Chapter Three

Just want to thank everyone for their reviews. I wish I had a way to thank the guest reviewers. Your kind words are appreciated more than you know. Thanks also to my beta!

The next days passed slowly with no apparent change in Nelson's condition despite Crane's attempts at reaching the man. Hope had begun to fade that the situation was going to change. He breathed, his heart beat, but somewhere inside, they began to fear that Nelson was gone. Lee watched from his bed, or sat by the admiral's side for the few minutes a day he was allowed to sit by the side of the man that had given him so much. Lee was getting stronger but the return of his strength was a minor victory to him: his best friend lay locked in a coma that seemed to be permanent. He could see and feel Jamieson's dejection and knew the Chief Medical Officer was losing hope that Nelson's condition would reverse itself.

But Lee wasn't ready to give up. He knew the man that lay before him would not give up and he tried harder to reach him.

"Any change, Jamie?" Lee asked as he watched the doctor do more tests.

The long sigh and discouraged shake of his head was a knife in Crane's heart and he laid back, his eyes focused on the man in the bed beside him.

"I'll be back," Jamieson said sadly, his voice trembling slightly. The enormity of what had happened and what was not happening to his friend was overwhelming to the doctor. He could not help the man before him and it tore at him. Straightening, he walked to the door and left the room, his posture one of defeat.

Crane watched him leave, then carefully sat up, stood, slung himself into the ever present wheelchair by his bed and wheeled himself to his friend's side. He lowered the bed rail and leaned in close to him, feeling the pull of his stitches as he did so. Slowly reaching out a hand, he stroked the admiral's forehead and whispered to him softly.

"Admiral…you need to wake up. You've been asleep for long enough! This isn't like you. Just lying there letting people worry about you. It's enough. You've got everyone worried to death. Some have given up on you saying that this is all…" his voice broke for a second as he felt the abhorrence of the words. "…that this is all we get. Just your body here, heart beating, lungs breathing but your mind gone. I can't…I won't accept that. You're in there. I know it! Prove it! Show me something!"

Blankness stared back at him and Crane lowered his head until it rested on Nelson's shoulder. He felt the tears well in his eyes as he pondered a life without the Nelson he knew and who; if he was forced to say it…loved.

From some deeply, dark place, Nelson heard the words, heard the anguish and felt the hot tears on his shoulder. Where was he? His head swam as he tried hard to think, to feel. He tried to claw his way back to some place where he could remember or to where he cared, but the fight seemed too hard. What was the point? He felt safe here. He was warm here. And there was no pain here. Yet, something nagged at him. Something made him hesitate. Something tried to draw him out from the darkness and he resisted. He didn't want to go back. Was he a coward? Was he a heartless bastard? Did he care? He didn't think so but he couldn't remember why he didn't care. He didn't remember what he was doing here, wherever here was. Maybe he was dead. What did they call it…? Purgatory? Was that it? He didn't know. The only thing he was sure of was he knew he didn't care about anything. But why? Then it came back to him and he remembered: Lee was dead. He was gone and it was his fault. He felt the icy fingers pulling him back again and he stopped fighting, allowing the darkness to reclaim him.

Lee thought he felt something whether it was a movement or a change in Nelson's breathing and he raised his head, staring hard at the man before him but he remained as he had been: unmoving, unchanged, unreachable. Overcome by the futility of it, Lee felt his anger begin to rise and he began to shout into the face of Nelson.

"Damn you! Damn you! Why couldn't you have just listened to me? Why did you have to go to that meeting? I asked you to reconsider! If you had…God, why? Why?"

Overcome by the emotions he had allowed to spew forth, Lee sank back to his chair and laid his head on Nelson's hand.

From far off, Nelson heard the words, he felt the anguish, and he recognized the voice. Lee? Lee! Was he alive? How? He'd seen him fall, seen the bullets tearing into his body. He'd seen his sightless eyes staring at him in death. Hadn't he? Was there a chance Lee was alive? He had to know and he began to fight against the darkness that enveloped him.

