Setting: ATF Universe
page 17
"Checkmate" Josiah declared, popping the black bishop in his mouth. Ezra's last defender went down without a fight and quite nicely with a chaser of coffee.
"Hah!" Ezra frowned, eyeing the oreo-turned chesspiece disappear. "So much for a rematch. You've ingested all of my men."
"Nice and fresh." Josiah grinned, eyeing the makeshift chess board. The white team was assorted mini chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal cookies and sugar wafers, which were the King and Queen. A brave row of cheese nips served as the pawns. The black team consisted of mini oreos, mini brownies and chocolate wafers as the king and queen. Hershey kisses stood valiently as the pawns. Well, one brave kiss remained, the preacher put the rest out of their misery. "Tastiest game I ever played."
Ezra eyed the sad board and shook his head. "To think I've resorted to playing the world's greatest game with mass produced confectionary creations."
"Poor sport," Josiah toasted, "Okay if I eat your queen?"
There wasn't a line of verbs and nouns invented that Ezra could have used or would have dared, not following that line. Plus the wagging preacher's eyebrows and deep-voiced delivery made him laugh outright.
"All is fair is love and war," Ezra decided, plucking the pink sugar wafer from in front of Josiah. "You play a fair game."
"Hell, this is nothing," Josiah teased, "You should see me with mini liquor bottles..."
"The gauntlet has been thrown," The southerner grinned. "You my friend, have met your match."
"Hey, look at that," Josiah tossed the newspaper aside. The army sent up a box of magazines and books, as well as the newspaper. The preacher was looking through the television section and flipped on the button. The screen came to life and he began surfing for the right station.
"What?"
"The Ezra Standish Story is on." Sanchez grinned and handed Ezra his empty thermal mug. "Filler 'er up, Brother, easy on the sugar."
"Do I look like a common steward?" the conman repelled, rising and taking the cup.
"I think you'd look real pretty in a penquin suit, probably pick up some good tips." Josiah paused and watched Ezra prepare two cups of coffee on the counter by the wall. "Probably pick up a few old widows too..."
"You humor leaves a lot to be desired," Ezra sat the cup down. He glanced at the television as a familiar theme song began to play. A smile split his face and he settled onto the chair next to Josiah's bed. He propped his feet on the bed and frown at the seagreen scrubs. "This coarse material is wreaking havoc on my skin. Perhaps a moisturizer..."
"Ezra, you worry me..." Josiah turned, plucked a chocolate chip cookie from the tray and settled back to watch Paul Newman and Robert Redford in "The Sting".
Sandy Dunkirke finished reviewing the results of the CDC's breakdown of the most recent Tanner's samples. He walked across the large doctor's lounge and headed for the coffee pot. A crash and the sound of loud voices, took him into the hall. He made short work of the distance to the quarantined area. His pale eyes went to the window of the ER door and he saw Larabee arguing with Tyrone. He punched the intercom button and caught the last end of the verbal duel.
"Shit!" he ran for the hazmat tent to get a suit on and picked up his cell phone. He punched in the beeper number they used for emergencies; then he dialed Kendra directly.
"Major, get down here, we got a situation! I need you STAT!" That done, he punched the triple three's on the end of his last message, setting of the small alarms on the first floor and in the Lab. He punched in the location and jumped into a yellow suit. By the time he was approaching the ER door, he saw Kendra flying through the doors from the stairwell.
"What's wrong!" she demanded
"Larabee's up and on a rampage. He claims he knows what wrong with Tanner. He won't tell unless he gets to see him."
"Hold him off, I'll be right there. Did you alert Roger?" she inquired of the head of the CDC's team that arrived the day before. They were working on the second floor in the Lab, hoping to breakdown the bacteria.
"I sent the Emergency signal through a beeper and also set off the alarm signal." He heard footsteps on the stairwell as several bodies appeared. The Major put her hand up, halting the group.
"Hold it!" she ordered, "Roger, get a suit on, you too Angie. You'll go with Sandy and myself to talk to Larabee. The rest of you stand down for the time being. You can report back to your posts."
"What the hell is that!" J.D. hollered, sitting up in the dark room and covering his ears. Ezra appeared in the doorway, keeping half his body in the hall.
"Don't get up, I'll find out," he assured, following Josiah down the hall to the nurses station.
"What's happened?" Ezra demanded, wincing as the series of tones finally ended. He saw Dennis Toner, the nurse on duty, flip a red book open and eye a series of codes.
"Go back to your room," Dennis said without looking up.
"On the contrary, young man," Ezra rebuffed, "I demand to know what emergency has occured that you need to remedy by searching through a confidential code book."
"MacKenzie, Lopez," Toner directed of the two guards that stood farther down the hall. "I gotta go downstairs to the ER. You keep them here..."
"It's Vin?" Josiah asked softy, catching Toner's arm. "Look Son, he's our friend..."
"I'm sorry, I can't tell you. Please go back to your room. Once I find out, I'll update you."
"See that you do," Ezra stated coldly. "As it turns out, I'm not very tired. I feel like stretching my legs." He eyed the corridor leading to the emergency exit and Josiah choked back a grin.
The preacher clapped a hand on Standish's shoulder and nodded to the approaching guards.
"Ezra's got a dry sense of humor, it takes awhile to catch on to him." He physically turned Ezra away, "Isn't that right Ezra?"
"Unhand me this instant!" Ezra jerked free, "Mr. Dunne is upset, I shall be in his room, dispelling that disquieting look on his face." Without looking back, he made his way to J.D.'s side.
"Well?" J.D. demanded, "What did they say?"
"An emergency downstairs..." Ezra approached the phone.
"Vin?" J.D. whispered, heart clenching. "Buck... Buck might know..." he watched as Ezra dialed the numbers, then hung the phone up. "It's been taken off the hook. I'm afraid we'll have to wait."
"Don't touch that!" Sandy hollered, watching Chris Larabee trying to inch his bound left side closer to the IV on his right arm. The pole moved precariously and threatened to fall. "You've got a serious infection in that leg..."
"Chris, if you just calm down..." Buck tried, easily reading the fury in the green eyes.
"Calm?" Chris drew his head up, sweat pouring down his face, "I am calm, Buck," he snarled while hurricanes danced in his eyes. "I will see Vin..."
"You'll do no such thing," Kendra directed, brushing past Sandy and grabbing the tetering IV pole.
Chris turned at the new voice and stared hard at the tall woman. He straightened up and narrowed his gaze. "You in charge?"
"I'm Major Kendra Taylor of AMERIID, that's the infectious disease branch of the Army," she paused, "and yes, I'm the head of the team that's been assigned to contain this outbreak."
"I want to see him," Chris stated, not blinking or flinching. "NOW!"
"That's impossible, you're getting back to bed and if you don't cooperate, we'll use force and restraints. Your choice."
"Get out of my way," Chris said quietly.
"Look, Mr. Larabee..." Kendra's patience was wearing thin and she felt the strength this blond ATF leader possessed. She remembered Tyrone warning her about Larabee's power.
"No, you look," Chris steeled, gritting his teeth, and jabbing an index finger into the yellow-garbed suit. "That's Vin Tanner in there," he seethed, chest heaving. "You genius's haven't figured it out yet, have you?"
"We've got the very best tech's from AMERIID and Atlanta working around the clock," Sandy defended, his hackles rising. Who did this Larabee think he was?
"Well you can tell your rocket scientists take their hands off their asses and get to work..."
"Who the hell do think you are!" Sandy charged, moving closer, only to have a hand smacked across his chest.
"Lieutenant, that's enough!" Kendra warned strongly, then turned back to the irate ATF agent.
"I'm the biggest pain-in-the-ass you've ever encountered," Chris leveled, "I know what's wrong with him and I can save him, now let me see him."
