NOTE: 1) As I've mention on past stories my medical knowledge is from movies, TV and Google. Many liberties are being taken here, and I would venture to guess very little of what I describe more than faintly represents reality. That's why they call it fiction folks.
2) My stories have no connective timeline (as most of you have probably figured out). My mind jumps around far too much to be considered in any way orderly. What happened in previous stories has no bearing on any other adventures, unless I identify them as sequels. Sorry to those of you who may have been puzzled by inconsistencies.
He sat in the car, looking up at the oppressive yet non-descript building in front of him. It really should be a nicer looking place. It wasn't just that people worked here. People lived here, and no home, however formal it may be, should be so void of personality. He reluctantly stepped down from the cab of the truck, slamming to door behind him as if it somehow was to blame for today.
The glass doors parted before him, quietly wafting closed after he had passed. To his ear, it sounded like the slamming of a cell door. This was no less restrictive an institution, and the sentence every bit as permanent. Even more so, as there were no appeals available here. He nodded to the receptionist as he signed the registry. Looking up the page he was not surprised that he was the last to arrive. Signatures from Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne had back to back placement, showing, as expected, they had arrived together. Nathan appeared to have arrived only moments ago. Josiah arrived earlier as well. Vin, again, no surprise, had been here first. He always was. There were few days that he didn't stop in first thing in the morning, as well as coming by for dinner or an evening visit whenever he could, and he'd been there almost 24/7 for the last two weeks.
Chris Larabee walked past the elevators, wanting to both burn off a bit of the nervous energy he felt and delay the inevitable just a few minutes longer. A few moments later he opened the stairwell door on the 4th floor and quietly walked down the hall. He avoided looking into the other rooms, trying to keep the illusion even if only for a few extra seconds, that this was simply a routine visit to a friend. The illusion died as he walked into Ezra's room.
Four heads turned in reaction to his arrival. They were spread around the room, all close to the bed, but only one actually beside it. Vin Tanner sat in the chair close to Ezra's head, speaking softly. He alone failed to react to Chris's entrance. Josiah pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and walked toward the final arrival. It wasn't until the two men stood side by side that Sanchez realized he had no idea what to say. Chris smiled sadly at him, acknowledging the emotional strain, then moved closer to the bed.
"Vin?"
"Really Chris – you can't even be bothered to say hello to our host first?" The bitterness was clear in his voice. "Seems like it's the least you could do."
"Vin, don't make this worse than it is. None of us want to be here."
"Yeah – I know. Bein' here is something you've avoided as much as possible lately."
Buck started to responded, but Chris silenced him with a look. "You know that's not what I meant." He watched as the fight seemed to drain from his friend.
"I know Chris – I'm sorry." The voice was barely a whisper. "It's just – this ain't right. It doesn't feel right." Chris moved forward to reach the bed and pulled up a chair to sit opposite Vin.
"You're not wrong there. Nothing about this has been right from the start. He shouldn't be here. None of us should have to be here with him now, not like this."
"It's not time Chris. Still too early in the day."
"Your gonna play this down to the last letter of the law, aren't you?"
"We made the promise to each other. Six months. It's not time yet." Vin sat back in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. "Not yet."
Chris settled in his seat as well. "No, not quite yet."
He stared out the window, allowing his mind to slip back to that day just six months ago. They hadn't even been working. A weekend off after a couple of grueling back to back cases. Time planned at the ranch. An afternoon in the saddle. Steaks on the barbecue. An evening of cards and company.
Knowing what they would likely have to drink if he didn't make the appropriate effort, Ezra was stopping for 'proper libations' on his way out of town. Buck and JD saw him turn into the liquor store as they drove a few blocks further to load up on snacks and beer. Ten minutes later they heard sirens in the distance, drawing closer. When the sound stopped nearby, both men knew instinctively where they needed to be. Arriving at the scene they found two police cars were on site, with medical vans pulling into the lot alongside.
After flashing their ATF badges, they were directed to the officer who appeared to be in charge. A robbery gone wrong – now a hostage situation. The wife of the liquor store owner managed to call from the storeroom, where she was hiding. Two kids, either high or strung out, were hold 5 people at gunpoint. The clerk had triggered the alarm, and been shot for his actions. One of the customers was trying to talk them into surrendering, but so far was having no luck.
"That would be our man." Buck told them with certainty. "If anybody can talk them down, it'll be him. Could talk candy away from a kid." Wilmington had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when shots were heard from inside, followed by screams. Whatever strategies might have been under consideration disappeared as law enforcement stormed the building. Three more shots were fired, all by cops, killing one of the gunman. Moving in, there were three more bodies on the ground. The wounded clerk was trying to sit up, trying to determine what had happened. The other gunman was on his back, eyes open but seeing nothing. And Ezra Standish was next to him, his white shirt now blood red, gasping for breath that wouldn't come. His team mates tried to get close, but were pulled aside by rescue workers. The flurry of activity ended rapidly with Ezra being loaded into an ambulance and taken away to a nearby hospital before Buck and JD had fully grasped what was happening. What they had heard as the door closed chilled them through. "Code Blue – no pulse."
