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: I want to thank the kind, generous and understanding editor, aka KET, for effortlessly going through this with her red pen. Thanks Pard, you got no idea how relieved I am to have my 'assets' covered. I am very very grateful, KET, thanks a million.
An extra special thanks to KET for becoming a one person ER team and putting color, texture and all the right medical jazz into this section. I can thank you enough, Pard!
On the fourth floor of the sprawling complex, a team was working. Eager to accomplish their goal before the deadline, they completed their tasks in quiet compatibility. There were ten men and women whose talents had made the company a huge success. The voice on the intercom broke their concentration.
"Kathryn Larabee to the Q, Kathryn Larabee to the Q..."
The other nine looked up from their consoles but the attractive, petite blond woman didn't move. Eyeing each other, one of the team left her console and approached the worried face.
"Want me to come with you?" Pat Holiday offered.
"No," Kate rose, smiling at her best friend. She'd known Pat for over twenty years and there wasn't much they didn't share. She accepted a hug from the brunette and sighed heavily. The 'Q' was the communication center on the first floor. Usually being summoned meant an international call, and normally, it was just business. But this time, the blond knew something was different. This call was from Mexico. She'd bet on it. "But thanks, Pat."
"Hey, those two are a cut above," she praised of Chris Larabee and his father. "They'll be fine. I got a feeling it's good news."
"I hope so..." Kate replied, taking her I.D. badge and swiping the monitor that allowed the automatic door to open.
Ten minutes later, she was at a desk and eyeing the blinking button on the phone. She took a deep breath, eyed her wedding ring and picked up the phone.
"This is Kathryn Larabee."
"My name's Nathan Jackson, ma'am. I work with your son." A heavy sigh sounded across the long distance phone line as the former Marine continued, "I got good news."
She smiled, closed her eyes and let the tears roll freely down her face. She nodded, listening intently to every word the man spoke. Finally, she found her voice although it wavered badly from the intensity of her emotions.
"Thank you, Nathan. You've given this mother her first smile in two weeks. I'll be on the first plane to El Paso. Give my thanks to all the men...for all they've done."
Later, as she drove to the airport, she couldn't help notice the sun was shining just a little brighter and the air smelled a little bit sweeter.
While the two gravely injured men lay limp and unaware, the busy ER team bustled around them. Orders were given, vital signs were taken and recorded, intravenous fluids noted and the extensive injuries catalogued and assessed. Life sustaining oxygen, antibiotics and more of the desperately needed fluids were administered to the unresponsive and horribly battered bodies. The tattered clothes were cut away, the wounds given a superficial cleaning and examined for further treatment.
Terry Miller zipped quickly between the two tables taking blood samples from both men. She attached the printed labels and handed them to the orderly to take to the lab for analysis. She returned as the medical resident was examining the head wound on the long-haired man.
"He needs a full skull series as soon as possible," Hasem Malik directed, then eyed the blue and purple chest. "Let's get the radiology tech in here for a portable chest film too. Have you gotten a temperature on him yet? He's burning up.."
"One-hundred two point five..." Terry replied, eyeing the latest reading.
"Let's put him on a cooling blanket and give him some rectal Tylenol, 650 milligrams," the resident dictated. "We need to get that temperature down before he has a seizure."
The veteran ER nurse nodded and and watched the skilled resident continue his analysis.
"Oh, and Terry, would you help me turn him on his side? I need to take a look at his back," the doctor then requested. "Be careful though. The medic said he wasn't moving his legs so we may be dealing with a spinal cord injury."
"Sure," she nodded, assisting the resident as they carefully rolled the injured patient. Seeing the large black and purple bruise as well as the angry second degree burns on his lower back, the nurse commented, "...that doesn't look good..."
Malik carefully palpated the injured area but did not find any signs of obvious deformity in the spine. Signaling to the nurse, they again gently turned the young man and settled him back down on the stretcher. "As soon as X-ray gets here, I also want C, T and L-spines done and let MRI know we'll probably be coming up for both a head scan and a complete spine series as soon as possible."
"Yes, doctor," she replied before leaving the exam room to carry out his orders. Returning a moment later, Terry found the resident still examining his newest patient, frowning with concern at the numerous bug bites, contusions and abrasions.
"Who's on call for the burn team?" he inquired without looking up.
Terry consulted a list she kept in the pocket of her nursing jacket before she replied, "That would be Dr. Johansson. Want me to page him?"
"Yeah," Malik replied. "Tell him we've got about a fifteen percent second degree burn I want him to look at. And you might as well get plenty of saline for him to clean and irrigate the area with. There's a lot of debris that needs to be removed and the wounds look infected. I don't imagine he'll want to put any Bactroban on it but you might get some of that special antibiotic ointment they use from pharmacy. And while he's down here, have him take a look at these wounds on the chest as well. They look like burns too except they are older than the ones on his back."
His dark eyes then moved down to the patient's thigh. "This leg wound is grossly infected as well. It needs to be opened up and drained but he's not in any shape to take to the OR right now. Let's get a minor wound tray up and lots of betadine and irrigation and let me see what I can do down here. Did he get any IV antibiotics?"
The nurse nodded her head, "Two grams of IV Cefazolin," and then added, "We also gave a tetanus booster in the shoulder."
"Okay, good," the resident exclaimed as he removed his gloves and went to the sink to wash his hands. "See what you can do about getting this guy cleaned up and let me know when you've got the preliminary films and blood work back. Did MRI say how long it would be before they're ready?"