"No," Kendra denied, "You're wasting time that your so-called friend can't afford to lose."
Buck winced visibly when the words 'so-called' slipped from the Major's lips. He saw the green fire sparking inside those dangerous eyes, while lave started to form and moved quickly. He put himself between Chris and the Major, grateful for Tyrone's steadying hand on his pole.
"Hold it, both of you!" Buck shouted, then turned to the Major, "With all due respect Major, you're out of line. Vin Tanner is a whole lot more to Chris that a friend. They're closer than brothers and talking to him like that won't accomplish anything." He then turned to Chris and his anger grew. "Now you're going to listen to me Chris Larabee..."
"Get out of my way, Buck," Chris pressed, only to have his words cut short.
"Shut up!" Buck hollered, grimacing as pain lanced through every fiber of his body. His head was pounding and his back, legs and neck ached. He knew the chills he was feeling were due to a rapidly rising fever. "Now listen to me you stubborn, son-of-a-bitch. If you know what's killing that boy, then you tell these people. Your Goddamn line-in-the-sand routine ain't gonna cut it this time. He's dying, Chris, you've been asleep all day... you haven't had to hold your breath every time they go running in that glass prison. It ain't your heart that's damn near stops..." He sucked in an uneven breath, clutched his trembling hands into fists and felt his energy sapping, "Vin will die... Do you understand that, Chris? Quit playing this fuckin' macho roulette game and give 'em what they want!" He growled, then closed his eyes for a moment as the room flew around. He kept them closed and and lowered his voice, using a softer tone, which cracked at the end. "'cause I ain't feeling so good, Chris..."
"Buck!" Chris moved as the taller man when to his knees. He felt a pain stab his chest as the realization hit him hard. He saw Sandy and Tyrone half-carry the mustached agent back to bed. He vaguely was aware of Sandy putting something in Buck's IV line. He made his way over to Buck's side and stared hard.
He saw a long-haired hippie in handcuffs wearing a cocky grin and introducing himself as his new partner, a dozen years gone by. He saw the same grin again and again, everytime it flashed it gave him the same reassuring tug in his gut. Those warm blue eyes hovered over his bedside countless times after he was wounded or injured. That wonderful laugh that preceded or concluded every Wilmington tall tale, bawdy story or practical joke. A twinkling blue gaze boldy smiling at him, with a beer bottle toast, the first time he asked a pretty brunette named Sara Conley to dance. He recalled the warm rogue's embrace just seconds after the beauty became his wife. He swallowed hard as he remembered that same, famous Wilmington heart bursting all over the waiting room just minutes after Adam was born. He recalled all to well the tears that fell from his own eyes, when he saw the look of pure adoration and awe on Buck's face the first time he held his godson. He felt that pride building his chest, when the last picture took hold. An image he'd never forget, on a Maryland beach - a sea-soaked lean body cradling the limp, lifeless form of his best friend. He clenched his eyes shut as the picture zoomed in vivid color and form. He saw God's hand on Buck Wilmington's back, as the dark head bent over Vin's bloodless lips and that strong heart made the ultimate sacrifice. His hand trembled as it brushed it across Buck's forehead and he felt the heat rising. Just then the blue eyes opened and looked up at him. He managed a half-grin and moved his good hand.
"You look like shit, Buck..." he choked, his voice unsteady.
"Fuck you, Larabee..." Buck returned, gripping the hand hard and sending a silent signal of strength to his oldest friend.
Chris broke the amazingly strong, almost electric current and turned back to Major Taylor. He sat down next to Buck, and raised his eyes.
"You need to get in your bed, Mr. Larabee..." She presssed, concerned for his health.
"Mr. Larabee is back in Indiana with my mother," Chris said quietly and kept his hooded eyes on the visor that hid her face. "Don't push your luck..."
"Okay, Chris, I'm sorry," She consented, "What do you know?"
"It's homegrown," he sighed, gazing the glass prison, not hiding the pain in his eyes. "...that slipped out one night, she said it was 'homegrown' and if I didn't behave, she'd use a 'deadly' brother of that fuckin' thing on Vin. Didn't you get a tape or something?" He recalled hazily watching CNN in the cell.
"Yes, but she never mentioned what she was using... the clip of the introduction of the bacteria to Mister... Vin... was brief." Sandy confirmed.
"You're lucky," Chris hissed painfully, recalling all to well the horrific ordeal. "She made us watch... he never flinched... not once, that fucking thing was crawling in his shorts... on his face. He showed that bitch!" the blond paused, clenching a fist and not hiding the admiration in his voice. "Socrates," he said eyeing the group. "Was that on the tape?"
"No," Kendra frowned. "Who is Socrates?"
"A primate she used... uhm... the same stuff that thing... venom or whatever... " Chris rambled.
"This primate was infected first and survived?" the Major's voice rose in anxiously.
"Yeah," Chris muttered, feeling all strength leave him.
"Wait a minute..." Roger Davenport, the senior tech from the CDC group said. "Socrates... the chimp, he's number sixteen."
"Sixteen?" Tyrone lifted Buck's head and helped him get a cold drink of water.
"Yeah... in the material the F.B.I. sent... uh... tapes, records... that name, Socrates, he was number sixteen."
"Roger, get on the phone to Denver," the Major barked, "Get that chimp here STAT. Get the Airforce to lend a jet if you have to..." She eyed the clock and calculated the traveling time, then at the glass box behind which Vin Tanner was fighting for every breath. "Hold on, Tanner, the calvery's coming."
Chris looked up wearily at the faces in front of him. Three exhausted sets of eyes, he saw beyond them to the other yellow-garbed bodies moving about near the isolation room where Vin was hidden. All these people were here to save his best friend's life. He shifted his gaze from the triple threat eyeing him, back to Buck's weak smile.
Buck saw the color drain from Chris's face and managed to open his eyes a little wider. "Hey, Boss, it's gonna take a lot more than a stinkin' bug to bring old Buck down."
Chris smiled a bit and felt Tyrone's hand on his back.
"Come on, you got to get back to bed. You're dressings are a mess."
Chris rose and took a deep breath, taking the hand that Major Taylor offered. "Don't let them die..."
It was barely a whisper and she felt the desperate want behind each word. She gripped the good elbow of the worried leader and felt every bit of the penetrating green eyes. This was a man who bled bright red for his men and that made the battle even tougher.
"I'll give it my best shot," she said, steadying the faltering steps, "... Mister Larabee... " she grinned and saw the handsome blond lift his face.
"Yes, Ma'am, I bet you kick some serious ass," he tossed back and heard both Sandy and Tyrone laugh outright. "Please, can I see him? There might not be another sunrise for him. I need... Vin needs to know..."
She paused, sighed and looked deep into the pale green eyes. She saw his him swallow hard, choking off the last words. She knew how much this was hurting him and gave a small nod.
"Okay, Sandy, get a wheelchair." She felt the long, exhale of Larabee's breath cross her face and eyed him cautiously. "You can look through the glass, that's as close as you get, understood?"
"Yeah," Chris nodded, "Thank you... Major..." A clatter of metal caused them both to turn. Chris shook his head at the body rising unsteadily from the bed.
"No!" Kendra left Chris and placed both hands on Buck's shoulders. "Absolutely not. Lay down in that bed now."
"The ladies love me, Chris..." Buck croaked, wagging his eyebrows, "She can't keep her hands off of me."
"In your dreams," Kendra shot back, "You're running a fever of a hundred and one," she read over his shoulder of the chart on the table next to the bed. "You're in no position to..."
"I'm going around you or through you," Buck protested weakly, "Your call..."
"All you ATF agents this stubborn?" Tyrone asked, shaking his head.
"Only team seven," Chris boasted, settling in the wheelchair. "Buck will come right back, won't you?"
