jacket and off we went.
When we got there, the scene was under control - plenty of uniforms - and the paramedics were loading Harris into an ambulance. I couldn't really see much of him as we got closer; he was under blankets and there was an oxygen mask over his face. One of the paramedics climbed into the back of the ambulance with him, carrying an IV; Barney went over to talk to the other one.
I saw Dietrich just a few yards away. He was in his shirtsleeves, wiping a lot of blood off his hands with a towel. I went over to him. "Hey, Nick," he said.
I nodded to him. "Dietrich," I said.
Those two. Dietrich and Harris. They pretend they don't like each other. But I've seen them when they're so involved in a case that they forget about pretending, and they talk like a married couple, all half-sentences, sometimes even just looks, and each knows what the other means.
There was no pretending now; Dietrich was white and shaking, even though he was trying to act calm. I could hear snatches of what the paramedic was telling Barney: "pressure... controlled the bleeding... shock... probably saved his life..."
It looked like Barney was asking if Harris would be all right. The paramedic shrugged; I'm sure he had seen a lot of promising patients go south and wasn't going to offer false hopes to anybody.
Barney came back to where I was standing. "I'm going to ride along to the hospital with Harris," he said. "Nick, why don't you take Dietrich home."
"Is--is there any prognosis?" Dietrich asked, trying to sound distant and academic and failing miserably.
Barney put a hand on his shoulder. "If he pulls through, it'll be because of you. That was quick thinking and good first aid." He looked Dietrich in the eyes for a long moment. "We don't know anything for sure," he said more quietly. "Let's keep a good thought."
He always says that. But he always means it. He's a good man, Barney.
Dietrich waited until the ambulance had left before he spoke again. "I don't want to go home, Nick," he said. I'd been expecting that.
My grandmother had a lot of wise sayings, little cryptic nuggets of wisdom to be deciphered and applied in every area of life. As I tried to figure out what to say to Dietrich, a hundred of them floated through my brain like little slips out of fortune cookies. Sometimes, though, you have to set aside all the handed-down wisdom of the ages and just take the plunge.
Come to think of it, that was one of her sayings, too.
"I'll drop you at the hospital," I said, turning toward the car and beckoning him to follow. "But I think you'd better tell him when he wakes up."
He gave me one of those detective looks, like he was trying to work out what I was saying without revealing anything himself. He didn't say anything until we were both in the car and he was buckling his seat belt. "Tell him what?" he asked.
I put the keys in the ignition. "That you love him," I said, and started the car.
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Date: 2006-05-06 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 06:03 pm (UTC)