"The tech said to give them at least twenty minutes."
Malik nodded his head. "Okay, let me take a quick look at this other guy and then if I've got some time, I'll see about opening that leg up before he goes upstairs." Having completed his initial exam, he moved away, leaving the nurse to take charge of the injured man. The young doctor moved to the second gurney, his second patient an unconscious blond male.
"How's he doing?"
"Not a whole lot better than the first one," another nurse replied. "His blood pressure is one-hundred over sixty with a pulse of one-fifteen. Respirations are twenty-four and shallow, breath sounds somewhat diminished on the right. Temperature is one-hundred and one and he is still unconscious."
"Looks like he took one in the side," Malik responded, then slipped on a pair of examining gloves and sighed heavily. "Okay, let's start with the basics. I need a portable chest and C-spine. It's possible he may have some broken ribs on the right so I need the films back ASAP. Let's also insert a nasogastric tube and give 500cc's of contrast. Let CT know we need an abdominal scan for possible penetrating trauma."
He then eyed the many wounds on the man's upper torso. "These cuts aren't too deep..." and examined the burns on his side. ". . .looks like second degree again. Have Johansson take a look at this guy too. In the meantime, let's get him cleaned up and put a moist dressing over the site."
Moving downward, he gently examined the grossly swollen right knee. "We need some plain films here as well and possibly follow that up with an MRI depending on what we find." Looking up at one of the nurses and an orderly, he said, "Okay, let's turn him..."
"Minor cuts and bruises..." He eyed the exit wound of the bullet and then saw another wound. "That's an odd place for a wound... looks infected..."
"...rat... bite..."
"Mister Larabee?" The nurse responded to the weak voice and bent down to look at his face.
"..Chris..." the dizzy man managed. "...I got bit... awhile... don't know... how long... a few days before we got kidnapped. I was... was... taking... pills... ER in... Taos..."
"Okay, not to worry," Malik teased, relieved that at least one of his patients had regained consciousness. "I don't think we'll have to amputate. I'll clean it up good and get you some antibiotics for that."
"...where...?" he began, pausing to lick his dry lips. Then he saw the other limp body lying across the way. "V...Vin...?"
"You're in El Paso at the army base. Your friend is here too." The nurse moved so he could see a trio of staff cleaning up Vin Tanner's wounds. The green eyes furrowed as if troubled and then stared hard at the other man's chest, watching it slowly rise and fall.
"How... bad...?" he hissed as the doctor probed the infected area.
"I won't know until we get all the test results back but his head wound seems to be quite serious and I don't like the look of his leg." The doctor reached for some peroxide and a cotton-tipped swab to explore the wound. "I'd say you have a few battles of your own to fight. I'm putting you on some antibiotics for the infection and that should help bring down your fever."
The resident continued working as he inquired, "What happened to your leg and what can you tell me about the wound in your side?"
"...leg... walk... hurt... then... numb... uh... I... was... it... was... hit by a... a... large... piece of wood... on... the... side.."
"Okay, but you were able to put weight on it?"
"Y...yeah... couldn't bend..."
"All right." He tapped Chris's abdomen close to the region of the bullet wound. "Have you been passing blood or had pain in this area?"
"...no... blood... all... clear... uh... ribs hurt... belly okay..."
"Good... we'll get some x-rays and probably a CAT scan of your abdomen..." the doctor noted. "Do you think you could drink some contrast for us?"
Chris gasped as another wave of pain and nausea rolled over him. His parched lips parted and a groan escaped.
"Hey, stay awake!" A nurse tapped the sunburned face. "You gonna get sick?"
"No... don't think... so..." the blond managed, his eyes trained on Vin Tanner's battered body. The Texan's cranky voice filled his head. "...feel like... stir-fried shit...!"
The nurse laughed and wrinkled her nose, hearing the others chuckle. "That sums it up nicely, I'd say!"
"...another Vinner..." he whispered of Tanner's many quaint expressions that kept them in stitches.
Doctor Malik paused and eyed the younger man who was still being cleaned up. "What can you tell me about your friend?"
"...he's got am...nes...ia..." Chris coughed.
"Mister Tanner has amnesia?" Malik gently cleaned the wounded posterior and then bandaged it before rolling the blond man over onto his back.
"...flashes... of stuff... but mostly he can't remember anything... he sort of knows me..." Chris paused, hearing the nurses across the aisle reciting Vin's vital signs.
"What else?" The physican asked.
"...fell on a rock... can't use legs... burned back..."
The doctor listened as the feverish man slowly recounted as much of the other's injuries as he could.
"Sounds like we have our work cut out for us..." He paused as the nurse brought in the container of liquid contrast. "After you finish your scan, we're going to push your IV fluids... that will help ease the dehydration."
"...don't... let... him... die..."
"He's critical but stable at the moment and I don't plan on letting him die on my watch," Malik assured him with a gentle smile. "Does he have any allergies or other medical conditions we should know about?" the resident asked, thinking of the amnesia.
"...hypo...gly...cemic... uh... shellfish... and he's AB negative..."
"Good, thanks..." Malik removed his gloves and reached for Chris's chart. "I'm going to put you on some IV Flagyl. It's an antibiotic for your bite wound. After that, the nurses will get you cleaned up and have you drink some contrast for your scan." Handing the order sheet off, he continued, "Once we have the plain films back on your knee, we may or may not need to get an MRI as well."
