Chris Larabee sat in the
hospital room trying to make sense out of something that would never make
sense: how two of his men, ATF agents, were struck down not in a raid, but in a
senseless accident. One moment they had been laughing and teasing as they left
his ranch house, now they were silent and still except for the sounds of the
machinery which supported their lives and monitored their conditions. It was so
unreal. He kept waiting for someone to wake him up from this horrible
nightmare.
He prayed someone would wake
him up.
An uncharacteristic sniff
from across the room drew his attention.
Ezra wiped his eyes with his
index finger, his handkerchief forgotten in his pocket. He took a couple of
deep breaths in a vain attempt to control his emotions, but it had been too
much and too long.
"I'm sorry," Ezra
whispered, bolting from the room.
Chris' gaze followed Ezra to
the doorway. He looked back at the man in the bed and then to the door.
"I've got him,"
said Josiah solemnly, heading for the hallway.
"Thanks," Chris
said softly, watching Team Seven's profiler follow the undercover agent. Chris'
heart ached for Ezra, knowing full well the guilt, the responsibility for his
friends' condition that he was feeling right now. Nothing would relieve that
remorse other than their survival and return to 100% capacity. And even then,
Standish would still punish himself.
Chris sighed, knowing he
would do the same thing.
Yet, it wasn't Ezra's fault.
It was no one's fault. That's what made it so incredibly unbelievable. Just
hours ago they were laughing and teasing…
+++++++
"Would you guys get out
of here?" Chris growled as JD and Vin tripped over each other, laughing.
"Yes, Sir, Mr. Larabee,
Sir," Vin said, snapping a salute.
Chris slapped the back of
his head as Vin laughed.
"Hey!" JD
protested as Buck slapped his head. "I didn't do anything!"
"I know, * Kid,*"
said Buck. "That's for what you're going to do."
JD laughed and shoved Buck
out the door of Chris' ranch house. They wrestled their way to the driveway, to
the waiting vehicles. With a final shove, Buck pushed JD away and paused to
button up his coat.
"Woo-wee, it's chilly
out tonight," he commented.
"Ya coming, Ezra?"
Vin asked as he stepped off the porch. Josiah and Nathan had spent the evening
at the ranch as well, but they had chosen to head home at a reasonable hour.
Ezra buttoned his expensive
wool coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck before stepping into the cold.
"Good night, Mr.
Larabee," he said.
Everyone groaned at the
formality.
"There is nothing wrong
with good manners!" Ezra shouted at his teammates, completely destroying
the illusion of proper etiquette.
Vin laughed and climbed into
his Jeep and attempted to start the engine. It groaned pathetically and so did
he.
"Problem, Mr.
Tanner?"
Vin rolled his eyes even
though Ezra couldn't see the gesture in the dark.
"Would you like a ride
in a nice, warm, *reliable * vehicle?" Ezra offered.
"Yeah," Vin
conceded. "It's too damn cold to try and fix her tonight."
Chris stood on the porch and
shook his head. It wasn't like this hadn't happened before.
"Get in, JD," said
Buck, trying to corral his roommate into the truck so they could head home.
"No way," said JD.
"If Vin's going in the Jag, so am I!"
"That makes no sense, Boy,"
said Buck. "Why make Ezra come over to our place just to drop you off
when…" Buck shook his head when he realized he was talking to air. JD was
already in the back seat of the Jag.
"Race you home,
Honey," Buck teased.
Ezra grinned at him and
opened his door.
"You will not,"
Chris ordered. "It's cold. There's likely to be fog on the highway. You
watch yourselves on the way home."
"Yes, Mother,"
both Ezra and Buck answered at the same time. They looked at each other and
laughed.
Chris shook his head, walked
into the house, slammed the door and shut off the porch light growling about
ungrateful friends.
Buck gunned the truck and
peeled out of the driveway, scattering gravel in his wake just to antagonize
Chris a little more. He raced down to the highway leaving the Jag behind. As
fast as the car was, Ezra was a cautious driver, not willing to risk life or
limb, or the expensive car to the poor weather conditions.
Within a few minutes Buck
was far ahead of them as the three friends in the Jag enjoyed the smooth ride
of the vehicle.
"Mr. Tanner,
desist!" Ezra ordered as Vin tuned the radio to a County station.
“Whiskey for my men, beer
for my horses,” Vin sang loudly along with the radio.
Ezra winced. Tanner had
absolutely no sense of pitch. Or taste in music for that matter. He reached
over and pushed the button for the Jazz station.
“Aww,” Vin and JD groaned at
him. Then, as if they had the same thought at the same instant, both of them
belted out, “Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses!” drowning out the radio
The men rode along laughing
and joking until the fog became very dense. Ezra slowed the car down to a
crawl. It was difficult to see where they were going, so he focused on the
white line at the side of the road to keep him on path. Vin and JD were silent,
allowing the southerner to concentrate on the task at hand.
The normal thirty-minute
drive had now stretched into forty-five and they still had a long way to go.
They weren't exactly sure where they were because the fog was disorienting.
"Stop!" Vin called
urgently.
Ezra slowed the car and
pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway, now seeing the same problem Vin
did. About thirty feet ahead of them, headlights were facing them on their side
of the highway. With two lanes in each direction on the divided highway, it was
clear that a car was on their side of the road. The headlights were at a
strange angle to each other and far too low. Something was definitely wrong.
"Let's see if we can
help," Ezra suggested as he reached for his cell phone.
Vin was already out of the
car heading over to the scene as JD crawled out of the back seat.
The single vehicle was
upside down with the front end wedged at a 45-degree angle against the concrete
median. It looked like it had rolled.
Vin tugged vainly at the passenger door, but it was too badly mangled to
get it open.
"Ezra,
flashlights?" he called. He looked
over towards the Jag, but couldn't even see it through the murkiness.
JD seemingly materialized
from nowhere as he approached through the dense fog.
"I can't get in from
this side," said Vin. "Let's try the other side." He and JD
moved to the median, choosing to climb over it rather than going around the
back of the car.
"Vin? JD?" called
Ezra as he approached with a flashlight. "Help is on the way."
"Good. We're going
to…" Vin's voice was cut off by JD's scream as they both disappeared from
sight.
"JD! Vin!" called
Ezra frantically. He ran to the median and turned the beam of light towards his
friends. The southerner gasped as he saw what they had not noticed in the fog.
The car had overturned on an overpass and Vin and JD had jumped over the median
into nothingness, falling from the divided overpass through the gap between the
northbound and southbound lanes.
Ezra struggled to catch a
breath as it sank in that his friends had fallen to the roadway below.
"Vin! JD!" he called frantically, his heart pounding wildly. He shown
the flashlight towards the ground below, but it was of little use. He could see
no further than a few feet in the thick fog.
"Vin! JD!" he
screamed again as he moved seemingly on autopilot. He ran for the end of the
overpass, knowing that most of them had some sort of ladder or staircase for
emergency workers. There was no question of who to help first. The victim in
the car would have to wait. If Vin and JD had survived the fall, they would be
on the roadway below and in danger of oncoming traffic. And with the thick fog,
a driver, no matter how alert would never see them.
Somehow Ezra found his cell
phone in his hand and he placed a second call to 9-1-1 as he scrambled to find
the path to the road below. He reported that additional help was needed, but he
couldn't tell them what overpass he was on. The operator calmly told him where
to look for the identifying number on the bridge and Ezra relayed the
information as he stumbled down the steep steps.
"Vin! JD!"
Now on the roadway below, he
tried to gauge where his friends would have landed, scanning the area with the
flashlight.
He sucked in a breath and
his heart seemed to stop as he found JD.
The young communications specialist was in the middle of the road,
sprawled awkwardly on his stomach. Blood was pooled near his face.
Ezra's heart pounded
relentlessly as he felt for a pulse. His relief on finding it was short lived.
He could hear a car coming. Every bit of training he had ever had screamed at
him not to move his friend, but none of the training had dealt with someone in
the middle of the road on a dark foggy night. He had no choice. As carefully as
he could he placed his hands under JD's limp arms and dragged him to the side
of the road. He cautiously maneuvered the young agent onto his side, since JD
was bleeding from the mouth and nose, and he was afraid he might choke.
The undercover agent turned
back towards the road. He needed to find Vin. The approaching car passed as he
held his breath and prayed – prayed that he would not hear a horrible thud of
car hitting flesh.
Letting out a breath as the
car passed, Ezra strained to see through the fog. He had to find Vin. Trembling
hands made it difficult to shine the beam of the flashlight with any
steadiness. Hearing a groan, Ezra focused the light in the direction and
hurried towards the sound.
He nearly dropped the
flashlight as he slid to his knees beside a bloodied Vin in the opposite lane
of traffic. If that vehicle had been going the other direction…
‘Stop it!’ Ezra forced
himself to focus on the immediate need. Faced with the same decision of moving
his injured friend or leaving him at the fate of traffic, Ezra made the same
choice a second time. He stood, becoming angry with himself as his legs shook.
He needed to be strong right now. The nerves could settle in * after * Vin and
JD were safe.
The other shoulder of the
road was closer, but Ezra chose to drag Vin next to the communications
specialist. He needed them together to do what he could while he waited for
help. Settling the sharpshooter next to JD, Ezra fell to his knees beside them.
His legs would no longer hold him up. He shined the beam of light over his two
friends, taking a shaky breath. There were so many obvious injuries. Where
could he even start to help them?
Nathan would know what to
do, but the medic wasn't here. Ezra P. Standish was all his friends had until
real help arrived.
He wasn't really conscious
of his actions as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and set the
flashlight on the concrete next to him. Ezra ran one bloody hand through his
hair as he dialed.
"C…Chris?" he said
stuttered into the phone.
+++++++
It was the call no one ever
wanted to receive. When Chris heard Ezra’s trembling voice on the other end of
the line he knew instinctively that something was wrong and that it was bad.
What scared him the most was the fact that he had to work to get Ezra focused
enough to tell him what was going on. The undercover agent was not easily
rattled, but he was obviously shaken. At first Chris feared that Ezra was
injured and unable to communicate clearly, but with some firm coaxing and a
pointed order, he got the undercover agent on track and was given the grim
news. Vin and JD were seriously hurt in some kind of an accident.
“There’s so much blood…”
“Ezra! Ezra listen to me,”
Chris ordered sharply. The undercover agent was losing focus again. “Did you call
911?”
“Yes, they’re on the way,”
he replied. “I don’t know what to do, where to start…”
Chris hated to be harsh with
him, almost certain the southerner was also injured or in shock, but injured or
not, Ezra was the only lifeline that Vin and JD had at the moment. “Think,
Ezra!” he demanded.
“Need Nathan,” Ezra said
softly.
“Basic first aid, Ezra,”
Chris ordered. “You know what to do.”
“A-B-C,” muttered Ezra.
“That’s right,” Chris
assured. “Airway, breathing, circulation. Just do what you can. Help’s on the
way.”
Chris continued to hold the
cell phone, listening for anything as he quickly put on his boots and grabbed
for his coat.
He heard a distant groan and
then Ezra’s voice telling someone to be still.
It was a relief of sorts to know that at least one of them was alive,
but frustrating that he couldn't help.
Chris cursed as the
connection cut off. He dialed Ezra’s number, but it simply rang and went to
voice mail. Grabbing the keys to his truck, he ran out the door, dialing Nathan
as he went.
The only thing worse than
receiving a call like this was passing on the news to someone else. He told
Nathan all he knew. There had been an accident. Vin and JD were hurt, how bad
he had no idea, except that one of them was groaning and Ezra said there was a
lot of blood. It wasn't much information, but it was all he had.
Nathan had been Nathan. He
had tried to reassure Chris as much as he could and took on the task of calling
Josiah and Buck, leaving Chris to focus on driving on the foggy highway.
Chris cursed the fog. He
cursed the ‘luck’ of his team. He cursed whatever fool had caused the accident,
fervently hoping it hadn't been Ezra.
Larabee drove far too fast
in the poor conditions. His single advantage was the hundreds of times he had
driven this highway. Even in the dense fog he knew the turns, he knew the exits
and onramps. But even his knowledge couldn’t get him to his friends fast
enough.
He reached the scene of the
accident nearly 40 minutes later. Flares on the road and flashing lights of
emergency vehicles cast an eerie glow in the fog. Chris pulled over to the side
of the road and parked the truck behind Ezra’s unscathed Jag.
How the hell had Vin and JD
been injured if the Jag was in one piece?
Grabbing his flashlight, he
exited the truck and headed up the shoulder of the highway until he found a
police officer. Chris identified himself and asked about the injured men as the
officer led him to the scene commander. He could see the single car upside
down, but there was no sign of his men or what had happened to them.
“You’re Larabee?” the
Sergeant asked.
Chris nodded. Ezra must have
told them he was coming.
“Your men stopped to help
the accident victim.” The Sergeant grimaced. He hated to convey bad news to
anyone, but when it was something so senseless, it seemed a million times
worse.
“I think the fog obscured
their vision.”
“What happened? Where are
they?” Chris impatiently.
"It appears they
climbed over the median to go around the car."
Chris motioned with his
hands as if to say, "So what?"
"Agent Larabee, what
they didn't see in the fog, is that they were on an overpass."
Fear surged through Chris as
the implications hit. They had fallen.
He couldn't stop the
instinctual impulse to look over the edge. He saw nothing but fog and knew that
is all his friends had seen.
"They're on the way to
Denver General," the Sergeant added.
"They're alive?"
asked Chris in a hushed voice.
"Yes," said the
Sergeant. "Standish insisted that he go in with one of the men." He
looked at the shaken blond with concern. "Do you want an escort to the
hospital?"
Chris shook his head.
"I've got lights and sirens if I need them."
The man put his hand on
Chris' shoulder. "I hope they're all right."
"Thanks," said
Chris, truly appreciating the Sergeant's concern. "The other victim?"
"He's fine. A few
bruises," he replied with a shake of his head. "Paramedics took him
in just to be safe."
"Drunk?" Larabee
asked.
"Don't know, yet,"
the Sergeant replied, "but it's likely."
Chris closed his eyes,
cursing under his breath. This was totally pointless. Vin and JD had been hurt
trying to help someone in distress who chose to drink and drive.
"We'll find out for
sure, and we'll charge him," the Sergeant offered. It wasn't much, but it
was all he could do.
"Thanks," said
Chris, shaking the man's hand before heading for his truck. He needed to get to
the hospital.
+++++++
Striding through the
Emergency Room doors with an air of authority, Larabee did a quick scan of the
waiting area, easily spotting his team. With less distance to travel, Buck,
Josiah and Nathan had arrived at the hospital before him. Off in the far corner
of the chairs, the men had unconsciously set up a perimeter around Ezra.
The southerner was seated on
a hard plastic chair, slumped forward, his elbows pressed into his knees and
his forehead resting on his fisted hands. There was an empty chair on either
side of him as if attempts at approaching him had already been made and his
teammates had backed off.
Buck stood near the window,
staring out. Having teammates injured was hard on all of them, but when JD was
involved it was particularly hard on Wilmington. He and JD were more than
roommates - they were brothers.
Josiah sat across from Ezra,
his head slightly bowed, eyes closed.
No doubt he was praying for his teammates.
Nathan met Chris' gaze as
the team leader joined the vigil. Shaking his head, he said, "We haven't
heard anything, yet."
Chris nodded and walked
forward, sitting purposefully next to Ezra.
From this vantage, he could
see the dried blood not only on Ezra's clothing, but also on his hands and
face. There was a long tear in the knee of his pants.
"Are you all
right?" Chris asked quietly.
Ezra sat up and took a deep
breath. Chris didn't miss the trembling hand as Ezra pressed the offending
appendage against his thigh to stop the shaking.
"Yes."
Chris grimaced. A single
word with no flowery explanation, no obvious denial of the facts. But the
shaking hands and simple speech spoke volumes about Ezra's true status.
