Setting: ATF AU
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
NOTE: Big thanks, no HUGE thanks to Julie, for her invaluable, generous and wonderful medical assistance.
Numb. No, not totally numb, pins and needles pricked every inch of his skin. His own injuries faded into obscurity. His arms were trembling so badly, he nearly dropped the precious cargo he held. His stunned eyes were trained on the crimson liquid running over his hands. Somewhere, above and around him, a loud group of buzzing sounds hovered. The world faded away, the only thing he saw was that blood and the red-tinged lips it spilled from, parted over the slack jaw.
"Chris, let me at him... Chris?" Nathan Jackson moved in front of the shell-shocked team leader and waved his hand in the field of dazed green vision. "Chris? Josiah, give me hand."
"They're here!" J.D. hollered, watching the helicopter land on the dusty road several yards from the shambles.
"Come on, Chris, let the medics see to Vin." The eldest tried to pry the locked arms from around the injured sniper, but they wouldn't yield. "Nathan?" He saw the strong, dark fingers laying on Vin Tanner's neck.
"It's weak, but he's still alive. He must have punctured a lung."
"What do we got?" Steve Kenney asked, dropping his equipment next to an unconscious, battered and bloodied victim. "Sir, I need you to step away now. Sir?"
"Chris!" Nathan said loudly and clapped his hands hard, causing the smaller man to jump. "Let 'em tend to Vin. I'll see to you and Ryan." He turned to the emergency medics who just arrived. "I'm an EMT in Denver, I'll take a look at these two, they're not serious. He's Vin Tanner," He nodded his dark head, "Twenty-seven, no allergies and hypoglycemic. He was kidnapped and tortured. Cuts, minor burns and bruises, his left wrist is broken and he's been shot. He probably has a concussion as well. He threw up blood and he's breathing is shallow. I think that bullet popped his right lung."
"Thanks, Mister..." Jack Swider, at forty-three, the elder and senior member of the team arrived.
"Nathan Jackson, ATF Denver. We work together." He paused, "Oh, Vin's AB negative. Come on, Chris,"
Not since losing his wife in a unspeakable act of terrorism, had Chris Larabee's soul be ravaged so severely. The uncontrollable trembling in his arms was a sign of the vunerability he now felt. Although he'd never spoken the words aloud, he'd made a vow a long time ago to protect Vin Tanner. Now, he had to entrust the younger man's life to strangers. Perhaps they could mend the torn flesh and marred bones, but no one could heal the Texan's soul. That was his job and he damn well wasn't giving it up. Before he let himself be led away, he pressed his mouth close to the unconscious sniper's ear.
"Fight like hell, Cowboy."
Nathan got Chris away from the quick moving medical team. No sooner had the stricken blond vacated the area, the older medic took charge.Jackson led the shaken team leader to the clearing and checked his injuries. Josiah was using first aid kit to clean Ryan's new cuts and putting a pressure bandage on the re-opened wound on his side. He sat Chris down and made eye contact with his closest friend. He got out he wound cleansing agent and bandages , while his eyes kept straying to where the Texan lie stricken.
"Go on, Brother, I got this," Sanchez relayed, as Ezra moved in to assist.
"Where's J.D.?"
"He went with Novelli to take Caitlin to Grace." the preacher noted, cleaning the last of the unconscious Irishman's wounds. "He's okay, just passed out," he answered the question in the healer's eyes.
"It's a bad graze," Chris hissed with a feral grimace, as Ezra Standish used a pair of scissors in the kit to cut the denim cloth from around the well-honed thigh of the leader.
"His arm is bleeding..." the Southerner moved aside to let the older man rip open a package of bandages.
Nathan jogged back over to where the two medics were working on Vin Tanner. His clothes had been cut away and the two medics were moving with rapid precision. The senior paramedic had contacted the trauma center on the radio by the patient's head. His younger partner was taking the victim's vital signs.
"Whose cuttin' today, Dana?" Jack asked on the open line to the hospital.
"Jeff Roman, Jack." She noted the surgeon on call, picking up a clipboard, "Whaddya got?"
"Three victims, two walking, one critical. He's a caucasian male, twenty-seven, hypoglycemic with no known allergies. He's a mess..." He frowned, doing a quick assessment of the victim, before rolling him back onto his back.
"I got no air sounds, Jack!" Steve relayed, listening to the right side of the injure man's chest and handing a slip of paper to the older man.
