Guts, Nerve and Grit
Part Two:
They were all dead. The ODS had taken out any remaining threats to them or to any other operatives, but all Michael and Casey could think about was at what cost to their team?
Rick had been shot in the left shoulder, but would recover if facing long days and weeks of physical therapy ahead of him to be back in fighting shape.
Billy hadn't fared as well. He had suffered setbacks from his original injuries such as his lung collapsing again and a small bleed where his heart had been nicked.
In the firefight, the bullet had tore through his abdomen, causing damage and extensive bleeding. They were able to repair as much as they could, but between that and the blood loss, Billy had lost consciousness and had fallen into a coma on his own. The doctors had said that whether Billy emerged from this one was all about him this time. The hope was that once he stabilized as his wounds healed, he would come around, but there was no way to predictably know for sure or how long it would take.
It had left the remaining men of the ODS bereft of hope.
Rick protested just laying in bed when he could walk. He conceded to a sling, but that was all.
He walked to the ICU and stared at Billy, unmoving, a machine breathing for him and all Rick wanted to do was throw-up.
"What was it all for?" He muttered softly, a hitch in his voice.
"For everything," Michael said, putting a comforting hand on Rick's shoulder. "For life. For your life."
Rick continued to stare at Billy. He heard the words, but couldn't find a place in his heart for them to comfort. He ached, it ached, but not from his wounds.
"At what cost?"
"It's not about that. It never is. It's about something much deeper than that," Michael said. "Especially for Billy."
Rick bowed his head then looked back at Billy.
"Are you telling me what happened to him was worth it? That what he's already given up, could still give up, was worth it?" Rick said, his voice breaking completely. "That I'm worth it?"
Michael looked at Rick with a bit of shock. He had never seen a crack of belief with Rick, even when he had gotten shot and thought he was going to die, there was resolve that he would have died for something greater, but he saw that crack now.
"Yeh, it's worth it. You're worth it. Like I said, especially for him. He's taken personal responsibility for you and before you put up a protest about how you never asked for that, you didn't have a choice. It's who Billy is. You talk about patriotism. Billy lives and breathes humanity first. Always. There was nothing any of us could have done that would have stopped him from saving you. And instead of feeling guilty for surviving, you should appreciate that he's still here."
"But look at him, Michael," Rick said his voice immersed in emotion now.
"I don't know what you're seeing, Rick, but I see a fighter. Always has been and always will be until he can't fight anymore. That heartbeat," Michael said pointing to the monitor. "That heartbeat is Billy telling us that he hasn't given up yet. It's telling you that you shouldn't either."
Rick took in a breath and calmed. Michael's words were getting through slowly. He nodded.
"No matter what happens, you have to believe that Billy is a fighter and if the worst happens…" Michael said, finding it difficult to say those words, let alone thinking about it happening. "Then for him, we'd have to go on without him. Doing anything else or anything less would be an insult to him, to who he is and to what he represents."
Rick nodded. "It's just that I felt so helpless."
It was Michael's turn to nod.
"I get that. We all do…" Michael said as paused. "He blamed himself, you know. When you got shot and were bleeding out. He actually told me he should have tightened the tourniquet more."
Flashback
Billy was pacing, his hands still smeared with Rick's blood.
"If you don't stop pacing, I will HURT you," Casey bellowed.
"Damn it, what is taking so bloody long?" Billy cursed.
"He's going to be fine, Billy," Michael cajoled.
"I should have tightened that tourniquet a little more."
"Now you're just being irrational. There's a fine line between stopping the bleeding and cutting off the circulation," Casey said.
"He passed out."
"I'd be more surprised if he hadn't," Casey said, continuing to be practical.
"Probably from your singing," Billy teased, trying to relieve the tension.
Michael watched with guarded amusement at the exchange.
"I wouldn't cast aspersions, you, who could break glass with your voice," Casey defended. "I'd like to think I lulled him to sleep."
Billy's face couldn't help but burst into a smile.
"Right you are, that's what it was. You do have that affect on people."
Casey gave him a glare, but there was no malice in it. Billy continued to pace.
"Billy, you did what you could. We all did. It's up to the doctors and Rick."
"He's my responsibility," Billy said, deadly serious.