"Sur... surgery?" Chris managed to rasp.
"That's always a possibility but I doubt the orthopedic surgeons will want to work on it tonight." Malik saw the exhausted green gaze eyeing the other injured man. "We'll be admitting you both to ICU after your tests are done and as long as your abdominal scan is negative, I'll see about ordering a light tray of food for you if you feel up to it."
The blond barely managed to nod, worry and fatigue fighting for dominance on his bruised and sun-burned features.
The young doctor placed a hand on his arm, bringing those green eyes to meet his own. "Try not to worry," he advised. "He's made it this far and he'll get the best medical care possible."
After a moment, Chris nodded. "Thanks..." he sighed and let his aching eyes rest.
Late afternoon was usually a busy time for the festive drinkery. Half price beer and free appetizers from four to six p.m. usually had them two deep at the bar. Today was no different. As the owner gave instructions to her barkeep, scanned the empty containers at the buffet and moved back towards the kitchen, an excited voice broke her train of thought.
"Inez! Inez look! It's them!"
"What?" She turned, meeting the excited body of Casey Wells, J.D.'s live-in love interest. The law student worked part time at the busy tavern. She walked closer, turning her dark head to follow the red painted fingernail pointing to the television over the bar. The words 'Special Report' in white on a blue screen broke into normal programming. Then she saw the photos at the bottom of the screen.
"Madre de Dios!" she screeched, flying to the rail. There above were images of Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. "Turn it up!"
"...go to our correspondent, Bob Mitchell in El Paso. Bob?"
"Thanks, Jim," the silver-haired reported responded while standing in front of the Army Base. "Earlier today, we received word that the two missing ATF agents from Denver were found alive. That call came from our foreign correspondent, Pete DiTullio, who was in the region. He informed us that Larabee and Tanner were on their way here. Behind these gates is the William Beaumont Army Medical Center, one of the best trauma facilities in the state. A large Medivac helicopter landed about an hour ago and we have just received confirmation from Captain Mary Carcino that indeed, the two missing men were admitted."
"What condition are they in, Bob? And what about the Savages?"
"Well, Jim, details are sketchy about the Savages, but we're told the two ATF agents are both in critical condition. The hospital public relations department has scheduled a news conference for later on this evening when more information should be available. To repeat our breaking news story, ATF agents Chris Larabee and Vincent Tanner, who were kidnapped in New Mexico close to two weeks ago and presumed dead, have reportedly been found alive. Jim?"
"Thanks, Bob... and we will continue our coverage of this breaking story as more information becomes available."
"Thank you...!" Inez kissed the cross around her neck and sighed in relief. Then the handsome face of Buck Wilmington rose up and her heart clenched. Was the mustached rogue safe? She ached to hold him again in her arms and continued her prayers as she resumed her duties.
The day was bowing out gracefully, leaving her blue gown to her sister, Eve. Twilight was fast approaching and the shadows in the canyons and forests grew taller and darker. A small bridge appeared in the clearing leading the way across a wide body of water. The banks across the way were lush and green, covered by fruit bearing trees. Something about the tranquil scene caused the leader to halt.
"Chelsea..." Larabee barked and nodded.
"Pretty, isn't it...?" the black man muttered, wiping his brow.
"Too pretty... and too perfect," the dark-eyed commander shot back.
"Them tracks were too clear... he's leading us into a trap," Buck added, joining the duo.
"He's close... he's that arrogant," Larabee cautioned. The variety of footprints led them to believe that Xavier was on foot with three men. "Weston, you and Richardson get a closer look. Buck, you take the perimeter. I think we're being watched."
As the trio moved out, Chelsea took his binoculars out and scanned the bridge. Twice his steady gaze followed the line to the other side and back. Then he backed his sight up.
"Well... well..." He handed the field glasses to his commander. "Looks like our boy, Juan, left us a present..."
"It's probably a trigger spring..." Larabee noted of the explosives tied to the underside support. "Weston, we spotted a bomb near the mid point. See what else is under that bridge."
"Sir..." the reply came back.
"We got a friend in high places..."
Chelsea and Larabee exchanged a curious look at Buck Wilmington's transmission. Then Chelsea's eyes went to the treetops.
"A sniper?" Larabee whispered into the radio. "How far?"
"Close enough that I can smell him." Buck paused, eyeing the rebel whose rifle was trained on the bridge. "He's lookin' at something near the bridge."
"He's gonna light the fuse... he's waiting for us..." Larabee sent back. "Take him out..."
"Yes, sir..." Buck replied.
"Quietly!" Chelsea shot back.
"...caution is my middle name..." Buck whispered, creeping towards the tree. He screwed a silencer onto his weapon, aimed and fired once. He searched the body but found nothing. "One down, three to go..." he updated the others, limping closer to the river.
Still savoring the white pizza with spinach and tomato slices that had been dinner, Michelle Thomas and Rick Dankowitz entered the quiet area of the hospital. This twenty bed unit was for those patients who needed the most critical care. The three-to-eleven shift was usually busy with meals and bedtime medications to get situated and doctors requesting test results.
"Go on Helene, Connie..." Rick stated, easing his six-foot-three frame behind the console. "Skip the chili, looks nasty..."
"Anything we should know?" Michelle asked, scanning the many charts that were in metal bins on the top of the console.
"We received two new admissions," Connie stated. "Larabee's in 12. Tanner's in 11. Oh, and they're those two Feds they found in Mexico."