"Pulse is 120 and rapid, BP is 80 over 50 and falling, respirations are 28 and extremely labored," Swider read off the information. "He's covered in lacerations and severe bruising, extreme in lower back, could be his kidneys are involved. Also, he's got a fractured left wrist and negative air in the right pleural cavity, from a gunshot wound, no exit. He's shocky and losing blood." He took the gage out of the man's ear and frowned, "he's hypothermic, temp is 95. We were advised by a friend, also an EMT, that he's AB negative. We got O negative with us on the bus, I'm gonna give him some."
"We're gonna tube him and put in an IV with saline, wide open." Steve hollered, inserting a small needle carrying a plastic catheter in Vin's arm. He withdrew the needle, then inserted the line carrying Saline solution. "Get the OR crew ready... our ETA's seven minutes."
"Hemothorax suspected," Jack updated, strapping the body onto the gurney. "Get the Ambubag," he advised his partner. "I'll get the tube in." He tilted the patient's head back and used a small, metal instrument with a light on the end. His veteran fingers quickly moved the tool past the mouth and down the throat. He skillfully lifted the dormant epiglottis, a cartilage lying behind the tongue and in front of the vocal cords. This allowed the tube to be eased into the trachea. "Okay, Kid, get those fingers working," he barked, attaching the bag to the tube. His partner would pump the bag every ten seconds, giving the critical man air, until the tube was attached to a respirator. He lowered his stethescope and listened, insuring that the tube was in place correctly. "Let's go!"
"Hemo... what..." Chris rose, allowing Josiah to assist him into the helicopter.
"Hemothorax," Ezra stated, staying by the unconscious ex-NFL star, while a second gurney appeared. He moved aside as Josiah and the older paramedic lifted McKenna and strapped him down.. "... roughly translated, they suspect the bullet pierced his lung and it's filling with blood. If they don't put a tube in his chest to relieve the pressure, he could drown in his own blood."
"Jesus!" Chris whispered, raising his arm painfully to allow a belt to be placed around him. "Ryan?"
"Vitals are good!" Nathan concluded of his quick check. "We're you taken' 'em?"
"Baton Rouge County General..." Swider replied, squatting to assess the shocked blond man. "Let's move, Ted!" he barked at the pilot.
"Keep the faith, Brother," Sanchez said to Chris, raising a clenched fist as Nathan Jackson shut the side of the vehicle.
"I hope to hell you got good connections with the Man," Nathan said, watcing the chopper move across the night sky. "'cause that boy needs a miracle."
"Could be the right night for a miracle," Josiah said, his fingers going to the rosary beads in his pocket. He followed his two friends back to the boat.
"Grace!" Caitlin dropped to her knees and hugged the sleepy child. She sobbed and rocked, before gripping the tiny face in both hands and kissing her dirty cheek.
"Mommy," the frightened girl cried, hiccuping and coughing. "A bad man came and he took me and he hurted Vin and... and... and... Vin saved me... and... and... then... a... big dark monster man... he... shotted him... and... and... I was... so... scared... and..."
"Shh!" Caitlin lifted her, kissing the tear-streaked face, "I know, baby, it's okay now. Nobody's gonna hurt you again, Mommy's got you."
"...and Buck's got you..." the tall agent moved in, seeing the woman sway. He held both McKenna's, nearly feeling the relief radiating off the concerned mother.
"Oh God... thank God..." Caitlin murmured in the tangled black curls, eyes full of tears.
"I'm awful thirsty, Mommy, you got any blue juice?"
"No, baby, but when we get home you can have all you want!" Cait sobbed, vowing never to let the precious child from her arms again. To come so close to losing her... she shut her eyes and pushed the thought away. She relaxed in the strong arms that held her, glad for the support.
"You okay?" Novelli asked, walking up to where Buck stood. Behind the ATF man were two state troopers and their vehicles. One approached the trio and handed a bottle of water to the very shaken mother.
"Yeah, did you find them?" Buck answered, watching J.D.'s dark head pressed to his cell phone. "Well?" He saw the youth's face grimace in annoyance and one hand came up, signaling a pause.
"Trent's gator food, Bates has a half-dozen holes in him and Fowler is speared to a tree."
"Good," Buck hissed, holding the shaking widow. "They didn't suffer long enough... I hope they rot in Hell. Vin?"
"Larabee and McKenna are busted up a little... that kid, well, he looked bad."
"J.D." Buck's voice was hopeful, even though his heart was heavy.