Jamieson had heard the shouts from down the hall and hurried to the room that held the two Seaview officers. Opening the door he stared in consternation as he saw the captain out of bed and leaning on Nelson's bedside. He was just about to chastise him when he saw Nelson's free hand slowly move just a bit then fall back to the bed.

Lee felt the slight movement and raised his head, staring hard at Nelson, praying he'd felt what he thought he had felt. "Admiral? Admiral…wake up. Please," he said as he grabbed hold of the hand he held tighter. He stared hard at the man lying before him; the man that he was certain had moved for the first time in several days and begged him to open his eyes.

Slowly, Nelson's eyes opened to tiny slits and he stared incredulously at the face that was now hovering over him: the face of the friend he was sure had died. Jamieson walked forward hesitantly, hoping Lee wasn't pulling any stitches but afraid to stop what he was seeing.

"Admiral?" Lee called quietly, placing a soft hand on the man's forehead. "Are you there?" He saw him blink a few times and his mouth moved but nothing came out. Then he heard the sweetest sound he had heard in a long, long time.

"L…Lee? Are you…real?" he asked brokenly, staring at him in disbelief.

Unable to speak for a moment, he could only nod. "I…I'm as real as can be."

"You…we…didn't die?"

"No. No, we didn't die," he said as the emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"I…I'm glad. I…I thought…thought… you…you…" As Nelson's voice faded, his eyes slid closed and Jamieson came to stand behind the captain who looked up at him with tears in his eyes.

"He came back, Jamie. He…he came back to us," he whispered.

"I see," he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. "I also see you need to be back in bed."

"No! No, let me…"

"Back to bed. Let me check him out. You can watch from way over there in your own bed," he said as he pulled the captain gently back in the chair, pried his fingers from Nelson's hand, rolled him back to his own bed and got him situated comfortably.

~O~

Over the next few days, Nelson showed steady progress, calming the fears of those who still hovered at his bedside. His periods of consciousness were increasing and he had yet to voice any protests at his being held "prisoner" at his own Institute as he had in the past. Cognitively, he appeared to have come through the ordeal intact which was a great relief to those that cared about him.

Most of the long hours of each day Nelson spent asleep. He was drifting one day, half asleep, when he felt a gentle touch on his arm and heard a dearly familiar voice whisper his name. Forcing his eyes to open, he smiled as he saw the beautiful face of his little sister staring at him, her demeanor changing almost instantly from one of anguish to one of relief as his eyes focused on hers.

"Edie?" he whispered.

"Who else, big brother?" she said, one hand gently stroking his forehead while the other clasped one of his tightly.

"What…what are you doing here? I…didn't want you called," he said as he struggled to form each word.

"Why would you not want me told? You're my brother. This is where I belong."

"Your…trip. Your plans…"

"Do you really think I would rather be anywhere but here by your side?" she asked as she watched her brother fight to stay awake.

Nelson could only stare at his sister, trying hard not to see the tears that threatened to fall from her red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered weakly.

"For what?"

"In…interrupting your plans. Worrying you."

"Don't you know my plans mean nothing to me? You're what matters to me, not some stupid trip. I'm just sorry it took so long to track me down. I don't know what happened to the itinerary I left with my secretary," she said, her voice breaking slightly as she stroked his forehead gently. "Then the weather was horrible and I couldn't get a flight. I should have been here with you. I should have…"

"Don't, Edie. I…I'm glad you're here," he said, squeezing her hand as firmly as he could, his voice beginning to weaken. "I…I'm…"

"Hush. You just go back to sleep," she said as she continued to caress his forehead in a soothing gesture, smiling ruefully as she watched his eyes flicker as he struggled to stay awake. "Sleep. Just sleep. I'm here now."