"Yeah..." Helene grabbed some cash and stood, stretching. "Larabee's vitals are stable, but his fever is up a little. He ate a little bit of supper and awakens easily, answers questions. Tanner, though, is a mess and his fever isn't coming down."
"How long has he been on ice?" Rick asked, scanning the chart.
"A couple of hours now... his respirations are labored and his blood pressure isn't too stable. We're also hearing some congestion in his lungs. Keep an ear out..."
"Okay," Michelle nodded as the pair left. She went in to check on the first patient, Chris Larabee. She took his vital signs, recorded them and moved to check his knee. The injured limb was elevated and encased in ice and a splint. "They gonna operate?"
"Hello." She turned at the weak voice and moved, picking up a cup of ice water that held a straw. He drank gratefully, his eyes heavy-lidded. "I'm Michelle. My partner, Rick, is next store checking on your friend. And to answer your question," she took the cup away, "Yes, it appears so. You have a tibial plateau fracture that needs to be repaired. But then with some physical therapy and rest, you'll be ready to kick field goals."
"...not me... quarter... back..." Chris managed.
"Oh, Big Man on Campus?" she teased and saw a slow grin.
"...get the best lookin' cheerleaders..."
She saw the eyes fighting and leaned down. "Get some shuteye. That's an order."
"Vin?"
"Hold on. I'll check..." She left his bedside and entered the next cubicle. "How's he doing?"
"Not too good. His temperature isn't going down and his breathing is ragged. I'm gonna call Doctor Malik and see if maybe he can order some nebulizer therapy..."
"Okay." She eyed the pale face in the bed and brushed back an errant lock of hair that fell over his forehead. "You fight, sugar..."
Chris kept his heavy eyes trained on the door until the nurse reappeared.
"He's holding his own...but his fever is high and he's having some trouble breathing..."
"...head... bad?"
"No fractures but a very bad wound and from what the report says, a bad concussion."
"...leg..."
"All cleaned up... it was badly infected..." She paused and saw a flicker of fear in the green eyes. "Hey!" She tapped his hand and got his attention. "He fought this hard...don't lose hope."
"He can't die..." Chris mumbled, his eyes sliding shut. "...kick his ass... back... Texas..."
She smiled and waited for his breathing to level out and pulled the blanket up. With a final check to his IV line, she left the cubicle.
He knew they were close. He felt them. Many years in these mountains running from the enemy had given him a second sight. He motioned to Miguel and Diego, the two soldiers that remained with him. They moved in separate directions, forming a triangle. Each man took careful aim and waited.
They crossed the river after Weston disarmed the explosives, then picked up the trail again and the signs were fresh. They were close, maybe too close.
"Sir?" Buck whispered, biting his lip over the dull throb in his leg. He pointed to the clearing ahead and shook his head, running his finger left to right under his chin, indicating a 'suicide'.
Adam Larabee frowned and eyed the terrain carefully. Buck was right. It was a trap. He could feel it too. They'd split up, each team of two taking a section. His skin pricked, his heart began to hammer and his senses went into overdrive. He took a step closer to Buck and the ground gave way.
Buck's head whipped around at the strangled gasp. Under the silver light of the moon, he could see the older man's face locked in pain. Both hands were gripping his left leg, the lower half of it obscured by a hole.
"Shit!" Buck whispered, theorizing that possibly inside the pit were tiny spear-like pieces of wood now embedded in the other man's lower leg. Before he had the chance to move, the tall body of Juan Xavier dropped from a tree. With lightning fast moves, the rebel's hand jerked the General's head back and a long silver blade flashed in the pale ghostly light, his obvious intention to slash his victim's exposed neck.
The sun was brutal, scorching his tender flesh. His head and leg screamed in dual voices of agony. He shifted his load, dragging the needed gourds behind him. He could see Vin lying helpless ahead of him and tried to pick up his pace. Then he began to sink and frowned. Frantically, he tried to reach for something, anything to stop his decent. His heart thumped like a jackhammer and he gasped, clawing at the dirt.
Quicksand!
It crept past his chest and enveloped his neck. Tearing his eyes from the claw marks in the soft earth, he cast one final look at Vin who was surrounded by soldiers with guns. Those terrified blue eyes were the last image he saw as the liquid death invaded his nose and mouth, choking him.
"Chris! Wake up... Come on, son," she coached, tapping his sweat-ridden face.
She saw it coming, recognizing the abdominal convulsions and the shoulders jerking. She grabbed a kidney-shaped basin and turned him sideways just as the bile spilled forth. Finally, after the painful dry heaves, the coughing began and his hand clawed at his throat and mouth.
"Stop it... listen to me!" Her voice was firm and she placed the dish behind her and grabbed his chin. A pair of muddled green eyes peered at her in a mist of confusion. "It's me, honey. You were having a bad dream."
"M...m...om? Chris sighed heavily, running his fingers over his eyes before absorbing the wonderful feeling that only comes from a mother's touch.
"I came as soon as your friend Nathan called. They're all fine, they'll be here tomorrow." She watched the damp blond head nodding and felt the hand clasped in her own tremble a bit. "You okay?"
"...bad dream..." He coughed. "I was choking on quicksand... Vin needed me... the soldiers came... I couldn't get to him..." His trembling fingers found the button and brought the bed upright so that he was in a sitting position.