"Huh?" Buck frowned, trying not to fall over. "Yeah... sure... Don't let me get too far ahead of you." He wobbled and faltered, then with Tyrone helping, walked towards the glass room. The Major took the wheelchair and notified Sandy and Roger to update the others.
The trip seemed much longer to Chris, but finally he was parked next to the cold glass. He licked his lips and felt his heart racing. He heard the familiar hiss of the ventilator and held his breath as the curtain parted.
It was dark and the coldness was all around him, as if he were encased in ice. He felt her healing hands and tried to relax, knowing his Angel would protect him. She was quiet now, and he needed to hear her voice. Then he felt pressure inside his throat and tensed up; it was starting again -the choking thing -he hated it and the struggle started anew.
"No... no... please... not that... that hurts... stop... stop... stop... God, when will it stop. I can't breathe... it hurts... stop... stop."
"Mollie?" Sandy stuck his head in the isolation room and noticed that AMERIID's best nurse wasn't in her hazmat suit. "New orders?" he inquired and saw the pretty dark head bob.
"Directly from the Colonel," she answered of Jack Blackburn, their boss, "Just before I came on duty. Gowns and masks, it's not airborne, so we lose that charmin' suit..."
"You almost done?" He asked of the suctioning of the artificial airway.
"Aye," she nodded, without taking her eyes from the ghost-like face on the bed. "Easy Darlin' Boy... I know it hurts ye..."
"We might have a break, Larabee woke up and identified a primate that had the virus first and survived. Roger's on the phone with Denver making arrangements to have him flown in."
"That's grand news!" she looked over at the physician briefly, then turned back to Tanner. "Did ye hear, Lad? Ye hold on now, there's a light shinin' in front of ye... ye keep fightin', Bonny Vin..."
"Uh, Mollie... Larabee and Wilmington are outside. The Major said they could see him... You okay?"
"We're fine..." She answered, concentrating on her task. That done, she proceeded with his alchohol bath. "What's wrong with ye then, Darlin' Boy?" Mollie clucked her tongue and finished bathing his back and lower extremities. She gently rolled him over and wrung out a fresh cloth. "Yer a bit off, tonight... Let's see now," she paused to start washing him again
Chris didn't realize how long he'd been holding his breath, until a light, reassuring touch on his shoulder caused a staggered exhale. He nodded and tried to relax the death grip he had on the arm of the wheelchair. Once again, Buck was there, with a steady hand that never failed. His eyes followed the curtain until the room was revealed.
"Jesus..." he whispered, flattening his back to the chair. The sight before him shook him to the core. He was more than grateful for Buck being by his side. Amidst a garish forest of clear plastic tubing and shiny bags of fluid, there was young man lying unnaturally still. His skin was so pale, it was nearly transparent. Dark circles rode on his gaunt face and the unmistakeable aura of death lingered too close. Chris stared hard at the stranger, trying to find something to hold on to. This wasn't Vin... it couldn't be... this man's pallor reeked of the grave. A tube connected to a ventilator was securely taped to his face, so as not to slip out. Another ran into his nose, leading down to his stomach. Four other tubes violated his body. One line went in his neck, one in his arm and one in his wrist, each carrying live giving fluids. The fourth was the catheter that took the urine from his body.
"Major," Sandy whispered, disturbed by the shocked expressions on the faces of Tanner's two infirmed friends. "Mollie said the Colonel gave the word to dress down."
"Okay, pass it along," she directed, watching the blond man in front on her fighting hard to remain in control. "I'll give you a few minutes to visit, then you both are going back to bed."
"He's dying..."
"What?" Buck spun, not recognizing the defeated Larabee voice next to him. Like Chris, he wasn't prepared for the ghastly sight on the other side of the glass. Vin Tanner had a perennial tan, was extremely active in any kind of physical endeavor and full of life. This pale imitation before him wounded him deeply. That since finding a home with team seven and learning the value of friendship, he'd taken a huge bite out of life and laughed. But now Buck was worried. Somewhere, deep inside that coma, Vin Tanner was searching for the road home. There was, perhaps, only one voice that could guide him back. That voice was now wavering, housed in a body that was cloaked in defeat. If he didn't see it, he wouldn't believe it, not of Chris Larabee. They didn't come any tougher.
"Talk like that ain't gonna do him any good. He needs you, Chris... more than anything else he's ever needed. You can't..."
"I'm not God, Buck!" Chris said sharply, cuttting off the sermon. "Christ, that's not Vin... it's some... one... thing..." he stammered, "... out of a Goddamn science fiction movie. He'd hate that, Buck, you know he would. All them tubes running in and out of him... that damn machine breathing for him..."
"It's an endotracheal tube," Kendra supplied, "and yes, it is breathing for him, he's too weak to do so on his own right now," she admonished in a tight tone. "The central line in his neck gives us direct access to a large vein. This is used give fluids, measure the amount of fluid in the body, or to give medication that might be irritating to smaller veins. The one in his arm is an intravenous line, like the one you have. Lastly, a special arterial catheter is inserted into the radial artery in his right wrist and used for drawing blood gases and monitoring blood pressure. I'm sure you recognize the Foley," she noted of the urine collector. "He's also developed Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome."
"What's that mean?" Buck asked, seeing Chris's head drop and his eyes close. He didn't miss the right hand now balled into fists, resting in the leader's lap.
"It's a trauma; an inflammation of the lungs that makes it very difficult to breathe. It can be fatal..." she paused, hearing the blond man next to her suck in air painfully. "This is important, in addition to a lingering cough, this condition, like any other traumatic stress syndrome, causes anxiety, fatigue and depression. If he survives this, he'll still have emotional wounds that might take a few months to heal. He'll need you... " Her eyes rested on Chris Larabee, who raised his head and studied the glass. She moved to the wall and pushed a button, allowing contact with the nurse within.
Chris saw past the sterile sea of vines and paraphenalia and tried to find Vin again. He needed to see those trusting blue eyes. He noticed Vin's hair was pulled back and tucked under his head, making him look even younger and more vunerable. Just to the right of his head was the ventilator with its reassuring "whoosh" of air being pumped into his lungs, a sound repeated sixteen times every minute. Then he noticed the movement near Vin. A gentle hand was bathing his chest and neck. The musical quality to her voice was serene and calming. Then he saw her lay a hand to Vin's face and bend low. She stroked his cheek and brushed the damp locks of hair that clung to his forehead. All the while, she never stopped talking.
"That's important," Kendra whispered, "Patients in a coma can hear most everything you're saying. I've had some recall entire conversations in startling detail. Remember that, when you're near him, talk to him, encourage him."
"Kick his ass?" Buck asked, watching the pretty nurse with dark curls peeking from a mask and bright emerald eyes, work he magic.
"If that's what it takes," the doctor replied, nodding. "I'll be back in about ten minutes. If we're lucky, we should have a serum ready sometime tomorrow night. If you get in that bed, let that IV do it's work and rest up, I'll okay a gown and mask and you can visit him tomorrow." She frowned at the somber blond, "I won't tolerate that though, you lose that long face and defeatest attitude or I won't let you near him. He'll sense that... he can't afford it, are we clear on that?"
Chris paused a moment, shifted his eyes to the tall doctor and then nodded. She studied his face a moment, then left.
"Thanks," Buck supplied for Chris, whose eyes were still glued to the glass. Tyrone got Buck a chair and helped him sit. He also gave each of the visitors a tall cup of ice water.
Sometimes the darkness seemed colder. Vin always felt better when... there... there it was... she was speaking. Breathe, breathe, breathe... he followed a silent command. But he was to tired, he wanted to let go. He got angry. Why didn't she make the hurt stop. He couldn't breathe, it hurt to much.
"Make it go away Angel... I don't want to stay here anymore... I'm so tired...."
