"I don't need to apologise," Alex said as she put her boot to the door of the bar, kicking it open and pushing the slightly shorter guy into the street, one hand on the collar of his shirt, the other twisting his arm up his back. "And if you don't quit being a whiny little bitch, I'll really give you something to complain about."
His body slammed into the wing of her car parked alongside the curb and he leaned forward over the hood, all of the air he would've used to respond forced out of his lungs by the impact, Alex's hands still firmly in place.
"Another bar we can no longer hang out in, Vause?"
Alex looked around in the direction of the voice and grinned at the EMT who'd just jumped down from the newly arrived Ambulance.
"You're too classy for a dive like this anyway, Diaz."
The guy still pinned to the hood of the car, who just so happened to be the owner of the dive bar, began to protest. He was quickly silenced by Alex banging his head off the hood of the car.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, holding him in place as she clicked cold steel in place around his wrist, then dragged his other arm behind his back and secured that wrist too. As she hauled him upright by the back of his collar, she briefly looked back over her shoulder at the EMT and the paramedic who was joining her from around the back of the ambulance.
"Wife's inside, or what's left of her after this piece of shit finished with her. Washington's with her. Kitchen in the back."
Diaz muttered something under her breath, spoke a couple of quiet words to her colleague and started to head into the bar. Alex finished folding the wife-beating bar owner into the back of the car and slammed the door closed.
She turned back to the bar just as the door swung closed behind the blonde-haired paramedic, keyed her radio and called in an update, then stepped into the alley alongside the bar and shook a cigarette out of a pack.
She lit her cigarette, out of public view but maintaining line of sight to her car, and leaned back against the wall as she smoked it. This was the third time in two weeks she'd been called to this bar. She just hoped that this time Washington was able to convince the piece of shit's wife to co-operate with a prosecution. The last two times – through fear, or hope of reconciliation, or fuck knows what – she'd made it perfectly clear she wouldn't co-operate and asked the prosecutor not to bring charges. Maybe this time it'd be different. Third time lucky and all that.
Alex checked her sidearm into her locker, changed out of her uniform and into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She was shrugging into her leather jacket when Washington stepped out of the showers and rounded the row of lockers.
"Somewhere you gotta be, Vause?"
Alex shook her head. "Nah, just heading home. I have a big night of laundry and bill paying ahead of me."
"Time for a drink?" Washington asked, towelling herself dry and already knowing the answer.
Alex checked her watch. "It's four-thirty. That's too early for me."
"Aw come on! Just one. You can even make that one a coffee if you really don't want to come play with us."
"Us? You meeting Diaz?"
"Yup. Diaz and her new paramedic partner. You see her today at that job?"
"Mmmnot really. Caught the back of her, I was kinda busy wrestling with Mister Charisma. Why does she have a new partner anyway?"
Washington shrugged. "She's only had temps since Bennett left, this one's her new regular. Transferred in from Shift One, I think."
"Any good?"
Washington pulled a tank over her head and shrugged again. "Don't know. This was only their second shift so…"
"Second shift and she's introducing you to her already?"
"We come as a package, Vause, you know that," Washington grinned. "Newbie gotta know what she's letting herself in for, being crewed with my girl."
"I almost feel sorry for her, being exposed to the two of you!" Alex laughed. "But not quite sorry enough to come with you for that drink."
Alex slung her satchel across her body and grabbed her helmet, firing a quick salute off to her partner before turning to leave.
"Hasta whaddyacallit. Have a good night."
"Mañana, partner." Washington replied, smiling as her partner left for home.
It took Alex a little over fifteen minutes to drive home. Not for the first time, she was grateful for the motorcycle which enabled her to navigate the traffic with relative ease, weaving her way between the queuing cars and coasting over the George Washington Bridge as she took her usual route home.
She lived in Leonia, NJ, in a single-family home on a quiet residential street in a low crime area with neighbours who were pleasant and friendly and minded their own business. She'd bought the house four years earlier and had spent the next three years remodelling it. The only reason she could afford a house in such a nice area was by purchasing a fixer-upper and she'd spent ninety grand plus change turning it from something that had barely been touched since it was built in 1910, to the home she now loved. She'd added almost a hundred and sixty to its value too, but she wasn't in it for the profit margin. She was in it because it was home.
She killed the engine of her BMW and coasted the bike along the driveway to the garage at the rear of the house. Securing it alongside her two other bikes – yes, she had something of an obsession – she removed her helmet and unpinned her hair from the tight bun it had been in since she left for work at six-thirty that morning.
Vincent, the cat that had chosen her home as his own within weeks of her moving in, waited in his usual spot on the porch observing as she shook her hair out, then stood and stretched as he watched her approach. She bent and scratched the top of his head and he mewed his approval, then she let herself in through the rear door and Vincent padded after her before flopping dramatically in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"I shoulda called you 'Trip Hazard'," Alex said as she stepped over the cat and turned on her coffee machine.