Buck was behind the wheel of his car, almost pulling away before JD had the chance to join him. The younger agent looked anxiously ahead at the ambulance fading into the distance as he pulled out his cell phone, hitting speed dial for Chris.
"Told you JD, I don't care what kind of junk food you bring with you – just so long as you bring enough."
"Chris."
The tone was all he needed to know there was trouble. "What happened to Buck?"
"Not Buck – Ezra. A robbery. Chris…" he looked to Buck, who gave a small nod, "I don't – we don't think he's gonna make it."
Several seconds passed before Chris was able to take a breath. "Where're they taking him?"
"University Hospital."
"On our way." Chris hung up and turned to the others. Josiah and Nathan had heard the tone and knew it was a bad day. "How bad is Buck hurt?"
"He's not – Ezra's been shot. Robbery. Josiah, call PD and find out what happened. I'll let Vin know to meet us at University."
Nathan reached for his own cell and dialed his fiancé, an ER resident at the hospital. She knew what the call was about as she answered. "He was just brought in Nathan – Dr. Sanders is with him – he's the best." She hesitated briefly. "Nathan – you guys should hurry." He disconnected, looking at the phone, not wanting to make eye contact with the others.
"Tell us Nathan." Josiah's voice was tense. Chris looked up from his own phone. He'd only been able to get Vin's voicemail, and this was not news he wanted the agent to hear that way.
"Chris, we need to go – now." Chris looked down at his phone again. "Leave Vin a message that Ezra got hurt – you don't have to tell him how bad until we know more." Chris nodded numbly, his mind somehow not making the connection between what he needed to do, and how to do it. Nathan made the call as they headed out.
Vin's phone vibrated again. "Damn it Ezra – stop calling me" he thought. He knew the suave agent was likely still a bit ticked at him for refusing to drive out to the ranch together. But Vin had wanted to have his car on hand, hoping to skip out on Sunday evening for some time to himself. He loved spending time with the others, but there were times it was just a bit too much togetherness for the loner. If anyone should have understood, it should have been Standish. But he had been unusually insistent on wanting to carpool this weekend. When pressed, he couldn't give a reason why, and Vin finally persuaded him to drop the idea. Then this morning, Ezra had called again, making sure there had been no change of heart. On getting the expected, but unwanted response, Ezra had finally conceded, and in a conciliatory gesture for his harassment, asked Vin is he had a liquor preference for the evening.
"I'm sure whatever you bring will be fine Ezra. You've got a knack for picking the good stuff."
"Not a 'knack' sir. A skill developed over years of study and contemplation."
"Call it whatever you want Pard – you know your booze."
Now he was convinced that the three calls in the last 10 minutes were Ezra following up on his purchasing plan. On the plus side, he knew that even though he was running late, he wouldn't be the last to the ranch if Ezra was still shopping. When the phone buzzed a fourth time, he pulled over. His old jeep wasn't equipped with any hands-free technology, despite JD's frequent offers to set him up. The car was his island of tech-free tranquility, and he would do his damnedest to keep it that way. The call had gone to voice mail, and bringing it up on the screen he was surprised to see the first three messages showing as C. Larabee, with the last from N. Jackson. A pit formed in his stomach instantly. He checked Nathan's first.
"Vin, you need to meet us at University Hospital. Ezra's got himself in a bit of trouble, and – well, we don't know too much more than that. Just haul your butt over there when you get this."
Thirty minutes later he barged through the emergency entrance doors. A quick scan of the room told him the others weren't there, meaning they were either with Standish, giving him a hard time about ruining their weekend, or with the hospital staff, likely giving them a much harder time. He headed to the admission desk. "I'm looking for information on Ezra Standish." He reached for his ATF ID, knowing official standing would get him answers faster. Before he could retrieve it he heard Josiah's voice.
"Vin – come with me." He turned and the pit in his stomach suddenly reached down to his boots. One look at Josiah told him more than he wanted to know.
"He's dead." Half fearful question, half resigned statement.
"No. He's in surgery. And we don't know yet exactly what happened. There's someone from PD coming down to fill us in soon."
They'd reached the surgical waiting area, and Vin saw the others sitting quietly – far too quietly for this bunch. He went to where Buck and JD sat.
"You were with him, weren't you? He said you guys were driving up in tandem."
"He stopped for booze. Store got robbed – he got shot. We were off buying god damned potato chips." Buck growled out the words. JD looked to shocked to speak.
Vin looked around as if he could find answers somewhere in the room. His gaze settled on Nathan. "What did Raine tell you?" He knew the man would have spoken to his fiancé. "Nathan – what did she say."
"He was hit 4 times in the chest, point blank. There's a head injury too, likely from hitting something when he fell, or maybe just the ground." He took a sip of bad coffee to hydrate his dry mouth. He hadn't told the others the rest of the story yet, not wanting to have to say it more than once.