"He's all our responsibility," Michael softly emphasized.
"No, Michael, he's my responsibility just as I was…" Billy trailed off.
"Carson's responsibility," Michael finished.
Billy didn't confirm or deny, but he didn't have to.
"You have to stop blaming yourself."
"Carson was my responsibility as well. I left him behind. I made a promise to him and I broke it –"
"We all left him behind, Billy. We had no choice. He'd understand."
"Well, I don't and I never will."
"You can't save the world," Michael tried to comfort.
"I'm not daft, Michael. I know that. I'm not trying to save the world, just those who are within my power to save."
"Magic words there, 'within your power to save'. It's not always within your power."
"Is the great Michael Dorset, paranoid bastard, extraordinary, trying to tell me that there's a Higher Power at work?" Billy teased.
Michael smirked.
"If it will help you sleep at night," he said.
"Does it help you?" Billy asked softly.
Michael was silent, but Billy already knew the answer. That kind of rationalization never worked.
Michael and Rick could only continue to watch and hope. It was all they had.
ChaosChaosChaos
A few weeks had passed, still no change, both for the good and to the frustration of the three men. Rick had been given a clean bill of health and had been released, but he had never left Billy's side where visiting hours permitted and where sympathetic nurses allowed him to stay beyond those hours. The same courtesy was afforded all the men.
Casey took vigil on a cold rainy night. He could hear the wind and the water splashing against the windows and it gave him a chill even though it was warm in the room. He stared at Billy. Unable to focus his mind or his body towards combat, it made drifting to untapped memories easier. Casey tried to never second-guess the past. Whatever decisions were made were beyond his control to change. All he could do was focus his energies towards present conflicts and learning from any mistakes made in the past and not repeating them again. He was heuristic in his methods.
As the storm-swept night raged outside, all he could do was let his mind meander towards memories and unfortunately for him, they had always manifested in what he had failed to accomplish in a mission. The victories were filed away because there was nothing to be gained from reliving them other than self-satisfaction. Casey seemed doomed to self-flagellation instead. He may talk a good talk, telling Rick that there weren't what-ifs in the CIA, but he was a hypocrite. He always found himself ruminating over lost opportunities or things that he could have done better. He would then afflict himself to hours and hours of physical conditioning in order to weed out any more weaknesses. After all, like any weapon, honing one's skills, oneself was all a part of the process, a prevention of atrophy and apathy.
So, on this night, Casey found himself hopelessly remembering things he'd rather have kept locked away.
Flashback
It was pouring, freezing rain that pelted and stung. Casey and Billy were trudging through foliage and mud, both of them hacking away with their machetes.
"I HATE, HATE rain," Casey groused.
Billy laughed.
"This reminds me of my mother country, makes me rather nostalgic, really. It would be a mere spring shower there. Hardly worth noticing," Billy said wistfully.
Billy felt Casey's glare and could only smile.
"You don't adapt well, do ya?"
"I adapt, just not where weather's concerned. It's distracting," Casey said.
Billy laughed as they continued to slog through the jungle. Billy then heard something. Casey did too. Considering the rushing rain and wind, it was a miracle that they heard anything. He gave Billy the "shhh" sign. They slowed their pace then stilled it. Billy reached for his gun as Casey readied his body, tensing it to spring when the timing was right. They both watched and waited, eyes darting through sheets of water and vegetation in order to zero in on where the assailant was.
Casey then spotted the gun barrel peering through some leaves. Quickly, he grabbed it, but just as he did, the soldier managed to turn the gun towards Casey. He hadn't caught it, too busy trying to gain control. Billy had though and pulled the barrel away.
A shot rang off.
Casey then finally wrenched the gun free from the man's grip, swung it up and around, slamming the butt of it into the assassin's head where he went down unconscious. Casey was barely out of breath. He held the rifle in his own grip and it was only then that he had noticed he hadn't heard anything from behind him.
"Billy?" He called.
Nothing.
Casey turned and didn't see the Scotsman. Considering how comparatively taller Billy was to Casey, he had a moment of cognitive dissonance at not seeing his friend outright.
He then heard a groan. He looked down and there was Billy clutching his abdomen, his hands pink with the dilution of blood and rain, the blood rinsing off his hands as quickly as he bled into them.