.She gently eased the cloth over his legs and chest, pausing to rinse. "Did I tell ye what a fool I am for Disney movies? It's a good thing I have me nieces and nephews to take to the cinema. Wouldn't I be the fine sight? Cryin' a river over a cartoon creature and a pretty song? Ah, but ye have to love them, especially the sad ones. They get to ticklin' me heart good and that's a fact." She moved closer to his face, wiping every fine feature and pulling the damp locks of hair from his forehead. "Yer not talkin' to me tonight, Boy-o. Where's me fightin' soldier then? Don't ye quit now! I won't be forgivin' ye, Vin me boy..." She sighed, not happy with the change she detected. "How 'bout a song? Would that cheer ye a bit? I remember one from a movie I saw when I was a wee girl."
"I'm sorry... don't be mad... don't leave me... it's so dark here and yer the only light I got... that's better... feels good... yer voice... so sweet... I need ya Angel... sing fer me... I need yer light... .thank you... thank you..."
"When ye wish upon a star... makes no difference who ye are ... Anything yer heart desires... will come to ye.." She paused and took his hand, resting it against her face and stroked his forehead with the other. "If yer heart is in yer dream... no request is too extreme. When ye wish upon a star... as dreamers do... Like a bolt out of the blue... Fate steps in and sees ye through... When ye wish upon a star... Yer dreams come true... " The last line came out hard and her voice broke. She blinked back tears and cursed inwardly. Don't get attached, Mollie, that's breaking all the rules. Why was it that the special ones always broke her heart? He was special, she knew without hearing a word uttered. "Ye listen to me Darlin' Vin, I'll not lose ye... Where's yer heart then? Where's me Bonny Lad that was fightin' so hard?"
"Look at that," Tyrone moved his hand. "See his heart monitor? He's responding to her."
"Damn..." Buck smiled, still tingling from the moving musical medicine recital. He'd noticed that somewhere during the emotional display, Chris moved his hand to the glass. Five fingers splayed out, pressing hard against the cold divider. He saw the glint of moisture in Chris's eyes and heard the raspy breathing.
"She's good," Chris said thickly, damp eyes shifting from the monitor back to Vin's placid face. He didn't need to see the blinking red numbers, he'd felt the change. Vin was reaching out to the gifted nurse. In his dark world, he was lost, but not alone.
"She's better than good," Tyrone imparted, "My granny would say she has 'the gift'. I've seen her pull patients back that has no scientific reason to be living."
"Well now," she stood up and kept a clasp on Vin's hand. "Ye've company and hear I am pratherin' on and on... Ye'll have to excuse me, Lads, I've got the gift of gab, ye see. I'm Mollie Muldoon."
"Aren't you my fiance?" Buck asked, and saw the beautiful eyes crinkle up in affection.
"Are ye the father of me five babes, then?" She countered and drank in the deep laugh. "Leavin' us on the dole and me babes with no Da?"
"This is Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee," Tyrone directed. "How's he doing?"
"He's a bit off tonight," she gave the limp hand a good squeeze, "But I workin' on his temper. It's not a quitter I'll be tendin' to, and he knows it. His fever's down a bit and he's breathin's a wee bit better." She eyed Buck carefully and slid her gaze to Tyrone, who merely nodded once, confirming her suspicion. "Well then, it's to yer own beds. Buck, me boy, I'll be over to see ye when the sun wearin' her new dress."
"I think I'm in love Tyrone," Buck teased, patting his heart and giving her his best grin. He tried not to let it show, but it lingered. The headache, the sore throat, the ache in every bone, the urge to cough and the fever all spelled worry. "How's the weather in Elkton?" he inquired of the eloper's haven.
"Come on Romeo," Tyrone rolled his dark eyes. "Chris, I'll be right back," he helped Buck to stand and then waited.
"Mollie," Buck said somberly taking his eyes from Vin's waxen likeness to her face, "Keep him close, huh? We can't lose..." Buck swallowed hard and his voice broke. He rubbed his eyes and turned away, letting the doctor guide him to the bed his weary body sought so desperately.
She knew men like Buck Wilmington and they were impossible not to like, love even. He wore a patriot's heart, and wore it well. Brave lads like Buck fell too swiftly on battlefields around the world. She'd be damned if she'd lose two on her shift. She watched Tyrone settle him back in the bed and adjust his IV, adding more antibiotics. She shifted her eyes to the blond, Chris Larabee. The intensity in his eyes put the chill on her, right to the bone. The green eyes were bearing hard on Vin's face. She sensed a strong connection and felt his fear.
"He's a fighter," she drilled, "Don't ye be draggin' yer chin, not around him. I'll not tolerate that..." she warned protectively.
"He's a Tanner," Chris replied, "and thank you, Mollie Muldoon, for saving his life."
"Yer a wee bit generous there, Chris, I've not..."
"You have," Chris interjected, "I know... he knows... I can feel it. You're the only light he has... you're all he knows in that Hell he's lost in..." Chris paused and moved the chair closer to the intercom. "You hold on, Cowboy," his voice wavered a bit as the whoosh of the ventilator, the tube in Vin's throat and the one his nose all became too much to bear. "...or I'll kick your ass all the way back to Denver..." he broke off, hoarse and haggard. "Damn..." he whispered, dropping his head as the pressure built in his chest. What if Vin had no tomorrow? Suddenly the artificial breathing machine seemed to be hissing at him and the walls closed in quickly. His heart was pounding and his head throbbed. He felt Tyrone behind the chair, "Get me the hell out of here..." he gasped with a shuddering breath.
"Ye've got a good friend, there, Boy-o," she said to Vin, her heart aching for Chris Larabee. "He needs ya... yer Chris does." She read the blond easily and knew how hard he was struggling. "So ye buckle up and get yer blood boilin' again."
Despite the medicine to combat the pressure in his head and the ache in his leg, sleep didn't elude him. His dreams were dark and angry as he battled his subconscious. Tossing fitfully, his sweat drenched face was twisted in conflict. He awoke at dawn at was more exhausted than before he fell asleep. Tyrone gave him his pain meds and a large glass of juice. This time, the slumber was deep and heavy, he never moved. He didn't feel the cool water bath the fever or the sting of the antispetic on his wounds. There were no dreams, just a numbing sea surrounded by haunting blue eyes.
It was just after nine a.m. and Sandy Dunkirke was tired. He just about hit the cot, when his beeper went off. "Shit!" he hissed, reading the numbers. He dialed them wearily and rested his face against the wall near the phone. One hand remained on his face, before moving upwards through his tangled, golden locks. "What's up?" he paused and nodded, "Yes, Sir, I'll tell them and get right up to the Lab. Yes, Sir... Yes... I understand." He hung the phone up and made his way across the room. He bent over the small figure curled up on the cot and shook her arm.
"Whaaattt?" a groggy voice asked.
"Sorry Angie, you and Dennis got new orders. The Colonel just called. You two are to report back to base for a briefing at noon."
"Okay, I'll tell Dennis," she paused, "What about the others?" She referred to Sanchez, Dunne and Standish.
"They're being discharged later this morning, as soon as Dunne's IV is done and Tyrone gives him the once over. Good Luck," he wished and watched her gather her things and head out. He eyed the clock and sighed, "No rest for the weary..." he gobbled a bowl of cereal, tossed a cup of coffee back and grabbed a yogurt on his way upstairs to the Lab. Socrates was finally in town and the sooner they got their sample, the sooner they could develop the serum. He passed the quiet ER en route and updated Mollie. She just set a bowl of soapy warm water down beside a very flushed Buck Wilmington. They'd moved the stricken agent's bed across the room the night before. It now rested just next to the isolation chamber, giving Mollie quicker access to her two patients.
"How's he doing?"
"His fever's up, nearly 102," she said, wringing a cloth out.