Vincent didn't reply.
She made her way to the front door and collected the mail, dumping the junk straight in to the recycling box and sorting through the rest, hanging her satchel and jacket on the rack near the front door along the way. She pulled her cell phone from her satchel and turned it on, then moved back to the kitchen and collected her freshly brewed coffee.
Back out on the deck, sitting in her favourite chair, she sipped her coffee and checked her messages. An entire conversation had taken place in the WhatsApp group she and her friends used, something about a trip to Miami in September. She lacked the motivation to read all of it, so skipped to the end and tapped out a quick reply asking for a summary of the 323 messages that had been exchanged while her phone was off.
She had four missed calls. Three from unknown numbers and one from Nicky. No voice messages. She checked her email – junk, junk and more junk – then dialled Nicky's number, returning her call.
"Yo Vause, what time d'ya call this?" was how Nicky answered the phone.
"Just got offa work o'clock. You?"
"No seriously? I thought you were off today. I called you at like 11am. Wondered if you wanted to catch some lunch."
"Too busy catching bad guys, sorry."
"Dinner tomorrow night then?"
Alex sighed quietly and took another sip of her coffee. She couldn't remember how many hundreds of times she'd explained her six-on/four-off shift pattern to her best friend, but she knew she was going to do it at least once more.
"Can't. Working."
"Goddammit, when are you ever not working?"
"Um, now? C'mon Nic, you know the drill. Two early shifts, two late shifts, two night shifts, four off."
"Right, right. So today is what?"
"Thursday. Second early."
"Okay, so…" Alex listened as Nicky murmured the following days of the week quietly. She would bet her house that she was counting on her fingers too. "So, you're off on Tuesday next week?"
"Yep. And Wednesday, Thursday and Friday."
"And tomorrow you start at…?"
"Three."
"Until midnight."
"Right."
"Fuck, it's no wonder you have no social life, Vause."
"I have a social life, just not when everybody else does."
Nicky chuckled. She had a point.
"So, when're we gonna catch up?"
"We could do brunch tomorrow or Saturday before I have to head in?"
"Brunch? What the fuck? Who are you and what've you done with Alex Vause?"
"Fuck you Nichols. You want food or not?"
"Eleven. Saturday. Usual place."
Alex grinned and terminated the call.
Friday late shifts weren't the worst. For most people it signified the end of their working week, but a lot of people headed home straight from work, which meant the bars weren't overly full and so alcohol fuelled crime didn't reach the peak it tended to on a Saturday, and what trouble there was usually came after midnight. Right after Alex clocked off.
She'd worked out of the 26th Precinct for the past four and a half years, having spent the first eighteen months of her career in the 88th in Brooklyn. The commute was much friendlier now and they covered a pretty decent patch – a portion of the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Riverside Park and Morningside Park were on her patch, as was Columbia University. The students kept them pretty busy at the weekends, but mainly keeping the peace. The crime figures had fallen steadily over the last few years, and Alex was happy with her lot.
She'd been partnered with Washington since transferring in from the 88th and they worked well together. They shared an easy camaraderie and Alex counted her as a friend, as well as work partner.
They were cruising south along Morningside Avenue around 5:30pm discussing where they were going to grab dinner that night when a young woman on the sidewalk started waving her arms frantically, trying to flag them down. Alex pulled the car over and Washington rolled down her window.
"Help you ma'am?"
"Oh thank God! Quickly, come quick! I think she's had a heart attack!"
The two cops jumped out of the car, following the woman as she quickly made her way back into the park.
"I called an Ambulance, I was waiting for them, but now you're here, so…"
As they rounded the corner of a footpath, they were greeted by the sight of one very grey looking female wearing fitness clothing lying on her back, with another similarly dressed woman kneeling beside her performing entirely ineffective CPR.
Vause and Washington exchanged a glance, then Washington keyed her radio as her partner pulled on her blue nitrile gloves and moved to the two women on the ground. The woman who was trying to deliver chest compressions almost burst into tears of relief when she saw Alex, and moved aside. Alex checked for a pulse, found none, checked then opened the airway, delivered two breaths and then took over CPR.
Washington sent the first woman back to the roadside to wait for the ambulance, then spoke quickly into her radio. "Control this is 26-David. 10-54 Charlie Uniform, Morningside Park adjacent to West 117th."
Alex counted thirty compressions, then delivered two more breaths. She looked up at the woman who was kneeling opposite her watching, clearly fighting back tears. As she began delivering the next thirty compressions, she asked "What's your name?"
The woman looked a little taken aback, then answered "Lucy. Adamson. Lucy Adamson."
