Faith and Fidelity (18 page)

Matt nodded.

“If you need anything... ”

“Thanks. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I'll call you at work.”

“No. I'll be here first thing in the morning. I took vacation time.” His voice was flat.

“All right. I'll see you here then.”

“'Night, Vic.” And he walked away.

Vic felt like he had just blown a very important moment in his friend's life.

Matt relied on charm and blarney to get past the nurse on the ICU floor. He flashed his most persuasive smile until the young nurse sighed— with a tiny smirk on her face— and let him go see Evan one last time.

In the room, Evan was fast asleep, his chest moving up and down so slowly that Matt nearly lost his breath watching. He moved to stand next to the bed, letting greedy hands stroke Evan's face and shoulder.

He thought it had been a knife in the heart when Tony died. Watching your partner suffer was one thing... Watching someone you loved so much it hurt— Matt had a new definition of hell.

He leaned down to whisper, “I'm here— I wanted you to know... I love you... and I'm going to be here every day... I'll take care of you.”

Matt kissed Evan's cold cheek, pressed his face into the curve of his neck. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to curl up in this bed and make sure that Evan had a peaceful night. Protect him from the nightmares.

He heard the door creak open and prayed to God that it was Vic. He looked up.

It was the nurse, Pam.

Shit.

But she smiled softly, her eyes warm. “I suspected as much. Do you need a few more minutes, honey?”

All the air rushed out of Matt's lungs. At first he thought—
oh God someone knows
— and then he realized—
hey, she knows and she's okay
, and a sympathetic person could help him see Evan whenever he wanted.

He smiled very shyly, feeling the blush burn across his face. Straightening up, he said, “He's sound asleep. I'm going now— I'll be back in the morning, though.”

“I'm here at six a.m.— you'd best come after eight. I'll make sure you get in.”

Matt nodded, his throat suddenly tight. “Thanks.”

Without another word, Pam left.

Matt took a big breath, kissed Evan again (wanted desperately to feel him kissing back, wanted to feel his body in his arms, wanted to hear his voice), and forced himself out the door.

Evan swam up through the blackness, through flashes of sound and light. A gunshot. Shouting. His children. Matt.

He started to feel a swirl of panic in his chest when his eyes wouldn't open on demand. It took long frustrating minutes to budge his eyelids, until he could make out a sliver of light. It hurt when he took a breath— his chest, his throat, his head.

He was in the hospital. He remembered the ceiling. Talking to the kids and Vic and the doctor.

Helena was all right. Matt told him that.

Matt.

He took another painful breath. Opened his eyes a little more. The light was different. Maybe it was morning.

He turned his head slightly, looking around the room. Private. Not ICU. Fewer machines than last time he was awake.

That probably meant he was going to live.

The door past the foot of his bed creaked open and the smiling face of a woman peeked through.

“I thought so! Good morning, Mr. Cerelli. I'm Pam, your nurse.” She bustled in the room carrying a small plastic basket. “I'm just going to take your vitals real quick before the doctor gets here.”

Evan opened his mouth to respond but all he could manage was a raspy sigh.

Shit.

Pam seemed to sense his annoyance.

“Don't worry about it just yet, Mr. Cerelli. You're still recovering from surgery. There was a tube down your throat for several hours. Your voice will be back soon enough.”

She went through her routine with practiced ease as Evan stared at the ceiling, frustrated and exhausted already. He wanted to ask questions, to find out where his kids were, where Helena was... He wanted someone to call Matt and tell him to get the hell down here so he wouldn't be alone.

There was a tiny knock at the door as Pam replaced his chart at the end of the bed.

“Come in,” Pam called as she rearranged the sheet and blanket over Evan's body.

A doctor, chart in hand, walked in— Evan sluggishly searched his brain for his name— and stood next to his bed.

“I'm Dr. Waresa— do you remember me from yesterday?”

Evan tried his voice again, managing a weak “Yesss.”

The man looked very pleased. He scanned the chart a few moments more, nodding. “Well, Mr. Cerelli, you are one lucky man. No major organ damage. No nerve damage. At worst, you have the next few weeks to read that list of books you've been meaning to— bed rest is your future.”

Evan rolled his eyes. It took some effort but it was worth it. Both Dr. Waresa and Pam laughed.