He read the worry lines in her eyes and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Keep your head up, Irish, help's on the way. Socrates should be here any minute, Tanner's holding steady... his temp is down a little, just over 105."
"He's fightin', tis true," she lamented of Tanner, while wiping the handsome rogue's face. She found a smile as two blue eyes opened and one winked at her. "...but he's losin' hope, I can feel it, he's tirin' out..."
"Then you convince him to hold on," he eyed the clock, "With any luck, we'll have an antidote by this evening..."
"Then maybe it's his ear ye need to bend a wee bit," she nodded at the blond leader, who was struggling to sit up. "It's his voice Vin's waitin' to hear..."
Sandy nodded and backpedaled, meeting the blond across the room as he sat up and blinked.
Chris's head was pounding with a fury and the room was swimming. His leg throbbed and he already hated the restrictive binding on his arm. The first thing he noticed, through burning green eyes, was the empty space where his friend's bed had been.
"Buck!" he grabbed the railing, pushed the clamp and released the side, swinging his legs around. His impulsive actions were met by a seagreen wall of cotton.
"He's fine..." Sandy held the body firm.
"You're green..." Chris mumbled, still half asleep.
"No suits needed, just gowns and masks, it's not airborne." He noted then saw the eyes roving again. "He's over there, we moved him, so Mollie won't have to travel as far."
Chris looked across the room to where Mollie was bathing Buck and singing. He could hear Buck's voice and weak laughter. Buck always managed to find a smile; to use his humor to take the edge off of fear. "How is he... are they?"
"Tanner's holding his own, his temps down a little. Wilmington's temp is up just over 102 and he's exhibiting all the same signs your younger friend did. But, Socrates is here and I'm heading up the lab now, to help with the serum development."
"How soon?" Chris sighed, taking a glasss of water and some pills from the doctor.
"Tonight, suppertime, maybe..." Sandy took the probe from the blond's ear and smiled. "You're down to 99, that's great. Now let's change your leg dressing and you can have breakfast with Buck."
"How come he's not in a glass box?" Chris frowned, rolling over to give the physican access to his injured limb, "and... if... he's got what Vin has... why is... Vin... still in... there?" he clenched through his teeth as the pain in his leg accelerated rapidly.
"Vin's too weak to breathe on his own or fight off any infection. So as long as he's on that ventilator and comatose, he'll stay in there. It's protecting his immune system." The healing hands quickly did the change and then eased the leader to an upright position "After you eat and get some fluid in your system, Mollie will put the gown and gloves on you and you can visit with him." Sandy thought that Larabee would embrace that news. Hell, he damn near plowed a hole through them last night trying to get at the stricken agent. But he sat silent, no expression on his face. "Did you hear me, Chris?" he said gently, and saw the head rise.
"Yeah," he sighed, dejectedly. He couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of depression that engulfed him.
"You think he's on his way out and maybe you're just a little afraid to be in there alone with him... just in case..."
"It's not that..." Chris said, "I just... I guess seeing him like that... all those tubes running in him and a machine breathing for him." Chris ran a hand through his damp hair. "Hell, he even looks like a corpse... I wasn't prepared... it hit me hard..."
"That's understandable," Sandy agreed, "Given the situation you witnessed, your reaction was normal. When we see someone we care for in a state like that for the first time, the 'gut reaction' is "Jesus, he's dying..." He saw the troubled face nod and then rise to search his for an answer. "How about I help you get a shower, get you in some scrubs and get some food in you. Then, you'll feel better. What will help you and him the most is touching and talking. He needs to feel you're there for him, hear your voice, feel your touch. I've been doing this a lot of years, Chris and it works... it's the key ingredient. He's lost and he needs you as much as the serum."
Chris listened intently for several minutes and mulled over the doctor's advise. He thought carefully on the vivid image of Vin in the bed and the feelings it caused. He took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly the urge to be near Vin was overwhelming.
"Okay, Doc... lead the way..." He surrendered and sat down in the wheelchair.
"You need to chill, Ezra," Josiah advised, watching the pacing conman enter J.D.'s again. The restless soul was making regular trips through the room and down the hall. His response was a single glare before departing again.
"He's gettin' almost as good as Chris," J.D. noted of the irate look they'd gotten. "Buck still doesn't answer..." J.D. hung the phone up and picked up the remote control, channel surfing for something to watch. "Hey... it's Major Taylor..." he put the remote down and eyed the door "Ezra!!! Ezra!!!"
"I was right outside the door and the use of unnecessary force was not warranted." Ezra said, striding in the room. "Where is the fire?"
"There!" J.D. pointed, turning up the volume.
"...break late last night," The Major continued, "Chris Larabee, the leader of the ATF team and a patient in the restricted area, regained consciousness and revealed vital information to us of a conversation he had with Ms. Newlander. She told him the agent she infected Mr. Tanner with was 'homegrown', and we've now determined it to be an especially virulent strain of Streptococcus Pneumoniae, that she developed. We also found out, from this conversation and research work we've now discovered in her Denver Lab, that she used several primates in her experimentation. One survived, his name is Socrates and he's now inside the Lab. From him, we'll be able to develop a serum for Socrate's Fever, which this new strain has been named."
"What exactly is that and how is it spread?" a reported asked.
"It's a violent bacterial infection and spread by direct contact. The symptoms are high fever, chills, headache, joint ache, stiff neck and lung congestion. Buck Wilmington, whose heroic actions on the beach saved Vin Tanner's life that night, has also come down with the Fever. He is the only new victim and that is due to his CPR effort. He's being treated in same fashion and will get the serum as well. We hope to begin administration of it by later this evening. Agents Sanchez, Standish and Dunne will be released later today. That's all I have for now..." She moved away from the podium, despite the questions tossed at her.
"Well, I guess you got the news..." Tyrone said, watching the three glum faces. "Hey, don't bury them, yet. You two can go, the guards will escort you downstairs, there's a Mr. Travis waiting for you. Dunne will join you later, when his IV is done and I've finished his physical. Go on..."
"Can't we visit Chris and Buck?" Josiah asked, beating Ezra to the punch.
"Not now," he eyed the clock, "The Major is really strict about that. They need to rest and are considered the equivilent to ICU patients. She's set up visiting hours for restricted personnel of one p.m. to three p.m and five p.m to seven p.m." He saw the angry faces and put a hand up. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. Look, your boss wants to talk to you, you need to give a statement to the FBI and the local police. You also need to get some clothes and stuff. Your wallets, weapons and other personel affects are being held by Travis. I'd suggest after the briefing, you get settled in the hotel room he set up and get some lunch."
"Can we bring them stuff?" J.D. asked, "...and when can I leave?"
"In an hour and a half or so," Tyrone dictated. "You want to bring chow in here, that's fine. As a matter of fact, there's some old furniture down the hall downstairs, a sofa, some chairs and tables. You could set up a visiting area on the far end of the ER. Just a thought..."
"Alright," Josiah rose, held a hand out. "Thanks for everything. Come on, Ezra, Orin don't like to be kept waiting."
"Is that repulsive reptile with him?" Ezra asked, remaining by J.D.
"Who?" Tyrone laughed, taking a sample of blood.
"Flushing." J.D winced and held the cotton ball over his arm.
"Oh," he shrugged, "No, he was alone."
"I'll be back, J.D.," Ezra said, "If that's acceptable, to escort you out of here."
"Thanks, Ez." J.D. nodded gratefully. Finally, Tyrone was done and he was alone. He shut the television off and laid back, thinking on the hours to come. Would they get the serum to Buck and Vin in time? Would he friends survive? Was there a miracle on the horizon?
It was a wonderful sensation; he was floating in a deep aqua sea and the cooling waves of water felt unbelievable. Then there was that lilting voice nearby, sending ripples of comfort through his aching torso. He felt her hands on his face and concentrated on the words.