"Here, sweetheart." She handed him some tissues and then got up to retrieve a little bit of water to clean up with. She wiped his face with a cool cloth, running it along his damp hairline and then behind his neck. She smiled at the low moan and bent down to kiss his forehead. "Better?"
"There are many gifts which God bestows that enrich our lives so very much. But none that shines brighter or is quite as fine than the miracle of a mother's touch."
"That's beautiful!" Kate smiled, stroking the spiky blond hair.
"That's Vin, guess he's rubbing off on me." Chris eyed the water pitcher and she moved, pouring him a large cup. He drank slowly, savoring the cold liquid. He paused, recalling the day the gifted Texan spoke those words. "You know, Mom, he does that without even trying. You should hear some of the poems he writes. Comes as natural to him as breathing."
She smiled at the mixture of pride and envy in his voice and watched his eyes light up. She poured him more water and waited as the rest of the story unfolded.
"A guy we know from the lab, Steve Kinnaly, had a sick kid. His boy was just four and picked up E. coli. Vin and me stopped by the hospital to take him a card and gift. Steve's wife was there. She'd been there for four days. We stopped just inside the door. The little guy looked awful...she was singing to him, rubbing his back. Then he smiled, opened his eyes and reached up, touched her face. When we got closer, Vin hugged her and spoke those words. I'm telling you, sometimes he puts the rest of us to shame."
"Thank you, for sharing both those words and the meaning. You are a true gift, Chris," she rubbed his cheek, "and I thank God every day for you. I thought... when that call came two week ago... I thought I'd lost..."
"Don't, Mom." Chris reached up to her and embraced her. He sighed as the soft sobbing continued for a few moments, soothing her gently. He knew he was luckier than most men. Most of what he knew, what he woke up with every morning and carried with him each day, was a product of two very special people. Two strong, loving intelligent beings who found each other in this vast universe. The result of that powerful union left a shower of golden light that he'd bathed in for eighteen years before leaving home to go to college. He still wore that rain and wore it proudly.
"I love you," he whispered into her ear and she pulled back.
"Not as much as I love you, son." She cupped his chin and kissed his cheek. "...my golden boy!"
"You hear from Dad?" He settled back, resting his aching head.
"No. I spoke with Colonel Johnson, but they haven't checked in yet."
"Buck's with him..." Chris noted, as much to convince himself that his father and oldest friend were backing each other up.
"That does help me feel better." She patted his hand. "I checked on your Vin. He's having quite a battle. His fever is resisting the medications and cooling blanket."
Chris didn't reply right away; he was savoring the words 'your Vin'. When did that happen? When did a cursing, short-fused, cranky Texan with a shaggy head become as important to him as breathing? He sighed and pushed the effort away. When didn't seem to matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was for Vin Tanner to fight.
As if sensing his thoughts, she gave his hand a pat and moved away.
"I'll check on him..."
"Thanks."
Moving next door, she paused at the foot of the bed, wincing at the very definition of the word 'frail' that was lying in front of her. The tubes and IV lines, oxygen and monitors seemed to dwarf him. They'd cleaned the grime and filth away, leaving him looking far too young. She moved closer, nodding to the nurse who was writing in his bedside chart.
"Any change?"
"No, and I'm worried about his breathing. He's having some trouble."
"Vin?" Kate leaned over, calling out to him. She touched his face and recoiled, gasping. It felt like the face of a corpse "Oh...!"
"I know. It's a shock. He's like ice on the outside." She nodded to the quiet figure in the bed. "Talk to him, Mrs. Larabee, it seems to help. He might hear you."
"Vin," she stroked the cold cheek and then cupped his chin. "It's Kate Larabee. I'm Chris's mother. You're safe, son, but you need to wake up. You need to fight, Vin. Chris is looking for you..."
"See?" the nurse smiled. At the mention of the name 'Chris', the stilled face changed. The brows furrowed and the eyes darted frantically behind closed lids.
"That's it, son, you fight...we're all here for you." She took the limp hand and gave it a squeeze.
"I have to check on another patient. Will you be here?" the nurse inquired and the petite blond woman nodded, sitting by the bed's edge.
"Will you let my son know?"
"Sure..."
"Come on, Vin," she coached. "I don't have all night. Get those blue eyes open..." Kate felt the weak fingers move in her hand. "Good boy..." She continued to speak to him, recalling his poem and the power it expressed.
Although the pain in his lower leg was excruciating, the shot startled Adam Larabee and he gasped as blood and brain matter spilled onto his neck and cheek. He heard another shot and fired on instinct, taking down the approaching rebel soldier. He blinked and grimaced as the fire shot up his leg. He saw a figure rise and stagger, one shoulder held lower than the other.
"Buck, behind you!" he screamed and the body whipped around, firing twice.
"...and that... makes... four..." Buck coughed and staggered towards his fallen commander. He paused briefly, kicking the corpse of Juan Xavier. "...fuckin' animal! Rot in hell, you sick son-of-a-bitch!" He grimaced and holstered his weapon, clutching his left shoulder. "You okay, sir?" he asked, dropping down.
"No! I'm not okay. You damn near shot me!" the loud growl proclaimed.
Buck laughed at that, both impressed and amazed that Chris's voice was here with him in this thicket of trees in a foreign land.
"...never... happen...." the rogue predicted, putting a shaky, bloody hand out. "...hands of gold. I had it... all... planned..."
