Author's Note: Ok, so I'll have two Hoot fiction's going. Not sure if this will be a one-shot or not, have to see if the muse's continue to flow. Anywho, enjoy!
Somewhere in the big world...
The light came on in the small hospital room and the Czech nurse who had been on loan from a few countries over came in the room, her Russian fragmented and fast, various words were spoken in Russian while others in French, making Diana have to listen to understand the girl's frantic plea.
Wiping sleep from her eyes she held her hand up.
Quieting the girl.
She looked around the room. It held a cabinet of supplies and a single bed that she slept on.
Asking in flawless French, which the girl was well versed in, "What's the problem? There better be a problem. What did I tell you about waking me up? Someone better be bleeding."
Relieved that the scary American Nurse who didn't seem bothered by the massive amounts of bloody people that came in from the neighboring countries, countries that had been fighting for ages.
The scary American had come with others. Professional American's who were training them to run a trauma center in the face of such chaos.
"A man is here asking about the American."
Diana sat up.
Her unique teal eyes narrowed and she demanded in French, "A man is asking about the American? Is he a rebel? National?"
The girl shrugged, "I don't know. He was out front and I remembered what you said about someone asking and I came to get you like you demanded."
Diana nodded, "Good. Go find Dr. Wandell and tell him code purple."
The girl ran off.
Diana waited and then reached beneath her scrub pants. A holstered handgun rested against her thigh. She pulled it out and prayed that it wasn't a rebel asking about the airman hidden within the hospital.
The American Airman they had found, rescued, and brought in for treatment.
It had been reported back to her company. They would pass the message along to the United States Air Force.
Diana flipped the safety off and held her hand in her pocket, hiding the gun.
She slipped from the hall and crept toward the front.
In the Eastern Block Country purely as a medical advisor and instructor, she had been given clearance to have weapons in the event rebels came.
Her eyes scanned the front area of the ER.
Her heartbeat kicked up as she prepared herself for violence. In the event she had to kill someone to protect her patient from kidnapping, torture, and sure death.
In fluent Russian she questioned the secretary who was under the tutelage of her coworker, "Where is the man asking about the American?"
The man looked around, puzzled.
Diana bit her tongue, "What was he wearing?"
"Green pants, green shirt and a green hat. A farmer I think. Dirty and smelled of pigs."
She nodded and thought where would I look if I were looking for a American Soldier to turn him into the rebels for a reward? I'd check every single closed door.
Which wasn't where he was, he was where no one would even think about looking in a million years, ever.
While she went down the hall checking doors a fellow employee came out, bat in hand, looking for the man. She pointed to the left side of the hall, and he took the left.
Room by room she went.
Seeing no farmer that smelled.
She spotted smudges on the floor. Animal fecal matter smudges.
Following them she held the gun tightly.
Taking a mental note to invest in radios. Hand held ones like the firemen had. A noise caught her attention and she flattened against a wall, hearing someone in a exam room.
A radio would really be handy.
Diana checked the halls, no one.
She waited and heard the footsteps get closer.
When they were mere inches away she spun into the room, seeing how close the man was in the dark room. Shooting in a hospital was never wise. So she swung the gun at the head of the man, who grabbed her wrist, she pivoted and drove her knee into the man's groin.
He hissed out in pain, she did it again and drove her elbow down hitting the farmer in the shoulder close to his neck. He hissed out in pain and she wrenched her hand free, or tried to.
His grip tightened until she thought he would break her wrist, he slung her into a wall and his calloused hand grabbed her neck. When she went to scream his grip tightened.
The air flow stopped and she couldn't breath.
Her knee hit him in the ribs. The air left his lungs and she kicked him again in the groin. Much harder. And again until he pressed her into the wall, pinning her there, tightly.
The gun hit the floor.
A million thoughts ran through her head. Hoot had shown her things to do if something ever happened at work. If she were ever overpowered. Before it had been just her and Hoot, now there was a new addition. She had to get home.
Dots were clouding in the corners of her eyes.
She twisted her whole body, catching the farmer by surprise, managing to turn and get the gun pressed against her stomach, against her unborn child. She then rammed the heel of her foot into his barefoot and his hand broke from of her neck, she screamed.
Gasping for air she screamed as loud as she could and drew her legs up, she made him hold all her weight, not much, she was still in the first month of her pregnancy.
Again she screamed out, but for Wandell as she kicked at his knees.
The farmer tensed, then he spoke, "Diana?"
She froze at the voice, not her name, but the heavily accented southern voice. She stopped fighting and the man set her down, she turned as then man spoke again, "Dear God, is that you?"
"Hoot?"
The light in the room came on and the other man, a co-worker of Diana's came in the room, handgun in hand and pointed at Hoot.
"Don't, it's my husband, get in here."
The man followed her instructions and came in the room. Diana put her gun in her pocket. "You're here for the airman?"
Hoot looked over his wife.
Prayed he hadn't hurt her, inwardly he kicked himself, swore and cursed. Outwardly he nodded, touched her face and wanted to check her over. It didn't comfort him in the least that she was standing and seemingly ok.
"Hoot, I'm fine, you didn't hurt me,"
From his face alone she knew he didn't believe her, knew he had scared her, knew because he had felt her panic.
Knowing her husband she looked to her co-worker and told him, "Go watch the door. Let Wandell know he's here." Only when he was out of the room did she tell Hoot, "Baby...it's ok, I'm fine."
He looked sick. Ready to be sick. Never once had he ever lay a hand on his wife. He believed those men deserved a special place in hell once he got through with them. With a clench of his jaw he managed, "We're here for Lieutenant Rhames. Where is he?"
Relief filled her face.
She had been afraid she'd have to fix him, assure him. She knew it'd need to be done. She didn't want to do it there, then.
"I have him hidden up in OB."
"Does anyone know where he is?"
Diana shook her head, "We burnt his uniform and have him in scrubs. He does have a broken arm. A few broken ribs. We did some minor surgery."
With a nod Hoot tried to clear his head. He looked at her hand, her wrist, there was a hand-print on her wrist and the gun imprint in her palm. "How bad is he hurt?"
"Collapsed lung. We fixed the fractured ribs and set his arm. He can walk but don't expect him to carry anything. No cramped spaces his collarbone is broken."
He nodded and tried to concentrate on what needed to be done.
To bring the professional out in him.
"I'll need a layout of the hospital. Let me wander around...see what this place looks like. Let me see where he is."
"Follow me."