He was born and raised in Ireland in a place called Castlemaine.
He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy.
And dearly did his parents love the wild colonial boy.
At the early age of sixteen years, he left his native home.
And to Australia's sunny shore he was inclined to roam.
He robbed the rich, he helped the poor, he shot James McAvoy.
A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy."
He peeled an eye open and unleased his best smile, stopping the lovely song in it's tracks. He saw her bend closer and was mezmerized by the bright emerald eyes.
"...ain't that a crime of some sort?" He gasped, sitting up and unleashing a string of coughs. He grabbed the chrome bedrail and hung on, the violent coughing spell caused tears to spring up.
"Easy Lad," she cooed, rubbing his back and waiting.
"...hidin' something as beautiful as you behind all them masks?" He coughed again, doubling over and losing a mouthful of watery phlegm. The effort caused a wave of pain up his back and neck, splitting his already pounding head. "Fuck..."
"Watch yer mouth, Sailor!" she warned, wiping his face and easing him back against the pillows.
"Sorry," Buck gasped, taking several long breaths and finally regaining his composure.
"When's that miracle cure coming?" he teased, hoping to dispell the butterflies in his gut.
"This evenin'," she replied, handing him a mouthful of ice chips. "There now, isn't that grand?" She knew his throat was sore and the coughing only made it worse.
"It ain't Guiness or Jamison's, but it'll do."
"Now why did I know ye'd be a rouser?"
"A who?" Buck finally felt a little better.
"Using that handsome face and what I'm sure is a fine voice to lure unsuspecting young lovlies over the brim of a pint?"
"Are you sure you've never been to Denver?" Buck teased, laughing and falling softly into the valleys of her voice.
"I'd have remembered you, Love," she smiled, stroking his flushed, warm face, "...and that's a fact."
"Marry me?" Buck raised his eyebrows and his hopes.
"How about ye help me finish me song first?" She brushed an errant lock of his dark hair. "I chose it special fer ye, it suits ye..." she noted of 'The Wild Colonial Boy'.
"It's one of my favorites." Buck admitted, "I'm a big fan of Irish folk music and have quite a collection of CD's.
"Well, then," she gave him another spoon of ice chips. "Let's hear what ye've got, Buck me boy."
"One morning on the prairie as Jack he rode along. Listening to the mockingbird a singing a cheerful song. Out stepped a band of troopers, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy. They all set out to capture him, the wild colonial boy" Buck crooned, feeling his spirits rising a bit. He saw her eyes widen in surprise at the quality of his voice. He rested a bit, letting her take the next verse.
"Surrender now Jack Duggan for you see we're three to one. Surrender in the Queen's high name for you're a plundering son" She sang defiantely, acting out the part and nodding to Buck to reprise his role. He smiled and nodded, using his hands to form make-shift pistols.
"Jack pulled two pistols from his belt and he proudly waved them high. 'I'll fight, but not surrender.' said the wild colonial boy." Buck grinned and continued. "He fired a shot at Kelly, which brought him to the ground. He fired point blank at Davis, too, who fell dead at the sound." Buck paused and nodded, his pretty nurse stepped right in, took his hand and joined him for the last line.
"A bullet pierced his proud young heart from the pistol of Fitzroy. And that was how they captured him, the wild colonial boy." She laughed through the end, when Buck dramatically clutched his heart and 'died'.
"Ye've a fine voice," she admired, smiling under her mask. The affection reached up to her eyes, crinkled in mirth. "Truly, ye do..."
"Thanks Mollie," a new voice added dryly, "His head barely gets through the door on good days now."
"You're just jealous 'cause you don't have two 'Open Mic Night Awards'." Buck defended, grasping the hand offered warmly. "...and your not..." he coughed, doubling over and felt the hand leave his, patting his back firmly. "... not... overnight... sensation... at... Sean...a...chie...s..."
"Seanachies?" Mollie's head lifted, meeting Chris Larabee's concerned eyes hovering over his mask.
"An Irish Pub near Buck's place at home," the leader replied, "Buck fancies himself to be a singer."
"Fancie's hell..." Buck choked, gripping Chris's hand for all it was worth, waiting for his pain-wracked body to recover. "You're... just... just... jealous..."
"Yeah, that must be it, Buck," Chris deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Mollie watched the two and saw a lot of history and feeling between them. The kind of friendship that never breaks. The kind that even though a few years and miles might separate, would always.
"Well, now, Buck need his rest," she said, pushing him back on the pillows.
"Never," Buck rasped with a bold wink and twinkle in his eye. "A Wilmington never sleeps on the job. I'm ready whenever you are, Mollie."
"Ye couldn't afford me, Darlin' Buck," She countered, patting his leg affectionately and eyeing Chris's concerned eyes. "Don't be long, Chris. I've got a new gown and such waitin'..." she noted of the visit with Vin.
"I'll be right there, Mollie," he replied, as she made her way to the small room adjacent to the isolation room. "So Bucko, how's go it?"
"Aw, hell, Chris, I'm okay," Buck complained, easing his aching torso onto the cool sheets. "This bug has met it's match!' He vowed and saw the green eyes lighten up a bit. "Mollie says Vin's holdin' his own... that's good. That boy is the toughest SOB I've ever met, he'll pull through, Chris..." Buck promised, dissolving again into a fit of coughing. He curled on his side and once more felt Chris's hand on his back.
"Easy there Big Guy," Chris teased, "Save that hot air for Mollie's ears."
Buck laughed weakly as the medication kicked in and his heavy eyes fell. Chris waited until he was sleeping and studied every well known feature with a cautious eye. Buck and Vin, his two b est friends... he shuddered and pushed the thought away.
"Don't leave, Buck..." he whispered, patting the heavybreather's shoulder and departing towards the isolation room. He didn't talk while Mollie got him ready and wisely, she remained silent. With a firm squeeze to his arm, helped him inside and to a chair near the bed. He first reacton was to quell the rebellious efforts in his stomach. His breakfast was dancing in glee inside, anxious to re-emerge. He hand trembled and he took a huge breath, trying to get a grip on his racing emotions. Finally, he found the strength to pick up the limp hand, hissing audibly at the icy fingers, a corpse's grip.
"Jesus..." He dropped the hand and pressed his back into the chair, away from Vin.
"It's the cold blanket," Mollie reassured, "His skin feels like ice, but that's needed to get his temperature down. Go on..." she coached.
He took a deep breath and started again. He picked up the limp hand and wrapped his fingers around it. He leaned over a bit, his heart hammering with Machine Gun rapidity. He bit his lower lip and swallowed the acidic bile that managed to get as far as his mouth. The whooshing of the ventilator and the tubes running rampant distressed him. His hand trembled and he opened his mouth, but couldn't find any words. The pale face, so thin now and the shell-like lids covering those eyes he so needed to see were troubling.
Vin felt the change. Deep within the black hole that had become his home, he felt fear replace hope. Something was wrong... very wrong. Tremors of quivering trepidation wore cloaks of anxiety. He felt the fear close in, flapping it's wings in his face and smothering him.
*"Angel... where are ye?... I can't breathe... don't leave me... somethin's wrong... God, is this it? Don't go, Angel... not now... Angel?"*
"What?" Chris stammered, eyeing the heart monitor's racing numbers and moving as Mollie pulled his hand away. He saw the change in Vin's respirations, reflected in the nurse's worried eyes.
"There now, Darlin' Boy?" she coaxed, picking up his limp hand. She used the other hand to
stroke his face and brush his hair. "I'm sorry... yer fine... easy Lad... ye've a visitor. So best foot forward now, do ye hear?" She paused, eyes flicking to the monitor which was starting to level out. "Yer Chris is here... he's waitin' to see ye. I'll not leave ye, Bonny Vin," she cupped his face and smiled. "Ye've got me word on that. So ye stop this fussin' and behave, now..." She pulled back and turned to the pinched Larbee features.