Casey, at first, was in shock, but finely tuned instincts kicked in and allowed him to table emotion.
"Let's get out of here," Casey stated.
There was no reason to ask a superfluous question such as "are you okay?" It was clear to anyone with eyes that Billy was far from okay and asking it was time wasted in getting him to safety.
Casey hoisted Billy over onto his shoulders, the height difference even more starkly exaggerated, but there was strength that years of conditioning more than compensated.
Billy did his best to alleviate the burden, but the pain kept asserting its dominance.
"Billy, stop being a hero and give me your full weight. I can take it. You're making it harder on yourself and more importantly, on me by overcompensating. It's not necessary."
"Right," Billy said as he allowed himself to slump onto Casey's shoulders.
After a few more yards of Casey carrying him, Billy knew that he was slowing them both down, that he would have to find a way to get Casey to leave him behind. A simple request would only inflame Casey's resolve to prove him wrong. A debate about the practicalities of leaving him behind would illicit the same petulance. Treachery and guile, an ODS specialty, a particular gift of Billy's, would have to be employed to save his friend from being pulled down with him.
He wouldn't have to fake how his injury was affecting him. The pain and the draining energy and strength were very real and becoming more pronounced with each step they took. He knew that sooner rather than later, he was going to be completely dead weight to Casey. Billy had to calculate his waning stamina because he couldn't accomplish what he had planned without some stamina to exert in a burst. Billy didn't relish tricking his friend, but to save his life, Billy would do anything and risk his own life to pull it off successfully.
"Casey...stop, mate," Billy said with a real groan.
"No, Billy, we have to keep going. They're not far behind," Casey asserted.
"I know, I know and I'm not suggesting we surrender, but I have to catch my breath otherwise I will set us both back. I'm just being realistic here. You know I'm right."
Casey heard the words, wanted to resist them, but couldn't argue how Billy looked and how he felt on his shoulders.
"All right, but only for a few minutes so make the most of it. Let me take a look at that wound."
Casey eased Billy down to the forest floor. Despite the consideration, the jostling made Billy twitch and groan with pain. The pelting rain didn't make trying to examine the wound any easier, but Casey pulled Billy's hand away and looked at it carefully. The bad news was that the bullet was lodged in him making infection a very real possibility. The good news was the rain was actually helping to keep the wound as clean as possible by washing away the blood and any debris from it.
Still, Casey's expression was one of disapproval. Less about the wound and more that Billy had to get hurt at all by saving him. It made Casey both irritable and humbled.
"Damn it, Billy. Why'd you go and do such a stupid thing and get yourself shot? I had everything under control," Casey said in weak defense, knowing it wasn't true.
He knew deep down that he had acted much more hastily than he'd like to admit, that the situation had gotten quickly out of his control and Billy's actions had been necessary. He hated to make that admission because it was an admission of failure, but it was not lost on him that brooding about it was a waste of energy and he had to keep moving and get Billy help.
"Of course, that was never in question. Clearly I wasn't thinking," Billy hissed as Casey examined the wound.
Casey understood what Billy was doing. It was their "routine". It didn't ease the responsibility Casey felt. As the human weapon, his role was crystal clear and in his mind, indisputable. It was his job to protect everyone. Not the other way around.
Billy heard the slogging and stomping of the encroaching pursuers through the rain and knew that any more time for rest had ended. He had to galvanize what little strength he was able to store up and make his move.
"You hear them, mate?"
"Yeh," Casey said, a noticeable touch of fear in his voice.
Billy caught it and it only cemented his commitment to seeing through his plan.
"You ready?" Casey asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Billy said.
As Casey pulled Billy to his feet, he used the momentum to quickly wrap his arms around Casey's neck to exert the exact amount of pressure to cause unconsciousness. Casey struggled and under fairer circumstances, Billy might have been the one to suffer the consequences of his actions towards the human weapon, but this time, Casey went limp feebly trying to extricate himself.
Just before Casey passed out, he heard Billy whisper in his ear.
"I'm sorry, mate. Had to be done. Couldn't let you get hurt on account of me."
When Casey woke up, he was in a field hospital, disoriented and a little angry as memories came flooding back.
He surveyed his surroundings and next to him was a bloodied Billy, groaning in pain yet able to smile as he turned to look at him.