A soft sigh escaped her brother's lips just before he gave in to the exhaustion that washed over him at the few words he'd spoken. As she watched her brother's eyes slide closed, her face crumbled and she gave in to the sadness, worry and fear that had enveloped her ever since she'd first heard of what had happened to her big brother, letting her tears fall from her eyes to the bed she leaned over.

"He'll be all right, Edith."

She heard the soft words and looked up to see Will Jamieson standing at the foot of her brother's bed, compassion in his eyes.

"Will he?" she asked, wiping almost angrily at the tears that spilled from her eyes.

"Yes. He's through the worst of it."

"Through the worst of the physical," she whispered, knowing her brother would mourn those that had died.

"Yes…through the physical," he agreed. "And in time through the rest. Now, I know you've had a long journey to get here. You should rest."

"I'll rest here. By his side," she said with a slightly defiant look. "I'm not leaving him."

Jamieson sighed and shook his head. "Are all Nelsons as stubborn as you and your brother?"

"I believe so," she said as she contemplated the question. "It's in the genes."

"All right. Stay but please don't tire yourself out. One Nelson as a patient is all I can handle."

"Watching my brother sleep is hardly tiring. Where's Lee by the way?' she asked nodding to her brother's roommate's empty bed.

"Some of the crew came to visit. They didn't want to wake your brother so they went to the solarium down the hall."

"How is Lee?"

"The captain is doing well. They both are. They'll both recover. In time. Now, I have to go check on some things. Make sure he behaves if he wakes up."

"I will, Jamie. And thank you for saving my brother's life. Again."

Jamie stared at the young woman that held tightly to the hand of his friend and commanding officer. "It's…it's my…my job. I'll be back."

Nodding, she watched as the tall doctor strode quickly from the room then back to her brother. "Make sure you behave he said. As if I could," she said with a little laugh.

~O~

Edith spent as much time at her brother's side as she could, or as much time as he would allow her to spend with him, over the next few days. Once he was staying awake for longer periods of time, he begged her to go home or back to the extended vacation she had been on. But feeling her place was with him as he recuperated, she rebuffed his requests and either sat by his side or helped Angie and the others in running her brother's vast institute. Her relief at his recovery warred with her sadness that she hadn't been there for him when he had first been hurt.

Crane's strength continued to increase every day and had become increasingly mobile. He was well on his way to being set free from the Med Bay to return to his own home.

"Well, you're getting better every day," Will Jamieson said to Crane in satisfaction as he walked down the hall pushing his patient in a wheelchair, steering him into the room he still shared with his commanding officer and friend.

"I'm sure feeling better," he said as he maneuvered himself back into his bed, turning to look at his roommate who watched him closely, something indefinable in his piercing blue eyes.

"Admiral, how are you feeling today?" Crane asked quietly.

A familiar crooked smile graced his lips as he watched his young friend. "I'm just fine, Lee. I'm…I'm just glad you're ali…better," he said softly.

Lee gazed at his boss, hearing the abrupt change in his words and frowned. No one as yet had answered Nelson's repeated questions of what had happened. He was sure the man remembered some, if not all that had occurred, but no one wanted to tell him the full scope of what had taken place, knowing he would blame himself for the events. There was time enough for that when he was stronger.

He knew the admiral had nightmares about what had happened on the road to Long Beach. Hearing his soft cries every night tore at Crane as he was helpless to make them stop. The only thing he could do was creep quietly to his bedside and try to calm him down enough to go back to sleep, hoping he never really woke up enough to know that Lee heard him or that it broke his heart to hear the anguish Nelson felt.

"Well, I think I'm going to take a long lunch break since my two worst…I mean favorite…patients are doing so well," Jamieson said with a laugh as he headed for the door.

"Any chance you could bring some real food back with you?" Lee asked with a laugh.

"We serve real food here. Good food that your bodies need. Not whatever it is you two usually eat," he said waggling a finger in their direction. "Both of you sleep while I'm gone."

Crane lay back on his pillow and sighed heavily.

