by Aiden Bates
Carmela shook her head. "Never. You?"
Derek swallowed. "A couple of times. When my dad was on trial, and then for sentencing, and then for his appeal. It can be pretty scary up there." He swallowed. "Because of the kind of trial this is, it can be scarier for girls. All women. Anyone who's gone through whatever you've gone through. The defense team, their whole job is to do anything they can to get their client free. Since most of the weight is on personal testimony, that means they have to attack the person giving the testimony.
"Just because they suggest something… something vile… doesn't mean it's true. Okay? You're the strongest person I know." He squeezed her hand. "You know what happened. You were there."
Her responding grin was watery, but she managed it anyway. "That's true. I was."
"So you just get up there and tell the truth. Don't let their lawyers turn you around or get you confused. Just get up there and tell the truth." Derek patted her hand and looked out the window.
"Did they attack you?"
He closed his eyes. He didn't want to remember. "Yeah. But it was different. They attacked me because they said I couldn't have seen what I saw, that I was just making things up because I was so young. I was ten, you know? So anyway, they tried to defend him that way." He slouched down on the seat. "It didn't work. He still went up. He's still there. He's staying there, too, for as long as I can keep him there."
"Good." Carmela set her mouth into a grim line. "Let's hope we can put these guys away for a good long time too."
"Your lips to God's ears."
They pulled up in front of the courthouse, and Derek thought his throat might close. They hadn't even gone inside yet and already claustrophobia was overwhelming him. Could he run away and maybe avoid this whole thing altogether? He didn't usually freak out about crowds. That would be a career limiting move, considering that he had to show up at concerts and publicly promote the station.
Those crowds were never there to see Derek, or anyone he was with.
Many of the people thronging the car, pushing on the cruiser and thumping against the door, were press. Syracuse didn't usually see this much national press, except sometimes at basketball games. When Rick's husband Dylan had first been hurt and started being seen around Syracuse more often, they'd had an influx of paparazzi, but nothing like this.
Derek got it, he did. Human trafficking was big news right now, especially sex trafficking. If the media could get hold of a story like this and run with it, they would. He'd probably have tuned in to see coverage, because he wanted to keep himself informed and because he wanted to see the bastards that would do something to a kid like Carmela pay.
Derek hated himself for that now. It wasn't like he didn't know how it felt to be on the other side of it all.
Then there were the gawkers. Even Derek wouldn't have come down to the courthouse to stare at people going in and out. Good God, what was it about a trial that attracted these people? Most of them, ninety percent of them, weren't even going to get into the trial itself. They got to see nervous people, or smug people in the case of the defendants, walk into the courthouse and that was it. Derek couldn't see the entertainment value in watching people walk.
But they came. Oh Lord, they came. The State Troopers had put up a barricade, to make sure that people could get from the curb to the courthouse, and it did about as much good as blocking them with cheese might. They nudged the barriers over and over, pushing them again and again as the police chased them back with sharp looks and brandished nightsticks.
No one particular type of person seemed inclined to show up and gawk. Some were business men, alpha types, in tailored suits and expensive ties. Some were bikers. Some were punks and some were little old ladies in housecoats. All of them stared openly. Derek and Carmela were pieces of meat for their viewing pleasure.
Derek turned to the trooper driving the car. "Is there any way we could just get out in the back of the building?"
"Sorry." The trooper did look sorry, too. "There isn't a metal detector back there. If it's any consolation, we cleared a line just for folks coming in for this trial."
Derek grinned a tight little smile. It wasn't enough, but he guessed it would have to do.
He looked over at Carmela. "Okay. I've been through this before. Just keep your eyes straight ahead and let the crowd noise fade, okay? If you don't listen, if you stop your brain from picking out any one voice in the audience and focusing on it, you won't hear it. It'll sound a little bit like the ocean."
She tugged at the collar of her blinding white blouse. Ayla had recommended it, because it looked so innocent. Carmela complained constantly that the collar felt too tight. "The ocean. Okay."
"Ready?" Derek took her hand.
"No. But we have to do this, right?"
Derek nodded to the trooper, who got out of the car and circled around to open their door. Then it was on, a free for all. Derek slid out of the cruiser and extended a hand to Carmela, who joined him on the sidewalk. They took the first step toward the courthouse stairs.
A cold November wind blew up toward them.
The crowd noise only increased as they walked slowly toward the entrance. Derek took his own advice and let it all fade to a dull roar, but it was a loud dull roar that made the place behind his eyes throb. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to be back in his bed, under the covers.
He could cry.
He wasn't going to cry. He was done crying, about this or about anything else. He didn't have time to cry. He had to come up with a plan for the rest of his life. He had to come up with a plan for his testimony, and for how he'd handle cross-examination. He couldn't think about all of these people pressing in on him.
He wished Alex were here.
If he could have physically shoved the thought off a cliff, he would have. Alex wasn't here. Alex was never "here" when Derek needed him. That was the whole problem. Derek couldn't afford to be waiting around for a man who couldn't be bothered. He was on his own.