"Okay, Nate, thanks, we'll wait for you." He put his phone back on the belt clip and eyed his partner. "They're taking them to County General in Baton Rouge. Vin's not good... the bullet popped his lung and it's filling with blood. By now," he eyed his watch, "they should be landing on the roof of the hospital. They need to get a chest tube in and drain his lung..."
"Or?" Buck waited, eyeing the pale face of the younger man
"Or Vin will drown in his own blood."
"Aw, hell," Buck whispered, his chest tightening.
"Come on," a tall trooper walked up to the pair. "I'll give you a ride."
"You go ahead, Darlin'," Buck kissed the pretty woman's cheek and ruffled the moppet's curls. "You take this brave little angel and find that man of yours. I think he needs a hug right about now."
"Where you going?" Novelli asked, seeing the pain in the other man's eyes. "You okay?"
"No," Buck's eyes went to the horizon, the wind lifted his hair. "I won't be... none of us will... until Vin's okay. Here Kid," he tossed the keys to his car at the youth, "You're driving, my head's about to fall off." He winced and rubbed the knot on the back. "We're gonna back to New Orleans."
"Why? Vin's not there..."
"No, he's gonna be in surgery for hours. Nate and the others will be there for Chris and him." He eased his large frame in to the passenger side of the car and sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"Buck you're not making any sense!" Dunne protested.
"There's somebody in New Orleans whose all alone and worried sick about Vin. She needs to see him and he needs to hear her." He sighed, "We'll get Chris and Vin's things checked out of the hotel they were in. Then we'll get Doctor Gabrielle Marquette and head to Baton Rouge County General."
"Go on, Son," Novelli patted J.D.'s shoulder. "I'm gonna wait for the lab and make sure they don't miss anything. You have the pretty doctor take a look at his head, okay?"
"Hah," Dunne snorted, opening the driver's side door. "He's lucky it's only his head that was affected, not his brains. It's a rare thing to be able to pee through your brains."
"I heard that!" Buck groused, "Just get your ass in here, J.D. and don't touch the radio. My head's splitting in half now. I don't need that heavy-metal shit to make it worse."
"Geezers," the youth sighed, turning the motor over, "Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em."
While a trauma team surrounded the young male, cleaning his wounds and beginning life saving treament, he was limp and unaware. His slack features were as pale as the sheet beneath him, now stained with his blood. The grime and filth were cleaned off and wounds were dressed. A second IV line was started with a dopamine drip and a new unit of blood was hung on a pole by his side. The head of the team, set to work immediately, realizing that they had just minutes to spare. This young man was close to dying.
"I'm in," Dr. Lauren Hollis announced, completing the gory procedure. After cutting a hole in the chest wall and dissecting through the muscle, she placed the plastic tube into the pleural space. Then she connected it to a large plastic container, laced with blue liquid and wall suction, to remove air and fluid from the damaged area. Immediately, bright red liquid poured through the tub, filling the container. "Terry, get that to the lab, type and cross-match!" She ordered the nurse drawing blood. "Dave, get that portable unit over him and take some pictures, so we can see what we have. How's his BP?"
"80 over 40, his pulse is racing, just over 130..." Terry announced, before leaving for the lab.
"Are they ready upstairs?" Doctor Hollis asked of the operating team that had been assembled.
"Yeah," Dave Kauffman replied, watching the vital signs from the pulse oximeter attached to the patient's index finger. He completed a complete set of xrays, eager to get pictures of the problem areas to the doctor.
"They have their work cut out for them," the doctor replied, eyeing the pictures from the xray machine, "There it is!" She pointed to the bullet, lodged in his scapula. "...it got his lung and nicked his clavicle on the way there." She noted of the right lung and shoulder area.
"His left lung is full of fluid, looks like he's got pneumonia," Chris Elliot, the medical resident assessed, stopping by the cubicle. "He's lucky if he makes it through surgery. His kidney's are bruised..."
"Is Escort here?" Doctor Hollis asked, takiing the patient's temperature. "Good," she nodded at the young man. "Get him up to OR 2," she moved away, writing notes and heading to the phone. "Mary?" she spoke into the phone to the head of the ICU, giving her the victim's name and his report. "He's hypothermic, get some warming blankets and make sure the IV's go in warm. I want his vitals checked constantly, and he'll need a central line put in, I think Vic Richardson is on call today, " She noted of the vascular surgeon. "I'm ordering a CT Scan as soon as he's out of surgery and his left wrist needs xrays, it's fractured. The minor wounds can be cleaned and dressed... I'll check in with you later."