"You're full of shit, Wilmington!" Adam gruffed, then grabbed the bloody paw. "Helluva shot, son. I'm grateful."
"My mama didn't raise no fool." Buck drew his light out and handed it to the older man. With the light on the hole, he used the hilt of the knife to spring the small animal trap that was hidden in the hole. "I come home without you and Kate will skin me alive." He eased the other man's injured leg out and sat down next to the elder Larabee. He turned as a soft laugh floated by.
"I'm scared of her too, son," Adam laughed. "She's the real 'general'..."
"Yes, sir, I believe that." Buck hissed and grabbed his shoulder, applying as much pressure as he could. He turned and saw the dark eyes coming to bear on him and felt himself flush under the intense glare. He shifted uncomfortably as those mesmerizing eyes landed on his wounded shoulder. "Aw, hell, sir, the ladies love a good battle scar," he disarmed just as the words came. They came in a voice, strong and true, the tone and pitch more familiar to him in the guise of a younger man's face. He felt a hand grip the back of his neck and send chills running down his spine.
"Thank you, Buck..."
He smiled then, casting up a real "Buck Wilmington special."
"...guess this means I got my head out of my ass, huh?" he teased of the irate voice he'd heard in the warden's office.
"Just a little!" Adam teased back and reached for his radio. "...and I didn't raise no fool either," he said with pride of the son who'd chosen his friend so well. He saw the slight flush appear and smiled. "You save that color for the ladies, son. I'm not your type."
Buck laughed and sat back, resting against a tree. He heard that strong voice and envied Chris Larabee. What must it feel like to have a father like Adam Larabee?
"Major, get your ass over here and get me a chopper. The bride's waiting on me!"
"Annie, you cut your hair!"
"Yeah, I needed a change..." the new nurse stated, tossing her handbag into a drawer and eyeing the ICU ward. "Whadda we got, Michelle?"
And so the shift change transpired, with the three-to-eleven crew departing, save Rick who was working a double, and the eleven-to-seven settling in. When every patient's chart had been reviewed and the last report taken, Annie took over. She checked on all her patients, saving the two new admits for last.
"Chris Larabee..." She eyed the sleeping man and took his pulse. She cast a gaze on the fair man's features and noted how much better looking he was in person. She'd seen his image on the television just hours before on the evening news. She was pleased that his fever was coming down and he was resting comfortably. She changed his burn dressings without disturbing him and inspected the wounds on his chest.
While his best friend was resting peacefully, Vin Tanner wasn't as lucky. On the outside, his frail, limp body was still and unaware, every feature slack. Inside, however, a storm was brewing. The dark void he was lost in was starting to fill with flashes of bright lights. Then the blackness peeled away and he was in a strange land. Heat descended on him as the sun boiled his skin. His dry lips parted, seeking a single wisp of moisture. Every inch of his tormented flesh screamed in agony. He tried to move but found he couldn't. His legs were dead, the useless leaden appendages turning him into a worm.
Then he looked across the hot earth.
Then he saw it.
The image was so horrifying, it took the little air he had gained away. A fire exploded inside his chest and it seared his lungs. He couldn't breathe; the grisly sight was scorching his horrified senses. A group of soldiers, dressed in tan with menacing eyes and black boots, were laughing. There, amidst the group, was a body tied to a tree. Next to the body, a soldier laughed loudly, raising his left hand. His right hand held a bloody machete. In the left, held high and dripping blood, was the head of Chris Larabee, the green eyes wide and accusing.
"Chris!"
"Vin!" Chris croaked, sitting up in the dark room. His heart was hammering and he saw a blur fly by as two nurses ran into the next room. He hadn't dreamed it. Vin's terrified scream broke the night air. Just as his heart began to return to normal and the sweat ran in streams down his face, another scream split the stillness. It was weak and ragged, but full of such woe, it tore his gut.
"No!"
"Vin, wake up!" Kate commanded, tapping his face. She'd been at Vin's side for about a half hour, dividing her time between the two rooms. From a corpselike state, his weak call scared her right out of her chair.
From behind her, one nurse turned the light on and the other stood on the opposite side of the bed. She gripped his cold chin and talked to him in a harsh, severe tone.
"Mister Tanner, I need you to wake up!" Kelly Davis ordered. "Annie, his heart rate's racing..." she eyed the other nurse.
"Vin!" Kate rested her hand on his cheek and bent lower. "Vin, it's Kate and I need you to open your eyes. You had a bad dream. Chris is fine. Can you hear me? He's fine..."
Just as his eyes burned from the horrid image, he felt sharp talons dig into his flesh and he was torn away, swept high above into a whirling vortex of color and sound. The breathless pace left him dizzy and sick. He was lost and had no idea of where he was or what to do.
Then he heard her voice. She was back, the angel who found him before. She wanted to see his eyes.
"That's it..." Kate soothed, brushing her fingers through his hair. She saw the unfocused eyes blink and remain fixed on air. "Look at me, Vin." She tipped his face and the eyes blinked again. "It's Kate Larabee, Chris's mother. Can you understand me?"
"Chris's dead...." His first thought invaded with a nasty backslap. "What's his ma doin' here? Where is here? Where am I? Who am I? Vin...she called me Vin. That's right...I'm Vin...Chris said so... Chris?"