"Okay Lucy. Hi. I'm Alex. Who's this young lady?"
Lucy started to cry. "Ol-ol-oliviaaaaaah."
Alex delivered another two breaths then looked back at Lucy as she commenced compressions again.
"Lucy, I need you to keep your shit together, you hear me?"
Lucy nodded, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Her other hand was clenched in a fist, fingernails digging into the palm of her hand.
"Tell me who she is and tell me what happened. Take your time. Go."
Lucy nodded her head again, then took a steadying breath. "She's Olivia Hambleton. She's 22, like me. We go to Columbia and we met on the first day of school, in our first class. We're majoring in Journalism. She wants to do politics but I'm more into broadcast - radio or TV, or even online, I really haven't decided. There are so many options."
Alex listened, filtering out the unnecessary information and picking up what she needed. She paused and checked for a pulse again, then continued CPR.
"That's good," she said to Lucy. "Go on."
"We run three times a week after class. We always come here, the fitness paths are great and they're pretty well lit and it's close to school, so it's perfect. We don't really come here at night, though. This is about as late as we'll come, it's not so nice when it's totally dark. This is the first time we've been this week though, Liv's been feeling a little under the weather, just tired really - she didn't even want to come out for pizza on Tuesday and she loves Papa Frankie's! - so we skipped a run on Monday and Tuesday, I was busy on Wednesday, and this is our first trip out."
Alex is working up a sweat now, and wipes her forehead on her shoulder as she switches from compressions to breaths. Lucy continues.
"She's really fit. Fitter than me for sure, but she was slower today than usual. We're in the middle of our third lap and we've been here an hour but usually we have three laps done in about 45 minutes. I was chatting to her as we ran, then she just slowed down and leant forward with her hands on her knees. I asked her if she was okay, and she… she shook her head no and she… and she… she just… fell."
Lucy's breaths are hitching and the tears start to fall again.
"Did you start CPR immediately?"
"Yeah, yes. I mean, I've only ever seen it on TV, but…"
"You were doing great," Alex lied. "Good job. How long had you been doing it before I got here?"
Lucy sniffs. "Uh, um, not long. Maybe two minutes? You got here so fast!"
Two more breaths. Back to compressions.
"She take any medication? Drugs? Anything?"
"N-no. Nothing illegal anyway, she doesn't even drink. I don't think she takes anything else. I mean, antihistamine for hay fever, but nothing else. I have allergies and I have this…" she pulls an EpiPen out of a pocket and shows it to Alex, "but not Liv. Nothing."
Alex looks over at her partner. "Washington! 10-57 on that Ambulance!"
"Already done, it's en route. ETA 2 minutes."
Alex continues delivering CPR, periodically checking for a pulse and finding none. A small crowd of onlookers is beginning to gather and Washington is doing her best to usher them away, or at least keep them back.
"Lucy, you've been great. Go see my partner over there, okay? See if you can keep the gawkers away and give your friend some privacy."
Lucy nods and backs away slowly. Giving her a task to do isn't really necessary, but Alex really doesn't want her to be right there watching as her friend dies.
The sweat is running down Alex's neck and beneath the collar of her shirt. Adrenaline is keeping her chest compressions fast and constant, but she's been doing this now for a little over eight minutes and she'll be grateful for the arrival of the ambulance.
"C'mon, c'mon," she murmurs, "don't you die on me, kid."
She delivers two more breaths.
"You hear me, Olivia? I'm not quitting and you can't either."
Back to compressions, counting under her breath, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.
Two breaths.
One-onehundred, two-onehundred, three-onehundred…
She is so focused on what she's doing that the thud of a heavy bag landing close by startles her. She looks up and breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the paramedic kneeling opposite her.
"You took your time," she says, a little out of breath. "But boy am I glad to see you."
"Don't blame me. Diaz chose every road that was snarled with traffic."
Alex delivers another two breaths as the paramedic starts unpacking her kit, then returns to compressions again.
"Ah of course. You're the newbie, Daya's partner."
The blonde paramedic completes a quick initial assessment, moves to kneel at Olivia's head and inserts an airway. Alex continues with compressions and looks up just in time to see Diaz shouldering her way through the growing crowd of onlookers.
"Correct. Chapman. I'd say it was nice to meet you, but…"
Alex continues with compressions as Chapman unpacks more kit. Diaz joins them and mercifully takes over the chest compressions from Alex, who sits back on her heels and wipes sweat from her brow with her forearm.
Diaz looks at Alex. "What do we got?"
Alex speaks quickly and clearly, despite her breathlessness.
