UCLA Medical Center, CCU
With his bed at a forty degree cant, Derek seemed to be dozing when they
entered. Immediately, they all heard the sound of the irregularly beeping monitor
and the raspiness in their friend's breathing. All looked toward Rachel who quietly
mouthed, "Arrhythmia... pulmonary edema." She nodded and they stepped back
toward the door, where she explained in a whisper, "Irregular beat is causing blood
to pool in the heart... causing fluid to backup into the lungs. Besides a heart attack,
there's risk of stroke or a pulmonary embolism... blood clots."
Sensing their presence, Derek stirred.
"You look like hell," said Sloan, walking over to the bed.
A hint of a smile flitted across the younger precept's lips. "I have a good
excuse," he replied. "What's yours?"
A flicker of amusement crossed William's face. Silently he gazed at the
medical paraphernalia surrounding the bed... the oxygen tubes, the IV tubes, the
monitors. Here we are yet again, he thought, shaking his head at the swarm of bad
memories.
He studied his friend's weary face. "God, Derek... you need a haircut," he
drily commented. "Reverting to our wild hippie days, are we?"
"William," Rachel cautioned sharply as she looked up from the chart she had
taken from the foot of the bed.
"It's all right," said Derek. "He's just saying hello."
"I spoke with Amanda," the Ruling Precept continued. "You two look like a
matched pair... right down to the accoutrements. Is this getting to be a tradition with
us, or what?"
"I seem to recall that the last time you were the one on your back," Derek
countered. "How's Amanda doing?"
"Better than you, my friend," Sloan responded gently. "She'll be laid up for a
while.... Tremayne's coming out of retirement to fill in here. I intend to be the one
to show him around his new neighborhood," William chuckled. "I wonder if the
guy in the pink Caddie is still peddling his harem... maybe I'll slip him a few bucks
to drive by and toot out Ode to Joy for our illustrious Precept Emeritus."
The younger precept laughed, but a cough interrupted.
"Do you want some water?" asked Alex.
Derek shook his head no. "I'm fine, thanks," he said hoarsely.
Stepping to the opposite side of the bed, Rachel took his hand. "Derek... do
you understand everything the doctor explained to you?" she asked as she covertly
examined his long fingers... the nails had the bluish taint of cyanosis.
"More or less," he replied. "That Ph.D. in anthropology did give me a
rudimentary knowledge of physiology."
Squeezing his hand, Rachel ignored the sarcasm. "I agree with Dr. Nguyen,"
she said. "They need to go in to see what's causing this."
The precept remained silent for a moment, then announced a decision he had
reached at the very outset. "No... no surgery. I'm going home," he stated. Then he
looked directly at Luna's security officer. "Nick... make the arrangements."
The former SEAL quickly glanced toward Sloan, then to Rachel.
"Dammit, Derek!" said William harshly. "This is foolhardy... even for you.
Listen to them."
Taking his aggravation out on his oxygen cannula, which annoyed him as he
spoke, Derek reached up to pull the tube down past his chin. "William," he said
roughly, "I'm going back to Angel Island... even if I have to do it all myself." He
paused for breath. "You know I will... and I'd better find my own bed in my
bedroom... not a damned hospital bed."
"Christ!" said Sloan in exasperation. "You never change, do you? What
mortal sin did I commit to deserve you?" He caught Rachel's withering stare from
across the bed. Stepping back, he lowered his head and slipped his hands into his
pants pockets. Finally, in silence, he looked up at his friend and saw the total
determination in his brownish-green eyes. "Nick," he said with a resigned sigh,
"see if you can get clearance to bring the chopper into the helipad.
"William," said the psychiatrist, touching Nick's elbow and nodding toward
the door.
"Excuse me," said Derek before anyone could move. "I'd like to speak with
William privately."
"No 'bait-the-bear'," Rachel warned. She took Nick's hand and pulled him
toward the door. "You rest," she ordered over her shoulder as Alex slid around the
pair. The doctor felt Nick's hand squeeze hers as he gave a small, quick nod toward
the bed. Both smiled sadly to see their friend gently kiss the precept on his cheek
and whisper something in his ear. A feeling of doom swept over Rachel as she saw
Derek's eyebrow rise and the faintest hue of embarrassment wash across his
enigmatic face. A moment later, she looked in askance at the younger woman, but
was met only by a sly wink and a shrug of Alex's shoulder.