“It'll be worth it. I can pretty much guarantee your return to work—
if
you follow my instructions.”

Evan nodded. “Voice?” he rasped.

“Give it another few hours, keep the talking down to the minimum. It'll be back on line before you know it.”

He nodded again. “Kids?” he managed, coughing slightly at the effort.

Dr. Waresa looked at Pam, obviously unaware.

Pam smiled brightly at Evan. “Some older folks came and got them from your friend right after they saw you. Your parents?”

Evan swallowed painfully. Of course. Sherri's parents were still his emergency notification. They must've come to the hospital and taken the kids home with them.
Shit. Shit
. Rationally he thought it was the best place for them, but in his heart he wanted them close. He wanted them home.

“In-laws,” he murmured to Pam's question. He watched her eyebrows go up. Probably wondering where his wife was.

His head was aching.

“Wife... passed away... last year.”

The harsh sounding rasp made the words even more painful. Both Dr. Waresa and Pam adopted identical expressions of sympathy. Evan hated that look.

“My... partner... Helena... ?” he asked, trying to divert their attention.

Dr. Waresa smiled. “She's fine. I just spoke with her. I'm sure she can come and see you later this afternoon.”

Evan sighed. The kids were fine. Helena was fine. He would have to wait until Vic or one of the other detectives showed up to find out about the suspect.

That just left Matt.

Evan started when Dr. Waresa snapped the chart back on the end of the bed. “I'm going to let Pam get you comfortable— you've got some visitors I hear. I'll be back to talk to you later this afternoon.”

Visitors?

Evan nodded, watched the doctor walk out the door. He turned his attention back to Pam. She was still staring at him, with that sad, sympathetic smile.

“Who?” he asked, hoping she'd get the idea. His throat was aching.

“The visitors? I saw your captain out there— the one who was here last night? And another man I didn't recognize.”

Evan nodded. He didn't know if that meant Matt was out there. He felt a little ache in his chest thinking of Matt. Last night it'd been so comforting to have the other man there. Easy to relax knowing that Matt was looking after his kids, and checking on Helena. He closed his eyes as a wave of heavy grief washed over him, unexpected and unwanted. Matt doing Sherri's job. Again.

Pam was patting his arm. “I'm gonna send your captain in first. Is that all right?”

Evan clenched his jaw. He wanted to ask about the other man, ask her if he was in his forties, pacing like a lunatic and cursing at doctors— then he'd know it was Matt. Then he'd ask to see him first... . but a stab of shame and fear made him nod. He was ashamed of himself.

He heard the door open and close. He waited.

A few seconds later, Vic Wolkowski ducked his head through the opening door. “Hey!” he called, walking in. He looked rumpled and exhausted— not too different from every day at the station.

Evan nodded. “Hi.”

Vic moved to the side of Evan's bed. “Well shit, Detective Cerelli. That was a hell of a way to spend the Monday after Thanksgiving.”

“Sssorry.” But Evan smiled a little bit.

Vic made a snorting noise. He nodded a little bit, as if considering something. Opened his mouth but shut it quickly. His eyes suddenly began to track everything in the room— except Evan.

“Everything okay, sir?” Evan managed to ground out. “Doctor said Helena... ”

“She's fine. I saw her a little while ago. They'll probably have her out of here by lunchtime.” Vic was looking over Evan's shoulder.

Helena wasn't the reason for the crease in the center of his forehead.

“Suspect? We get ‘im?”

“Took a few hours, but yeah— found him at the Port Authority, waiting for a bus. You know I have to say... I'm pretty shocked we didn't catch this guy sooner. He's a freaking idiot.”

Evan smiled. But Vic didn't.

“Sir?”

Vic sighed heavily. He bit his lip and then forced his eyes down to meet Evan's.

“Did I do something... ”

“No, no.” Vic blew out a breath. “I... uh... Evan, I talked to Matt last night.”

Oh fuck.

Evan felt the burn on his face as if someone had dumped scalding water on it. A little hitch caught in his chest.
He knows
, Evan thought wildly.
He knows.

Vic seemed to be waiting for Evan to say something, but nothing that resembled sound pushed its way through Evan's throat.

He ran a hand over his bald head, pursed his lips, and nodded. “I... just wanted you to know that I'm okay with this. Really. Was I surprised? Fuck yes. I've known Matt for over a decade and I never... I just had no idea.”