Why was it that pacing seemed to be the universal response to worry? It didn't help. The same neutral walls and well-buffed floors met her aqua eyes. She sighed, rubbed her eyes and stared at the clock. It was four a.m. and the ER was finally thinning out. She was off duty at 3, but stayed to help with the extra patients. She replaced the chart in the slot on the gurney and nodded to the x-ray tech, who wheeled the patient towards the elevator.
Three hours seemed like forever. One-hundred and eighty minutes seemed like forever. She'd been stitching up an automobile accident victim, when her beeper sounded. Upon plugging in the numbers, she got Caitlin McKenna. The news was bittersweet. Grace was safe and being checked over by a resident at a Baton Rouge hospital. Ryan was being kept for twenty-four hours for observation and Chris Larabee was being admitted as well. Then the huge pause, the nine-months pregnant kind.
"He's dead, isn't he?" She'd stated to her closest friend in a dull, flat voice.
But he wasn't, dead, at least not yet. Caitlin didn't know much, just the Vin Tanner was in bad shape and a bullet pierced his lung. An hour later Nathan Jackson called. After putting a chest tube in to drain out the blood, he'd been taken to surgery.
In a way, she was glad the ER was crowded tonight, it kept her mind off the smiling blue eyes that she saw constantely. She heard that wonderful drawl and felt that magnificent kiss. She thought of the shy smile from the man in her garden, reflecting on the boy he'd left behind. She sighed, eyed the clock and headed for the water fountain.
"Doctor Marquette?"
"Yes, Jenny?" She turned, as a nurse called to her.
"Someone's here to see you."
She moved through the large circular Emergency room, past the muttering man with DT's and the heart attack patient. She eyed the small set of windows over the entry doors and her heart skipped. She saw the mustache first and then the profile. His eyes were full of pain and he had an ice pack on the back of his head.
"Buck!"
"Easy now," The tall agent dropped the soggy bag and gathered the shaken woman in close. "He's holding his own. I just spoke to Nathan afer J.D. dropped me off. The bullet hit his clavicle, tore up his lung and landed in the scapula. Sounds Greek to me..."
"It's bad." She sighed, rubbing her eyes again. "There's so many arteries in there... he could bleed to dea..."
"Shhh!" Buck placed his finger over her worried lips. "That boy's a Tanner, no lowlife like Bates can take him out. You got my word on that."
"Nathan said you were hurt." Her skilled fingers found the lump on the back of his head and he hissed and pulled away. "Where's your friend?"
"The Kid went to Sauville House to get Vin and Chris checked out. We're gonna stow their things at your place for awhile. Then he's picking up Seamus later and heading back to Baton Rouge. When are you off duty? What's your schedule like?"
"I'm off for the next two days and my shift ended forty-five minutes ago. We'll leave as soon as we get some pictures of that hard head of yours."
"I'm okay, Gabrielle,"
"How about if I don't tell you about arsonists and you don't tell me about medicine?"
"Ouch!" Buck winced playfully at the soft scolding, following her into the ER.
An hour later, after a CT Scan ruled out anything serious and after she'd gotten the tired man a platter of food and some coffee, they were in the parking lot. The dark sky turned to deep blue, a sure sign that dawn was coming. She paused outside the passenger door, after the tall man eased his aching body inside. She knew he was feeling the after effects of a concussion. He could have been taken to the ER in Baton Rouge. He could have been resting all these hours. He'd pushed himself over the edge for her. She smiled and cupped his chin, letting her pretty face flush.
"Thank you," she bent down and kissed his cheek, "I think your middle name must be Lancelot.
"Lancelot?" Buck grinned, "Wasn't he the one fooling around with the King's wife? Yeah, could be we're related!" He saw the gratitude shining from those beautiful eyes and took the small hand in his own. "You're welcome, Darlin', it was worth the trip. I'd have walked back for that smile." His own grin faded , when he saw a pale image of Vin Tanner. "That boy's gonna need you and I'm gonna make sure he gets whatever he needs."
"He's lucky to have a friend like you, everybody should have a Buck Wilmington in their life." She shut the door and made her way to the driver's side, not hearing him chuckle and commiserate.
"Lucky," he muttered, shaking his head. "That boy sleeps in shit... What's that raggedy-ass Texan got that I don't?" He smiled wanely, thinking of the phone call from Chris that spoke of their Texan being smitten. He saw that long-haired face then, eyes blue with devilish light and that winning smile. "I stand corrected..."