* * *
"William," said Derek, when the others had gone. "I don't want Mother and
Ingrid to know yet. You haven't called them, have you?"
"No... not yet. I wanted to see how you were this morning," the older man
replied calmly. "What am I supposed to do... let them read your obituary?" he
asked pointedly. "Then say, 'Oops... sorry... I forgot'?"
"Just wait a couple of days," Derek requested. "I'll call them myself."
"That's why you're here," Sloan responded harshly. "Because I waited a
couple of days."
"William," called Rachel, leaning into the room.
Derek reached up to touch his friend's sleeve. "I'm here because I chose to
do what I did... and because there's more at work here than what we know."
"Get some rest... and for God's sake keep the damned oxygen tube where it
belongs," the precept ordered as he gently placed the cannula beneath his friend's
nose and threaded the plastic tubes over his ears.
Derek gave William a weak half-smile, them closed his eyes.
< < + > >
Sloan joined the others in the waiting room. All knew better than to ask what
had passed between the two precepts, but they could read Sloan's anxiety in his
usually unreadable eyes.
"William," Rachel began, "I don't think the helicopter's a good idea.... I
think an ambulance to the airport, then your jet to Oakland and another ambulance
from there. We'll need cardiac equipment in case something happens... and room to
work," she explained. "I'll go talk to Dr. Nguyen, then make the arrangements for
what we'll need in transit and once home."
"All right," Sloan agreed. "I'll see the jet's readied and any necessary
adjustments made. Nick... you take the chopper home... ahead of us, so you can
make sure everything's ready on that end. But first the two of you," he said, looking
from Nick to Alex, "are going to the guest house to get some real sleep.... That's an
order." Then the precept turned to Rachel, "By the way, doctor, a suggestion... no
hospital bed. Take my word if you want this to go reasonably smoothly."
< < + > >
Derek put his hand over his ears. Verdomme!... he wished they'd turn that
beeping thing off. He'd asked nicely twice already, but without results. He pressed
his call button again. Finally, an orderly appeared.
"Can you please shut that damned thing up," he asked in irritation as he
nodded toward the monitor.
"I'll get someone," said the young man.
"You do that," replied Derek, without much hope of experiencing silence in
the near future.
Slowly, steadily he tuned out the irritating sound. Concentrating on the X-ray
image the cardiologist had shown him of his own chest, he turned his mind toward
where that black object must lay. Inward he went, past the wavering pulse in his
neck... down into his chest... down past the erratic throb of his aorta... toward
something that seemed to have the weight and shape of stone. He felt around its
hard edges... it felt malignant, but not in the medical sense of the word.
Foggy memories of dreams flitted through his mind... colors... fire... howls...
the stench of blood... shattered glass... whirling visions of demonic faces... a voice
crying, "Derek Rayne! Beware!"
Heavy pain pressed outward. The strident, broken beeping of the monitor
disrupted his focus. He pulled his mind away as the nurse hurried in. "It's OK... it's
stopping now," Derek assured her through his exhaustion.
< < + > >
The Next Day
Standing at Derek's bedside, Nick gazed down at his sleeping friend. He saw
death in the waxiness of his face. So much needed to be said, but somehow it never
got said. Why did this man always have to raise the barriers?
If he could have chosen his own father... this is the man he'd have chosen.
The former SEAL hung his head. This was also the man that his own father would
have chosen as a son. Why had his father respected and cared more about Derek
Rayne than he had ever cared about Jimmy or Nick Boyle? What quality did he
possess that they had lacked? Somewhere, deep inside, a resentment lay buried...
smothered by a greater admiration and affection.
Why always the games?... Derek Rayne against Satan's armies... everyone
else pawns in his cosmic chess match. Gently he touched the precept's shoulder.
"Hey, Nick," said Derek, slowly opening his eyes.
"Hey, yourself," the younger man replied. "Everything's all taken care of....
I'll fly the chopper back in the morning and you'll be coming with Sloan in the jet
tomorrow afternoon. You'll love his new toy... a Gulfstream V... here to London
in one hop."
"Thanks... I'll be ready," he whispered.
"By the way," Nick added, "they found Maria Fanucci. She's OK. They weren't able to get there
fast enough to get them on the bridge, but Carmack was pretty clever. He checked
the surveillance tapes of the toll booths on all the bridges for the precise moment of
your vision. Then they started tracking license plates. CHP spotted the car near Tracy. It was the San Mateo Bridge they were
crossing."