Evan wanted to point out that Matt hadn't known either, but he pushed that random thought away for a moment. He desperately needed to know where his captain stood.

“Your business is your own, Evan. And whatever makes you happy at the end of the day— provided it doesn't eventually cause liver damage or cancer— is fine by me.” He paused, waving his arms around a little. “I just wanted you to know— I'm fine. And I'll keep it to myself— whatever you guys say goes.”

Evan nodded, his throat tight. His moment of shame returned— he was so afraid of what people would think, and so far, they'd responded with nothing but kindness.

“And, for what it's worth... Matt's a great guy.” The last part was ground out gruffly. Vic's hands were back in his pockets.

There was a long silence. Neither man could seem to find a point to focus their vision on.

Suddenly, Evan realized he could ask the question now.

“Is... is Matt outside?” He whispered. “The nurse... said... someone else... ”

Vic smiled tightly. “Sorry— he's not here yet. Douglasson from IA is here. He needs to talk to you for a second... ”

“IA?”

“Procedure... don't worry about it. They just want to clarify what happened. He's already talked to Helena... I can't imagine it's going to take long.”

Evan nodded.

“I think Matt went back to your place to sleep. Your in-laws... ”

“Took the kids. I know.” Evan felt that irrational annoyance flair in his chest. He wondered if the MacGregor's were planning to bring the kids back here today.

“Is there anything I can get you? From the gift shop or wherever? I can call Matt, ask him to bring you stuff from home... ”

“Yeah... phone book from my desk... clothes.” He wanted to ask for the picture of Sherri but the thought of asking Matt to do that... it didn't feel right.

“No problem. I'm going to get Douglasson now. So you can get it over with.”

“Fine.”

An awkward silence descended again. Vic fussed a bit with his tie then said softly, “Uh... I'm really okay with you and Matty— you know... Really. I wish you all the happiness in the world ‘cause... I know... when you lose the person you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with... ” He stopped, looking a little lost.

The room spun around Evan for a long, painful moment. He managed to spread a thin smile on his face, look Vic in the eye, and nod. His teeth ground together in an effort not to speak.

Vic sighed and gave Evan an answering smile, equally as thin and strained. “I'll send Douglasson in, give Matt a call about that stuff you wanted. And I'll stop by later, see how you're doing.”

More nodding. More direct eye contact. More pain lancing through Evan's jaw.

And then Vic was gone and Evan let a rush of air escape his lungs— and the pain that he felt in response made his vision gray around the edges.

He knew Vic was trying to be kind. And supportive. But Evan just didn't need to hear... he felt tired and weak and scared and he wanted Matt— here and now. But that wasn't right... he should want Sherri, but Sherri was dead and he knew that. He knew he was going on but... shit. He was really going on.

Evan closed his eyes tightly, counted to twenty, then thirty, then fifty, waiting for his heartbeat and breath come back to a point that didn't make his chest feel like it was going to implode. It's the medicine, he thought. It's making me freak out for no reason.

But that was a lie— he wasn't fooling himself at all. There were a hundred reasons to freak out and his original stress over being attracted to a man was just scratching at the surface of a much larger issue. Telling Helena didn't count— she was his best friend. She loved him unequivocally. She would never turn her back. And he knew Vic Wolkowski to be an open-minded person. But he and Matt were fast running out of compassionate, loving friends who would stand by them no matter what. Because if this was a relationship, with a capital R...

The door opened before he could complete the thought. Detective Douglasson from IA was calling his name softly and Evan suddenly had to stop the freight train in his head and be a cop.

He answered the questions, in his raspy voice, nodded and shook his head as much as possible to save the thin sound that he was able to make. Detective Douglasson was efficient and tight in his questioning. He didn't appear to think Evan and Helena had done something wrong, he just needed to get all the information. No difficult questions were posed— and Evan assumed he gave the same answers as Helena because the detective just nodded and grunted and scribbled things down in a little leather notebook. In a few minutes it was over and his hand was being shook. Douglasson left and Evan felt himself drifting off. He felt himself swimming in too much emotion, too many thoughts. He wanted to talk to his children but there was no phone on his bedside table. He'd have to ask the nurse...