You Ever Get That Feeling?


dutch_icon.gif carrie_icon.gif coren_icon.gif abby2_icon.gif

Scene Title You Ever Get That Feeling?
Synopsis Coren realizes far too late that he never let Abigail know that she was going to be brought to Staten Island. What a total and utter shit of him. She arrives and squeezes a tear out of the not-so-hardened cop.
Date May 15, 2009

Staten Island's Coast

The coast of Staten Island is as much of a presence as its inland, with rivers that invade right into its heart as well as cutting off the circulation of transport from the rest of New York City. The coastal regions reflect a lot of this borough's rural nature, with rough shores and plantlife, broken brick, and general abandonment. The harbors are left to the devices of those that freely come and go, a conspicuous lack of official presence - a number of them notably overrun by the developing crime syndicate, but there are still quite a few, particularly on the coasts nearest to Brooklyn and Manhattan, that are accessible to the lawful public.

It took a fair bit of time to just load the unconscious forms of Mortimer and Dutch into the van, while relatively little time to put DJ 12 into Carrie's jeep. Another seven minutes to get to the Saint George ferry terminal and Coren is relatively surprised, as he pulls the van up to the terminal, to find the boat is not there. He looks at his watch and does the math in his head as he gets out of the van. His gaze falls upon the water and the lights approaching, what appears to be five or six minutes out to his eyes. "They're late."

Hoping out of her jeep with a crunch of her boots on the ground, Carrie moves to stand next to Coren for a moment squinting out into the water. "Well, you know what they say… When you need them most…" She glances at the detective before moving to the van. Popping open the door, she crawl in enough to check on the two injured men. She runs her finger along the duct tape, holding a section of grocery bag over the chest wound, making sure it's still holding. Satisfied, she hops back out and shuts the door again. "Not sure how much longer Dutch can go without a doctor."

Abigail's parked on the boat, body pulled in tight on herself, life vest about her person and secured, her messenger bag and scooter helmet in her lap, held tight. Very tight. Coren neglected something in his phone call. You know, that one that asked her to get down to the pier? He forget to say that he was bringing her over to Staten island.

So the boat is five minutes or so late because Abigail was having a panic attack when the NYPD pulled up in on of their boats, armed to the teeth and instructed her to jump on. One of the female cops had to spend that amount of time working to calm the young healer down and get her to the state where she could get on the boat. Two little white pills later and red rimmed eyes, the red head is parked in the center of the boat, tight as a wire as it heads for the appointed destination.

"So long as he can make it ten minutes, I think he'll live," Coren says as, conversely, he goes to check on DJ 12, and makes it a bit of a show just taking a look at the wound, pulling out a small flashlight from his jeans pocket and looking into it. "Got you nice and deep. Just keep pressure on it," he says as he replaces his plaid jacket and walks back to Carrie. "You ever get that feeling like you're forgetting something?"

Carrie pulls her attention away from the water and approaching boat to glance over at Coren. She arches a brow at his question and then shrugs turning her gaze back out over the water. "Sometimes. Why do you ask?" And what the hell does that have to do with anything. As the boat gets closer, she starts stepping closer to the end of the dock to help them moor it. "I mean.. who doesn't forget something now and then."

Dutch isn't dead, but he's far from doing well. He's lost enough blood by now to put him out for the evening, his pulse is unsteady and weak and he's practically white as a sheet.

Here come the boats, Calls out from the man on the bow, rope coiled in his hand, ready to throw once they manage to make it close enough. People moving around on the boat, on guard. This is out of their jurisdiction and there's been problems before. Lets not all forget the debacle that was the SCOUT boat trip on the river. The line thrown to Carrie when they're close enough. "Detective! As you requested" Someone's shuffling the redhead to the side in anticipation of getting secured and someone to help her up and out.

"It just seems like I forgot something very, very important," Coren replies. As the boat pulls up and he sees that someone is moving Abigail, not so much her moving on her own, he remembers exactly what he forgot. He realized, between calls, that Dutch was in condition that wouldn't wait for a trip to and from Staten Island, so Abigail would have to come along for the boat ride. "Aw shite." Well, best deal with the shit later. There are lives at state. "I need two gurneys," he calls to them, opening the side of the van to reveal the two bodies within, one missing part of an arm and covered in more shrapnel than the few bits that lodged themselves into Dutch. "And officers, you can take the man in the jeep into custody. He too, needs medical attention." The officers immediately comply, lowering themselves down from the boat and retrieving DJ 12. Commands given, he approaches Abigail. "I am so sorry, Abigail," he says, and it's clear from the slight quiver in his voice that he means it.