"Mr. Standish?"
The young doctor who spoke intruded into their space.
Ezra nodded. “How are they?”
"We’re working on
them,” the doctor said, brushing off the question. “We need to know a little
more about the scene. Doctor Maxwell said you were there before the
paramedics?"
Chris frowned as Nathan
moved in close, taking a protective stance between Ezra and the doctor.
"He did what he had to
do," Nathan growled.
The doctor raised his hands
in surrender. "I understand. That’s between you and Dr. Maxwell. I just
need to know how Mr. Tanner was positioned when you found him."
"I found JD
first," said Ezra. By his answer, it was obvious that the Southerner
wasn’t thinking clearly. "He was on the road. I had to move him."
"You did right,
Ezra," Nathan affirmed.
The shaken agent looked at
his teammate. He seemed to soak up the support, and then turned his focus on
the doctor.
"JD was on his stomach.
His uh…" Ezra paused for a steadying breath. "His right arm was
beneath him and he was bleeding from the mouth and nose."
Subconsciously Team Seven
closed in around Standish as he told of their downed teammates, but he didn't
seem to notice.
"I'm sure his leg was
broken, maybe both,” Ezra rambled. “I think he may have landed feet first and
fallen forward hitting his face…"
The Southerner paused as the
images of JD flooded his mind. Things he never wanted to see. Things he hoped
he could forget. Feeling Chris' hand on his shoulder, Ezra looked at him and
took another deep breath.
"And Mr. Tanner?" asked
the doctor.
"Vin was on his back,
more on his right hip I think."
"Which was it, his side
or his back?" the doctor tried to clarify.
"I didn't want to move
him."
"It's all right,
Ezra," Nathan assured again, as he placed a hand on the under cover
agent's other shoulder in support.
"His leg was broken.
There was blood."
"Enough," said
Nathan, glaring at the doctor. Standish was plainly shaken and this physician
needed serious help in the area of sensitivity. "I'm going to take Ezra
and get him cleaned up. If you need more information, you can talk to him when
he’s up to it."
Nathan turned his focus back
to the slightly shocky agent. "Come on, Ezra. Let's get you cleaned up.
Get some clean clothes." Nathan took Ezra's arm and pulled gently until the
Southerner stood and moved with him past the doctor.
The doctor headed back into
the exam rooms assuring Chris, Josiah and Buck that he would keep them
informed.
"What the hell was that
about?" Chris asked.
Josiah sat down beside him.
"Ezra was in the exam room when Doctor Maxwell went off on a rampage about
the moron who moved Vin."
Chris cursed.
"My feelings,
exactly," said Josiah. "Nathan got there just about the end of things
when Ezra told the doctor that he was responsible for moving Vin. Actually,
Nathan said that Ezra said, 'I'm the moron. But what's done is done and you're
wasting time focusing on me when Mr. Tanner needs your attention.'"
Chris grimaced. Ezra’s words
were true, but his sarcasm and anger wouldn't win him any high marks with the
doctor.
"Maxwell had him
removed to the waiting room. Nathan says he spent the next twenty minutes
trying to assure Ezra that he had done the right thing."
"Doesn't sound like it
worked," said Chris.
"Hell, no," Buck
joined into the conversation. "How do you convince someone that a crippled
friend is better than a dead friend?"
Crippled. The word struck
hard as Chris began to piece together the information. The doctor was angry
because someone moved Vin.
Chris swore.
Vin might be paralyzed.
If he survived.
+++++++
Nurse Jenna Dawson led
Nathan and Ezra to the staff lounge. She knew Raine Jackson and had met her
husband, Nathan, numerous times. After ascertaining that Ezra wasn't seriously
injured, she had guided them to the lounge and retrieved a pair of scrubs for
the agent. She watched as Nathan wooed the shaken man to the sink and helped
him wash the blood from his hands and face.
It was easy to see what Dr.
Jackson found attractive in her husband, and it wasn't just his handsome features.
The man had a gentleness and compassion about him that was rare. He was taking
great care of a distraught friend when he had every right to be just as
worried.
Nathan took the supplies she
had offered and tenderly cleaned the scrapes on both of Ezra's hands, expertly
placing bandages on the heel of each hand. He spoke softly to the patient the
entire time, assuring him that he had done all anyone could do for his friends.
When it came to dressing the
knee, Nathan asked for her assistance. It was a deeper scrape and required
first flushing the area, and then picking out some bits of rock that were
embedded in the abrasion.
Ezra, for the most part, sat
silently enduring the ministrations. He stared at his hands but didn't really
seem to be looking at them.
"Can you slip these
on?" asked Nathan, holding out a set of blue scrubs to Ezra.
Ezra mechanically took the
clothing from his friend. Jenna excused herself while he dressed, saying that
she would be back in a few minutes.
True to her word, she returned
with a plastic bag for Ezra's damaged clothing, a small bottle of orange juice
and a packet of cookies.
Nathan thanked her for the
kindness, and made sure Ezra ate a cookie and drank some of the juice.
The Southerner followed
Jackson’s instructions without conscious thought, eating part of a cookie and
taking a drink when Nathan handed him the juice.
Fortunately, Nathan could
see what was coming before it hit him and grabbed a trashcan, holding it for
Standish while his stomach rebelled.
+++++++
The waiting was
interminable. Each minute they waited seemed like hours as they hoped for some
information, * any * information on their friends. Chris' limited patience had long ago expired. His frustration and
anger continued to build with each minute that passed without word on Vin and
JD.
While Ezra remained silent
in his thoughts, the remaining team members had vented their anger verbally,
promising retribution against the drunk driver. Whether any of them really
would harm the man was unlikely, but having somewhere to focus their
frustrations kept them from chewing on each other or innocent people around
them as they waited.
But even that had now been
stolen from them. Sergeant Tucker,
after wrapping up at the accident scene had come to the hospital to follow up.
He needed a statement from Ezra, but one look at the man and he knew the
questions could wait. Receiving the lab results from the doctor, he let out a
frustrated sigh. He had to inform Larabee and his men that the driver was not intoxicated.
It was simply a case of an eighty-six year old man disoriented by the fog and
going up the off ramp into the wrong lanes of traffic. There was no villain, no
one to blame for the senseless accident. No way to rationalize the injuries to
two young men who had simply stopped to help.
Chris looked around the
waiting room. He gave a nod to the fire chief. They had worked together on a
recent arson investigation. There were paramedics, Denver Police officers, ATF
agents, some he didn’t recognize at all. It was no surprise to him that as word
started filtering out about the accident, even in the middle of the night, that
fellow law enforcement officers and firefighters joined Team Seven in their
waiting room vigil, showing support for their fallen. It was an honor that
Chris sincerely appreciated but wished they didn't need.
When a doctor came to speak
to them, there was no privacy. Every law enforcement officer and firefighter
edged closer, wanting to know the fate of his or her comrades. It never occurred
to Chris to ask for some space. All he wanted to know was if Vin and JD would
be all right.
Head injury.
Trouble stabilizing.
Fractures.
Surgery.
Chris didn't absorb all the
details of JD's injuries. It was the major words that shook him. He glanced
over to Nathan and the Paramedics who waited nearby. The look on their faces
showed their understanding of the details and that it was serious. He looked
away quickly, not wanting to acknowledge that losing JD was a real possibility,
but his eyes fell on Buck. The glazed look on his face confirmed the fears.
“And Mr. Tanner…”
Chris didn’t want to hear
the doctor’s next words. He didn’t want to hear that he had lost a friend; or
that he could lose two friends today. Or that their lives would be changed
forever. He wanted to hope that they both would be fine and everything would go
back to normal. Taking a deep breath, he listened anyway. He needed to know.
Fractures.
Concussion.
Possible spinal cord injury.
Chris cursed. He felt Buck’s
hand rest on his shoulder. As torn up as Buck was about the news, he was still
offering support.
“Chris?” Buck interrupted
his thoughts. “He asked if someone wants to go be with Vin until they take him
to surgery.”
Chris looked over at Ezra,
thinking that maybe after all he’d been through that Ezra needed to be with
Vin. The look of guilt on the southerner’s face was like a blow to the stomach.
Ezra shook his head at the
silent question from Chris. There was no way that he could bring himself to
face his friend whom he had probably crippled for life. He ran a shaky hand
through his hair before returning his elbows to his knees and resting his
forehead on his fists.
Chris stood to join Buck in
following the doctor. The ladies’ man would be allowed to walk with JD’s gurney
on the way to surgery. Catching Nathan’s eye, Chris nodded towards Ezra.
Nathan nodded in agreement.
He would keep an eye on Ezra. He exchanged glances with Josiah and they both
moved closer to the undercover agent as Chris and Buck left the waiting room.
+++++++
Chris stopped at the entry
to the cubicle where Vin waited. Two doctors stood together conferring over
some x-rays and images, presumably of Vin’s injuries. A nurse was checking
Vin’s nasal canula, speaking softly to him.
Vin was a mess. His face was
bruised and swollen on the left side and a large bandage covered some injury
above his eye. His head was immobilized to prevent further damage to his spine.
His right arm was bandaged in several places and blood seeped through the largest
bandage just above his wrist. Bruising was already beginning to show on his
torso. His right leg was temporarily splinted.
Hearing a whimper of pain,
Chris moved forward. The nurse smiled and nodded, encouraging him to come
closer.
Vin’s eyes were closed
tightly as he panted through the pain.
“Take it easy, Cowboy,”
Chris said softly.
“Chris?” Vin opened his
eyes.
Larabee moved closer to his
head so Vin could see him.
“Guess we should’a looked
before we leaped…” Vin gasped and then clinched his eyes tightly again.
Chris swallowed. Here Vin
was, all busted up and trying to crack a joke to make it easier on him. The
blond looked at the nurse for permission as he reached for Vin’s hand. She
nodded and he gently lifted Vin’s hand a couple inches off the bed and held it.
Immediately Vin’s long
slender fingers wrapped around his and squeezed hard as he rode out the pain.
Eventually Vin started to relax the grip, as the surge of pain lessened.
“JD?” he asked as he opened
his eyes.
“On his way to surgery,”
informed Chris. “He got pretty banged up, too.”
“He’ll be okay?” Vin gasped
as another wave of pain hit. He cursed vigorously and squeezed Larabee’s hand
like a vice.
“Can’t you give him
something?” Chris asked of anyone who could hear.
One of the doctors broke
away from the conference and did a quick check on Vin. “We’ve given him what we
can until we get the head CT back. We’re expecting it any minute,” he assured.
“M’ back hurts so bad,” Vin
complained.
Larabee looked at the
doctor, giving him a hard glare. Sure the man had years of schooling and
supposed expertise in his field, but at that moment all that Chris cared about
was the incredible pain that Vin was enduring. From past experience, he knew
that Vin had a very high pain threshold, and if Vin were complaining even after
some pain meds had been given, it had to be unimaginable.
“I know,” said the doctor,
soothingly. “Just a little longer and we’ll get you into surgery and take care
of that.”
Chris frowned. This couldn't
be the jerk who yelled at Ezra. He looked at Vin’s eyes, noting that there
wasn’t as much fear as just moments ago. The guy was pretty good at calming his
patient.
“Here’s the CT results,”
said a technician as he entered the room.
“Great,” said the doctor in
the same low tone. He smiled at Vin. “See? Just a little while more.”
Vin closed his eyes and
started to squeeze Chris’ hand again as the doctor moved away to look at the
results and make his final decisions about possible spinal surgery and taking
care of the fractures.
All too soon, and yet not
soon enough, Vin was wheeled away from Chris to surgery.
And the waiting continued.
+++++++
Buck had been quiet since he
returned from escorting JD to surgery. What he had seen *wasn’t * JD. It
couldn’t be. His friend had horrible
bruising on his face, both eyes blackened and swollen. His jaw seemed puffed-up
twice it’s normal size and it was at an odd angle. He was receiving oxygen
through a tube since the damaged jaw and swollen nose made airflow difficult.
Buck wanted to touch him, to
hold JD's hand or something, but one arm was splinted and the other had an IV
attached. The lumps under the sheet indicated an injury to his lower legs but
he couldn’t see to what extent.
“Hey, Kid,” he had called
softly to the unconscious agent as they hurried the gurney down the hallway to
the operating room. “You’re going to be just fine, you hear?”
The nurse had given him a
sympathetic smile as they left him standing outside the operating room doors.
He had slowly made his way
to the surgery waiting room, knowing that the others would join him there at
some point.
If only he had made JD get
in the truck, maybe all this wouldn't have happened.
Buck closed his eyes.
Maybe he could have forced
JD to ride home with him and spared his injury, but if he had, maybe it would
be Vin and Ezra in the hospital instead of JD. Or worse. If Vin and Ezra had
fallen and no one had been there to help, maybe they'd be…
Buck cursed. 'What ifs' were
useless. The situation was what it was and there was no changing it.
He closed his eyes and let
out a sigh.
"Want to talk about
it?" Josiah asked as he sat down beside Buck.
Buck gave Josiah a half
smile and a shake of the head. He appreciated the offer but knew if he talked
he wouldn't be able to keep his emotions in check.
Wilmington looked up as Ezra
and Nathan came through the door, wincing at Ezra's defeated appearance.
"Maybe you should talk
to Ezra," Buck suggested in a hushed voice. "He needs to know it's
not his fault."
"He won't hear
it," said Josiah, "until he's ready."
Buck shook his head as
Josiah walked away, knowing that Josiah's words were aimed at him as well.
+++++++
“Why don’t you try to get
some sleep?” suggested Nathan.
He fully expected the
response he received, a shake of the head from the weary southerner.
“All right then, just do me
a favor?” Nathan shifted some magazines
off of the padded bench seats in the surgery waiting room. “Just put your feet
up here. Rest that knee a bit.”
“It’s nothing,” Ezra protested
softly.
“Humor me,” said Nathan,
slightly surprised when Standish gave in and put his feet up on the couch. The scrape on Ezra’s knee was minor and
wasn’t of concern at all to the medic. Standish had to be exhausted. The adrenaline
had burned off long ago and the emotional and physical drain was taking over,
and even as hard as he was fighting it he was having a difficult time keeping
his eyes open.
Nathan folded up his jacket
and placed it between Ezra’s shoulder and the back of the couch, hoping that
Ezra would give in and nap a little. “You know,” he said softly so that only
Ezra could hear, “you aren’t to blame for what happened. You did it right,
Ezra. No one will think any less of you if you sleep a bit. Staying awake won’t
make the surgery go any faster.”
“Disrespectful,” Ezra
muttered, fighting to stay awake.
“No, it’s not,” Nathan
admonished. “You need to rest so you don’t make yourself sick. We’re going to
have some long hours here ahead of us.”
“Thanks to me…” Ezra’s
muttering was even softer as his eyelids drooped and his head dropped forward.
Nathan gently pushed Ezra’s
head against the folded jacket.
He smiled sadly as Ezra
finally gave in and let sleep claim him.
“No, Ezra. They’re alive,
thanks to you.”
+++++++
With Ezra sleeping covered
by his teammates’ coats, Nathan turned his attention to the other members of
his team. Physical injuries, he could handle, but the emotional wounds he and
his teammates struggled with were more Josiah’s department. Still, he could do everything possible to
make sure his friends took care of themselves, something that people waiting in
circumstances like this usually failed to do.
The accident had happened
sometime around one o’clock in the morning, and it was now nearing six o’clock,
but getting anyone to leave the waiting area to do something as “trivial” as
eat, would be unlikely. Nathan talked to a few of the extended law enforcement
family who waited with Team Seven, and several men and women jumped at the
opportunity to do something tangible.
Soon Ezra was covered with
blankets instead of the jackets that had been offered. A pillow replaced the
jacket under his head. The southerner slept through the changes without so much
as a murmur or a shift in position, attesting to his exhaustion.