"About...time you woke up," Billy teased as he shook with pain, closed his eyes then went still as his heart monitor squealed.
"Billy? Billy?" Casey called to him without getting an answer.
Casey was then jolted awake by a sound that he thought had come from his dreams, dreams that weren't dreams at all, but painful recollections. Instead, he found himself once again disoriented as he watched doctors swarming Billy's hospital bed just as they had at that field hospital. He had been told that he had to leave, but for only the second time in his life, he found his reflexes slow, his reaction time dulled by shock and confusion.
He backed out of the room, listening to the sounds of machines and humans fighting off a formidable foe, death. He had to hope that Billy was fighting too.
"Damn it, Billy, don't do this to me again. Fight, you stubborn idiot."
ChaosChaosChaos
May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead.
Rick didn't know why he was thinking of an Irish blessing when Billy was Scottish. He figured it was close enough to Billy's home country to be forgiven. Sometimes his mind would randomly wander like it had with the sailor's prayer. Perhaps it was to comfort himself, but this time it wasn't working.
Billy had coded again while Casey had sat vigil. Rick had never seen the human weapon look completely rigid and speechless with shock, looking as disarmed as any gun.
The atmosphere had grown decidedly grimmer. The rain and wind was still raging outside, fears of a hurricane force storm being whispered through the halls.
Billy's setback, an understatement in Rick's view, had changed his status from critical to grave, an apt yet frightening word to even consider when it involved a friend. The hope that was thin and fragile to start with was on even shakier ground. The doctors had admitted that they held very little hope for Billy's recovery. His coma seemed to be deepening after arresting again. The only good news they were willing to concede was that his brain activity was still normal and that his vitals were once again holding strong and steady, but the bottom line was that optimism had left the building.
As Rick sat in Billy's room, the Irish blessing crossed his mind and he didn't like the idea that some part of him, that any part of him was giving up on Billy, consigning him to death's eventual grip.
For the short time that Rick had known Billy, he had learned first and foremost that not only was Billy a fighter but that he had insisted that same fight for life from others. He had done it with Rick by helping him through when he had been shot in the leg, refusing to let Rick succumb to any kind of acceptance that he was going to die. He had joked and cajoled, had told him stories that had tried to put his situation into the proper perspective, that things could always be worse.
As Rick stared at Billy, he couldn't imagine a worse scenario or a way to communicate that to an unconscious Billy. The only proof that Billy was telling him that he hadn't given up was his steady heartbeat, that despite two arrests, his heart was still beating, that he had come back each time. Rick had to hold on to that even though a part of him was giving in to doubts that even the mighty Billy Collins, born and bruised in North Edinburg, might not have enough guts, nerve, and grit to overcome the assaults to his body.
"They say that people who are unconscious can still hear what's going on. I'd like to believe that and if anyone could, it'd be you..." Rick paused to swallow back tears. "You never let me give up. You refused to let me let go and I swear that you kept me from doing just that single-handedly, but I...I don't know how to return the favor. I don't know how to tell you to not let go."
Rick rubbed his face and cleared his throat. He was barely keeping his emotions contained.
"Casey would threaten you. Michael would order you...me? I guess all I can do is beg you to come back. Asking you to stay wouldn't be right. You'd never want to stay this way. I know that. You once told me being alive isn't the same as living life and if I knew you were telling me to help you leave, I would without reservation, but I don't want you to do that so I guess I'm also begging you to not ask that of me..." Rick took in a breath. "If you hear anything from me, hear me begging you to come back. I...I really need you to come back."
Rick felt a small hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned and looked up. He saw Adele there, smiling sadly down at him and her presence gave his emotions permission to break. He stood up, embraced her tightly and began to sob. Adele returned the embrace and rubbed his back and shoulders lovingly and supportively. She felt his body shudder and heard small whimpers brush into her ears. Everything in Rick's hold told her everything she needed to know. He was afraid, he was hurting, he needed her, and he needed Billy.
After a few moments of holding Rick, she finally convinced him to get something to eat for the both of them. It allowed her to be alone with Billy. She sat in a nearby chair, took his hand and placed it against her cheek. She had taken a liking to Billy both for his charm and for how he had treated Rick like a brother, a protector as well as teacher. Rick had talked about how much Billy had taken time with him that the others hadn't. It had meant the world to him as a young operative.