"Did you say something?" She asked, slipping inside and turning the motor on.
"Just thinkin' about that... uh... Vin." He eased his throbbing head back on the headrest and shut his eyes, after clamping the seat belt.
"Me too..." She sighed, feeling a shiver.
"It's been five hours!" The patient growled, slapping away the hand on his shoulder. They said to rest, pushing IV's in his arm and fussed with him. The fluids could only do so much, what he needed to heal wasn't in a bottle. It was the brave body fighting for his life in the operating room. Until he knew Vin was going to pull through, they could all go to Hell. "Get away from me!"
"Get back in that bed, Chris," Nathan Jackson crossed his arms acorss his chest and let every inch of his six foot five frame stand tall. "You're not getting up."
"I'm goin' to the bathroom," he stood on his good leg and gently lowered the injured one. One gentle, but firm, push had him on his butt on the bed again.
"Bedpan or urinal?" the medic inquired, making it clear he was the wall of resolve. The hot green eyes flashed and the fists balled, one grabbing the sheet. "No," he answered the silent string of curses. "You can shoot them eyes all you want, you ain't leavin' this bed. You got two IV's in you and a fever. Bedpan or urinal?" He repeated, getting a chuckle from the man in the other bed.
"Shut up, McKenna!" Larabee sassed at the grinning, battered face across the room.
They were alone. Josiah and Ezra went to get something to eat. Caitlin was with Grace in the pediatric unit. The little girl was scratched up and dehydrated, she was being kept for observation and resting.
"Give me the fuckin' thing already and wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Nathan" The leader warned, pointing to a rose colored urinal. He grabbed it and flashed in anger again. "It's been five goddamn hours, go find out how Vin is..."
Nathan left and went to the nurse's desk. He waited, tapped his fingers and eyed the clock on the wall. It was almost six-thirty. It had been one of the longest nights of his life. He was tired and grubby. As much as a hot shower, hot food and a long nap would feel good, it wouldn't fill the need. They were more than a seven man team, they were a family. When one man went down, they all suffered.
"Sir?"
"I'm sorry." He blinked, scrubbed a hand across his worn features and eyed the nurse.
"They're almost done. I've instruced Doctor Roman to come to Mister Larabee's room. You might want to get your other friends."
"Thanks!"
A half hour later, with Josiah and Ezra sitting on stiff, plastic chairs near the closet on the sideof the room, the door opened. Five heads spun, ten sets of eyes bearing down on the newcomer.
"Shit, it's only you," Chris lamanted, getting a mock face of ire from his oldest friend.
"Mornin' to you to, Pard," Buck Wilmington entered the room, nodding to his friends "How you doing?" He asked both patients. Chris glared and turned away, Ryan nodded politely.
"I'm okay, Buck. Thanks for taking care of Grace."
"I'll tell you what," Buck said, easing his body into the room. "That little girl's is one gutsy little lady."
"She's a McKenna!" Ryan beamed, thinking of the precious tot who held the key to this heart.
"She's her mother's daughter!"
The Irishman's dark head lifted, hearing a soft voice. He smiled when the slim woman found her way to the bed. He reached up to embrace her, when she bent down to hug him.
"Hey, Doc!" He greeted Gabrielle Marquette. "He's gonna be fine..."
"I hope so Ryan," She whispered, gripping his hand and then leaving for the other patient's bed. She saw the raw fear there, in those strong green eyes. It was reaffirmed in the clenched jaw and iron-willed fist. She remembered the man she met that first night and thought on the bond she'd seen thereafter, between him and Vin Tanner. She gripped the rail and cocked her head, brushing the stray locks of his blond hair.
"He's made it through surgery," Chris whispered, making eye contact with the beautiful physician. "That's good, right?"
"Right," she affirmed, hoping to convince herself as well. "We won't let him die, Chris. We'll fight for him. Partners?"
"Deal," Chris managed, sighing heavily and gripping her hand. They both turned as the door opened and a tired young surgeon walked in. His dark eyes were rimmed in fatigue and his black hair was damp and curling at his color.
"I'm Jeff Roman, I left your friend in the recovery room..."
"Is he gonna live?" Chris blurted, staring daggers at the doctor.