Less than forty minutes
later, two coolers appeared filled with beverages and sandwiches. A basket of
fruit was added to the growing collection. A hospital volunteer set up a large
coffee maker and a firefighter brought in a five-gallon jug of water.
Nathan picked up some of the
wrapped sandwiches and walked around to each of his teammates. He placed
sandwiches in their hands and told them to eat. One of the firefighters
followed him, giving each man a cup of coffee.
When Nathan was satisfied that
the others were actually eating, he sat down on the couch where Ezra still
slept. He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck wearily.
Opening his eyes again, he found a sandwich held in front of him.
He chuckled and accepted the
offering.
“Thanks, Katherine.”
Nathan looked at Ezra as he
moved restlessly. He tucked the blanket around the southerner’s legs before
looking back to the Paramedic.
“Make sure they know the
food is for everyone,” Nathan asked.
“Sure thing, Nathan,” Katherine
replied. She looked at Ezra as he began to really thrash in his sleep.
“NO!” Ezra shouted as he sat
up suddenly, startling everyone.
Nathan put a calming hand on
Ezra’s ankle.
“You’re all right,” he said
soothingly.
Ezra blinked at Nathan for a
moment, trying to push away the horror of his nightmare and figure out where he
was.
Looking around the room to
gather his bearings he suddenly felt like the proverbial elephant in the middle
of the room - the awkward object everyone knew was there and no one chose to
talk about.
Everyone was looking at
him.
He swallowed uncomfortably
and ducked his head failing to see the sympathy and empathy on the faces.
Paramedic Katherine Taylor
stepped in to ease the awkward moment.
“There’s enough food for everyone,” she invited. “Team Seven would like
to thank you for being here and they ask that you help yourselves.”
When the focus was turned to
the food, she returned to Ezra with a sandwich and a cup of coffee. His eyes
widened and his face paled at the sight of the food.
"No, thank you,"
he said with a shake of his head.
"Ezra, you need to
eat," Nathan encouraged.
"I can't." Ezra
closed his eyes and sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. The thought of
putting anything into his mouth made him nauseous.
Nathan set aside his own
sandwich and coffee, wondering if there was going to be a repeat performance of
Ezra losing what little he ate earlier after he had bandaged the southerner's
scrapes.
“Take some deep breaths,” he
said softly, knowing that Ezra was already mortified about drawing attention
from the nightmare. He didn't need to throw up in front of his peers as well.
Seeing the slightly panicked look on the southerner’s face, Nathan stood and
took Ezra by the elbow.
“There’s a restroom right
around the corner.”
Ezra gratefully exited the
waiting room with Nathan.
Chris watched them with
concern. He turned to Orrin Travis, who had joined them about an hour earlier
and excused himself from their discussion, following his agents into the
hallway.
He rounded the corner and
entered the restroom, finding Ezra bent over the sink, spitting. The undercover
agent took sip of water from the paper cup in his hand and rinsed and spit.
Larabee frowned. There was
no evidence of Ezra being sick, and Chris had been too close behind them to
have missed it, not that he wanted to witness it. So Standish hadn't been sick, but was repeatedly rinsing out his
mouth. The blond raised an eyebrow at Nathan.
The medic shrugged in
response. He wasn’t sure what had precipitated the obsessive behavior.
After the third cup of
water, Chris reached out and put one hand on Ezra’s forearm. He removed the
paper cup from the southerner's hand with his other hand, crumpled it and
tossed it into the garbage can.
“You all right, Ezra?” He
asked.
Ezra refused to look at him.
If he didn’t meet that gaze, he didn’t have to tell the truth.
“Sergeant Tucker wants to
get your statement.” Chris folded his arms across his chest and leaned against
a stall frame, looking at Ezra in the mirror. “Are you up to that?”
The southerner looked up,
catching Chris’ reflection in the mirror.
“Might as well get it over
with,” said Ezra.
“That’s not what I asked,”
said Chris, unfolding his arms and stepping forward as Ezra turned to face him.
“I asked if you were up to it.”
Ezra looked at him
uncertainly. How could he tell his boss, one of the few people he truly
respected, that he was a coward and didn’t want to think about the incident at
all, much less make a report on it?
He took a slow deep breath,
averting his gaze.
“I’ll stand with you,” Chris
offered.
Ezra shook his head, unaware
of the movement.
“You need to be debriefed,”
Chris suggested, uncertain whether he was trying to help too soon or not soon
enough.
Ezra knew that Chris was
right, but he didn’t want to think about what had happened, what * still *
could happen because he hadn’t done enough or because he’d done it wrong.
Without warning he slammed
his fist against the mirror, sending little spiraling cracks out from the point
of impact.
Chris winced, knowing from
personal experience how much that hurt. Nathan simply waited for Ezra's next
move.
The stressed undercover
agent slowly opened his hand and examined his knuckles.
“That was really
intelligent,” he said with self-condemnation.
Nathan took Ezra’s hand into
his and looked for any cuts.
Ezra shook his head ruefully
and pulled his hand away. He wasn’t injured. It was just another way to feel
foolish… stupid… useless.
“I’ll make the statement,”
he said.
Chris nodded, and followed
Nathan and Ezra out into the hallway.
+++++++
Settling in a quiet corner
of the room, Chris joined Ezra as Sergeant Tucker took his statement. Even
though Ezra knew procedure, Tucker emphasized that it was only a statement of
the events, not a judgment of any kind.
Ezra matter-of-factly went
through the events that had occurred, pausing only occasionally when he felt
like his emotions would betray him. He described finding his friends “Agent
Dunne” and “Agent Tanner” as if the formality would keep him from feeling. When
it came to describing what actions he had taken, the southerner was brief and
vague preferring to make blanket statements rather than give the blow-by-blow
details. * Anything * to keep from reliving the events.
"Thank you, Agent
Standish," said Tucker.
Ezra nodded to him, then
stood suddenly as a doctor walked into the waiting room.
Chris did the same, passing
Ezra and moving to meet the doctor.
"Why don't we sit
down," suggested the surgeon as Chris approached. Some ATF agents vacated
their seats, provided room for the doctor and Chris to join Buck, Nathan and
Josiah.
Ezra stood back from the
group, wanting to hear, but not wanting to know if the news was bad.
"Mr. Tanner is out of
surgery. It went very well," the doctor assured. "We took care of the
fractures in his leg."
"What about his back?
Will he be…" Chris' voice faded out. He couldn't bring himself to say the
word they all feared: * paralyzed.*
"It’s severely bruised.
We won't know if there is permanent damage to the spinal cord until the
swelling goes down, and that will take a couple of days." Seeing the fear
on their faces he added, "I wish I could tell you one way or the other
right now, but I am optimistic."
He let his words sink in
before continuing. "He's in recovery right now, and we'll be moving him to
a room on this floor soon. He'll be placed in traction to help keep him
immobile and stabilize the fractures."
The doctor gave them a
little more information and then excused himself from the room. There was
little relief among those who waited. Yes, it was good that Vin was out of
surgery, but the possible spinal cord injury was still an unknown.
And they were still waiting
on word of JD's condition.
As Nathan explained some of
the terminology the doctor had used, and what kinds of things they could
expect, Ezra withdrew from his teammates, sinking down onto a chair on the far
side of the room. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
If only he hadn't moved Vin…
+++++++
Time moved slowly.
Firefighters and law enforcement officers came and left as their schedules
permitted. Their presence was appreciated by Team Seven, conversations allowing
the men to distract their thoughts, at least momentarily, from Vin and JD.
Chris was torn between
waiting for word on JD and wanting to be with Vin as he woke, but when he had
asked to be with Vin, the doctor had refused. Hospital policy prohibited
visitors from the recovery room. No exceptions. He could visit once Tanner was
settled into a hospital room.
At that point, Dr. Raine
Jackson had become their advocate. Because of her status on staff at the
hospital, she was able to check on the progress of JD’s operation from the
Surgery Observation area. After briefly updating Nathan that JD’s vitals were
good and that the doctors had told her the surgery was progressing as planned,
she headed for the recovery room to follow up on Vin.
And her lovely face was what
Tanner saw when he woke. She was a little out of focus, but it was very calming
to recognize someone and to know he was in good hands, whatever had happened.
“You got a sister?” he
whispered hoarsely.
Raine laughed. "I'd
expect to hear that from Buck, but not from a shy guy like you."
"Buck?" questioned
the groggy Texan. "I know Buck."
"Yes, you do,"
said Raine with an amused smile.
"Buck likes
women," Vin informed her. "Buck likes 'em tall. He likes 'em small. Hell, Ol' Bucklin likes
'em all."
Raine just shook her head.
It was always interesting to see a patient come out of anesthesia, and the
medications certainly had a strange effect on the sharpshooter.
"Hey, I rhymed, didn't
I? I'm a poet and don't know it." Vin laughed at his own joke, and then
frowned. "I don't feel so good."
"You just rest, Vin,"
said Raine.
The Texan closed his eyes
and slipped back into oblivion.
"Well, at least he
didn't come up swinging," said the Doctor, knowing that his patient would
likely drift in and out of awareness several times before he was truly awake.
Raine nodded and stood by as
the doctor checked Vin and set into motion the procedures necessary to prep him
for moving to a room.
+++++++
Ezra made his way to the
restroom for the third time in the past hour. The waiting room was too crowded.
The stories people told just to ease the tension annoyed him. It made it seem
that what had happened was trivial. Somewhere inside, he knew that each person
was simply trying to deal with the tragedy in his or her own way, but
reconciling those thoughts took more energy than the southerner had left, and
escaping the room was easier.
Besides, he still couldn’t
get rid of that horrid taste in his mouth.
Or the smell of the blood…
Or the picture of the
battered bodies of his friends…
“Don’t go there, Ezra,” he
said softly as he looked in the mirror after rinsing his mouth and spitting in
the sink.
“Don’t go where?” asked Tony
Nash as he entered the restroom. Tony was Katherine’s partner. The two
paramedics had been the first rescuers on the scene and had treated Vin and JD.
Knowing that Ezra wasn’t
going to answer the question, he held out a paper sack to him.
“What is it?” asked Ezra,
throwing away his paper cup and accepting the brown bag.
“Katherine thought it might
help,” he answered simply.
Ezra looked inside. Toothbrush.
Toothpaste. Mouthwash.
“Thank you,” he said
gratefully, pulling the items out of the sack and opening the toothbrush
package.
“No problem.” The paramedic
shifted nervously before he spoke again. “Katherine and I called in the CISM
team.”
Ezra frowned. Critical
Incident Stress Management was a good program, but he could feel the invitation
coming, and he really didn’t want to think about the accident, much less * talk
* about it.
“I used to think CISM was
for wimps. You know, guys that just couldn’t handle the tough stuff.” Tony shrugged, “But I’ve gone through the
debriefing process a couple of times. Told myself it was just to support
Katherine.” He snorted. “Who was I kidding? It helped me as much as it helped
her. Sometimes…” Nash paused, gathering his thoughts.
“Most of the time I can deal
with the blood, the broken bodies. But when it’s a kid, or a co-worker, or a
friend, everything changes.” Tony shifted his weight to his right leg. “Anyway,
since Katherine and I have to go back on duty in an hour, we set it up for
tomorrow. It would be good, if you feel like it, if you could meet with us and
just talk through things.”
He looked at Ezra, waiting
for any kind of a response. “It would be helpful to *Katherine, *” he added with a smirk.
Ezra allowed himself a
half-smile, fully understanding what the paramedic was offering.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll
think about it.”
Tony nodded to him as he
left the man to brush his teeth and use the mouthwash. After brushing his teeth
three times, Ezra finally returned to the waiting room.
+++++++
"JD." The word was
barely a breath from Buck's mouth as the doctor entered the waiting room.
Conversations fell silent as
the doctor sat down across from Buck and Chris.
Chris steeled himself for the
worst. He didn't like the look on the doctor's face.
"Mr. Dunne is out of
surgery. We're situating him in the Intensive Care Unit right now."
Buck sucked in a breath at
the implications of JD being in ICU. Chris rested his hand on Buck's forearm in
support.
"The fractures in his
arm and leg have been repaired. He has a fractured jaw and a concussion. For
the time being we haven't completed treatment for the jaw fracture. Our first
concern is maintaining his airway."
The doctor looked at the
concerned faces in front of him, knowing that he could not give them the news
they hoped for.
"We have him on
ventilation to assist with his breathing. The jaw fracture obstructed his
airway and we're concerned about how long he was without oxygen on the
scene."
The information hit like a
ton of bricks. No one had mentioned that JD had stopped breathing. Chris looked
across the room at Ezra.
He could see Ezra's
shoulders rise and fall as the southerner struggled to catch his own breath.
His dazed expression disappeared as Standish dropped his face into his hands.
"We won't know if there
are any residual effects of the obstruction until he wakes up. Once we're
certain that his airway is stable, we'll complete the jaw repair and wire his
jaw closed."
Chris again fell back to
watching Nathan's expression as the doctor spoke. The team medic understood the
ramifications of JD's condition. Unfortunately, Jackson's demeanor wasn't very
encouraging.
"Can I see him?"
Buck's question was barely a whisper.
"I'll send a nurse to
let you know when he's settled." The doctor looked at the four men closest
to him. "One person for ten minutes each hour."
"Someone needs to be
with him," Buck protested.
"Someone will be with
him," the surgeon countered. "One of the staff will be with him
24-7."
Buck cursed softly before
burying his face in his hands in a vain attempt to hide his tears.
Josiah stood and moved next
to Buck, placing a hand on the back of Buck's neck and massaging gently.
Chris took a deep breath in
order to control his own emotions.
"Thank you," he
said softly.
The doctor nodded and
excused himself.
For the second time that
morning, Nathan explained the details and implications of what the doctor had
told them.
Chris rubbed his forehead as
Nathan spoke. He could feel a headache coming on. But, more than that, he felt
an overwhelming disappointment that they had no resolution. When surgery was
over, the doctor was supposed to come out and tell you everything was fine,
that life would go back to normal. But it wasn't okay. JD might never wake up,
or he might have brain damage, and Vin might never walk again.
Feeling the need to have his
team together, Chris asked Nathan to get Ezra to come and sit with them.
Through the past couple of years of working and playing together, they had
become much more than a team, they were family. And more now than ever, they
needed to be together.
Seeing the frown on Nathan's
face, Chris turned to look at Ezra.
The undercover agent was
gone.
+++++++
Ezra sat on the floor of the
staff restroom one floor down from the surgical waiting area. He had needed to
escape the waiting room, which seemed to close in on him tighter and tighter
with each passing moment. Moving
without thinking, he instinctively avoided the restroom on the surgical floor
as well as the chapel, both were places the others might look for him. Running
away from the closed in feeling, he'd found the elevator, gone down one floor
and found the private bathroom. He'd entered the room and locked the door before
allowing himself to slide down the wall and sit on the floor.
The only problem was, he
still felt like he was being smothered. His whole world was caving in on him.
What had he done? Why had he
moved Vin? Why had he subjected his friend to a lifetime in a wheelchair?
And JD? He should have
checked him closer. He should have known he was having trouble breathing. Now
JD might have brain damage and never be…
Ezra took a deep, shaking
breath. When he had discovered JD wasn't breathing…
Tears filled his eyes as his
body trembled with emotion, and even though he didn't recognize it, shock. He
wanted to cry, to let loose of some of the fears and pain, but the tears
refused to fall.
Ezra wrapped his arms around
his knees and hugged tightly, hoping if nothing else, to stop the shaking.
JD's bloody face invaded his
mind. Vin's crumpled leg.
"If only I hadn't
stopped…"
Thunk.
"If I hadn't told them
to go help…"
Thunk.
"If I'd told them to go
around the back of the car…"
Thunk.
Ezra thumped the back of his
head against the wall with each self-recriminating thought.
"If I hadn't moved
them…"
"If I'd noticed JD
wasn't breathing sooner…"
"If Nathan had been
there instead of me…"
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
"Ezra? Open the
door."