She lowered her voice and whispered. "I know yer a wee bit frightened, it's takes adjustin' to, but ye've got to remember, Chris, he can feel ye. He can sense yer fear, that's what set that monitor off. He needs yer confidence, yer strength... he needs yer faith, Chris, as much as any medicine." She saw the eyes lock onto hers and waited for the blond head to dip once. She lifted his hand and merged it with Vin's, then stepped out to the doroway.
Chris took a deep breath and pulled every bit of internal fortitude he could muster into a surging wave. He gripped the hand fiercely and rested it against his own cheek. He leaned over far, his lips hovering near Vin's ear. "Hey, Cowboy..."
Mollie smiled and felt tears welling as the heart monitor leveled out and Vin's breathing was even and true. "Aye, Lad," she choked quietly, "Yer Chris... he found ye..."
Buck rested his aching eyes a minute, before resuming his lunch. The rich chicken soup went down easy and now he was picking at a turkey sandwich. He took a long sip from the straw resting in a bottle of ice tea and watched Chris through the glass. He sighed and put the bottle back on the tray. Chris looked scared to death, his face was a pale mask, somber and sullen. His eyes, however, told a different story. They shifted uneasily, every few minutes, from the sharpshooter's still face, to the many tubes running in his helpless body and then winced at the hissing breathing machine.
"Give 'im hell, Chris..." he whispered, "...get him riled up... don't just sit... there..." he faded away, letting the medicine work and shutting out the harsh lights that hurt his throbbing head.
"Shit..." Chris sighed, letting Vin's hand go for a moment to flex his fingers. He winced as the limp appendage made a dull thump, when it hit the bed. "Sorry... " he flinched, still not able to adjust to the nearly gray skintone and the cold fingers. He leaned forward, shook the circulation back into his hand and picked up the icy hand again. "How come this comes so easy to Mollie? She's only known you a few days and she knows just the right thing to say. You're my best friend and I can't think of a fuckin' word..." he sighed and cocked his head, nearly hearing a raspy chuckle emerge from the slack lips. "You're laughin' your skinny ass off somewhere, aren't you?" He paused and furrowed his brows, as his mind began to spin. He studied the fine features on the pale face and looked past the gastro tube and ventilator hose. "You know Vin, some of the best conversations I've ever had, have been with you, the ones where we don't say a word. I guess that's one of the things that makes it easy. You're the perfect fit, Cowboy..." his voice tensed up as suddenly his throat narrowed, "... so don't you get any half-assed ideas about checkin' out..." The brief spill of nouns and verbs left him silent again. He looked up as Mollie entered the room, quickly coming to Vin's side.
"Did ye have a nice visit then?" she asked Vin, wiping his face. "I'll be right back, Boy-o," she noted, before turning back to Chris.
"Already?" He asked and saw the nurse's head nod.
"It's been over a half-hour, Love," she moved behind the wheelchair. "...and ye need yer rest as well. Ye have yer lunch, take a nice nap and then I'll bring ye back this evenin'. Plus yer friends are comin' in a bit."
"Okay," Chris decided and leaned forward over the rail, studying every inch of Vin's face. His stomach lurched again, as the fear rose up and gripped him good. What if Vin slipped away while he was gone. "I'm not real hungry..."
"Nice try," Mollie sympathized, seeing the mix of yearing and fear on his handsome features.
"Vin, I gotta go," Chris relayed, squeezing the frigid fingers. "The boys are visiting. You know how fidgety J.D. is..." he paused and licked his dry lips, "I'll be back, Vin, I promise, okay?" He carefully placed the hand under the sheet and moved his own free hand higher. "I'm right here..." he rasped, tapping the cold chest over the fighting Texan's heart.
Orin Travis stopped in the entryway, adjusting the gown and mask. He was slightly ahead of the three released ATF agents. He paused as their footsteps were heard and waited until they joined him. A slim figure with bright green eyes approached, greeting them warmly.
"Mr. Travis is it?" Mollie asked, nodding to the eldest of the quartet. "I'm Mollie Muldoon and I've been takin' care of the lads." She took a few minutes to update them on their friends conditions and then paused again. "We've set up a visting area just over there," she pointed to a cluster of sofas and chairs with two tables between them. "Once Buck and Vin are stronger... in the meantime, I can take two of ye to see Vin..."
"I'll go," Orin said and saw Ezra step forward, "and Mr. Standish will as well."
"Good," she nodded, "Buck and Chris are both sleepin', but yer welcome to wait..." she eyed the clock, it was ten past one p.m. "Ye've got until three..."
"Thanks," Josiah nodded, eyeing the heaving chest of J.D. Dunne. "You alright, J.D.?"
"Yeah," the youth whispered, trying to control his urge to vomit. He was glad he'd picked a light lunch at the coffee shop in the hotel. His stomach was a massive, churning pool of acid. He watched Orin and Ezra follow the nurse and then took a hesitant step towards Buck's bed.
"Go on," Josiah prompted, "I'll sit with Chris."
It was the longest journey that the Bostonian ever took. It seemed to take forever until he was finally at Buck's side. The roses that scored the rogue's cheeks were unsettling. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to get rid of the band around his chest and keep his lunch intact. His eyes filled when the words 'potentially fatal' loomed again. He kept his back to the glass, not bringing himself to look at Vin. Twice he moved around the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot.
"Jesus Kid, you're wearin' me out..." Buck whispered, keeping his eyes closed.
"Buck?"
"No, Mel Gibson..." Buck replied, peeling an eye open. He smiled warmly and reached a hand up. "Hey Kid... You're lookin' good. I was afraid Ezra might damage you." He teased and saw the youth's Adam's apple bobbing fearfully. He also saw the large eyes filling up and felt the deathgrip on his hand. "Ease up there, Son, I gotta use this hand again..."
"Huh?" J.D. blinked, "Oh, sorry Buck... Uh... How you doing?" J.D. winced as soon as the words came out. "Shit!" he pulled his hand back and slapped the chrome railing. "...fuckin' stupid thing to say..."
Buck smiled at the flashing eyes and colorful words, "Watch that mouth," he teased, "You're hangin' around that testy Texan too much!" Buck was joking, but the smile left his face when he saw J.D. blanch and avert his gaze. Puzzled, he was about to inquire on J.D.'s strange reaction, when Tyrone approached.
"You didn't finish your lunch," the doctor eyed the half-eaten sandwich and untouched brownie. He placed two bottles of coke on the tray.
"I was hopin' to get some help..." Buck relayed. "...it's awful hard to combat these dizzy spells."
"Oh," Tyrone picked up the sandwich, "Why didn't you say something. I can..."
"Nothing personal, Tyrone," Buck raised an eyebrow, "But your dainty hands ain't the ones I was hopin' to lure... uh... get help from."
"Uh-huh..." Tyrone put the sandwich down and smiled, "You waitin' on Mollie?"
"Well, she is a helluva sight prettier than you, " Buck returned, "...smells better too..."
"He always this shy?" Tyrone asked the dark haired youth who remained silent.
"J.D.?" Buck said gently and shook his head at Tyrone.
"What?" J.D. blinked and saw both men eyeing him funny. "Sorry... thanks for the soda..."
"No problem," The doctor nodded, "I'll be back later, Romeo..."
"Thanks, Man..." Buck nodded and trained his eyes on the troubled youth.
"Spill it, Kid..."
"I can't..." J.D. denied, "Don't ask me, Buck, not now..."
"J.D., I ain't gonna die," He tried, "You got Buck..."
"Don't say that!" J.D. flinched, "Don't make a promise you can't keep," his voice rose in anger.