The rope is caught easily enough by Carrie and she quickly ties if off on a piling. "Took you guys long enough. We got some dying men that need help, desperately." She glances between Coren and the woman and decides to escort the officers to the van and help them get the men out. As she pulls open the doors she explains in a no nonsense attitude. "Scum with a blown off arm…. The other is ATF. He's got a sucking chest wound move with care, or I'll hurt you myself." Boy isn't she the little ray of sunshine. She checks the patch job on Dutch again, before they shift them out of the van onto the gurneys.

"How COULD YOU!" One hand up in a fist, forefinger extended and pointing at Coren. "You couldn't tell me over the … blanking… blanking PHONE!" Her voice going up and then down, fist shaking. "I get to the pier and find out you want to bring me HERE!" If ever anyone has seen Abigail incensed, this is now. The anger in the precinct that first meeting is shades less than right now when the female officer finally helps her off the boat and the redhead is shaking. "Which one first?" Comes bitten off and she can't even meet Coren's eyes skimming past him. "Sooner I do this, the sooner I can get off this… fucking nightmare of a hell hole" Fabulous first impression for Carrie.

"I wasn't thinking as straight as I should have, I'm sorry. I realized after I called you that the ATF agent in that van would not make it if we just got him onto the boat and had to then take another ride back to the mainland." Coren says it all a little heatedly, not that his head is entirely in the right place right now. His own eyes are red-rimmed with emotion. "I'm sorry. I was a total and utter shit." He doesn't let Abigail go any farther, though. "The paramedics will bring them on board and then we're leaving immediately. Go ahead and get back onto the boat. I didn't ever want you stepping foot on this island."

As Coren is speaking, the officers and paramedics are loading both Dutch and Mortimer onto their respective gurneys as carefully as possible, before rolling them back towards the boat to be loaded on. "Thank you ma'am, but we do know our job," one of them says, not appreciating the tone from Carrie. Once they get back to the boat, they life the gurneys aboard.

"Who first?" Carrie's aiding Coren in the fact that she's helping get them all loaded back onto the boat. His barring of her going further just prompts the healer to turn right around, helmet still clutched to her chest and the life vest, not talking to him right now. She's going to need all her concentration to do this. Back to the female officer, take her hand and get helped back into the boat. "I can regrow his arm. It'll just.. that'll take a day just in and of itself"

"Yeah, well.. it's debatable sometimes." Carrie notes blandly to the officers. "And I don't want to have come all the way out here just to have you guys muck it up." Carrie moves to her jeep and leans a hip against it to unlock DJ 12 from where he's handcuffed to her roll bar. "Wow. I like her, Detective. Course the fact she hasn't slapped you.. great amount of restraint on that one." She says matter of factly. "I think I woulda hit you, myself." She pulls the cuffs open and motions to the officers to take DJ 12. "All yours boys."

Returning to Coren and watching the woman climb back on the boat, she states. "This looks about where we're gonna part ways, Detective. I'm not leaving jeep out here alone. I'll bribe someone to get me across."

"You can leave his arm off for all I care. Treat the ATF agent first, then just stabilize the one-armed man. He's going to the hospital cuffed to a gurney," Coren says. He brushes aside a tear as Abigail turns her back on him, and he turns his own, moving out of the way as two officers haul DJ 12 onboard. He walks over to Carrie's jeep and leans against it, pulling his P228 out from the back of his belt. "I don't think she could ever hit a person, but after this … I can't say I wasn't hoping she would." He flicks the safety on his pistol and pulls a holster out of the plaid jacket that was previously used by DJ 12. He clips the holster to his belt and holsters the sidearm. "I think I should stay. I'll pay half if you don't mind the company," he says. Because the last thing he wants is to look at Abigail right now. All of the crap he's dealt with the last few days and he might actually cry.

ATF agent. Whatever that was. But it was obviously not the one armed man. Someones smart enough to maneuver both men to where she can sit and reach over. One hand rests on Dutch's neck, the other hand pulls up a bit on the duct tape and plastic bag. A warning for no one else to touch the man and then comes the prayer. Yes, that's right, a prayer. Not many people on the boat have ever seen the red head at work.