Ezra looked at the door.
Chris was knocking in sync with his thumping.
The agent shook his head, and then resumed his 'thunking', his body
shaking uncontrollably.
"Don't you have a
key?" he could hear Chris ask someone in the hallway.
Ezra took another shuddering
breath and closed his eyes just wanting it all to stop. The next thing he
realized was someone was putting a blanket around him.
"Can you get him
up?" asked a voice he didn't recognize. "There's a couch in the
lounge. We can put him there until a doctor takes a look at him."
Ezra wanted to protest. He
wanted to tell them that he wasn't hurt and they should be focusing on Vin and
JD, not him. But nothing seemed to work. He was too damn tired and he couldn't
stop shaking.
"It's all right,"
soothed Nathan as Ezra's tears finally began to flow.
+++++++
Ezra sat hunched over on the
couch, his elbows on his knees, fingers laced behind his neck. No matter what
Nathan tried, Ezra would not give in and lie down. He was too confused and
agitated to allow himself to react rationally. He was trying to be stoic but
his body betrayed him. At least he was calming down, and for now, it seemed
that was the best Jackson could hope for.
There had been no verbal
protests, Ezra's body too much in shock to allow him to be vocal in his
objections, but he had relaxed considerably after Nathan suggested that Chris
return to the waiting room upstairs to see if he could visit Vin, and that they
would follow when they were ready. Chris had been reluctant to leave the
southerner in the state he was in, but he trusted Nathan implicitly to handle
the situation.
Nathan adjusted the blanket
Standish had cocooned himself in. "I didn't know you had to rescue breathe
for JD," he said softly, watching the shudder run through Ezra's tense
form. "That must have been hard.”
Seeing that Ezra seemed to
be listening, Nathan continued to affirm his actions, trying to assure him that
he had done what was necessary and done it well.
"Something like that
can really rattle a guy. I know that I’d be pretty shook in the same situation.
Katherine told me you did a great job. Said you kept it up even after they
arrived until they could take over. She said you did everything possible."
He paused to make sure Ezra was listening. "And she said you did it
right."
Ezra said something under
his breath, that Nathan couldn't quite hear, but he did hear his teammate
sniff. He picked up a box of facial tissue from the coffee table, and held it
out to the undercover agent, touching his elbow to get his attention.
Standish accepted the tissue
and wiped his nose.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't
hear what you said, Ezra."
“It wasn’t good enough.”
Nathan held his tongue. He
wanted to scream at Ezra and shake him until he realized that it wasn't his
fault and that he had kept his friends alive and safe until the paramedics
arrived. But, yelling would have no more effect on Standish than the quiet
words Jackson was already speaking. Ezra needed calm. He needed quiet. He
needed to sleep.
"Vin and JD are alive,
Ezra," He said softly. "That was your doing. You gave them the chance
they needed and now it's up to the medical staff, Vin and JD and whatever
higher power there is."
Nathan looked up as someone
knocked on the door and pushed it open. He smiled as his wife entered the
lounge.
"Hi," she said
softly as she approached the two men. "Chris said that I might be of help
down here."
Ezra ducked his head,
embarrassed.
"Would you rather I
have someone else check you over?" Raine asked.
"Rather not at
all," Ezra muttered, barely audible.
Raine smiled
sympathetically. "Well, you have a couple nurses here on this floor
concerned, and I think it would be a good idea just to check things out. You've
been in a traumatic situation and sometimes the body does funny things to
protect itself."
She sat down next to Ezra.
"I'm just going to take your blood pressure, and check a couple of other
things, all right?"
Ezra nodded. He didn't want
to be checked over. He didn't want any attention on him. They needed to be
focused on Vin and JD. But even as the thoughts ran through his mind, his head
drooped forward as fatigue threatened to lull him to sleep. Ezra jerked his
head up, trying to stay awake.
Satisfied that Ezra's blood
pressure wasn't too low, Raine recommended that he stop fighting it, and let
himself sleep. She could feel him tense at the suggestion.
"It's very normal to
have nightmares," she assured even though he hadn't indicated that was an
issue. "They'll decrease over time."
Ezra sighed.
"As your doctor, I'm
telling you to sleep. I can give you something to help."
"No," protested
Ezra. "I need to be there…"
"Ezra, listen to
me," said Raine. "I know it's important for each of you to be there
for the others, to be there when someone who has been hurt wakes up. I love
that about you guys. But in this case, it's not going to happen. Someone can be
with Vin, but JD may or may not wake up when one of you is with him for those
ten minutes an hour. What they really need is you to be rested so that you can
be with them for the long haul."
Standish rubbed his forehead
wearily.
"I tell you what.
Instead of giving you a strong sedative," said Raine, "I'll give you
some Tylenol PM. It has enough to help you sleep for a while. You can lay down
right here and be comfortable."
Ezra shook his head but
didn't say anything.
"What?" Nathan
asked him gently.
"Upstairs,"
Standish replied.
"It's not very private
up there," said Nathan. "Or quiet."
Ezra shook his head again.
"If I stay down here, you'll stay with me. You need to be…"
He didn't finish the
thought, but Nathan understood where Ezra was headed. He felt guilty enough
about the entire situation. He didn't want to be responsible for keeping Nathan
away from the others.
"All right,"
Nathan agreed. "Upstairs it is."
+++++++
Chris sat in a chair at
Vin's bedside. The Texan was all trussed up in traction to aid in the healing
of his leg fractures as well as keeping him still. His face was pale and
bruised with a scrape on his right cheek.
Vin would survive. He may
not walk, but he would survive.
Chris watched Tanner's
eyelids twitch as he tried to wake. As much as he wanted those eyes to open, he
dreaded the road that lay ahead. Weeks, maybe months of healing and therapy.
He half smiled as Vin let
out a little groan like noise. He stood and moved closer to the bed, taking
Vin's hand and squeezing it.
"Hey, Pard," he
said softly. "Just take it easy. There's no hurry."
"Nuh-nuh-nuh," Vin
mumbled.
Chris watched him closely.
"Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh."
The mumbling was louder and
more focused. It was beginning to sound like Vin was intending to say,
"nuh."
"Nuh, nuh, nuh…" Vin took
a breath and rasped, "Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses."
Chris snorted. At least he
wasn't singing * The Name Game * like he had when he was hospitalized last
time.
"Chris?"
"I'm here," said
Larabee offering a spoonful of ice chips to the parched Texan.
"Umm."
After a second spoonful, Vin
looked at Chris. "Where's ever'body? They's all here, right?"
Chris nodded.
"Where's uh…" Vin
frowned as his mind seemed to blank on his teammate's names. "You
know."
Chris shook his head. He
wasn't sure which of the team members Vin was asking about.
"You do too know. The
one with the caterpillar on his lip," said the groggy Texan. "And
Preacher man…"
Chris smiled. Vin was trying
valiantly to be coherent.
"Whiskey for my men,
beer for my horses."
But he wasn't entirely
successful.
"Buck and Josiah are in
the waiting room," Chris said.
"Who?" Vin asked
in confusion.
"Caterpillar Lip and
Preacher Man."
"Oh. And… and…"
Vin frowned again.
"Nathan?" Chris
offered.
Vin smiled. "Yeah,
him."
"He's here, too. He's
with Ezra in the waiting room."
"And JD?" Vin
closed his eyes. "I tried to catch him."
Chris hesitated. Did Vin
know what he just said? Was what he said true, or part of his mixed up
confusion?
"Whiskey for my
men," Vin crooned.
Badly.
"Hey, Chris?" he
asked, opening his eyes and staring at the blond.
"What?" asked
Chris.
"How come the men get
whiskey and the horses get beer?"
Chris rolled his eyes.
"I don't know."
"Don’t hardly seem
fair," said Vin. "The horses do all the work."
With that sage comment, Vin
yawned and closed his eyes, heading back into the safety of sleep.
+++++++
In the waiting room, Ezra
had retreated into sleep as well, but it hadn’t been without a fight. While
Standish was curled tightly in the fetal position on one couch against the back
wall, Josiah Sanchez was sprawled on an adjacent row of connected seats. Nathan
covered both men with blankets and grabbed an apple before sitting down next to
Assistant Director Orrin Travis.
Upon their return to the
waiting room, Ezra had tried to go back on his agreement to sleep. Josiah and
Nathan had double-teamed him and finally convinced him, with the caveat that
Josiah would sleep as well, so that he and Ezra could be awake and alert to
relieve Chris and Buck later.
Nathan took a bite of his
apple. He’d cross that bridge when they came to it. He knew it would be just as
difficult to relieve Buck and Chris, if not more so, than it was to get Ezra to
rest, but he would do it.
Someone needed to take care
of the team while they were too vulnerable to do it themselves. Besides, if he
kept focused on the others, he didn’t have to think about the very strong
possibility that Vin and JD may never be able to return to Team Seven.
Jackson took a deep breath
and let it out slowly. Sometimes it was hard having the knowledge and skills of
an EMT. He understood all too well the implications of the doctors’ words. He’d
explained some of them to his teammates, but had kept the heaviest thoughts to
himself. None of the others needed to know right now that the very nature of
Vin and JD’s injuries made it a high possibility that neither of them would
return to 100% of their capacity, let alone return to work.
Vin’s prognosis ranged from
a worst case of paralysis to best case of a lengthy recovery with intense
therapy for his fractured leg. JD…
Nathan took another deep
breath and let it out. He didn’t want to think about the worst possibility with
JD, but the truth was JD wasn’t out of the woods yet. Without knowing how much
damage he suffered from the lack of oxygen, it was still possible that he may
not survive, and if he did, he may have brain damage. At best he could wake up
in a few hours and only have to deal with recovering from his fractured arm,
leg and jaw. * Only. * Having his jaw wired closed for eight weeks would drive
JD crazy. The fractures to his arm would probably require the most therapy.
And that didn’t even take
into consideration the psychological ramifications.
Nathan glanced over at Ezra,
relieved that he was actually sleeping. Standish had psychological
ramifications of his own to deal with. * Hopefully * when Ezra woke, he would
be refreshed enough to be able to deal with the stress better. But, it could be
a long haul for the undercover agent as well.
Though Ezra hadn’t given him
details, Nathan knew too well the incredible strain of holding a teammate’s
life in his hands. Standish had to rescue breathe under the most difficult
circumstances with JD’s facial trauma and trying to assist Vin as well. He
could easily imagine the fear the southerner felt, the doubt about his skills,
the helplessness to do anything more.
And then that fool doctor…
Nathan growled under his
breath. If there was one time he wished he could take a 2 x 4 to someone’s
head, it had been that moment in the emergency room. While he understood the
doctor’s frustration over a patient with a back injury being moved, the man had
failed to consider on-scene safety being the primary concern. Maybe he should
be thrown into a similar situation and let him have to make the difficult
choice of moving an injured person or leaving them in harm’s way. In any case,
the doctor’s words of frustration and ‘righteous indignation’ had hit the
already self-doubting southerner full-force. Harsh words from an authority
figure had served only to confirm Ezra’s misgivings and reinforce the fear that
he had done irreparable harm to his friend instead of recognizing he had saved
their lives.
The problem was, they didn’t
even know if there * was * irreparable
harm, let alone if Ezra moving Vin had caused it. More than likely if there was
permanent damage, the fall had caused it. But the doctor’s words had escalated
Ezra’s feelings of self-doubt to self-recrimination.
Nathan hoped that Ezra would
take part in the CISM debriefing. It could go a long way in defusing the stress
before things got really out of hand. The facilitator could help make a
determination if Ezra needed additional help through a counselor or therapist.
“I need to go.”
Nathan jerked, startled from
his thoughts by the Assistant Director’s comment.
“Will you let Chris know
that we’ll be covering the team’s urgent casework for the rest of the day?”
asked Orrin.
Jackson nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
I’ll need Chris to check in
with me later today, perhaps after he’s had some rest so we can determine how
to shift the caseload.”
Nathan gave a quick nod and
shook hands with Travis as he stood to leave.
“Call me if there’s any
news.”
“Yes, Sir. I will,” Nathan
replied.
As Travis exited the area,
he stopped and shook hands with a very haggard looking Buck Wilmington who was
returning from his first visit with JD.
Buck shuffled past the AD
and settled heavily into the chair next to Nathan’s.
“Ten minutes ain’t long
enough,” he said with a sigh.
Nathan nodded.
Buck scrubbed a weary hand
across his face. “He doesn’t even look like JD,” he said softly. “It’s
unnatural to see him so still, you know?”
“Yeah,” Nathan agreed.
“He’s gotta…” Buck swallowed
back his emotion, unable to finish his thought. His hope that JD would be all
right.
Jackson was quiet, letting
his friend collect himself.
After a few moments, Buck
nodded towards Ezra.
“Finally got him to get some
sleep, huh?”
Nathan nodded. “Wasn’t
easy.”
Buck snorted softly. “Never
is.”
“Had to promise him that
Josiah would sleep, too, so the two of them could relieve you and Chris.”
Wilmington shook his head.
He had no intention of being relieved. He looked at his watch and fiddled with
the alarm setting on it.
“If this thing doesn’t wake
me in forty-five minutes, will you?” Buck asked.
Nathan nodded.
“Word?”
“I give you my word,” agreed
Nathan. Buck taking a catnap without prompting was more than he expected.
“And you’ll wake me if
anything…”
“Yes,” Nathan interrupted.
“Sleep.”
Buck grabbed a pillow and a
blanket and walked over to the “sleeping corner.” He unrolled a mat that
someone had brought in for their use and made himself as comfortable as
possible on the floor.
“Three down, one to go,”
said Nathan softly as he returned to his seat and put his feet up on the coffee
table waiting for Chris’ return.
+++++++
The thin mat provided little
padding, but that wasn’t what kept Buck awake. It was the image of the broken
and battered body of his 'little brother' that prevented sleep.
He knew JD wouldn’t look
good, but it was still numbing to see the ventilator breathing for him, the
IVs, various monitors, and the young agent himself. JD’s jaw was swollen and
bruised. Both eyes were black and he had a small scrape on the tip of his nose.
How he had not broken his nose was a mystery. That would have complicated the
breathing difficulty even more.
Buck felt so helpless
staring at his young friend. He held JD’s hand despite the IV and talked to
him, telling him to quit laying around on the job and wake up. Dunne hadn’t
even twitched, but the doctor had told him not to expect anything for at least
twenty-four hours. Still, he had hoped.
The ten minutes had gone by
far too quickly and he was asked to come back in an hour. Buck didn’t want to
leave, but the fear that trying to stay or making a scene would cause harm to
JD made the decision for him. He promised JD that he would be back and he
returned to the waiting room.
He was relieved to see Ezra
sleeping when he returned. He had seen the toll this accident was taking on the
southerner and was grateful that he was finding some relief. He had wanted to
be angry with Standish, to blame someone for the senseless accident, but what
could he blame him for? Being too cautious and driving slow enough that the
accident had occurred between the time Buck had passed and they had arrived? It
was stupid. It was no more Ezra’s fault than it was his own. Josiah in his
gentle wisdom had reminded Buck that they were all looking for some reason,
some way for this mess to make sense and the natural inclination was to find
someone to blame, even if there was no blame to be given. It was a lot easier
to find fault than it was to accept that there was no reason, no justification
for Vin and JD lying in a hospital.
Buck felt the blanket being
tucked around him and opened his eyes. He gave Nathan a half-hearted smile and
closed his eyes again. He did need a nap. They all did. Nathan and Josiah were
the only ones who had any sleep last night, and they had been awakened after
only a couple of hours.
Was it only last night? It
felt like weeks.
+++++++
Buck had visited JD two more
times, and still Ezra slept. None of them had any intention of waking the
Southerner for “his turn.” He needed the rest and would have plenty of
opportunity to be there to support Vin, and the Lord willing, JD, in what would
likely be lengthy recoveries.