Adele felt guilty about feeling grateful to Billy for saving Rick because by doing that, he had ended up injured and fighting for his own life. Still, she knew Billy enough to know the kind of man he was and saving Rick was something completely second nature to him. She knew that Billy would never regret the choice he had made.
"I know I don't have to say this, but...thank you for saving him," said Adele tearfully. "Now, I have to ask you to do one more favor, for me…save yourself for him."
Adele took in a breath, put Billy's hand back down on the bed, but didn't let it go. She looked back at him, her tears streaking her face.
"Maybe I have no right to ask you…maybe you want to let go…I know that it might even be cruel to ask you to come back, but…Rick needs you. They all do. You have no idea how much you are worth to them. I'm afraid Rick will fall apart without you. You give him more than he shows. So, if you can hear me, if it's within your will to do it, please come back."
Adele continued to hold Billy's hand when she felt his fingers twitch in hers. She looked down and saw this fingers trembling to curl around her hand, the grip barely there, but the effort clearly more than just a muscle spasm. She then heard a moan. She looked back up and Billy's eyes were at half-mast, slowly blinking, confusion was wrinkling his haggard features. Then there was struggle as he began to choke on the ventilator tube.
"Billy, calm down. I'll get help," Adele said as she comfortingly pressed a hand on his chest.
She then ran out into the hallway and called out for a nurse.
"Please! Someone help me!"
She saw someone running her way so she re-entered Billy's room. Her tears were streaming as she kept eye contact with his gaze.
"Thank you, Billy," she choked out.
ChaosChaosChaos
Billy felt like he was floating.
Here there was no pain, the memories of his mistakes just ethereal ghosts that could no longer hurt him. He had only sketchy details of what had happened to him to bring him to where he was, but he somehow knew that if he let this floating existence go, he would feel immediate and unrelenting pain so there was a part of him that didn't want to leave this safe and tranquil place, but another part, a part of him that felt the weight of responsibility as well as an overwhelming rush of emotional connection was pulling him towards that pain.
There was warmth where the pain was waiting for him. Not warmth from heat, but not unlike the security of having someone hold you in a comforting embrace where you could relax completely into it, feel protected and where suffering that pain was worth it because you were in the presence of that embrace. His mum's embrace had been like that. He had lost her years ago, but he could recall that memory of warmth at any point whenever he had felt lost and utterly alone. He had recalled it when his career had ended in shambles back home and it had soothed him.
This current warmth was not from a past so long ago. It was within his reach if he had wanted to grasp it, but the pain awaiting that touch frightened him. Still he recognized that warmth. It was a fidelity to friendship so deep and so formidable he would sacrifice everything to ensure that none of his friends would be lost to him. Better he to them even though he understood how his loss would devastate them. That thought brought a twinge of pain, not from him, but from another place outside of his present environs. From someone else…but he couldn't put his finger on who it was. Things here were still vague and shadowy. They were clouded perceptions that he wanted to clear, but was afraid to try, the knowledge of unforgiving pain haunting him. He didn't used to be fearful of pain, but he knew this pain would be unlike the others. He'd have to claw out of it to be rid of it. He wasn't sure he had the strength.
There was also newfound warmth in profound purpose towards an innocent, to someone he affectionately referred to as "barely out of nappies". He felt an ache there. Again, not from him or his injuries, but from a pull that felt desperate, needy, agonized even. His loss to this one would be devastating. A sharp, knife-like jolt of pain startled him as the emotion visualized to him as a hot flash of piercing light full of despair, a despair so ravaging that it would destroy that innocent's view of the world irreparably. Suddenly, the strength he thought he had lacked was there for that innocent. To spare that young recruit disillusionment and pain, he would bare his soul for flagellating in his place. Funny, the power of that emotion surprised him. He had grown close to that young man even though only knowing him for a short time. He had seen himself in him, had seen the idealism in him and the desire to protect him from the disillusionment he had suffered was absolute.
Then he heard voices, disembodied pleas to him, begging to be heard, hoping for a response, but he felt their torment at his silence. He felt their pain and instantly felt an overwhelming impulse to give them the answers they needed, but he had no voice, his instrument made mute by the restraints of his crippled body.