"I lift these hands, dear God, to You, in praise and thanks for all you do. You light the path through all my days and bless me with your loving ways… I lift these hands dear God, to You, in troubled hours when joys are few. You bear me up on eagles' wings and see me through each test life brings. I lift these hands, dear God, to You, please grant me wisdom, patience, too. Then fill my heart with love and caring, precious gifts you've made for sharing."

Dutch's body starts to heal then, and event hough she's removed that seal that made breathing easier, it's going to be one of the things that starts to heal up right fast. She's not going slow, speedy is the name of the game. Carrie, meet your first faith healer.

Carrie glances back at the boat and frowns a bit in confusion, but then brushes it aside. Not her problem. She watches Coren as he fiddles with the weapon and then shrugs. "Fine by me. Got plenty of room to take you along. I'll even drop you where you want if you didn't bring a vehicle." She heads back over to the van and leans into the darkness. "I do however, think we need to make sure to take his stuff with us." Pulling a few things out to toss into the back of her Jeep. Her movement slows as she hears the voice on the boat, turning her attention to it for a moment. When she reaches the Jeep and sets the items inside she asks Coren quietly. "What is she doing?"

And just like that, Dutch begins to breathe easier. His lungs clear, and his pulse begins to strengthen. Fingertips twitching, shivering as his nervous system begins to stitch and knit. Eyes fluttering open, just for a few moments to peer curiously at Abigail before he just slips right back off. Just like that.

"She's praying to God to heal everyone's 'favourite' ATF agent," Coren says. The bitterness in his voice cannot possible by missed as he mentions Dutch, and as he helps carry the items to the jeep, he sets them inside with more force than he ought to. "Perhaps if I had fewer scruples I'd have left both of them to rot and spare Abigail this …" Items secure, he starts to put the plaid jacket on when he sees the blood all over it and stops. No, that would be rather gross to wear a jacket with someone else's blood all over it. He carries it over to the last officer getting onto the boat. "Bag this," he says, tossing it to the man. "And tell Abigail I'm sorry." On that note, he walks back to Carrie's jeep. "I just need to get onto Manhattan. I'll walk the rest of the way myself. Clear my head."

The prayer ends, no other one started up, and there's a glance towards Dutch when he opens his eyes. A young woman, red hair, a gamut of emotions, and the little gold cross at her neck before he's gone out again. "He'll need blood. I can't replace that. Feels like he's lost quite a bit" wounds disappear on the man, like they were recorded normally and then played back at high speed. She's oblivious to Coren and Carrie by the jeep though she does look up when the man comes near. A flicker of blue his way before back to Dutch she goes.

Carrie winces at his handling of the ATF agent's stuff. She quickly holds up her hands at Coren. "Hey hey.. Take it easy with his stuff." She glances at the boat. "You obviously got a bit of a beef with the man.. but respect the equipment. He's a practically a legends among the Law Enforcement Snipers." Which might explain where she knows him from. Reaching into the van again she pulls a bag out of the back. She unzips it a bit and glances in it briefly, her lips pressed into a thin line. Zipped back up, she throws it over her shoulder and shuts the doors into the van. "I think that's got it, Detective Shelby." She placed the bag on the back seat of the Jeep. When he returns she adds with a nods. "I'll get you there. No problem."

"Let's just say he's led to the traumatization of a couple of people who I would gladly give my life to protect," Coren says, and leaves it as that as he gets into Carrie's jeep, more than happy to leave the scene. He's not one who likes to directly address his issues. They're best treated by high volumes of hard liquor.

Even as the boat carrying Abby starts to head out, leaving Coren and Carrie behind on the island, Abigail's finished taking care of Dutch, looking over to Mortimer. Heal him enough to stabilize him. She's an unhappy girl, and just wants to now have this day over with. Work is going to be out of the question even as her shoulder set a little lower. Another prayer started up, there's a hand laid on Mortimer, a hesitation whens he realizes that she knows who the guy is. There's a glance to the retreating dock, then the healing starts. Just enough so the guy won't die.

Carrie climbs into her side of the Jeep and starts the engine. She glances over at the man next to her and considers him for a moment. "Huh… Well.. I've found when it comes to dealing with men.. Some amount of Trauma is bound to occur." Putting it in gear, she throws a glance towards the retreating boat. "So she's a healer. Good to know they come with useful abilities. Though I wouldn't want that burden. Alright, Detective.. Let's go find a boat."

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