A trooper's cry rang out through the cold air. "We've got a breach!"
The warning cut through Derek's pep talk to himself. He pulled Carmela closer to himself, protecting her with his own body, and snapped his head in the direction of the trooper's cry. Sure enough, one of the sawhorse barricades had fallen about halfway between the curb and the staircase. A stream of people came pouring through the hole.
Some were media, desperate to get closer looks at these two "star" witnesses. Derek had never seen so many cameras coming at him. Their long lenses looked a little bit like guns, at least to his terrified eye. He kept Carmela firmly behind him.
The trooper who'd driven them there, Derek hadn't had a chance to even get his name, got on his radio. "This is Courthouse One, we need immediate backup at the courthouse. Repeat, we need immediate backup at the courthouse. This is an emergency situation, potential riot."
Most of the people pouring through the gap in the divide were not media. Most of them were normal looking people. They were the gawkers. Ten of them stood out from the crowd to Derek's anxious eye. These guys didn't mill around, and they didn't have cameras or digital recorders. They wore casual dress, jeans and tee shirts, but they carried themselves like professionals.
And every last one of them was headed for Derek and Carmela.
Derek made another split-second decision. He shoved Carmela into the arms of the trooper with them. "Get her into the courthouse and get her somewhere safe," he said. "She's the important witness here. Go!"
The trooper hesitated, but only for a second. He nodded and all but dragged the struggling Carmela away, gun drawn.
The other troopers were busy trying to put the barricade back up. Derek could hear sirens in the background. The help their guard had called for was on the way. Derek didn't know if they'd get here in time, but at least they'd get here.
"Back behind the barricade, all of you!" A loudspeaker crackled into life. "Any unauthorized person remaining in restricte
d area is subject to arrest."
One of the gawkers approaching Derek arrived. He took a swing. Derek ducked under the blow easily and landed one of his own. It had been a while since he'd gotten into a good fist fight. His fist tingled with impact as it crashed against his assailant's jaw, knocking him back.
Another approached from behind. He yanked Derek's arms behind him. "Pretty boy wants to play rough, huh?" His breath was hot and foul against Derek's ear. "That's fine. We can do that. You didn't need all those teeth anyway."
Derek stomped down on the man's instep. The blow sent him to the ground.
A trooper showed up with a nightstick, which he slammed into a third man's temple. The attacker fell to the ground, but the trooper didn't pay any heed. He spun around and went after the next one.
Derek couldn't follow everything else that was happening. He had enough problems of his own. An attacker punched him in the stomach, and that knocked the wind out of him. He didn't know if it knocked anything else out of him either, but he couldn't exactly ask for a time out to check for cramps. He had enough adrenaline going right now that he probably wouldn't notice, anyway. He absorbed the blow and returned one of his own, adding in a push-kick to the man's kneecap that sent the man screaming to the pavement.
Then came the worst. Derek had time to see the glint of metal in the against the gray Syracuse sky. Then there was a burning, sharp pain in his side.
Strong, callused hands threaded through Derek's long hair and held him upright. "Star witness, huh?" Martin Greer's voice was still friendly and mild. "Let me tell you something about family, Derek. You don't turn your back on family, no matter what." The pain worsened somehow. Derek hadn't thought that would be possible. "I'll see you in Hell."
Greer threw Derek to the ground. Derek's face scraped along the pavement. His clothes were already wet, soaked with blood.
A gunshot rang out.
Derek tried to roll over, but he couldn't. He didn't have the strength, or the energy. This was bad. He was cold, and maybe that was because of the weather or maybe it was because of the blood loss. Maybe he didn't care.
Greer fell to the ground beside him, screaming.
Detective Langbroek appeared at Derek's side. "Derek? An ambulance is on its way." She pressed something onto his side. "We'll get you over to Silver Oak, okay? No problem. You're going to be fine. Don't close your eyes. You just woke up, there's no reason to close your eyes yet. You don't get to pass out on me now."
"Carmela?" Derek strained to obey Langbroek and keep his eyes open. He knew he was supposed to avoid going into shock—like he had a choice.
"She's safe. She's got a bevy of federal marshals around her with more firepower than a Navy destroyer. Stay with me." She took his hand. "You want I should call Alex for you?"
Derek hesitated, and then he shook his head. At least, he shook his head as well as he could with half of it pressed into concrete. "Want to sleep."
"No sleeping. Not until we get you to the hospital, buddy." She looked up. "Looks like the truck is here."
Derek hadn't heard it drive up. The sound had been lost with all of the other sirens.
EMTs rushed over to him and rolled him over. Derek was still with it enough to yell when they did that. "Let's rush this." The taller EMT, a man with gray hair. "Anyone we can call?"
Derek closed his eyes. "Foster brother. Amadi." It must be pretty bad, if they were looking for his next of kin. "Detective knows him."
