FanFic - Part 3

Sorry it has been so long, but I am finally done with my assignment and I'm home again! Yay! And now that I'm caught up, I can try to finish this. I included the last few lines from the last part . . .

Still no title from KatieG. LOL.

Juliann




"You aren't serious, are you Hunter?" Charlie demanded over the phone. Hunter had McCall's cordless telephone at his ear as he rifled through her drawers. He threw odds and ends of clothing into a suitcase: jeans, shirts, socks, underwear, and more. Normally, he would have reveled in sorting through her lacy underthing, but today was a totally different ballgame. He took his journey to the bathroom, where instead of trying to decide which toiletries she would want, used his arm to scoop all of it into a bag.

"Yes, I am serious. Charlie, this wasn't her fault. I'll take care of her. We can't send her to rehab and you know it."

Hunter knew he was winning the argument as soon as he heard Charlie's hesitation.

"Lookit Charlie, I helped detox a buddy of mine when I was in the Marine Corps. It's tough but I'll handle her."

"Where are you gonna go?"

"To my uncle's cabin at Big Bear."

"Fine. Make sure you check in and let me know how she's doing. And Hunter?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck."

Hunter hung up the phone. He was going to need a helluva lot more than luck.

***************






Following a marathon trip through his own house to gather what he needed, and a ten-minute flash through the nearest grocery store, Hunter stuffed the trunk of the '76 Dodge with his wares and proceeded back to the hospital.

He returned to the room where he had left McCall, finding her asleep, an occasional whimper coming from her mouth as she tossed and turned, her body as tense as a bow string. The toothpick he was chewing was not helping his own angst as he contemplated how on earth he was going to get her from the hospital to Big Bear. He was afraid to bet that the sedative would last the two-hour trip.

"Sergeant?" a familiar voice called to him. Hunter turned and went out into the hallway to face the ER physician who was at the moment, in charge of McCall.

"I need a next of kin to sign some papers to have her admitted," he told Hunter. "Is there someone we can contact?"

Hunter's exasperation got the best of him. "She has none. Her husband is deceased and her mother is on a cruise," he said, lying about the second half of the sentence. If McCall's mother would see her in this state, it would crush her. "And you're not admitting her . . . I'm taking her outta here."

"You can't do that, Sergeant."

"The hell I can't." Hunter pulled a thick business-sized envelope from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and handed it to the doctor. "You'll see from this document that I am Sergeant McCall's durable power of attorney. I am authorized to act on her behalf when she is unable to," he said, and glancing through the glass at the unconscious McCall, he added, "and she is obviously unable to."

The doctor was not pleased. "Sergeant, your partner needs help. Taking her home isn't going to fix this," he tried to explain. "We had to sedate her again just before you got here."

"I'm not taking her home. I'm gonna help her, don't you worry."

"Then you'll have to sign her out AMA."

Hunter grabbed McCall's chart out of the bin hanging on the wall next to the door of her room and shoved at the doctor's chest. "Here. Show me where to sign."

****************

Hunter gathered McCall's purse and a few other belongings from her hospital room while the nurse removed the IV. He took her things to the car and then returned to find the other doctor, the younger one, standing near McCall's bed.

"I heard you're not admitting her," he accused.

"Yep. You heard right."

"You do understand that once the Haldol wears off, she's gonna be pretty tough to handle. She put up a helluva fight about 30 minutes ago."

"Don't worry about her. I can handle her, believe me."

The doctor handed Hunter a card. "My pager and cell phone numbers are on the back. If you run into any complications, let me know."

Hunter took the card and thrust it into his pocket. "No offense doc, and I appreciate it and all, but I hope I won't need to call you."

"I hope not, either. Can I ask why you're not going to let this up to a professional? Do you realize what the next few days are going to be like?"

Hunter looked at him blankly. "I don't really have a choice. If she would go to a rehab program, especially involuntarily, it would be on her permanent record as a police officer," he explained. "Her career would suffer, and if it hadn't been for the profession in the first place, none of this would have happened. I can't let that happen to her."

"Well, I admire your dedication. Good luck."

McCall's eyes were open now, dull and unfocused. "Hunter?" she mumbled.

"Let's go, McCall." He helped her get out of the bed and caught her as her knees buckled. He picked her up easily, feeling her arms go around his neck, grasping him tightly as she whimpered in pain again.