Derek smiled. It was good to know that occasionally his gift could prevent a
tragedy instead of simply predicting one.
"Go back to sleep.... I'll see you later," said Nick, giving the precept's arm a
gentle pat as he turned to leave.
"Bye," Derek said with a cough.
Suddenly, Nick stopped at the door... he couldn't let it end in small talk...
not this time. "Aw... hell... Derek," he said, turning back. "Why did you have to
play your games this time? You knew something was really wrong. Why couldn't
you level with us?"
"Nick...."
"Dammit!" Years of frustration poured out. "You act like none of this
concerns us.... God!... You remind me of my father... obey orders... no
explanations... need to know.... You preach teamwork, but you don't want to be a
team player. We're nothing but your damned wind-up toys." Nick's anger grew.
"We're not Dorothy's Tinman... we have hearts... and we're certainly not the
Scarecrow... we already have brains."
As Derek chuckled softly to himself, Nick caught the amused look that
crossed his face. "What?" he said in a tone filled with vexation.
"I know," Derek said with a shrug. "I'm sorry.... It's just that sometimes you
remind me so much of your father."
"I'm nothing like my father," Nick declared angrily. "My father was a SOB
that should never have had a family.
Derek leaned forward in bed. "Nick," he said gently, "I know you don't want
to hear this. Humor a sick, old man, who may not have much time left." He smiled
gently at the look of dismay that flicked across his friend's face.
"I know life with your father was hard... life made your father a hard man...
at times a very angry man. It did the same to my own, but perhaps not in the same
way." Nick opened his mouth to interrupt. "No," said Derek, "hear me out.
Sometimes, I see him in you... the best parts... those good qualities that managed to
survive his own father and Vietnam.... Little gestures that you share... a sort of
curious half-grin that crosses your face when you think no one is looking.... Your
courage... your calmness in crisis." Derek smiled impishly. "Your sometimes crude,
inane humor... and, your righteous anger," he added. "But most of all your
friendship and your loyalty."
Nick shifted his weight uncomfortably as Derek looked directly into his eyes
and continued, "I truly valued your father's friendship and loyalty... I learned a lot
about survival from him... and he pulled my fat out of the fire more than once.... I
value yours just as much." Pausing, Derek thought of something he had said long
ago to another soldier named Boyle, "Thank you for being my friend... and for
being the best right hand any precept could want. I'm sorry if I play games. It's
habit... a lifetime of caution... even paranoia... and hard lessons...
and sometimes a little cussedness on my part... or so William would say.
"I do it to protect us all."
The shock of the words hit Nick like a rifle butt in the gut. "You sound like
you think you're going to die.... I don't want to hear this," he said, taking a step
toward the door.
Derek reached out to grab the sleeve of his bomber jacket. "Yes... you will,
Nick," he ordered, "because you are all the future of my House." A wave of
fatigue swept by; he sank slowly back into the pillows.
Nick spun about to say with all the force of his being, "You never quit....
You can't! You're what gets us all through. You're the glue that holds us together
as a team... a family." Nick swallowed hard. "God! I can't talk to you any more
than I could talk to him. There won't be a San Francisco House without you."
"Yes, there will be... and a foundation," Derek said quietly. "William will see
to it."
"Sloan! How...."
Derek held his hand up to silence the younger man. "Shhh," he murmured.
"Let me finish. I don't have the strength to fight you."
Pausing for breath, the precept struggled for control of his ragged heartbeat.
Nick glanced up at the sound of the monitor's frantic beeps. "Derek?" he asked
with concern.
"It's OK," Derek whispered as he massaged his chest. "It's OK." Taking a
deep breath, he continued, "Over the years, I may have given the impression that I
dislike and mistrust William Sloan. I should have kept my mouth a little more
closed.... Our relationship is long and complex... and none of you need to concern
yourselves with what's between us.
"Just know this, my friend... you can trust Sloan with your life and with the
fate of our House. He won't fail you unless it comes to a choice between you and
the Legacy. He would choose the Legacy over his own life... perhaps, even over
Patricia's or his daughters'... as would I. No matter how irritating and
sanctimonious he is... remember that his own hard lessons turned him into a
'by-the-book' autocrat. He will see the House and all of you safely through.... Let him.
"Now... go away. I need to rest," the precept ordered. "...and I'm not
quitting.... I'll never go gently.... Oh... and while I'm in the pulpit... make peace
with Philip.... You may think you need me, but the two of you need each other
more."