Josiah had awakened and had
gone to Vin’s room to sit with the sharpshooter for a while. Chris was now
dozing in the chair next to Nathan. He would visit JD when the next ten-minute
segment was allowed, and then he would go in to the office. Larabee didn’t want
to go, but he was in charge and someone had to make sure the pressing cases
were handled. Although it didn’t feel like it for Team Seven, life went on for
the rest of the world.
After a too brief visit with
his youngest agent, Chris made his way to the Federal Building and met with
Orrin Travis and three ATF team leaders. With some creative shuffling, Team
Seven's most pressing cases were reassigned and Chris made arrangements for
Josiah, Nathan and Buck to assist with bringing the other teams up to speed.
Larabee was grateful for the flexibility, knowing that the physically healthy
members of his team would need a couple of days to regroup, yet need something
to do to keep busy.
The one thing that could not
be reassigned was testifying in court. Vin and Ezra were scheduled to testify
for the next couple of days. Obviously, Vin would not be able to be in court.
Chris blew out a sigh. Ezra wasn't exactly in shape to testify either, but
without Vin, the Southerner's statement was even more critical.
It was nearly dinnertime
when Chris was free to head back to the hospital. He gathered up a stack of
files that could be worked on in the waiting room at the hospital, as well as
packing up JD's laptop. Larabee headed for the parking garage and stopped by
Ezra's Jaguar. A police officer had driven the car from the accident scene as a
favor to Standish. Chris unlocked the trunk and retrieved Ezra's briefcase. He
would need his case notes to review before testifying. Balancing the laptop
bag, and two briefcases, he closed the trunk and started back to the hospital.
+++++++
His head ached and he was
tired. The bed was uncomfortable and he had a crick in his neck. The pillow was
starchy…
Ezra flinched. Where was he?
Or more importantly, * who * was he? Was he on a case?
Standish breathed in and out
slowly, willing his muddled head to clear enough to sort things out. Waking up
undercover was always a tricky proposition.
"You awake, Ezra?"
The undercover agent waited,
giving himself time to figure out who he was playing in his current assignment.
The voice had called him Ezra, but was it a trick?
"You're at Denver
General in the waiting room," the same voice soothed.
Nathan! It was Nathan. Why
was he so groggy?
Tylenol PM. It wasn't too
strong, but had enough sedative to disorient him.
Ezra opened his eyes,
trusting that Nathan was telling the truth.
"How do you feel?"
asked Jackson.
Standish gave him a less
than gentlemanly response bringing a grin to Nathan's face. He knew Ezra would
be disoriented when he woke, and had intentionally clued him in by calling him
by name and telling him where he was, but the cursing served to show the
undercover agent wasn't quite "together" yet. In normal
circumstances, Ezra would not have admitted he was less that absolutely fine.
With a jolt, Ezra sat up
suddenly, and Nathan knew reality had just come crashing back to the
Southerner. Standish scanned the room, unconsciously noting which teammates
were with him and which were absent, meaning they were with Vin or JD. Chris
and Josiah were missing from the room.
"Do you want something
to eat?"
Ezra shook his head and
rubbed his eyes. Nathan was still doing his best to take care of his teammates.
"Here."
Ezra looked up and took the
bottle of water that Buck held out to him.
Buck pushed the Southerner's
legs off of the couch and sat down wearily next to him.
"You're up next to
visit JD," said Buck, looking at his watch. "You can see him in a
couple of minutes."
Ezra couldn't hide the
slight panic that crossed his face. Everything that he'd managed to push aside
by sleeping began to overwhelm him again – the fear that he hadn't done enough
and had blown it by not noticing JD wasn't breathing soon enough.
He didn't deserve to see JD.
Truthfully?
He was afraid to see JD.
Ezra cleared his throat.
"I'm sure you'd like to see him…" he started.
Buck shook his head, easily
seeing what Ezra was doing.
"No." He stood,
grabbing Standish by the elbow and pulling him up. "Come on," he
encouraged.
He led Ezra down the hall,
not releasing the elbow until the Southerner stopped cold by the doorway.
"I'll wait right
here," said Buck, nodding towards JD's bed.
Ezra worked to slow down his
breathing. It was hard to believe that his heart was pounding so hard.
What had he done? How could
he have failed his teammates so badly?
He flinched as Buck squeezed
his shoulder. "I'll wait here," Buck assured as he gave a small push.
Ezra stepped forward and
entered the ICU area.
"Are you here for Agent
Dunne?" asked the nurse.
Ezra swallowed and nodded.
"He's over here,"
she replied softly and led Ezra to JD's bed.
Ezra didn't want to look,
but he steeled himself and determined that he was going to pull it together and
be a professional.
JD.
"Aw, JD," he said
softly as he looked at his friend. Ezra would never say it to his teammates,
but the young agent looked a hundred times better in the hospital bed than he
had at the accident scene.
Without any thought, Ezra
stepped closer and picked up JD's hand. "You look a lot better than you
did earlier," he babbled. "They cleaned you up nicely."
He fell silent watching JD's
chest rise and fall in time with the ventilator and for the next ten minutes he
simply sat by the young agent. He prayed for his friend, doubtful that God
would ever answer something for Ezra P. Standish. No, he'd done things… But JD?
Maybe God would listen on behalf of JD.
"Sir?"
Ezra looked up.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but
your time is up," said the nurse. "Someone can come back in an
hour."
Ezra nodded and reluctantly
let go of JD's hand.
Walking out of the area, he
barely made it outside of ICU before he found he needed a wall to hold him up.
He took a deep breath and fought off the threatening tears, before looking up
and meeting Buck's gaze.
Buck simply nodded to him
and then tipped his head to indicate going back to the waiting area.
Ezra followed Buck, allowing
time to compose himself. Standish paused at the waiting room entrance as
Wilmington walked past.
Sensing the hesitation, Buck
turned back to him. "Junior's just a couple of doors down."
'Aw hell,' Ezra thought. 'He
wants me to see Vin, too.'
"He's been asking for
you," said Buck. "Gets really agitated. I don't think he believes us
when we tell him that you're okay."
That did it. Use a tiny
touch of guilt to get the Southerner moving again.
Ezra moved quietly into the
room, noting that Vin, too, looked better than he had at the accident scene.
The picture of the broken bodies of his friends would likely not fade for a
long time.
Maybe never.
"I think he's still
awake," Chris said softly from the chair next to the bed.
"Who's awake?"
mumbled Vin.
"You are, you drugged
up Texan," Chris replied.
"Oh." Vin closed
his eyes tightly and hissed. "Think maybe I need some more."
"I'll ring the
nurse," said Chris.
"I'll go get her,"
volunteered Ezra, wanting to do anything to get out of the room, away from his
friend. His friend who was trussed up in traction because of Ezra P. Standish's
incompetence.
"Stay, Ezra," said
Josiah from his position by the window.
"Ezra?" Vin opened
his eyes, recognizing Standish's voice. "That you?"
"It's me," Ezra
agreed reluctantly.
"Thanks," said
Vin. "Thanks for saving my life."
Ezra shook his head as
Tanner drifted back to sleep. He slumped into a chair across from Chris as
Vin's words worked against his self-deprecation.
Vin was thanking him for
saving his life, when in all likelihood, he had crippled him. It just didn't
make sense.
Standish sniffed and wiped
his eyes with his index finger, not even bothering to look for a
handkerchief.
It just didn't make sense.
"I'm sorry," Ezra
whispered as he bolted from the room.
Chris' gaze followed Ezra to
the doorway. He looked back at the man in the bed and then to the door.
"I've got him,"
said Josiah solemnly as he headed for the hallway.
+++++++
The big man moved quickly,
not wanting the undercover agent to make a repeat performance of his earlier
disappearance. But Josiah didn't have to go far. Ezra had only gone outside the
door and was leaning against the wall struggling for composure.
"Let it go,"
Sanchez said softly.
Ezra shook his head.
It wasn't that he wanted to
hold on to the guilt, the memories, or the fear, but how could he possibly 'let
it go'? Vin was lying in that bed in traction because he had moved him, because
he had told his younger teammates to go help the man in the first place.
"Ezra, it's not your
fault. You did everything you could. Everything any of us would have
done."
Josiah looked at Standish's
defeated posture. Ezra clearly was not hearing him, but he had to try. Maybe
something would sink in.
"He thanked
me." The words were so soft,
Josiah barely heard them. "He thanked me for crippling him."
"No!" Sanchez
stated firmly, watching Ezra's gaze jerk up to meet his. "He thanked you
for saving his life. And that is exactly what you did."
Josiah felt his heart sink
as Ezra's gaze fell away. The Southerner wasn't ready to believe his words.
Yet.
But he would remind him
again, and again if necessary, until Ezra accepted the truth.
"A.m. or p.m.?"
The question startled
Josiah, and it took him a moment to figure out what Standish was asking about.
Ezra was looking at his watch.
"P.m.," Josiah
answered, only slightly surprised that Ezra didn't know whether it was morning
or evening. It was a wonder that any of them knew.
"Wednesday?"
Ezra's voice was raw with the discomfort of being unsure of himself.
Josiah nodded.
"I need to go home. I
have to prepare for court tomorrow."
"Carson said he won't
need you until two," Chris said as he stepped outside of Vin's room.
"I need to get my
files," said Ezra.
"They're in my
truck," said Chris as he held out the keys. "You're okay to
drive?"
Ezra nodded, accepting the
keys.
"Go over your notes,
then get a good night's sleep," Chris instructed. Standish wasn't a child,
but it seemed that the simplest things were the hardest to remember under
stress. "Be back here at ten for the debriefing."
Ezra's eyes widened at the
mention of the debriefing, giving away that he had no intention of taking part
in it.
"For Katherine,"
said Larabee, locking eyes with Standish.
Ezra closed his eyes and
gave a short nod of agreement.
Chris reached out and
clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll get through this," he said
softly.
Ezra tried to smile, but
didn't fool anyone. "Ten?" he confirmed.
Chris nodded.
"Do you need someone to
go over your notes with you?" asked Josiah.
Ezra shook his head.
"No. You're needed here."
"Ezra…"
"Someone has to get
Nathan to rest," the Southerner added.
Josiah shook his head.
"All right. I'll work on Nathan."
Ezra gave a half-hearted
two-finger salute and walked down the hallway towards the elevator to find his
way home.
++++++
Chris drummed his fingers on
the arm of the chair waiting for eight A.M. to arrive. Buck was still dozing on
the couch where Ezra had slept earlier. They hadn't been allowed to see either
Vin or JD for the past eleven hours. The hospital had visiting hour rules and
they stuck to them.
Hopefully Nathan and Josiah
had slept better than he had. They had accepted the hospitality of the crew of
the fire station down the street from the hospital. They had a couple of empty
beds and offered them to Team Seven, as well as the use of their showers and
kitchen.
Two more minutes.
It could take him two
minutes to walk to Vin's room, couldn't it? No. It wasn't that far away.
Maybe he should wake Buck?
"Mmmph," Buck
grumbled as he struggled to wake up. "What time is it?" he asked as
he rubbed his eyes and stretched.
"Almost eight,"
said Chris.
Buck sat up and looked
around the quiet waiting room. They were alone for the first time in over 24
hours.
"Several of the guys
from the office stopped by on their way into work," said Chris, noting
Buck's silent observation of the room. "Josiah and Nathan are at the fire
station, and Ezra's at home in bed… I hope."
Buck nodded. "Anything
new?"
Chris shook his head.
"After you see JD, come to Vin's room and let me know how he's
doing."
Buck nodded in agreement as
the two men headed for their teammates' rooms.
++++++
As Chris entered the
Sharpshooter's room, two things were abundantly clear: Vin was no longer under
the strong pain medication, and he was now aware of his prognosis.
"How're you
feeling?" asked Chris as he walked over to the bed.
Since he still couldn't move
his head, Vin's eyes tracked to the left to look at Chris.
"Looks like I'm in for
the long haul," Tanner replied.
Chris nodded hesitantly, not
exactly certain how Vin was dealing with the news of the possible paralysis.
"How's JD?"
"He's still
unconscious," Larabee replied, "But the doctor said that they may
start cutting back on the medications today and allow him to wake up. Buck's
with him now. He said he'll drop by after he visits JD."
Vin frowned.
"What's wrong?"
asked Chris.
Vin sighed. "This is
going to get old real quick. I can't even nod when we're talkin'."
"Only for a couple of
days," Chris replied. "The doctor said as soon as the swelling goes
down they'll free you from that contraption and you can turn your head all you
want."
"Is he good?"
Chris nodded. "Raine
said he's the best."
"Well, he's wrong about
one thing."
Larabee raised an eyebrow in
question.
"There ain't no maybe
about me walkin' outta here. When I go home, I'm walking out under my own
power."
Chris nodded in
acknowledgement of Vin's spirit and determination. "Well, I hate to say it, Cowboy, but I think that broken leg
of yours is going to require a wheelchair for departure."
Vin grinned sheepishly.
"Okay, yer probably right about that. But you know what I mean. I'm gonna walk.
Fate ain't gonna win."
Chris again nodded in
agreement and was silent as both of them gathered their thoughts.
"Chris?"
"Yes?"
"You wanna let go a' my
hand and see if there's any jell-o left on that tray. I'm still a mite hungry
and it's a little tough to feed myself."
Chris grinned and released
the Texan's hand. Yes, it would be a long road ahead, but Vin Tanner would keep
things interesting.
+++++++
Larabee jerked awake as
someone touched his shoulder.
"Easy there,
Stud," Buck soothed.
Chris blinked trying to
gather his thoughts. He didn't remember dozing off. Last he knew, he was
feeding Vin jell-o.
Stealing a glance at the
Texan, he relaxed realizing that Vin was asleep. And the empty jell-o cup was
on the bedside table. At least he hadn't nodded off while feeding Tanner.
Feeding Tanner. That thought
made him hesitate. Vin had been too calm, too accepting of his condition. Maybe
it was partly the medication, but it seemed odd to Chris, that Vin had been so
composed at such disturbing news. At first, he was willing to take the
sharpshooter's reaction at face value, but as he'd fed him the jell-o, he'd
witnessed the edginess as Vin chewed on him for moving too slow with the spoon.
Vin was upset. He was just
keeping it hidden inside.
Or trying to.
"You all right?"
"Yeah," said Chris
with a sigh. "How's JD?"
Buck tucked Vin's blanket
over his leg. "They're taking him
off the meds that have been keeping him out. Doc says that I can stay with him
the whole time while he's waking, as long as I stay out of their way."
"Good."
"Yeah," said Buck.
"It is. It wasn't setting too well with me, thinking JD would wake up
alone."
Chris eyed his friend. Buck
was counting on JD waking up even though there had been no guarantee that the
young man would.
Optimism or denial?
Chris looked at Vin, and
then at Buck.
Denial. Both of them.
"How's Junior
doing?" Buck asked.
"Swears he's going to
walk out of here." Chris scrubbed a hand across his face.
"But?" prodded
Buck, Larabee's actions telling him there was more.
"He's scared,"
said Chris. "He's hiding it with grouching, but it's there."
Buck brushed the back of
Vin's hand. "He's got a right to be scared." Turning to look at
Chris, he added, "We all do."
A soft knock at the door
ended their conversation.
"Come on in," said
Chris in a hushed voice as Ezra peered into the room.
Chris took a quick look at
his watch. It was now nine o'clock and the CISM debriefing wasn’t for another
hour. As weary as the Southerner was, one would expect he'd still be asleep.
Despite the elegant suit and tie, taking a good look at the dark circles under
Ezra's eyes gave him the answer.
"Did you get any
sleep?" Chris asked.
Ezra held up the files of
case notes. "I am fully prepared for testifying. How's Mr. Tanner?"
Chris grimaced. 'Artfully
dodged, Ezra.' He couldn't really blame the agent for spending the late night
hours reviewing the case. And avoiding the nightmare they were currently
experiencing. In normal conditions, Standish
would have used the days prior to testifying to prepare, but the circumstances
of the past… day and a half… two days? Larabee blew out a breath. He had lost
track of time.