They loaded him onto a gurney in a process so painful it just all went hazy. Derek knew he should fight to stay awake, but he was too tired. He mumbled something to the gray-haired guy about his pregnancy, and that he'd been punched in the stomach, and then he let himself zone out. Carmela was safe, and there wasn't anything he could do about the Greers right now.
His job was done. If he died from the blood loss, he could rest easy.
Derek didn't want to die. On the contrary, Derek wanted to live, and for a long time, too. Derek just didn't feel he had any pressing business left unfinished. Amadi cared for him, sure, but Amadi didn't need him. Carmela had Ayla to look after her, and she was getting along with her parents well enough that she'd probably survive if she had to move in with them.
Derek drifted in and out of consciousness during the break-neck drive to Silver Oak. It wasn't a long drive on even the most placid of days. Today it took three minutes, and still Derek couldn't keep his eyes open. He decided he wasn't going to get upset about it. He just wanted to get warm, and he couldn't seem to do that.
They pulled into the ambulance bay, and the doors flew open. Derek heard a whole host of voices calling out. Don't focus on one in the crowd. Let them fade to a dull roar, and it will sound like the ocean. Derek liked the ocean. He missed it sometimes. He could almost imagine the California breeze ruffling his hair.
And if he focused on the ocean instead of on the voices, he wouldn't be worried about any one voice he heard, or didn't hear, among the many.
"I've got a twenty-five year old omega, pregnant, abdominal trauma as well as a stab wound to the right side abdomen. Significant exsanguination despite attempts to mitigate. Patient may be going into shock."
Dr. Wade's Texas drawl came back. "Let's get him into CT, stat. I think we've got trauma to the kidney, but let's rule out any other problems before we go cutting. And I want to know if we can save that baby. Can someone page Dr. Idoni?"
Derek gave in to the darkness.
***
Alex was one of the ones looming over Derek's body when he was brought into the ER. He'd never seen Derek look so pale, not even when he worked on him the first time. Someone at the scene had tried to plug up the hole in his side with a makeshift bandage, actually a blazer, but it wasn't enough. Whoever had done it wasn't getting that garment back.
Rick turned to him. "You can't."
Alex glared toward the door to Radiology. They would take the CT scan as quickly as they could, even bumping someone else, because Derek had no time at all. If Rick was right, and he usually was, then even taking the scan was risky. "I know."
"I mean it. You just can't. You're too close."
"Funny. He'd say the opposite." Alex took a deep breath. "I'll take the next one."
"Oh, the one that stabbed him? Ha! No way, buddy. You can take the one that comes in after that." Rick shook his head. "I was born in Texas, not on Pluto."
Alex glowered at him. "Oh come on, Rick. There's not even a demonstrable connection between me and Derek. I'm hardly going to risk my job, and my license, to try to get revenge from a patient. I'm smarter than that."
Rick paused. "Okay. But only because you're ready to go and Singh is still getting dressed. This is going to be a difficult day for everyone. No making it harder."
Alex tried not to roll his eyes too obviously. He didn't make things harder. Sometimes he pointed out obvious flaws, but he didn't make anything harder than it had to be.
The next ambulance that arrived took seven minutes longer to get to Silver Oak, and it was accompanied by a Sheriff's Department cruiser. Another deputy had been riding in the truck with the patient, who smirked defiantly at everyone around him even though he'd gone pale and clammy by now.
"Aw, you decided not to let me die in the street. Wasn't that sweet of you?"
This was the man who'd stabbed Derek. This was the man who might have killed Derek. His right hand was covered in blood. Some of it was still red.
"What've we got?" Alex snapped his gaze to the EMT at the head of the gurney. He couldn't help but notice the guy kept a good distance from the gurney, even though the patient had been cuffed to the thing.
"Male, early thirties, gunshot wound to the left thigh. He's showing some signs of shock and hypovolemia, doctor."
"Thank you. Any known allergies or medical conditions?"
"None." This time it was the deputy that spoke up. "We got his records from jail, from before he made bail the last time."
If this guy hadn't made bail, Derek would be
healthy.
"All right. Let's get him X-rayed. We shouldn't need to do much, barring unforeseen complications. We can probably do this one with just a local." Alex stepped back to allow orderlies access to the gurney.
"Are we going to strap him down first?" The deputy turned to him.
"Sure." Alex nodded. "Once we get his clothes off of him. We'll have to cut anyway, but we want them off, not just underneath him."
"Good point." The cop stood back, hands up. "I'll let you do your work."
Alex didn't blame the deputy. He wouldn't want to be involved with that process either.
The X-rays gave Alex something to smile about, at least. Greer had been shot by a trooper's bullet, and the bullet had chipped a fragment of the bone off. That bone chip had become a secondary projectile, tearing through meat and blood vessels inside Greer's thigh like a little tiny razor blade. Pulling the bullet out was more or less routine, but getting the fragment and fixing the damage would be a good challenge.