"I don't know, I hope so. He's critical. The bullet bounced off his clavicle, clipped the right upper lung and landed in his scapula." He saw the confusion on some faces and clarified. "Shoulder blade. We'll keep it immobilized for about six weeks. It's going to be very painful and require extensive rehab. He's got a chest tube in, due to the internal bleeding and damage done to the right lung. That will be in for five days or so..."
"It hit an artery?"
"Subclavian, that's where all the bleeding cam from," He replied to the pretty, pale-cocoa skinned woman.
"I'm Doctor Gabrielle Marquette of New Orleans. Mister Tanner was in my care when this happened. I called ahead and got staff privileges okayed." She replied.
"Okay, Doctor," he nodded. "We had to fix that torn artery first, that was critical. I had to clamp it , in order to fix it, that cut off circulation."
"What about his arm? Will his get full use back?" Gabrielle asked, knowing what that loss of circulation meant.
"I don't know, until he's in the thick of his therapy, that will be a mystery." He sighed, rubbed his neck and stretched. "He's hypothermic and he's got a concussion, we'll do a CT Scan this morning to rule out any other problems. He had some nasty brusing on his throat, we'll do some xrays to rule out any fractures. His wrists were torn up and raw, they'll be covered in a saline-soaked gauze and then a dry dressing for about five days or so. His upper torso, back and front, is riddled with cuts and abrasions, but none serious, just painful. They've been cleaned and treated. His right eye is swollen shut and discolored, the CT Scan will pick up any fractures. When he's stronger, the opthamologist will check that eye. Both kidneys were bruised and he's passing blood. We'll flush him with fluids and put him on a sodium bicarbonate drip for a few days to protect them. Also, sometime tomorrow he'll have an abdominal ultrasound done, so we can get a better picture of any hidden problems."
"Grace, the little girl he found, the kidnap victim," Nathan corrected, "She said Vin was sick... coughing a lot."
"He's got pneumonia," The surgeon stated, seeing the faces full of shock and pain. One face in particular was riddled with anxiety. The patient in the bed before him, a hot pair of hurting green eyes turned away, after exhaling painfully. He saw a single fist clenching the blankets and moved closer. "He'll be getting some good antibiotics for that and when he's stronger, he'll get some chest therapy."
"It would appear our fallen comrade has quite a fight ahead of him," Ezra broke the silence. "Thank you, Doctor, for saving his life," he moved to grip the hand, the others followed suit, except the two patients. The dark-haired man nodded, the pensive blond remained silent, but his face was somber, almost fearful. The green eyes met his and the head dipped slightly, sending a silent vote of gratitude.
"He did fight hard and I think that will make a big difference. Once he's through in recovery, he'll go to ICU. The next few days will be critical. "Visiting hours don't begin until noon, you'll have to leave, these two men need to rest and the nurses have work to do," he announced, watching them move towards the door.
"I'd like to see him," Gabrielle announced, gripping Chris's hand once and walking towards the door.
"Okay, Doc, follow me," the tired surgeon led the way to the elevator.
She stood in the doorway, feeling an invisible weight bag hit her, rocking her back on her heels. How many times had she been in a room similar to this, in an 'official' capacity? My God, when you're in the other shoes, it's a different story. She eyed the pale figure on the bed, so weak and so very frail. His wonderful, silky hair was dull and limp, tied back and behind him. Those strong arms that held her were now immobilized. Those fine features that she dreamed about were battered, bruised and discolored. The hiss of the respirator was keeping him breathing, through a tube down his throat. A jungle of plastic IV lines surrounded the bed as well. The lean, strong man she'd gotten to know was gone; a fragile, pale figure was lying corpse-like in his place. Finally, she moved, the floor felt like mud, but she got to the beside. She rested a hand against his cold skin and felt warm tears well in her eyes. Her lip quivered and she took several shuddering breaths, wiping the tears as they fell. She leaned down, kissed his cold cheek and rested her face against his, easing her lips over his ear.
"It's Brielle, Vin, I'm here, Baby. Chris and the others are close by. We're all fighting for you.." her voice quivered and she sighed, letting the salty tears run down her cheeks, dropping onto his stilled face. She brushed them away with a finger, before resting her face near his ear again. "I miss you... I need you... don't leave me... come back..."
Far beneath the dark abyss he was lost in, a spark of light appeared. It was distant and too far to reach, but it was a start. He felt a change in the cold void that gripped him with razor like talons. Something was calling to him. He wanted to follow, feeling a need, a deep urge to reach out. He didn't know what drove him, but the air was getting warmer and he could breathe again. He kept sight of that distant light and began to fight forward.
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