"Yes, he's here too." She saw the lips part under the oxygen mask and saw the lost eyes pool up in terror. "He's fine, Vin. Look at me. Focus!" she directed sharply and he responded, zoning in on her. She felt a weak tap against her leg and smiled, taking his limp hand. "You're in a hospital in El Paso. You and Chris were brought in earlier today. You're very sick, Vin, but you have to fight. Chris needs you, do you understand? He's waiting..."
"...ris..." Vin huffed into the mask and swallowed painfully. It felt like razors were in his throat. "...hurts..."
"Can I give him some ice?" she asked.
"Can you step back a moment, Mrs. Larabee? We need to check his lungs."
She kept a grip on the trembling hand and talked to him soothingly while they gently maneuvered him and ordered him to cough and breathe. Once completed, they secured him in the bed again and she picked up a spoon. She lifted his mask and nudged his lips. She felt a tug inside as those lost blue eyes never left her face. "I'm right here, Vin. You're not alone, honey, okay?"
"...kay..." Vin wheezed, sucking on the ice. "...yer... sure... he's okay... I seen... his head... they's holdin' it up... laughin'..." His voice broke.
"It was an awful dream." She stroked his face and gave him more ice. "Only a dream. He's right next door."
"Annie, I think you should call Doctor Malik. He's really struggling..." Kelly advised of the pulmonary check they'd completed. They continued to discuss the critically ill man as they departed.
Soothed by her soft words and gentle touch, he relaxed. Kate chased the tension away and he felt his fear dissolve. His breathing improved a little and his heart settled down. His eyes grew heavy and slid shut, guided by her soft humming and the gentle stroke on his face. It was such a wonderful feeling, something he hadn't experienced in such a very long time. He needed to tell her and cracked his eyes open.
"What is it?" She saw the emotions exploding in a blue flame from those luminous eyes. Chris was so right; this young man could disarm you with one gaze. She felt the hand flopping and the lips move. She moved his mask as the fingers brushed her cheek.
"...thank... thank... ya got... no idea... how much... needed... ya... Mrs. ... ma'am... uh... God didn't waste... gift... yer special..."
"It's Kate, honey, and you earned it." She kissed his cheek and drank in the soft sigh. She kept a hold of that hand and brushed her tears away with the other. Once she was sure he was deep in sleep, she went next store to check on her son.
"Is he okay? What the hell happened? Goddammit! Nobody will tell me anything!" Chris cursed.
"You watch your language, young man!" she chastised, giving him a drink. "He had a bad dream, something about someone cutting your head off." She saw the scowl and the fist on the bed and stroked his shoulder. "It's okay. We had a little talk and he's sleeping."
Chris eyed her face carefully and saw it then. He put the cup down and found a small smile.
"Vin shoots down another one... I told you he was a sharpshooter. Those eyes of his are deadlier than his gun."
"It's more than that..." she mused. "I can't explain it. But when he spoke, he touched me... I felt something... inside.."
"The power of Vin..." Chris sighed, sliding his own eyes shut. He could rest easy; his best friend was being cradled by a mother's touch.
"It would appear someone phoned ahead and relayed my arrival."
"Yeah," J.D. scoffed. "Like them reporters would be that desperate, Ezra!"
"Looks like our lost lambs arrived safely," Josiah noted of Chris and Vin as their car pulled up. The driver, a young soldier, spoke briefly to the sentry and they were allowed to pass. Cameras and microphones appeared near the windows and a buzz of questions burst forth.
"Damn vultures!" Pete hissed.
"You're one of them," J.D. tossed back and got a low growl.
The five men spilled out at the hospital entry and quickly gained the lobby. They zoned in on the reception desk and waited for the white-haired volunteer to look up.
"Good morning. Can I help you?"
"Morning, ma'am," Nathan nodded. "We'd like some information on three of our friends. Chris Larabee, Vin Tanner and Jack Lynch?"
"Hold on..." She typed quickly and scanned the blue screen. "Larabee was moved out of ICU this morning. He's in Room 515." She paused, then resumed typing. "Tanner's in ICU, room 11 and Lynch...he's in 514."
"Thanks!" J.D. nodded and turned to leave.
"Hold it, young man."
The others stopped as well and the clerk motioned for them to remain.
"The ICU has restricted hours, unless your immediate family. You can only visit from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. and from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. Also, you need a visitor's pass and I have to call upstairs and let them know you're coming. They have digital locks on the unit doors to ensure patient privacy."
"We might as well head up to the fifth floor first. Chris might be up to talking," Josiah decided.
"Yeah," Nathan glanced at his watch. "Then we can stop back down here for the passes."
"I'm gonna go see Jack," Pete advised as they headed for the elevators.
They made their way down the hall and paused in the space between the two rooms.
"Top of the mornin', mate!" Jack eyed the cranky face of Pete DiTullio and wagged his eyebrows. "Ye look like me Uncle Dan when he's had a few too many. Rough night?"
"I'm gettin' too old for this shit!" Pete gruffed, approaching the bed. "Get that shit-eatin' grin off your face, Lynch. You keep these places in business. I swear you must have stock tucked away," he noted of his blond friend's bad luck.
"Aw, ye love me!" Jack tapped his smocked chest. "I'm touched..."
"Yeah, you're touched alright!" The dark-haired man scowled and shook his head. "So when can we leave?"
"Ye just got here!" Jack sassed. "Didn't ye miss me then?"
"Like crotch rot..." he griped. "So what did the sawbones have to say?"