"You look tired,"
said Buck.
"Pot calling the kettle
black, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra replied. "JD?"
Buck smiled half-heartedly.
"The doc is weaning him off the meds that have been keeping him out. It'll
be a few hours yet, but he should be waking up today."
Ezra nodded, hoping with all
his heart that JD would indeed wake up.
And be fine.
"Any more room in
here?" asked Josiah as he and Nathan entered the doorway.
"I'll go,"
volunteered Ezra. "I need to…"
"No!" four voices
chorused at the same time, startling the weary southerner.
"There's lots of room,
Ez," said Buck. "No need for anyone to go."
"Except for those who
need to go to the office," chided Chris softly. He would give his team as
much leeway as he could, but Josiah and Nathan were due at the office.
Nathan looked apologetically
at Chris before checking Vin's monitors. Seemingly satisfied, he gave Ezra a
once over as well.
"Did you get any
sleep?" he asked.
"I've already been
grilled, Mr. Jackson," Ezra replied, sidestepping the issue for a second
time.
Nathan looked at Chris, who
shook his head indicating that Ezra had not slept. Nathan held his tongue
knowing that Ezra had responsibilities today that could not be rescheduled
simply because there was a personal crisis and he needed some sleep.
"I saw Katherine in the
hall," Nathan said, changing the subject. "The CISM facilitator is
here a little early. Tony's here as well as Jack. He was the first officer to
arrive on scene. They wanted to know if you wanted to meet a little early since
you're all here?"
Ezra closed his eyes. 'No!'
he screamed to himself. 'I don't want to meet at all.' Opening his eyes and
taking in the expectant looks of his teammates, Standish nodded.
"When and where?"
he asked.
He'd go.
No one said he had to talk.
+++++++
It was a mistake. A huge
mistake.
Ezra closed his eyes and
took another deep breath as he listened to Katherine talking about her
experiences at the scene of the accident. Every word seemed to bring to the
forefront all the visions he'd been trying so hard to bury. The detachment he
was using as a safety zone was rapidly disintegrating.
The Southerner's head
snapped up as Tony began to speak. He had expected Katherine to talk about her
feelings. It was something that a woman was more prone to do than a man. But
when Tony shared, Ezra started to realize that he was not the only one
profoundly affected by the trauma. True, Tony and Katherine didn't know Vin or
JD personally, but the simple fact that they were in law enforcement and
therefore "brothers" had affected them deeply.
He listened to the
stammering speech of the young police officer, the trauma – or talking about it
– was taking its toll on him. When Jack said that he was certain they were all
better at handling this than he was, Ezra was spurred to speak.
"No, we are not,"
he said. All eyes turned to him as he spoke for the first time in an hour.
"At least I'm not."
"Go ahead,"
encouraged the facilitator.
"I was terrified,"
Ezra said softly, closing his eyes again as scenes from the accident site raced
through his mind. JD's crumpled leg. Vin's arm. JD's bloody face. Vin's
groaning. The terror of the oncoming car. Or worse – the realization that JD
had stopped breathing.
He had moved automatically,
the training kicking in and taking over when fear wanted to rule. He had
cleared JD's airway and breathed for his young friend. Ezra shuddered
remembering the horrid tang of JD's blood in his mouth, the slick substance
smearing as the dark haired agent's jaw shifted unnaturally in his hands.
Standish took several deep
breaths, fighting back the nausea that rolled through his stomach even at the
memories.
Again the facilitator
encouraged him to continue, but Ezra balked. He couldn't do this. Not now. He
had to hold it together until after court. He couldn't fall apart now.
He shook his head and shut
down the emotions to the best of his ability.
The experienced facilitator
recognized what was happening and diverted the attention away from Ezra. Her
job was not therapy. It was to provide the opportunity to talk about what had
happened and to help them determine if therapy was warranted.
Fortunately, the few words
he had spoken, were enough to encourage the young officer that his feelings and
reactions were not abnormal. After all, if an officer with Ezra's experience
had been scared…
Standish focused his
thoughts on the slimy perp he would be testifying against in a few hours. He
thought about the abhorrent deeds the man was being tried for, and was almost
successful in reestablishing his detachment. There was just one little detail.
Vin was supposed to testify
with him and he was lying paralyzed in a hospital bed.
Ezra cursed aloud, drawing
attention back to himself. Would this never end?
++++++
It had been a long day for
all of them. Vin was asleep most of the day, thankfully. It meant the Texan had
less time to worry about whether he would walk again. JD had shown no signs of waking despite being weaned off the
medication that had kept him comatose. His lack of response weighed heavily on
all of them.
Chris groaned as he pulled
off his cowboy boots and dropped them on the floor beside his bed. It had been
difficult to get Buck to leave JD’s room. They’d been lucky to get him to agree
to go and sleep at the fire station like Josiah and Nathan had done the night
before.
Fighting his own warring
emotions over staying with Vin and JD or leaving, Chris had decided to go home
and get some sleep in his own bed. He and Buck were due to spend some time in
the office tomorrow while Josiah and Nathan stayed with their injured
teammates.
Ezra? Josiah had relayed the
information that the undercover agent’s testimony had gone long and from what
the older agent had heard, the cross-examination had been brutal. Standish
would have to return in the morning to finish his testimony. Ezra hadn’t
stopped by the hospital after his court appearance, but everyone just assumed
he had gone home to actually sleep.
The jangling of the phone
just as Chris laid his head on his pillow confirmed an error in that
assumption.
“Hello?” Chris answered with
a weary sigh.
“Senor Larabee?”
“Inez?” Chris asked,
immediately concerned that the pretty proprietor of The Saloon was calling him.
“I’m sorry to call you so
late, Senor, but…” her voice trailed off, emphasizing her reluctance to call.
“Did you perhaps get some bad news today about Vin or JD?”
“Nothing new,” said Chris,
knowing that Inez knew of the accident. “Which one?” he asked, knowing one of
his team members was at the bar.
“Senor Standish," Inez
replied. "He’s not causing any trouble, but I cannot leave him here and
I’m getting ready to close.”
Chris sighed, rubbing a
weary hand across his face. “I’ll be
there as quick as I can.”
“Thank you, Senor,” said
Inez. “I’m sorry to have to call.”
Chris ended the call shaking
his head. He had assumed Ezra had gone home. “Gee, Larabee,” he muttered to himself
as he pulled on the jeans he had just discarded moments ago. “You know what
they say about assume. It makes an
‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me.’”
He made quick work of his
boots, grabbed his wallet, cell phone, keys and a jacket and headed back to
town.
He ran scenarios through his
mind as he drove, wondering what exactly had pushed Ezra to get drunk. The
accident and the pressures of testifying were obvious influences, but Ezra
wasn’t prone to losing himself in alcohol.
The Southerner was a lot
like Vin on that account. While he enjoyed quality liquor, Ezra was loathe to
put himself into a situation where he didn’t have control of himself. Chris let
out a sigh. He wondered just how harsh their young lives had been to instill
such a strong sense of self-preservation and a reluctance to rely on others. It
didn't matter, now. The past was the past and right now he had to figure out
what was twisting Ezra so tightly.
Better yet, how to unwind
his tension-filled undercover agent.
++++++++
Chris knocked lightly on the
door of The Saloon, noting the ‘closed’ sign in the window.
“Senor Chris,” Inez greeted
as she unlocked the door. “Thank you for coming.”
Chris glanced past her to
the forlorn figure hunched at Team Seven’s regular table. Standish was oblivious
to his arrival, aimlessly drawing patterns in the condensation on his scotch
glass.
“Sorry you had to wait,”
Chris said in apology to Inez as he moved towards Ezra. He stopped next to the
table and waited for Ezra to acknowledge him, but the southerner was either too
drunk or too deep in thought to notice him.
“Ezra?”
Standish looked up, not even
attempting to mask the terror he felt at hearing Chris’ voice.
Chris stared at him for a
moment before he realized what the fear was.
“No!” he offered belatedly,
trying to assure that Vin and JD weren't dead. “It’s not anything like that.
There’s no real change in their conditions.”
Ezra dropped his face into
his hands in sheer relief. While he would prefer to hear they were fine, he’d
settle for ‘no change’ right now.
Larabee frowned as he turned
a chair around backwards and straddled it, sitting at the table. Unless Inez
had already cleared away his empties, Ezra shouldn't be drunk. There was only
one empty glass along with the half finished drink in front of him.
He took a deep breath trying
to figure out what to say to Standish. He never was much for motivational
speaking or pep talks, but from the exhausted look of the Southerner, he
wouldn’t be absorbing much of it anyway.
“Ready to go home?”
Ezra sat up straight and
looked at his watch. “Oh dear Lord,” he said softly, realizing it was late.
“Miss Recillios…”
“Is ready to go home,” Chris
said, trying to ward off another guilt-trip for Ezra. He looked up as Inez
approached the table with two steaming cups of coffee-to-go.
“I apologize…” Ezra started,
but Inez didn’t let him finish.
“There is no need, Senor.
There have been many times where you have stayed late just to walk me to my
car.”
Ezra shook his head.
"That's not the same…"
Inez pressed the coffee cup
into his hands. “Please. It is no problemo. Just take care of yourself and your
friends.”
“Thank you,”
Standish said softly as he followed Chris outside. They paused, making sure
that Inez locked up and escorted her to her car.
As she left, Chris looked
around for Ezra’s Jaguar, but couldn’t see it. “Where’s your car?”
“Safe at the
office,” said Ezra with a sardonic smile.
Chris raised an
eyebrow. “Not planning on driving home?”
“No," said
Ezra with a sad chuckle, "I fully intended to drink myself into oblivion.”
The half smile fell. “Couldn’t even do that right. I got in there and started
thinking and forgot the drinking.”
Ezra took a
stumbling step and Chris noted that Standish was a little less than sober. It
was likely that the drinks had been his dinner, and with the little he'd been
eating lately, there was nothing to absorb the strength of the alcohol.
“That’s not a
bad thing,” said Chris taking a sip of coffee before nodding towards his truck.
“But if I was
soused, I wouldn’t have to think,” Ezra countered with the slightest slur to
his speech.
“Doesn’t fix
anything.” Chris spoke with the conviction of a man who had been there, done
that. “Problems are still there, but then you’ve complicated them with a
hangover.”
He pushed the
button to unlock the truck. "Besides, you have court in the morning,
remember?"
Ezra shook his
head sadly as he opened the passenger door. "McAllister is going to get
off."
Chris frowned.
Their case was good against McAllister. The evidence was strong. They hadn't
made any technical mistakes on the case.
Two doors
slammed and two men sat in silence inside the cab of the truck.
"Josiah
said court was tough today. What happened?"
"Atlanta,"
said Ezra, taking a sip of his coffee.
Chris groaned inwardly.
That's all Standish needed. A nightmare from the past that seemed to rear its
ugly head at the most inopportune times. Hints and rumors of wrongdoing had
hung Ezra out to dry in Atlanta. Undoubtedly McAllister's attorney was trying
to discredit the Southerner's testimony with the innuendo.
"If we had
Vin's testimony…"
Chris looked at
Ezra, hearing the barely audible curse as he trailed off knowing that the
agent's thoughts had traveled from his troubles in court to his injured
friends. He waited for the southerner's
next move, maybe not so patiently, but he hoped he didn't show it.
"I can't
stop thinking about it."
Chris didn't
know whether to wish that Ezra would talk and get it all out in the open, or
clam up because he didn't want to know the gory details of the accident.
Talking might be better for Standish, but Chris was certain that hearing what
happened wouldn't help him sleep.
"When I
found JD wasn't breathing…" Ezra put his coffee in the cup holder, fearing
that his trembling hands might not be able to hold it any longer. "I
should have seen it sooner."
Ezra looked out
the window, trying to see anything except what his mind was seeing. His shaking
hands curled into fists in an attempt to stop the trembling.
He wanted to
stop talking. Stop thinking. But he couldn't. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe
it was his exhaustion. Maybe it was just that he needed someone else to know,
someone who could help him shoulder the burden. Someone he trusted. Whatever it
was, the words continued to tumble out.
"He was
bleeding… I cleared his airway and started rescue breathing." Ezra shook
his head. "I don't know how I gave him any air. It seemed like I could
hardly breathe myself. That first breath…"
Chris could see
the shudder run through Ezra. He remained quiet, letting his friend speak.
"I got a
mouthful of blood… JD's blood…the taste won't go away…"
The blond closed
his eyes as Standish spoke. Now the obsessive behavior made sense. Ezra's
continual need to rinse out his mouth, to brush his teeth; the inability and
lack of desire to eat took on a whole new meaning. This was far deeper than the
southerner's natural fastidiousness.
"His jaw…
it kept shifting in my hands…" Ezra unclenched his fists and looked at his
hands. "I could hear Vin. He was in so much pain…I couldn't help…"
The words
trailed off as Ezra concentrated on just breathing. His heart was pounding even
now, days after the accident, simply from the memory. He took a couple of
hitching breaths trying to keep the tears at bay. As much as he didn't want to
cry in front of Chris, he was more afraid of losing control completely. He was
scared that if he gave in and allowed himself to really feel, that he would
never get it together again.
Chris watched
the struggle, fighting back a few tears of his own. As hard as it was for him
to just hear the details, Ezra had lived them, and it had affected Standish far
more deeply than any of them had truly realized.
What could he
possibly say? Everything he could think of seemed trite, and Chris knew from
personal experience that those words, no matter how well meaning, were
worthless. He remembered all the empty
words when he lost Sarah and Adam. Nothing had made a difference. Nothing
except Buck's continuous presence. Friendship.
And suddenly Chris
knew what to do. It may be outside of his comfort zone, but right now Ezra just
needed a friend. Someone to listen to him and share the burden. Later, he would
need someone to push, pull or drag him into therapy.
"It must
have been incredibly hard," said Chris.
Ezra looked up,
the understanding from his boss momentarily confusing him. It wasn't that he
didn't expect support from Chris. Rather, in his state of mind he expected the
others to be as hard on him as he was on himself.
He nodded.
"It's something I wish never to do again."
"I hear
that," Chris agreed.
"When I had
to move JD… it was the hardest decision… And Vin…" Ezra stopped and shook
his head.
"What?"
Chris asked, encouraging him to continue.
The Southerner
kept shaking his head. "I didn't have to move him… my fault."
"He was in
danger," Chris countered.
"No. Don't
you see?" Ezra looked at Larabee, his expression a combination of guilt
and remorse. "I didn't have to move him. It's my fault he's
paralyzed."
Chris shook his
head, struggling to control his anger at the unnecessary guilt. "You had
to move him," he insisted.
"No car
came!" Ezra practically shouted his guilt. He turned his face away and
stared out the window. "There was no car…"
Chris closed his
eyes for a moment, understanding the weight of Ezra's guilt, misplaced as it
was.
"Ezra, you
made the right choice," he said. "You made the only choice."
"No
car…" Standish muttered, refusing to look at Chris.
"You had to
move Vin. You couldn't take the chance that a car would come."
"There was
no car…"
"You
couldn't know that. You made the right choice," Chris said with firm
conviction. "Scene safety comes first and that Jack-ass of a doctor…"
Ezra's head
snapped up at the mention of the doctor.
"He was
dead wrong. He needs to spend a couple days with the paramedics and get his
perspective screwed on straight."
Looking Ezra in
the eye, he continued, "Everyone knows that. * All * the medical staff… The Team.... Vin."
Ezra dropped his
gaze, rubbing one hand on his knee.
"And I
think you know it, too, but maybe you're not ready to accept that fact."