"I don't know what you see, Rick, but I see a fighter. Always has been and always will be until he can't fight anymore. That heartbeat," Michael said. "That heartbeat is Billy telling us that he hasn't given up yet. It's telling you that you shouldn't either."
"Damn it, Billy, don't do this to me again. Fight, you stubborn idiot."
"If you hear anything from me, hear me begging you to come back. I...I really need you to come back."
"Now, I have to ask you to do one more favor, for me…save yourself for him."
Suddenly, he no longer feared the pain. He felt pulled again by the longings of his friends, their names finally coming to clarity. Michael, the leader, Casey, the human weapon, and young Rick, dubbed the translator, but he had become more than his moniker. The collective he called his friends were beckoning him back to consciousness, to the inevitable rush of suffering that will come with the traumas to his body, that is, after all, what living is about; enduring and overcoming for a purpose that enlivens the will and that strengthens human resolve. Death might bring peace, but only to him and he could not abide substituting his peace at the cost of his friends'; their well-being was non-negotiable in his eyes. He had to go back to them. Pain be damned.
He felt himself floating again, there was no light to guide him out, only darkness, but he knew where he was going and with each glide, he felt pain asserting itself, but he was undeterred. He felt the caress of someone's hand in his and he used the comforting sensation to lead him out of the darkness. He called upon his muscles, tendons and reflexes to move and give the hand holding his a sign, a signal that he was emerging from the gloom of his unconsciousness. Then there it was. A squeeze of recognition, surprise and shock intermingled with relief and joy. He forced opened his eyes, which shouldn't have taken so much effort to do and yet it felt like he was pushing against weights on his lids. Finally, a half-mast accomplishment would have to suffice. The shapes were murky, indiscriminate and despite best efforts, his brain wouldn't engage identification, but he knew from the touch, it was someone caring, comforting so he continued to try to discern who was there. Then something decidedly more unpleasant began to make its presence known; first, choking, gagging, then the awareness of uncomfortable and strained breathing, an obstruction in his throat then panic seeped in.
A lulling voice then said, "Billy, calm down. I'll get help." Feminine. Familiar. Someone he knew he should know, but he still couldn't put a name to it or to the blurry blob moving into his line of sight, then realization languidly filtered in. Adele. Rick's Adele. He calmed at her kind instruction and waited, waited for freedom from the tube and taking his own breaths, but just as he was anxious to be able to breath on his own, he felt the rising tide of pain and it was so intense he moaned. Still, it was worth it, coming back from the dead was worth it. Another remembrance seeped in.
"What was it all for?"
"For everything," Michael's voice filtered through. "For life. For your life."
ChaosChaosChaos
Billy felt like he had been beaten and thrashed to within an inch of his life and had lost. Every breath and swallow burned his throat and literally ached in his chest. He felt just lifting his left arm was heavy weight training. Though the pain medication had been a godsend, weak didn't even begin to describe how he felt. He had never felt so tired, not even after an all night bender. It had been awhile since anything had driven him to that. The last time he had experienced despair that profound was when they had lost Carson.
Memories of what had happened to him had rushed back as soon as consciousness had seeded itself firmly. All the various tests had shown that there had been no cognitive damage, that his vitals were strong, and that there was no indication of infection. The collective relief had been palpable. Still, Billy had a long way to go to full recovery yet he was grateful to be alive and among his friends again.
Rick had been his first visitor. Billy thought that he had looked worse than he did. It didn't take having the observational skills of a CIA agent to see how harshly Rick had fared in the past month that Billy had been incommunicado. Dark circles showed sleep deprivation and a thinning frame indicated that he hadn't been eating regularly, if at all. His arm wasn't in a sling anymore, but Billy could tell that it was against doctor's orders because every movement caused a grimace on Rick's face. He tried to smile, but it crumbled to barely a smirk, his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.
"You look like bloody hell there, mate," Billy rasped with a weak smile, his voice still lacking any kind of authority.
"You're not looking so good yourself," Rick retorted back, lacking his own kind of conviction.
"Yes, well, getting shot does that to a person," Billy teased, but had instantly regretted it as he spied the error in making light of his injuries to Rick.