"Some nonsense about a grade 4 concussion. It's right serious." Lynch eased back, sliding a sly glance sideways. "Ye can't be yellin' at me or raisin' yer voice. I need lots of rest and quiet. I think he said a flock of private nurses to bathe and massage me battered body was..."
"Don't hold your breath!" Pete slid into the chair.
While the two reporters were reuniting, the ATF agents entered an empty room that held two even emptier beds. The one on the far right had a nametag over the headboard with 'Larabee' printed on it and showed signs of recent use. A large bouquet of flowers rested on a side table.
"Excuse me?" Nathan returned to the nurse's station. "Larabee, Room 515?"
"He went down to surgery about an hour and a half ago to have his knee operated on. You just missed his mother. She's been here with him all night and went to shower and change. I anticipate Mr. Larabee should be back in a couple of hours or so. He's doing much better today."
"Thanks!" Nathan nodded, glancing at his watch. "It's only ten-twenty-five..."
"Cafeteria?" J.D. suggested. "I saw a sign, it's off the lobby."
"You have a first class radar system when it comes to food, J.D." Ezra shook his head as they headed back to the elevators.
Forty minutes later, having eaten cinnamon rolls, doughnuts and coffee, they approached the desk. The volunteer issued them passes and alerted the ICU unit clerk that Tanner was having four visitors.
"Let's go see Brother Vin." Josiah pushed the button at the elevator.
The unit was quiet, echoing with only the sound of muted conversations between doctors and nurses and the beeping of critical life-affirming monitors. The four men moved around the squared-off floor very quietly, eyeing the rooms, some of which were darkened.
"He's not here..." J.D. shook his head as they came full circle. "Maybe they moved him again?"
"Or maybe he's down in x-ray or something..." Nathan added, approaching the desk. "We're looking for a patient, Vin Tanner?"
"In 11," the nurse nodded and saw them eyeing each other in confusion.
"How'd we miss him?" Sanchez asked aloud.
"How's he doing?" Ezra asked and saw a dark-haired man stand.
"I'm Doctor Malik. I was on duty when your two friends were brought in yesterday. Mister Tanner is still critical. He suffered a bad head injury and a severe spinal cord contusion. Currently, he has no sensation from about the waist level down and we have no way at present to know if that will be permanent or not. His right leg was also badly infected and he seems to be on the verge of developing pneumonia. He's been running a fairly high temperature all night and despite our best efforts, he's not rallying."
"It's not fair," J.D. slumped. "We just got him back... he can't survive all that and die here... he just can't..."
"Easy, son." Josiah's troubled voice matched his battered face. "Is there anything we can do?"
"You can talk to him, that will help," the doctor lifted the chart he'd been reading, "and it wouldn't hurt to pray." He paused, scanning their ashen faces.
"Oh, God..." J.D. whispered brokenly.
"Don't lost hope, the x-rays and MRI studies look promising. There's no evidence of broken bones or fractured vertebra which leaves us with just a very serious back and spinal cord contusion. He's young and was reasonably healthy at the time of his accident. Based on that alone, I would hopefully anticipate a full recovery, but there's currently no way to be sure. We'll just have to wait and see."
"Thanks, Doc!" Nate nodded.
When they made their way to room 11, they froze in the doorway. Three men then moved forward, surrounding the bed, while J.D. lagged behind.
"Damn, who'd have figured all that hair gave that boy ten years..." Josiah eyed the stilled body in the bed.
Surrounded by IV lines, monitors and other life-saving medical equipment, the slight body seemed too small for the bed. The fine features were slack and pale and the beeping of the monitors gave the scene an ominous air.
"Indeed!" Ezra took Vin's right flank, eyeing the wavy, short brown hair. "It would appear his new look has rendered him barely old enough to vote!"
"It's a good thing he has amnesia," J.D. announced and got three puzzled faces. "Well, I mean, if he can't remember how important it was to have his hair long then he won't miss not having it...get it?"
"Sit down, J.D.!" Nate rolled his eyes as the nurse came in.
"We had to cut it," she offered. "Whatever he was lying in, before he got here, dried. It was like cement. And you know..." She studied his face. "I think he looks better. Kelly, she's on eleven-to-seven, she used to be a stylist. She did a great job...of course, with a face like that..."
"That's our boy! He's got 'it' without even being awake." Josiah winked and Nathan grinned as Ezra rolled his eyes.
The nurse checked on the patient's vital signs, then left the room. The others gathered around the bed, each struggling inwardly with what none would speak aloud. Despite their best efforts, the heavy cloak of 'what if' hung in the air.
What if Vin Tanner died?
"Nathan, what do think his chances are?" The youth eased his bruised body into the plastic chair and eyed the medic. He felt Josiah's strong hand gently touch his shoulder and relaxed.
Nathan thought on the doctor's words, while his trained eyes lingered on Vin. Just how much could the human body endure? Had the ordeal in the mountains, coupled with the brutality at the hands of the Savages and the horrific airplane crash been to much to overcome? He moved closer, wincing at just how frail Vin Tanner looked. Surrounded by a jungle of plastic tubes running into just about every part of him, he seemed especially fragile. He cocked his head and lifted the limp hand, gripping it in his own. He winced at the icy fingers and drilled the stilled Texan's face. He zoned in on the delicate, closed lids, trying to will those emotive blue eyes to open.
"I don't know, J.D...it's up to Vin now...and the Man upstairs."
Page 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29
Return to Deirdre's Fic Archive | Return to Lady Angel's Library
