Chapter Text
“Slow down some more,” he told her as he leaned in, his ear hovering not even an inch from her blue lips.
His eyes darted down to her chest, witnessing it rise, before locking eyes with her as a jagged, rattling sound escaped her lips. She looked terrified, and yet at the same time determined.
“Soto…” she wheezed, particles of the pool water still escaping from between her lips as she found the strength to carry on talking…
“You need… to tell…”
Morgan’s hand, which had made its way onto his, less clutching and more resting on his forearm, where his white, wet shirt hugged his muscles, suddenly went slack.
“Morgan?” Karadec pulled back in a panic. His partner’s eyes were rolled back, no sign that she had ever been lucid after he’d pulled her out of the pond.
No, no, no, no, no.
Karadec’s hand flew back to her neck, trying to feel for a pulse; it was there, thready and faint, but there.
“Morgan, you've got to stay here. Stay,” he told her before wordlessly resuming CPR.
“Detective, we got her.” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, a different pair of hands sliding his off of Morgan’s chest, resuming chest compressions. The other paramedic waited for Karadec to move before kneeling opposite his partner, rummaging through their supplies, pulling out an Ambu bag and pressing it over her face, forcing air into her lungs, whilst the other grabbed the shears and cut through her bra, quickly drying more of her chest as he plastered the defib pads on her.
“Clear!” he called out, his partner visibly shifting backwards as the shock forced Morgan’s body upwards.
No Change.
“Please, Morgan, please,” he silently begged.
The defib delivered another shock, seemingly working out better this time, for the medics scrambled to pack everything and move her onto the gurney.
“I’m coming with you,” Karadec stated as he climbed into the back of the ambulance, refusing to take no as an answer. He was shivering too now, his wet clothes still clinging to him.
“Detective, there’s no room -” the paramedic began to protest, but Karadec cut that sentence short.
“I am not leaving her,” he said, his voice dropping to a tone that left no space for argument, the tone that usually worked on suspects.
There was no further debate from either of the two medics as the doors slammed shut and the ambulance lurched forward, lights and sirens breaking through the calm neighbourhood.
“Keep yourself warm,” the medic handed him a blanket, and Karadec peeled off his white shirt, wrapping himself tightly in the material; the last thing he wanted was for his condition to deteriorate to a point where the medic would have to split his attention between him and Morgan.
He let a hand escape from under the blanket as he allowed himself to grip Morgan’s hand closest to him, careful to avoid hindering the work of the medic, who had already put in an IV and covered her in a thermal blanket, seemingly keeping one eye constantly on the monitor.
“O2 sats are sitting at eighty-seven,” the medic conveyed to the one in front.
The medic’s tone told him that was not good, but he asked anyway.
“What does that mean?”
“If it drops down any lower, I’m going to need to intubate her.”
Karadec stared at Morgan’s face; I failed, didn’t I… I was too late, wasn’t I...?
His self-wallowing dissipated as the monitor began to beep faster, Morgan arching off the stretcher as the medic, eyes fluttering open, arms instantly grabbing at her face, clawing at the oxygen mask.
“Ma’am, you’ve got to keep it on,” the medic hovered over her, trying to get Morgan’s fingers to detach from the mask, but when her eyes met with Karadec’s, she somehow found the strength to swat away the medic’s hands and tug the mask down, beginning to say something much too quietly.
“Ma’am, you need…” Morgan’s eyes stared at the medic; whatever emotion or message she radiated through it was enough to keep the medic from carrying on that sentence.
The medic turned to Karadec – “if her stats drop again…”
“I understand,” Karadec said, holding Morgan’s mask down to let her say whatever she needed to – clearly, it was important enough to borderline die twice.
“Adam… Soto…” she began, her voice so faint that Adam once again had to hover over her to make sense of what she was saying.
His eyes widened as she managed to stumble through her trail of thought, and as soon as it was clear she’d finished saying what she needed to, he settled the mask back over her face, telling her not to worry.
The antidote to whatever was plaguing Soto – that’s what Morgan was so desperate to get across.
It is only Morgan who can bring you clear.