Chris blew out a sigh. "Sounds crazy, but it's not. My therapist told me
once…" Larabee paused when Ezra looked at him in disbelief. "Yes, I
had… have a therapist. You might think about talking to someone. Doesn't make
you nuts or weak. It just helps you sort things out. Anyway, when I lost Sarah
and Adam," Chris swallowed hard, "I needed someone to blame and when
I couldn't blame Buck, I blamed myself, even though it wasn't my fault. Dr.
Taylor told me that my reaction was a normal critical incident stress response.
We need to blame so that the situation makes sense, so there's a reason. In
this case, it's a stupid accident. We were even robbed of blaming the driver.
He wasn't drunk, just old and confused. Believe me, I * want * to be mad at
someone, to blame someone, but Ezra, there is no blame to be placed. None of
this is your fault, or Vin's or JD's."
Ezra leaned his
head back on the headrest. He was so tired. And scared. Even in his slight
intoxication, Chris' words made sense. But he couldn't deal with that now. He
had to finish his testimony and put McAllister away for life. Or at least a
very long time.
"I need to
go home," Ezra said softly.
Chris looked at
the clock on the dashboard of the truck. It was two-thirty in the morning. It
would take at least twenty minutes to get to Ezra's place and it was thirty
minutes in the opposite direction to get to the ranch. He'd have to turn around
and come back by seven-fifteen – earlier, in fact, because Ezra would need a
ride.
"I'll take
you to the ranch," Chris said, starting the engine.
"No,"
Ezra protested feebly, smoothing his rumpled suit. "I-I need a suit."
"Ezra,"
Chris growled softly, "It's late. Humor me. You like the bed in my guest
room."
Standish yawned,
forgetting to cover his mouth. "I
need a suit."
Chris looked at
him and shook his head. The Southerner was barely awake. "We'll stop by
your dry cleaner's on the way in tomorrow."
Ezra didn't
respond. Chris put the truck in gear and headed for home.
+++++++
Buck slept.
The bed in the fire station
down the street from the hospital was comfortable enough, but his worry for JD
and Vin had kept Wilmington awake longer than he thought. Finally his weary
body had overruled his hyperactive mind and he slept.
Nathan held vigil in Vin’s
room, while Sanchez napped on the couch in the waiting room. Nathan watched the
sharpshooter’s restless sleep. It seemed odd to think that someone who was
basically immobilized and sedated could be restless, but Tanner’s moans and
mumbles and twitches revealed his state of mind. Nathan rested his hand on
Vin’s shoulder and spoke softly to the Texan. His body stilled and Vin relaxed
into a deeper sleep. About that time the nurse reminded Nathan that visiting
hours were long ago over forcing him to join Josiah in the waiting room.
In the den of a ranch house
outside of Denver, Chris covered the sleeping Standish with a blanket. The sofa
wasn’t known for being comfortable, but it was as far as Ezra had made it after
entering the room. Leaving the undercover agent to rest, Chris made a circuit
of the house, checking all the doors and windows and setting the alarm system.
Turning out the lights, he headed to bed for the second time knowing it would
be a very short night.
In a hospital room not too
far from Vin’s, consciousness was beckoning. The young dark-haired agent opened
his eyes for the first time in days. It was dark and confusing. He hurt all
over, and he was alone.
Without clarity of thought,
he did the instinctive thing and called out for his friend. The tiniest
movement flared intense pain through JD’s jaw, but the only sound he could make
was a groan. Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he tried to
control the pain. His heart pounded rapidly and his breathing became a
struggle. A monitor sounded shrilly causing Dunne to flinch away from the noise
and the pain flared again. Tears flowed in earnest.
“Mr. Dunne?” the voice was
almost angelic, soft and soothing, reminding him of his mother. “Try to remain
calm.”
JD’s struggled as she
continued to speak soothingly to him. “Don’t fight the machine, just relax.
There’s a doctor on the way. The tube is helping you breathe. You need to
relax… Let the ventilator do the work… That’s it.”
She looked at the frightened
hazel eyes. “You’re going to be just fine,” she soothed as the breathing slowed
into the rhythm of the ventilator and the eyelids began to droop. “Just rest
now. Your friends will be here soon.”
His eyes drifted shut.
++++++++
Time had passed, or had it?
JD was confused. Everything seemed to hurt and he couldn’t figure out where he
was. He could hear voices speaking softly nearby. One was the same soothing
voice that kept telling him he was okay.
“Mom?” he mumbled around the
breathing tube. Tears sprang to his eyes and he moaned as pain shot through his
jaw.
“Shh,” the voice soothed.
“Don’t try to talk. You’re safe.”
“JD?”
He knew that deep voice.
Dunne opened his eyes and tried to focus on the blur leaning over him.
Nathan’s gentle hand rested
on his shoulder. He was glad the nurse had beckoned him from the waiting room.
“You need to be calm, JD,” Jackson assured. “You were in an accident. You’re in
the hospital. Your jaw is broken, that’s why it hurts when you try to talk. You
have a tube in your throat that’s helping you breathe.”
JD’s eyes tracked fearfully
toward the door as a doctor entered.
“It’s okay. It’s one of your
doctors,” Nathan soothed.
The doctor introduced
himself and carried on a monologue as he and the nurse checked JD’s vitals.
Even though it was the wee hours of the morning, his patient was awake, and he
needed to know just how aware John Daniel Dunne was and to try to determine to
what extent his brain had been damaged from the lack of oxygen.
“John…”
“JD,” interrupted Nathan.
“He goes by JD.”
The doctor nodded. “JD, I’m
going to ask you some questions, but I don’t want you to try to talk. Can you
move your right index finger for me?”
Nathan watched anxiously. It
seemed to take forever, but JD moved his finger.
“Good,” encouraged the
doctor. “Can you move it twice for me?”
Again, seemingly in slow
motion, JD moved his finger, this time twice in response to the doctor.
Nathan couldn’t help but
grin. JD was responding to commands, a good sign.
The doctor went on to ask a
series of questions needing a yes or no answer. JD responded to all of them
until he could no longer stay awake.
“He’s doing good?” Nathan
asked.
The doctor allowed himself
to smile. “He’s responsive. It’s difficult to tell if the slow responses are
from the head injury or from the medications, but being communicative at this
stage is good. Very good.”
Nathan nodded. He understood
that only time would show any lingering effects, but JD had known him and had
responded to the doctor.
“His vitals look good. I’d
like to give him a few more hours and then we’ll schedule him for surgery for
the facial trauma.”
“I’ll call the others,” said
Nathan.
“The ten minutes an hour
during visiting hours still applies,” the doctor stated firmly. “He needs his
strength for the surgery.”
Nathan nodded.
The doctor softened his
command with a smile. “But I’m glad you were here tonight. It seemed to ease
his confusion.”
With that said, the doctor
tilted his head towards the door indicating it was time for Nathan to go.
“Thanks, Doc,” said Nathan
as he patted JD’s shoulder before leaving the room.
+++++++
The rest of the night passed
uneventfully. JD slept the night through, as did Vin. Sleep didn’t come so easy
in the Larabee house – between the late night trip to get Ezra and the phone
call from Nathan a couple of hours later, Chris wasn’t ready to face the day,
let alone the weary undercover agent.
Ezra was silent. Chris had
steered the weary man through the motions of getting ready, and drove him into
town. Ezra hadn't said a single word all morning, and from the looks of it, was
suffering from a killer headache.
"Where's your Dry
Cleaner?" he asked.
"Fifth and
Wilcox." Ezra winced as if the sound of his own voice exacerbated his
headache.
After a quick stop at the
Dry Cleaner’s and then the office where Ezra changed, Chris accompanied his
agent to the courthouse. Standish didn’t need a baby sitter, but Larabee felt
the need to be in the courtroom today. His natural protective instinct made him
want to be at the hospital with Vin and JD, but last night had made it
abundantly clear that the team had suffered three casualties, not two, and Ezra
needed the team’s support as much as his physically injured teammates.
The courtroom was closed to
visitors allowing only the attorneys, the defendant, the jury and court staff.
Witnesses were kept in a separate area until needed. Ezra was in a different
room to help protect his identity. His testimony was given on closed circuit
television, disguised by darkness.
Chris sat in the darkened
room watching his agent testify, calm and professional despite the headache he
knew Ezra suffered. He shook his head with a smirk. It always amazed him to see
Ezra transform into one of his undercover personas. There wasn’t even a trace
of a southern accent as he spoke, his statements simple and straightforward.
Eddie Samuels to the core.
It made the blond briefly
wonder if the drawl and fancy talk was just another persona for their benefit.
He half smiled as Ezra was
Ezra in his testimony. He could hear the frustration creeping in to the defense
attorney’s voice as Standish danced around his attempts to trap him.
Ezra P. Standish. Chris was
certain the P stood for ‘Pain-in-the-ass.’ His smirk widened as he heard the
judge taking the defense attorney to task for trying to continue to allude to
the rumors about Ezra’s past in Atlanta. He had already ruled that it wasn’t
pertinent to the case and threatened the attorney with contempt if he tried to
bring it up again.
Ezra coughed and covered his
mouth, but not quick enough for Chris to miss the southerner’s grin despite the
darkened room.
The cocky smile stayed with
the southerner as he was dismissed, gracing his face all the way to the parking
garage.
As he approached Chris’
truck, his step slowed, his shoulders drooped and the smile disappeared.
Reality slammed home full force. Things may have gone his way in court, but his
teammates lay in the hospital in serious condition. He rubbed his face with
both hands waiting for Chris to unlock the doors. The headache he’d managed to
push aside during testimony was now making itself known with pounding throbs.
He felt Chris’ hand on the
back of his neck, a huge show of support from a man who wasn’t big on physical
contact.
“You did great,” Chris
affirmed. “We’re going to get through this,” he added softly.
Ezra nodded but didn’t meet
his bosses’ gaze.
“Let’s get something to eat
and head over to the hospital,” said Chris as he unlocked the doors with his
remote.
“I’m not hungry,” Ezra
replied softly as he climbed into the truck.
Chris climbed into the
driver’s side and closed the door, pausing to take a good look at Ezra’s pale
complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. He was perfectly groomed, not a
hair out of place, but his exhaustion was obvious. If this continued, he was
going to make himself sick. He needed nourishment and rest.
Starting the engine, he put
the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. He wanted to head straight
to the hospital and check on Vin and JD, but making sure Ezra ate something was
just as important. Sheffield’s was a little out of the way, but it was one of
the Southerner’s favorite restaurants and it seemed like a good idea.
He made a left at the next
light.
Ezra’s head jerked up.
“Where are we going?”
“I said we were going to get
lunch before going to the hospital,” Chris answered.
“And I said I wasn’t
hungry.”
Larabee kept his eyes on the
road but smirked at the annoyed tone. At least it was a reaction. Maybe Ezra
was starting to find his feet again.
“Well, I am, and since I’m
driving…” He let the sentence hang.
Ezra looked out the
passenger window and sighed.
“I’m buying,” Chris offered.
“It better not be
McDonalds,” Ezra grumbled.
++++++
Vin huffed out a frustrated
breath. He ached everywhere and he couldn’t even shift to ease the pain.
“Are you all right?” Josiah
asked quietly.
“That’s a @&#*$(%!
stupid question!” Vin growled.
Josiah stood and moved into
the Texan’s line of sight.
Vin closed his eyes for a
moment, and then opened them. “Sorry,” he said.
“Nothing to be sorry for,”
said Josiah. “If I were in your shoes I’d be mighty frustrated, hurting… and
maybe a little scared.”
Vin’s eyes darted away at
the last word. Hell yes he was scared, but just like every one of Team Seven,
he was reluctant to admit it.
“I hate the waiting,” he
finally whispered.
Josiah nodded.
“So they’re gonna take JD to
surgery pretty soon?”
Josiah nodded again,
recognizing the diversion and knowing that Vin wasn’t ready to open up about
his fears or the “what ifs” of his injuries. He watched Tanner grimace in pain
and try to disguise it. The big man reached over to the pain pump and put the
control in Vin’s hand.
“It doesn’t help if you
don’t use it,” he said quietly.
“I hate this stuff,” Vin
muttered as he administered his own pain medication.
Josiah hid his smile. He
didn’t want to do anything to deter Vin from using the pain medications.
“How do you think Ez is
doing in court? Maybe you should go check on JD. Tell him I’m thinking about
him and I’m sorry I can’t get up there and see him.”
This time he couldn’t hide
the smile. Vin’s medication was definitely kicking in as the young man began to
babble.
“I’ll tell him, Vin,” said
Josiah, tucking Vin’s sheet up over his shoulder. “You get some sleep now.”
Vin briefly struggled to
keep his eyes open, but the medication won the battle and he drifted to sleep.
++++++
Chris had seen Ezra’s slight
smile as he turned in to Sheffield’s parking lot. He’d also seen the
questioning glance and the deep breath as Ezra seemed to pull himself together.
The restaurant had been a strategic move on Chris’ part. He hoped that maybe
the comfort of a familiar place with favorite foods would help make the thought
of eating more palatable, and he was fairly certain that the gentleman in the
southerner would make him feel obliged to eat something since it would be rude
to refuse when Chris was paying.
Ezra had greeted the host
with his usual flair and they were escorted to his regular table. He chatted
amicably with the host before reading the menu.
Maybe testifying in court
and playing his undercover persona had given him the focus he needed.
Or not.
Ezra had perused for the
past fifteen minutes a menu he knew by heart.
“You need to eat,” Chris
said softly, “or you’ll make yourself sick.”
“That is exactly what I’m
trying to avoid,” Ezra quipped with a smirk.
Unfortunately, Larabee knew
there was more truth than humor in the statement. “Does anything sound
appealing?” he asked.
“Well, anything with red
sauce is definitely out.”
Chris swore softly. That
ruled out half the menu at the swanky Italian restaurant. * And * the entrée he
was about to order. “I’m sorry,” he
said. “I didn’t think…”
“It’s all right,” said Ezra.
“You were trying to lure me to eat with comfortable surroundings.”
“I’m that obvious?”
Ezra nodded with a smile.
“Thank you,” he added softly.
“Are you ready, Sir?” asked
the waiter.
Ezra nodded to Chris to
order first. He went with Fettuccini Alfredo and Ezra followed his order with a
request for a house salad and bread sticks.
They ate their meal in
relative silence. Ezra made a valiant effort at eating. He managed a few bites
of salad and two bread sticks before he gave up and started pushing his food
around.
He looked up when he sensed
Chris staring at him.
“What?”
Chris had a smirk on his
face. “I was just thinking about Brewster. You had him running in circles.”
Ezra grinned slightly. “I
think the judge helped. If your only defense is that the witness’ background is
suspect, that hardly refutes the evidence.”
“You’re good, Ezra,” Chris
said sincerely.
Standish faltered. He wasn’t
sure what to do with the compliment and while it made him feel warm inside, it
also made him uncomfortable.
“I know,” he said sounding
cocky, but the hesitation had been long enough for Chris to see that his words
had been heard and acknowledged.
“You’re also a pompous ass,”
Chris laughed.
“Thank you.”
The grin on Ezra’s face and
the natural banter gave Chris more hope that Ezra was on the way up from the
pit of grief and confusion of the past few days. He still had some serious
issues to deal with, but it looked like with some rest he’d begin to face what
had happened, not only to Vin and JD, but himself as well.
+++++++
Josiah approached JD’s room.
He had already seen him once in the morning, but wanted to check in on him
before he was taken to surgery for repairs to his jaw.
“Hey,” said Buck softly as
he noticed Josiah’s arrival. He and Nathan stood next to JD’s bed. Buck was
holding JD’s hand and comfortingly running his thumb across the young agent’s
knuckles. “He’s just about out.”
JD blinked his swollen
eyelids in an attempt to stay awake.
“Go to sleep, Son,” said
Josiah. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
Nathan resisted the urge to
check JD’s monitors, instead focusing on his teammate. “They’re going to take
care of your jaw and get rid of that tube.”
JD’s eyes tracked to Nathan
as he tried to resist the anesthetic.