"He's was in cardiac arrest when they loaded him in the ambulance. Got him going again but took some time. And he coded again in the ER."
Curses filled the room, along with a mumbling of prayer coming from Josiah.
Silence took over when the door opened again. Breathing resumed when they saw it two men, clearly not doctors, enter. A uniformed officer, and likely a detective. The newcomers scanned the room, and Chris saved them the trouble of guessing who to speak to.
"You know what happened to our man?" he asked. The detective nodded. "Well?"
"Perps were high – you'd have to be to rob a liquor store 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning. Witnesses are telling us one of the gunman got antsy- heard the sirens and freaked out. He grabbed a customer –a woman and pulled her in front to use as a shield. Your man seemed to think that was a bad idea, and made it known. The guy turned his gun on him, giving your guy the opportunity to pull the woman away and step between her and the shooter. Wrestled him for the gun and it looks like the punk just kept pulling the trigger. As some point it got turned on him, and a shot went through his head. The other bastard got a couple of shots off before our guys took him out when they stormed the place. Didn't hit anybody."
There was silence for a few moments as each man played the scene in his mind. Buck found his voice first. "The woman – she OK? Ezra will want to know when he wakes up."
"She's in emergency now to be checked over, but it all looks good." He looked at the anxious faces surrounding him. "We're not gonna stay – this is your time. But I thought you'd want to know what happened. And, not that it's enough, but you man is going to be nominated for a medal of valour. If he doesn't get it, someone will be answering to me, and my men." He reached out and shook Chris's hand. "Everyone of us is praying for him – hell, the whole town will be when this hits the news."
"Keep his name and especially picture away from of the media. He'll want to keep doing his undercover work when he's outta here. Don't want to blow that for him."
They found themselves alone it the room again, with nothing to be said. Each went to his own spot and tried to settle into established routines. It wasn't their first time waiting for word on a colleague, but there was a tension in the air this time that left them all deeply unsettled.
It was little over 3 hours before the doors opened again. Raine came into the room and went over to Nathan, taking his hand. She was accompanied by a weary looking surgeon.
"Sit down gentlemen. First – your friend is alive. He's being moved to ICU. His condition is grave. There was massive trauma to his chest cavity. One bullet damaged his heart, two others punctured his left lung, and the fourth tore the right. They were small caliber, but did a lot of damage. There was also a wound to his lower back, larger caliber. Damaged a kidney, but not critically. He's had several pints of blood transfused. I don't know if you are aware that he had been in cardiac arrest twice before surgery. He has suffered two more such incidents since. I'm sorry if you think I'm being blunt, but frankly there is no way to sugar coat this, and from what Raine tells me, you wouldn't want that anyway."
"That everything?" Buck asked, not certain he wanted the answer.
"No, I'm afraid not. While we were closing he suffered a stroke. On its own, it wouldn't have been considered as severe, but in light of his overall situation…" he left the thought unfinished
"What are his odds Doctor?"
"I'm not a gambler Mr. Larabee."
"Well, he is, and that's the way he'd want to play it. So?"
Dr. Sanders looked away for a moment, trying to figure out the easiest way to say what had to be said. "I'm not going to lie to you. He's extremely weak, and the body can only deal with so much, no matter how strong the will is. The initial cardiac arrests, along with the lung damage, left him oxygen deprived for extended periods. Add the stroke to that and the prognosis is not good. We'll have to do further test to determine how severe the brain damage is, but right now your friend is in a coma. I don't expect him to come out of it."
No one moved for several seconds, not even to breathe. JD's gasp for air seemed to bring them all back to reality, but not at all sure what to say or do. Nathan looked over to Raine, hoping somehow she could refute what had been said. She sighed and sadly rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry Nathan. There was really nothing we could do. It was just so much damage. Even if he'd been right here when it happened, I doubt the outcome would have been different."
Buck had started pacing, working his way around the room. Anger was building, and Josiah saw it coming. Just in time, he reached out to grab his friends hand as he pulled back to punch a vending machine. "Not gonna do anyone any good if you bust yourself up Buck."
"Yeah – well I need to bust something. Bastards who did this are dead, so that can't help."
"Neither would this." He let go of the clenched hand. "Think we've had enough violence for the day – don't you."
"Not as good at turning the other cheek as you are preacher."
Josiah grinned ever so slightly. "Trust me, I'm no better at it. I've learned though, there is a time and place."
Chris brought them back to the moment. "So what's next? What are we supposed to do?"
Dr. Sanders stood. "I'm going to refer you to one of our counsellors. And before you object, and I've been warned you will, let me clarify by saying her job is to help you through the bureaucracy of the process. The emotional matters are not her area, although I would personally recommend you keep that option open as well. I will say you should contact his family, particularly if any of them have a power of attorney for him. Decisions will have to be made."
"I've got that." Vin spoke for the first time. "We've got each other's. Talked about it one night after things got messy on a case, and discovered we had the same opinions on things."
"May I ask what that opinion is?"
"We don't quit."
TBC
M7- M7- M7- M7- M7- M7- M7