Rick's expression suddenly turned from crumbled to crestfallen and he looked as if he were going to collapse in front of Billy.
"Sorry, lad, that was poor judgment on my part. I didn't mean to –"
"No, no, it's me. I'm just tired."
"I can see that and I suspect it's been all on account of me," Billy said. "I'm truly sorry for putting you, all of you, through such harrowing days, but now I'm back and on the road to recovery so you must listen to doctor's orders now and take care yourself. The CIA can ill afford yet another operative hospitalized, yeh?"
Billy hoped that the concerned tone would soften the gentle scolding.
Rick sat into a nearby chair and took in a deep breath.
"I know that this kind of thing happens. It's part of the work. I'm not naïve and I know that if I'm going to keep doing this job, I better toughen up about it, but I…I don't know if I can…maybe this is just a sign that I wasn't cut out for -" Rick said as he put his face into his hands.
"Hero's work? Rubbish. If anyone is suited for the work, it's you," Billy said confidently and sincerely.
"How can you say that after what happened?" Rick asked, lifting his head to look at Billy.
"And what exactly are youremembering, mate? I know that I've been out of sorts of late, but I seem to recall a certain operative defying orders and putting his own physical safety at risk, by the way, to pull me out of a firefight."
Billy's voice was laced with both gratitude and exhaustion.
"Then you had to get out of a hospital bed to save me. All because I was careless and got pinned down. You almost died because I didn't do my job," Rick said.
Billy felt sympathy for Rick. He had been where he was now when they had lost Carson.
"Rick, that was my choice to make. Afraid you're not the only one subject to reckless and insubordinate behavior. Doesn't make what happened to me your fault. I'd do it again without hesitation and I know you would as well. I wasn't joking. You possess the heart of a hero. Your guilt, unnecessary as it is, just proves it to me, not that I needed it. It can be a heartless and merciless mistress and trying to control her is often an exercise in futility, but Casey's right, it's a waste of energy. Better to expend it in more productive ways is my feeling."
Billy took a deep breath. He saw Rick still looking at him.
"I've been where you are, lad and I'm here to tell ya, you won't be able to do the job if you let the guilt consume you. If you need absolution from me, you have it unconditionally and you always will have it, but believe me, it's not me you need it from."
Rick continued to look at Billy.
"Have you absolved yourself?" Rick asked gently without recrimination.
Billy was struck by the question. He wasn't expecting self-reflection and existential thoughts to enter into the conversation though having had his brush with death he supposed it made sense that he took an accounting of his successes and failures as well as regrets.
"Not for everything, mate, probably never will for some, but enough to keep me doing the work because I believe it to be too important to give it anything less than my undivided dedication. I have come to terms, if not necessarily to acceptance, that mistakes, failures even, happen," Billy exhaled using his whole body to sink into the bed. "Lives are lost too, no matter how much you try to prevent them. Mine will be too someday, but I'll have no regrets, you see. I don't consider it noble or heroic just that it is more than just a part of the job yet it's everything about it because if you're not willing to accept that, to risk your life to save another, a friend, then you might as well walk away because you're doing it a disservice if you don't."
Rick listened intently to Billy's words and felt every word and the deep meaning that he gave to them. Billy had a way with words, had a way of seeing the world that, given all he'd gone through, all that had been done to him, you'd think he wouldn't see it as untarnished, still hopeful for mankind, but you could tell that he was by the lilt in his voice that had nothing to do with his accent.
"So, you'll not convince me that crawling out of my hospital bed to save you was the wrong choice. It was the only choice, mate."
Rick nodded. A shaky smile came to his face. Billy was heartened that he was able to alleviate some of Rick's guilt. He was still young, vulnerable, unsullied by the ugliness that living as an agent can sometimes bring to you over time. He understood that ugliness, been betrayed by its claim to patriotism only to have it and his soul banished, that pain was far worse than what he had just gone through. Billy knew betrayal and could detect it within someone with less than honorable intentions. He knew he was in the company of no such deceivers, except where deception was applied to accomplish a mission. Each of his friends was an upstanding and principled man and he had been lucky to find himself counted among them. What he had suffered for them was worth everything.
FIN. Hope you enjoyed the read. Thanks for sticking with it.