“Vin sends his best,” Josiah
added. “And Chris and Ezra are on their way from lunch,” he said, relaying the
information he received in a phone call from the team leader, “but probably
won’t get here before they take you in. Chris says they’ll be here when you
wake up.”
JD’s eyes closed as the
anesthetic won the battle.
“It’s going to be fine,”
Buck assured, hoping he was telling the truth.
++++++++
Josiah returned to Vin’s
room, sitting with the sharpshooter as he slept. He noticed the same restlessness
that Nathan had mentioned earlier. He rested a hand on Vin’s shoulder and spoke
soft reassurances until the young man stilled.
Vin wasn’t the only one who
hated the waiting. Nothing seemed worse than sitting helplessly at the bedside
of a friend, a family member and being able to do nothing.
Unless, of course, you were
the person in the bed.
Josiah wordlessly voiced a
prayer for Vin who rested beside him, and for JD who was hopefully in recovery.
He was about to add a wily southerner to the list when Ezra and Chris entered
the room.
Seeing Vin was asleep, the
three men stepped out into the hall so they wouldn’t disturb him.
“How’s JD?” Chris asked.
“He was supposed to be out
of surgery about now,” Josiah answered, checking his watch. “How’d court go?”
Ezra’s smug grin appeared
momentarily and Josiah chuckled.
“Ezra had the defense going
in circles,” Chris praised.
Josiah squeezed the back of
Ezra’s neck and gave him a playful push. “Good for you.”
Standish regained his
balance and straightened his jacket. The grin faded as he found he faced Vin’s
door.
“He’s doing okay,” Josiah
said softly. “A little frustrated that he can’t move yet, and a lot more in
pain than he’ll admit, but he’s using the pain pump without too much pressure.
He fell asleep about an hour ago.”
Ezra nodded. The guilt he
felt was still evidenced on his face, but there was also resignation. He still
felt the guilt, but the fact that he couldn’t change the outcome was setting in
and becoming reality. No amount of bargaining could change the fact that Vin
was in a hospital bed looking at the possibility of paralysis and JD might have
brain damage. He couldn’t trade places with them and he couldn’t fix things as
if it had never happened.
“You wanna stay here or go
up and check on JD?” asked Chris.
Ezra sighed softly. He
really didn’t want to do either. He cared deeply about Vin and JD but looking
at them reminded him of his failure to…
To what? What could he have
done differently?
“Ezra?”
“Sorry,” he said, shaking
himself from his contemplation. “Why don’t I stay with Vin while you and Josiah
check on Mr. Dunne. And then perhaps Josiah would like some lunch?”
Chris nodded in agreement.
He watched as Ezra silently slipped into Vin’s room, knowing full well that
Ezra was hoping that Vin wouldn’t wake up on his watch.
+ + + + + + +
The waiting room was a
little more vibrant than it had been for the past few days. JD was in surgery
now, but he had been awake and seemed to recognize everyone and that was great
news. There was still concern over brain damage from the lack of oxygen, but
hopes were high.
Things were changing in
Vin’s room as well. Much to Ezra’s dismay, Vin had awakened during his “shift.”
Neither of them was really ready to face what had happened, so they chatted
aimlessly about the weather, the court case, and anything else that didn’t
steer them toward the accident.
Eventually the room fell
silent, both of them wondering about JD and hoping that he would be all
right. Ezra glanced at his watch.
“Go,” said Vin. “See how
he’s doing.”
Ezra shook his head. “I’m to
stay. Josiah said he would keep us informed. When he comes back I have to go
pick up a prescription.”
Vin took his words the wrong
way. “I don’t need a damn babysitter,” he growled in frustration.
Ezra looked at him, slightly
startled by the change in mood, but he said nothing.
His silence frustrated Vin
even more. He needed to vent, he wanted a fight and Ezra just sat there.
Usually Ezra was great to verbally spar with - he could debate circles around
your argument and he didn’t take it personally. But now he just sat there. Vin
let out a string of curses.
Ezra sat in silence as Vin
spewed his frustration. Vin needed to vent and Ezra felt he deserved to be on
the receiving end of the anger. Under normal circumstances the southerner
wouldn’t stand for this kind of treatment, but these were far from normal
circumstances and he felt Vin had every right to cuss at him and more.
Fortunately for everyone,
Josiah walked in. He walked over to the bed and laid his hand on Vin’s
shoulder.
Vin’s eyes flicked in his
direction.
“I know you’re hurting, but
I could hear you clear down the hall,” he chided gently.
“I don’t care who the
@#$^&*(! can hear me!”
“Yes, you do,” said Josiah
gently. “You know there are other patients who are hurting and need rest.”
Vin closed his eyes and took
a few deep breaths. He was angry and wanted the whole world to know, but Josiah
was right. He didn’t have a right to subject others to his frustration.
“Sorry,” he said softly.
Josiah nodded and patted
Vin’s shoulder.
“Sorry, Ezra,” said Vin.
When the southerner didn’t
answer, Josiah turned and looked. Ezra was gone.
+++++++
“Have you heard from Ezra?”
asked Chris.
Josiah and Nathan both
looked up from their computers. “I haven’t seen him since before JD’s surgery,”
said Nathan.
“I tried to call last
night,” said Josiah, “but his machine picked up.”
Chris looked at the clock
again. Ezra was more than an hour late. Undercover agents had more flexibility
in their hours than most agents simply due to the nature of their job. When he
was on assignment, he might go for days, even weeks without physically checking
in to the office. When he wasn’t on assignment, he was expected to be on time
in the office, like everyone else. Ezra had a knack for intentionally arriving
at the last second just to irritate Chris. He was known for pushing the
envelope on timeliness, but he was rarely late. And this was beyond late.
“I’ll try his condo,” said
Josiah.
“I’ll call his cell,” said
Nathan.
“And I’ll call Buck,” said
Chris.
Each man moved to make his
phone call.
“Tanner’s House of Torture,”
said Buck as he answered the phone in Vin’s hospital room.
Chris could hear Vin in the
background saying sarcastically, “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”
“Hush, Junior,” Buck said.
“I’m on the phone. Hello?”
“Are you done?” asked Chris.
“What’s wrong?” asked Buck.
“Has Ezra been there this
morning?”
“Let me ask. I was up with
JD until ten minutes ago,” said Buck. “Vin, has Ezra been by?”
“No. Haven’t seen him since
yesterday. Said he had to go pick up a prescription.”
“Did you catch that?” asked
Buck.
“Yes,” said Chris.
“Prescription?”
“Prescription?” Buck relayed
the question.
“How the hell should I
know?” Vin replied grumpily. “He couldn’t get out of here quick enough. It was
probably just an excuse.”
“Not a good morning?” Chris
asked quietly.
“No,” said Buck. “They took
him for an MRI early, and he’s been pissed ever since.”
“It didn’t go well?”
“Don’t know yet, but I think
bouncing him around set him off,” said Buck. “His pain meds don’t seem to be
keeping it in check. They’re looking at getting him something stronger.”
Chris sighed. “How’s JD?”
“Sleeping. The pain meds are
working just fine for him.”
“Hang in there, Buck,” said
Chris. “Josiah will be over in a couple of hours to give you a break.”
“Talk to you later,” said
Buck.
Chris hung up the phone and
stepped out of his office. “Anything?”
“Answering machine,” said
Josiah.
“Voice mail,” said Nathan.
None of them voiced their
concern, but all three were worried about Ezra’s difficulty coping with the
accident.
“Vin said Ezra told him he
had to pick up a prescription,” said Chris.
“For what?” asked Nathan.
“He didn’t know,” said
Chris.
Nathan frowned. “I want to go
check his condo.”
Chris nodded. “I’ll go. You
two finish up this assignment.”
Nathan looked at Chris,
meeting his gaze. He really wanted to go, but as long as someone went to check
on Ezra, it was all right. He gave a nod and turned toward his desk.
Chris had seen Nathan’s
concern, and knew that Josiah shared it as well. Ezra was a mess and they all
wanted to help. “I’ll call,” he said as he stepped into his office and grabbed
his jacket.
Twenty minutes later he was
pounding on Ezra’s door. After knocking repeatedly and getting no response, he
used the key Ezra had entrusted to him in case of emergency.
“Ezra?” he called as he
entered. Hearing no response he stepped inside. Ezra’s jacket was tossed
haphazardly on the back of the leather sofa. Mail was scattered across the
coffee table and several coffee mugs littered the normally immaculate space,
confirming Ezra’s inner disarray.
Chris made his way to the
southerner’s room hoping that he had simply overslept. He’d been avoiding sleep
in hopes to avoid his nightmares, but at some point the body would give in to
its need.
He pushed open the door and
saw Ezra sprawled on his stomach on the bed, face turned to the side and one
arm dangling off the bed. A glass rested on its side on the floor beneath his
limp fingers, water pooled on the hardwood. Chris’s eyes drifted up to the
nightstand and his heart stopped.
“No, no, no!” he cried as he
ran to the bed.
An empty prescription bottle
rested on its side on the table, like the glass on the floor. Only four pills
remained, scattered across the nightstand, pointing to Chris’s worst fear.
“Ezra!”
+++++++
“Ezra, wake up!” Chris
called, slapping his cheek lightly. Fear surged through him. This couldn’t be
happening. Not Ezra. Not an overdose.
An unanswered alarm beeped
persistently, attesting to Ezra’s condition.
“Come on, Ezra. Don’t do
this.” Getting no response he shook him roughly, rolling him onto his back.
“Ezra!”
He wasn’t sure his friend
was even breathing. He paused long enough to watch to see the slight rise and
fall of his chest. He was breathing, but it was shallow. “How much did you
take?” he whispered before grabbing the phone and dialing 911.
“911. What’s your
emergency?”
“A possible drug overdose.”
Chris couldn’t believe the words even as he said them.
“What’s your location?”
Chris stumbled over the
address, still trying to calm himself.
“Hold for a moment while I
contact the authorities.”
Chris held the phone with
one hand and slapped Ezra with the other, striking a little harder with
desperation.
“Sir, help is on the way. Is
the patient breathing?” asked the operator.
“Yes,” said Chris. He
continued to try to rouse Ezra as the operator talked him through the situation
and helping as much as he could until the paramedics arrived.
He slapped Ezra’s face
again, praying for a reaction.
“No.”
The slurred complaint
stopped Chris cold. “Ezra? Ezra can you hear me?”
“Go ‘way,” the southerner
mumbled.
“No. You have to wake up,”
said Chris, setting the phone aside as he grabbed Ezra by the shirt collar and
pulled him up into a seated position.
“How much did you take?”
“What?” Ezra was clearly out
of it.
“Pills, Ezra. How many did
you take?”
“Take?”
“Damn it, Ezra,” Chris
growled. He balanced Ezra with one hand and grabbed the pill bottle. Holding it
in front of Ezra’s face, he asked again, “How many pills did you take?”
Ezra blinked, stared at the
bottle and blinked again. “One. She said just one.”
“You only took one?” asked
Chris incredulously. He looked at the bottle. Dr. Brady. If it was the same Dr.
Brady he knew, she was a psychiatrist. The prescription was for 5 days, 1 pill
per day. Four were still on the table.
“One,” Ezra mumbled.
“Couldn’t sleep… took pill.”
“When?” asked Chris, feeling
both relief and anger.
“Three,” said Ezra with a
yawn, “thirty. Tired.”
Chris set the bottle down
and eased Ezra back down on the bed. He picked up the phone. “Ma’am, I’m sorry,
but it was a false alarm. My friend took a sleeping pill in the middle of the
night and I couldn’t wake him.”
“The paramedics will be
there shortly,” she said. “They’re required to complete the call.”
Chris understood. It was
standard procedure to complete the call, and check and make sure things really
were as claimed. It would be too easy for an angry husband to call back and
claim his abused wife was just fine now. They needed to make sure the person
was safe.
“I understand. Thanks for
your help.”
Chris ended the call and
sank down to the floor, his back against the bed. His shaky legs didn’t want to
hold him up anymore. He ran trembling hands through his hair, trying to regroup
as the adrenaline began to dissipate. He sat quietly for a couple of minutes,
slowing his breathing until Ezra groaned.
He forced himself to his
feet to check on Ezra. The southerner had pulled his blankets over his head.
Chris pulled them back.
“Damn it, Ezra, I thought you tried to kill yourself.”
“Off,” Ezra mumbled.
“What?”
“Off,” Ezra growled covering
his ears. “Off!”
It was only then, when
things were calm that Chris realized the alarm clock was still beeping. He
fumbled with it a moment before successfully shutting it off.
“Thank you,” Ezra said
softly, yawning again. “Do you honestly think I’d have set the alarm if I were
going to…” he said as he pulled the covers over his head.
Chris shook his head and
blew out a sigh. “Go back to sleep, Ezra.”
He walked out of the bedroom
and pulled the door mostly closed. Flipping open his cell phone he dialed the
office.
“Hello, Josiah? Yeah, I
found him. He’s okay. Took a sleeping pill in the middle of the night and
overslept. He was so out of it when I woke him that he didn’t even gripe that I
was in his condo. Yeah. I told him to go back to sleep. I’m going to hang
around here for a couple of hours just to be sure everything’s okay. Yeah. When
you see the boys tell them I’ll be by later.”
As he ended the call, the
paramedics were knocking at the door. “Sorry, guys,” he said as he let them in.
“I thought he’d overdosed, but he only took one pill. He just took it really
late.”
“We have to check him out,”
said the blond paramedic.
“His bedroom’s this way.”
Chris led the two men to
Ezra’s room. “The bottle’s on the nightstand.”
“What’s his name?” asked the
dark haired paramedic.
“Ezra Standish.”
The blond checked the bottle.
“Prescription for five, four on the table,” he confirmed.
The other paramedic began
checking Ezra’s vitals. “Mr. Standish? Mr. Standish can you hear me?”
Chris grimaced. Ezra would
not be happy.
“Mr. Standish?”
Ezra groaned. “Go away.”
“I can’t sir. I have to
check you vitals.”
Ezra’s eyes opened wide as
his mind registered the strange voice.
“What the hell…” the stare
became a glare that found it’s way to Larabee.
+++++++
“Hey, Kid,” said Buck
softly. “How’re you feeling?”
JD’s reply was unintelligible.
The wires holding his jaw in place didn’t allow for movement, which meant his
speech was a mumble at best.
“Doc was pretty happy with
your tests. Good thing you have all that empty space up there for your brain to
bounce around in, or it could have been worse.”
JD glared and gave Buck a
one-fingered response.
“Well, you don’t seem to be
having a problem communicating,” said Josiah with a chuckle as he entered the
room.
“Ha-ha,” JD responded but it
sounded more like “mm mm.”
Josiah smiled. “Glad to see
you feeling better John Dunne,” he said patting JD’s arm.
+++++++
PUT THIS LATER IN THE STORY
Vin knew about Ezra's guilt
complex. Chris and Josiah had explained
to him what had happened and what Ezra was thinking. They had also assured Vin that they were working on the stubborn
southerner.
Vin figured words weren't
what Ezra needed. They wouldn't have
worked for him and they wouldn't work for Ezra. Waiting until he could catch Ezra's eyes Vin rasped, "Hear
you think you're responsible for me being this way."
Ezra gulped, finally someone
had said it plain. Yes he was
responsible, for Vin, for JD. It was
his fault both were where they were. Nodding
slightly, he said, "I can not begin to apologize,"
Vin cut him off, "Forget
it, luck of the draw. Maybe I won't
walk again maybe I will. That's up to
me and the docs. What I don't need is
to feel responsible for you."
"Me?" Ezra
stammered, "how are you responsible for me?"
"You're feeling guilty
because of me. That's a burden I don't
want and I bet JD don't want it neither.
So stop it." Vin fell back against his pillows. "I'm alive, JD's alive. Tell you what, if it'll help, when we get
out of here, we'll throw you off a bridge."