"Olivia Hambleton, twenty-two years old, Columbia student. No drugs, no alcohol, no meds, no illnesses. No allergies other than hay fever. Ordinarily fit and well. Runs three times a week. Three-day history of lethargy and reduced appetite. Collapsed sixty minutes into a slow run, down for…" she checks her watch, "thirteen minutes. No breathing, no cardiac output. CPR commenced eleven minutes ago, thirty to two, no breaks."
"Nice work," Chapman responds quietly, then uses scissors to cut through Olivia's tank and sports bra, before applying pads to her upper right chest and lower left torso.
Alex looks up and sees a second paramedic crew making their way towards them. She pushes herself to her feet and takes a step back.
"She's all yours, guys. Do your stuff."
More patrol officers have arrived and are helping to disperse the crowd. Washington is speaking with Lucy, subtly positioning herself so that she's unable to see her friend on the ground behind her, surrounded by paramedics who are working frantically to save her life.
Alex joins them and the three of them start to walk in the direction of the patrol car, just as Chapman's voice can be heard saying "Clear!", followed by a dull thud as the defibrillator delivers its shock.
A third ambulance pulls up and Lucy is left in the care of the crew, with kind words from both Washington and Vause about how great she's been.
The two officers head back to their patrol car, Vause calls shotgun and tosses the keys to Washington. Once inside with the windows and doors secured, Alex rests her head back against the seat and lets out a long, slow breath.
"You good?" her partner asks, handing her a bottle of water.
Alex takes a long drink from the bottle. "Better than the dead kid, yeah," she replies with a wry smile.
Washington chuckles and starts the engine. "Where to?"
"Back to base. I gotta change my shirt." Alex sits forward and pulls her sweat-soaked shirt away from her skin, demonstrating.
"No really? Do we hafta? I was kinda enjoying the view. I didn't realise there was a wet t-shirt competition happening tonight!"
Alex replies by showing her partner the middle finger. Washington moves the car out into traffic and they start the journey back to the 26th.
Alex keys her radio. "Control this is 26-David. Show us 10-61 for thirty – officer welfare, returning to 26."
They travel for the next couple of minutes in silence, Alex watching the pedestrians on the sidewalk, Washington guiding the car through the city traffic.
"You know she'd never done CPR before," Alex says, out of the blue. "Just seen it on television."
"No shit. I kinda worked that out by the whole arms thing… what was going on with her arms? Spaghetti arms."
"I know, right?"
"Spaghetti arms. What is that? Where have I heard that before? Spaghetti arms… spaghetti arms…"
"Dirty Dancing. Johnny to Baby. 'Spaghetti arms, this is my dance space, this is your dance space.'"
"That's it!" Washington replies, delighted. Then, "Wait a fucking second right there. Since when do you watch Dirty Dancing?!"
Alex huffs and looks out the window again. "Fuck you. I had a youth too, you know."
"Yeah, but I didn't think they had TV back then…"
Alex is grateful for the banter and it continues all the way back to the station. The levity is a distraction and with it, a line is drawn under Olivia Hambleton.
On to the next.
Alex showers at work after her shift and changes back into her street clothes. It's twenty to one in the morning as she leaves the station and enters the compound where she left her bike.
As she approaches she sees Washington, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the bike, her ass resting against the seat.
"Hey," Alex starts, "thought you were long gone."
"Yeah, well. I was. But then I came back to see you because I was missing you so much."
Alex laughs quietly, adjusts her satchel on her back, then unlocks the security chain through the wheel.
"So what's up?"
Washington stands and moves away from Alex's bike. She takes one last draw from her cigarette before flicking the butt away.
"I'd only been gone five minutes when Daya called. She made me come back here."
"Oh?" Alex swings a leg over the bike and sits, looking across at her friend.
"The girl? Spaghetti Arms' friend?"
"Oh." Realising. Eyes downcast, watching her fingers as she puts the key in the ignition. Quietly, "Olivia. Yeah."
"She made it."
Alex looks up quickly at Washington, eyes wide. "The fuck she did!"
Washington shrugs. "Seems that way. She's in ICU, but she's stable and she's… y'know… not dead anymore."
"Wow," is all Alex can say.
"I know, right? I said to Daya, that must be some kind of miracle right there because your CPR technique is fucked up, man. Spaghetti arms and shit…"
Alex starts to laugh and Washington grins at her, before clapping her once on the back.
"Nice work, hero cop," she grins as she walks away back to her car. "G'night."
"G'night," Alex replies absently, lost in her thoughts for a moment. Then, "Hey! Poussey!"
Her partner pauses and looks back, raising her chin in a question.
"Thanks."
Washington smiles and waves, then raises a middle finger. "That's for using my first name, asshole," she replies as she turns on her heel and walks away.
Alex laughs and pulls on her helmet.
On the drive home she ponders that Friday late shifts sometimes really weren't the worst.