"Dammit, J.D. that's enough!" Buck pressed his aching head back into the pillows. He felt a straw nudging his lips and peeled an eye open. J.D.'s hand wavered a bit, and Buck covered it, steadying the bottle and taking a long draw. "Thanks..." He waited until J.D. took his own bottle and put his uneasy body in to the chair.
"I'm sorry, Buck, I didn't mean to upset you..."
"That's okay, J.D.," Buck's head was pounding now and he shut his eyes again. "This headache is wearin' on me a little, so I'm gonna close my eyes. How about you telling me what Josiah did to keep them guards upstairs from killing Ezra?" The voice was hesistant at first, but then the words spilled out. Although they lacked the usual Dunne enthusiasm, they were appreciated. Every now and again, Buck opened his eyes. He noticed J.D. never turned around, he kept his back to the isolation room. The youth's words faded away as the patient returned to his fitful sleep.
"Well, Darlin' Boy, it's yer day fer visitors," Mollie boomed, stroking his face and crooning a few soft Gaelic words. "Ezra and Orin are here, so best foot forward now..." she turned to leave and saw the heart monitor jumping. "What's all this then?" she frowned, taking his hand. "Don't be shoutin' at me, Vin Tanner!" She paused, watching the erratic signals.
"Is something wrong?" Orin asked and saw the pretty nurse turn and whisper.
"Before ye came, I just finished cleanin' out his breathin' tube. It's painful and upsettin to him." She turned back and leaned over the bed. "Ye missed yer song? Is that it?" she brushed her fingers across his forehead. "Well then, we'll make a short one..." She did a few verses of the sad song, Molly Malone, keeping her eyes on the monitor. Finally, the numbers evened out. "Yer a spoiled Lad, ye know that?" She teased, "I'm not leavin' ye... Orin and Ezra want a word. I'll be back..."
She waited for one of the men to step forward and finally Ezra did, taking the cold hand. They'd been instructed on the importance of speaking and touching. It was not something the staid southerner was used to, but for Vin Tanner, he'd make an exception. He paused and looked at the nurse, still marveling at the effect she had on Vin's vital signs.
"You, Dear Lady, are a rare jewel, glittering in a sea of desperation."
"Another silver-tongued devil," she smiled, "Yer Buck has a way with words too."
"Mr. Wilmington is a modern day Renaissance man," Ezra replied, "and a wonder of medical science." He raised an eyebrow and she laughed, immediately getting his message.
"Twenty minutes," she warned, departing.
"You know Vin," Ezra started, leaning over the rail and trying to push away the awful hissing of the breathing machine. "This business of standing over your unconscious torso is getting all too familiar. I'm afraid I shall be forced to start charging you a bedside fee. Then again, your inability to retain anything higher than a five dollar bill would present a problem."
"...snake..." Vin thought, listening to the new voice. It confused him, the image didn't match the voice. It wasn't a harsh sound, although there were so many words and they sounded like a Sunday best suit, he liked the sound. "...fuzzy snake... fuzzy, warm snake... don't stop talkin'... it feels good... them fancy words... fuzzy snake... yer good... stay... keep talkin..."
"...and furthermore," Ezra continued, keeping his eye trained on the steady numbers on the monitors, "you are in desperate need of one of your gastronomical extravaganzas. The ability to count your ribs is much too disturbing. I dare say I will be responsible for the tab at Mad Max's..." He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the Tex Mex bar that Vin and J.D. went to after practice. "Good Lord, I must be getting delirious." He saw Orin moving in and noticed that half of their time had elapsed. He bent lower, putting himself nearer to Vin's gray face. He kept his grip with one hand, and moved the other to pat the icy skin on the bony shoulder. "Your journey is not yet done, my friend. Fate led us on the same road and I would be lost on this path without your light. So come back to vista that leads to the stream," he thought on Vin's favorite mountain haunt. He'd spent a morning with him a few months back, watching in amazement as Vin's skilled eye captured breathtaking images of nature and wildlife on film. "I'll be waiting..."
It was after seven p.m. when the visitors left. Chris watched Tyrone take a large trash bag with pizza boxes, soda bottles and other snacks remnants away. It was good to see them again, having come so close to losing those who he held near. Buck managed to stay awake and eat some pizza, but Chris saw the rapid progress of the infection. Buck's fever was up and pain was etched in his sweating features. Mollie had put a cold blanket on him and bathed him at regular intervals. He took a deep breath and watched the clock.
"Can I see him?" Chris asked Tyrone, who had returned from his trip to the trash dumpster. He donned new gloves and garments and eyed the glass room. "There getting ready to bring the serum down." He saw the blond head shoot up and the greens eyes widen in hope. "How about you wait by Buck and I'll check with the Major?"
So Chris waited patiently, upset by the horrid breathing that Buck was producing through the slight opening in his mouth. Seeing the robust, gregarious charmer so still and silent, was upsetting and gave his stomach cause to churn.
"Dammit, Buck, say something," he pleaded quietly, but the lips remained silent. He watched a flurry of movement as Major Taylor, Sandy and another man quickly entered the glass room. He swiveled his body around and saw the tall, dark-skinned woman step forward and introduce the antidote to Vin's body. Sandy emerged and made his way to Buck's side, imitating the effort.
"How soon?" Chris asked.
"No way to tell, we're gonna keep a close eye on both of them. If the fever starts to come down, then we'll know we're on the road home." He watched the blond head turn and study Vin's prone body. "As soon as the Major is done with him..." he answered the silent call. Chris nodded and watched as Vin's tube was cleaned out. He clutched the arm of his wheelchair when the slight body jerked and coughed. He bit his lip so hard, he felt pain. Then it was over and he left out his breath. Mollie remained by Vin's side throughout the ordeal, talking to him and rubbing his back. Finally he saw the Major speaking with the man by Vin's bed.
"That's Roger Davenport, he's the head of the team from the CDC," Sandy supplied, recording Buck's vital signs. He waited until they appeared by Buck and moved Chris out of the way and got him fresh gloves and a mask. He placed the concerned leader next to his best friend and eyed the clock. The drug had been in the fallen man's system for thirty minutes. "I'll be right back," he said, leaving to ask Mollie a question. The nurse was speaking with Kendra about Buck Wilmington. Chris nodded and took up Vin's limp hand.
"Hey Cowboy, it's me... they shot you up with the good stuff. They put the cure in you... " Chris paused, willing the closed lids to open. "So you get ass in gear and fight this fuckin' thing." He gave the hand a good squeeze and kept his silent vigil.
"...where were ya..." Vin reached out, not knowing the name but embracing the deep feeling. the voice brought. He felt strongest when the hard voice was near. He felt like he was winning the fight, that as long as the hard voice and strong hand held him, he could win. "...I'm tryin'... fightin' like hell... don't go again... I need ya here... need yer spirit... I... Oh God... Oh God... Oh God... what's wrong... Oh God... No... No...No..."
"Vin!" Chris screamed, standing on his bad leg and nearly buckling over. The still body suddenly lurched, limbs twitching and jerking in pulsating spasms. Vin's back bucked and sent the tubes into a wicked dance. His head twisted back and forth and his neck was rigid, every vein standing at attention. Foam leaked through the tape securing the tube to Vin's mouth. "Jesus fuckin' Christ!" he screamed, "No... No..." he protested as he was forced back into his chair and a sea of green cloaked bodies invaded the room.
"He's seizing!" Sandy called, shoving the wheelchair outside and into the main aisle. Then the door shut and the curtains closed. Chris remained frozen, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his mouth a twin of the Sahara. He clumsily moved the chair over to where he could see the large glass wall. His eyes turned to Buck, who remained still and quiet. Vin...the image of the twisting limbs caused a ache so terrific in his chest, he pushed his hand against the bandaged shoulder.
"Don't take him," Chris whispered, eyeing the cross on the wall above the glass room.
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