He laid her down in the back seat and covered her with a blanket. She closed her eyes, falling again into a restless sleep. Hunter got into the driver's seat, and after thinking a moment, got back out of the car and opened the back door again. She was on her back, her left arm resting above her head, her knees bent. "Sorry about this McCall, but I can't chance it."

And with that, he snapped one handcuff around her left wrist, and its twin to the door handle. She mumbled something incoherent as he got back into the car.

He knew what was in store, and he hoped he had the inner strength to get her through it.

********************

Hunter drove in silence. They were 30 minutes from the cabin and McCall continued her restless, pained slumber. Cries of pain intermittently escaped her lips, and every one sliced through his heart. He silently hoped he'd get the car parked and McCall's handcuffs removed before she woke up.

It was wishful thinking.

"Hunter!" her voice called to him from the back seat. He heard her pulling on the door handle with her arm. He looked at her through the rear view mirror. She looked confused . . . and pissed.

"What?"

"Where are we? Why am I handcuffed?" she asked. Her speech was slurred, as if she had been on an all-night banger.

"You were in the hospital and you tried to make a run for it. So I'm taking you somewhere to get you better."

"I'm not sick," she said.

"Yeah you are."

She continued to pull on the handcuffs. "Let me go," she ordered.

"No."

"Hunter! Let me go!"

"No." He sighed with exasperation as she tried futiley to free herself. He pushed down on the accelerator. He couldn't get there too soon.

****************

"Pick up the pace, McCall," Hunter ordered as he followed her down the crushed stone driveway. He had his overnight bag slung over his shoulder and bags of groceries in his arms. McCall lumbered forward, carrying her toiletry bag and her own duffel. Every awkward, shuffling step she took was accompanied by a low groan of pain.

He opened the cabin door and locked it behind them. She stood before him in sweatpants and a t-shirt, no makeup, her hair limp and bedraggled. Truth be told, she reminded him of a junkie.

"Sit down," he ordered her. He watched her sit down on the couch and he took a seat on the coffee table facing her.

"Do you know what's wrong with you? Why you were in the hospital?" he asked. He watched her try to remember.

"Yeah. I was shot, you moron. And the those damn doctors won't help me."

"McCall, there is nothing physically wrong with you, except you're hooked on those pain pills you've been eating like candy."

"Bullshit."

Hunter gazed into her eyes, staring back at him like inky depths of glass. The woman sitting before him was like a stranger to him.

"Those doctors GAVE me those pills, Hunter," she began to reason. "I can kick this any time I want," she added with indigniation, crossing her thin arms over her chest. "I can stop anytime I want, and I will, as soon as they fix what's wrong with me."

Now it was Hunter's turn. "Bullshit, McCall. If you can kick it, how come you keep taking more and more? And how come you're going through withdrawal right now? Huh?" His escalating voice threw her into a rage.

"I'm not going through withdrawal, Hunter!" she screamed at him. "I'm in pain. Can't you see that? What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were my friend," she pleaded. She scrambled off the couch and stood in the middle of the room.

"You of all people should know what I've been through," she said. "I almost died, dammit."

Her words made him wince. "I know you've been through hell and back, McCall. And it certainly isn't fair. But I have to help you kick this, you got it?"

"There's nothing to kick, Hunter." She paused and looked around the room. Quicker than a jackrabbit, she darted past him and toward the front door. She began to pull on the doorknob, and more furiously so when she realized it was locked.

Hunter grabbed her by the waist, but not soon enough to prevent more harm. She shattered the door's glass window with her fist, trying to open the door from the other side. Blood coursed down her arm as Hunter grabbed her, finally fishing the handcuffs from his back pocket again and snapped them on her good hand, and snapping the other on his own wrist. She may be able to run, but there was no way she would be able to drag him with her.

"I hate you, Hunter," she screamed at him over and over as he held her close, trying to still her as he wrapped her hand with a towel to stop the bleeding.

"Yeah, I know, but to know me is to love me, McCall," he retorted. He collapsed to the floor with her in his arms as she struggled to free herself from his grasp, cursing at him with a string of profanity he had never heard from her before. Finally, after a good 15 minutes of physical struggle, she relented. She remained passive in his arms as he sat there, trying to figure out what to do next.