The sick fuck knew they’d be looking for Morgan, and shouldered her with the burden of Soto’s life, as he put her in a position where she could lose hers.
Is that what kept her going?
Karadec reached for his phone, dialling Daphne, covering his other ear with his hand, the sirens far too loud.
“Karadec, is Morgan…?”
“Morgan’s alive. Listen, are you at the hospital? I need to speak to Dr Batista right now.”
“Gimme a second,” she relayed, and he could hear Daphne push past people over the phone.
Morgan’s eyes remained fixated on Karadec’s, her hand now attempting to grip his back.
“Daphne’s going to grab Dr Batista. I got it, Morgan, don’t worry about it,” he told her, but knew that if he was ever in her position, he wouldn’t be able to stop worrying.
“How long until we’re in the hospital?” Karadec asked as he waited to Daph’s voice to come back on.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Karadec,” Detective Forrester’s voice was loud despite her not being on speaker.
“I’ve got Batista here with me,” she said.
“Detective, what is it?” Batista asked.
“Doctor,” Karadec said, his eyes not leaving Morgan’s as he repeated what Morgan had told him, word for word, praying that he pronounced half the things she had told him correctly and it didn’t sound like indecipherable gibberish.
There was silence on the other end, and Karadec was just about to ask if he needed to repeat anything, when Batista broke that silence.
“That… that all makes sense. It explains the seemingly anomalous test results we’ve seen. Detective, please give Morgan my thanks.”
“I sure will, but we’ll be with you in less than fifteen,” he told her, ending the call just in time for his radio to crackle into life.
“Dispatch, 8-L-27. We’ve lost visual on the white Camry. Vehicle last seen heading southbound on 405. Requesting Airship.”
Fuck.
By the time the airship and additional backup arrived on scene, well, he wouldn’t be surprised if the white Camry was left abandoned somewhere, the man who terrorised them, who poisoned Soto and had left Morgan to die in the pool, gone.
He’d be back, sure, but not before he hurt someone else.
Or maybe came back for them again.
A surge of white-hot rage flared up, for a hot second, Karadec replaying the moment his car and the Camry intersected like two ships in the night, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently.
But then he felt a squeeze, weak and barely there, but no mistaking it was a squeeze.
Morgan’s hand was in his, her eyes spending more time closed than open, most of her face still obscured by the oxygen mask. She must have felt him tense up.
No. There was nothing he could have done differently. Even if he’d somehow managed to stop the Camry and incapacitate the driver, that would have been precious minutes lost, minutes that Morgan simply didn’t have.
*
The ambulance had barely come to a halt when the doors flung open, and the paramedic in the back jumped to his feet. Adam followed suit, making sure to keep his grip on Morgan’s hand, which was still cold.
At least half a dozen individuals swarmed Morgan’s gurney, and Adam barely had enough time to reassure Morgan that he was right there, that he wouldn’t be far away, when her gurney was pushed through the double doors emblazoned with AUTHORISED ENTRY ONLY, their hands no longer interlaced.
Karadec stood there, sopping wet and shivering, staring at the empty doors, before looking down at his own hand, still shaped as if he were holding hers.
It felt empty.
It felt cold.
“Sir, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?” Karadec turned around to spot a concerned nurse.
“No, no, I’m not hurt, just wet.”
The nurse eyed him more intensely but seemed satisfied with that answer.
“Wait here,” she said, returning seconds later with two towels.
“You look like you need them. Do you need some dry clothes too?”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get someone to bring me some,” he thanked the nurse, ready to make his way upstairs, closer to where he knew Soto and half the station were situated, when he heard Daph’s voice start enquiring about Morgan.
“Daphne,” he turned around, “they took her in. I… she’s alive. She’s alive.”
“Good, good,” she said as Karadec collapsed onto the nearest free chair, pulling off the now dripping wet blanket and doing his best to pat himself dry.
“You got spare clothes at the station?” Daph asked, and Adam nodded.
“Oz is there right now – we’re still no closer to finding the missing evidence. He’ll bring you some.”
Karadec just nodded before asking, “Daph, is it working? Is Soto getting better?”