"Tired, Lee?' Nelson asked quietly.

"A little. Not really ready for a nap though."

"Good. I want to ask you something and I want an answer this time," Nelson said, his voice still weak but stronger than it had been.

Knowing what was coming, Crane tried to deter the man. "Admiral, I don't want to talk about it. Please," he said, closing his eyes to the memories.

"Lee, look at me." When Crane reluctantly turned his eyes to Nelson he continued. "I need to know. I have a right to know. I see things in my dreams. I need to know what's real and what's not. In my dreams, I see you die but you're here, alive. I have a slim hope that what I remember is wrong. Help me."

"I don't think I should do that right now, Admiral. When Jamie comes back we can…"

"No! I don't want to wait until Jamie gets back and brings a nice little sedative for me! I'm tired of being treated with kid gloves. I have a right to know and I want to know. Now!"

Realizing how much the truth meant to Nelson and how agitated he was becoming, Crane acquiesced. "All right. Calm down. Please. What do you remember?"

"I remember leaving the Institute, the cars, motorcycles—I remember a truck blocking the road in front and then one behind. I remember the shooting begin, people falling. Then…then I remember seeing you fall," he said in a quiet, pain-filled voice. He closed his eyes to the visions he saw. "Your eyes were open, staring at me and I knew you were dead. And I knew it was my fault. You were dead and…"

At some point, Lee had gotten out of bed and had come to stand by Nelson's bedside, his hand on his forehead. "Admiral! Look at me! I'm here. It's OK. I'm OK."

"No Lee it isn't OK. Look at you. I know how badly you were hurt. I know…"

"It's in the past. I'll be fine. Please don't blame yourself," he said softly as he continued to stroke the admiral's forehead, surprised the man allowed the touch.

In a voice that was quiet and tormented, he asked, "How many?"

"I don't…how many? How many what?" Lee asked in confusion.

"How many died, Lee. How many?" he asked looking up into his friend's eyes. "Tell me. Please."

Nelson's eyes had always been compelling, intense, forceful. They were that way now only more so. He didn't want to tell him the truth. He didn't want to be the one that broke his heart but he knew the news was better off coming from him. He looked down for a moment then stared him straight in the eye. "Eight," he said in a quiet, miserable voice.

The news that eight men had lost their lives because of him filled Nelson with a terrible sense of guilt and horror and he closed his eyes tightly as if to keep the visions he had at bay. Because of his refusal to take Malek's threats seriously, eight people no longer walked this earth. Eight families mourned. The guilt washed over Admiral Harriman Nelson like a tidal wave, overwhelming him. So many lives destroyed, not only in this latest fiasco, but on board ships, in the field as an agent for his country.

"Who?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Admiral, it's over. I…"

"Who?" he almost yelled.

Crane lowered his head and whispered the names he knew by heart. "Tolliver, Masters, Freeman, Ruiz, Wendell, McHugh, Fernandez and…Sanders," he finished, knowing the last name would stab like a knife.

He felt Nelson shudder and looked down into the man's face. His eyes, tormented. "My God." He shook his head and closed his eyes, turning away from Crane. "So many lives. All because of me."

"No! Not because of you, sir. Because of one man's vendetta. One man's…"

"You tried to make me listen. Didn't you?" Turning his eyes back to Crane, he gave a mirthless bark of laughter "But I wouldn't listen, would I?" he asked staring Crane in the face, knowing the answer and knowing his friend would try to deny him the weight of guilt Nelson knew he deserved.

"Don't do this, sir. Don't let Malek tear you apart. He wins then. It wasn't…"

"I'm suddenly very tired, Lee," Nelson said softly, a slight tremble to his voice as he turned onto his good side and faced away from his young friend. "Think now is a good time to take a nap."

Crane stared at his friend's back for a few minutes, Nelson's torment tearing a hole through him. He knew there was nothing he could say to help but he searched his mind for something. Anything. Finally he went back to his bed and lay down on his side, his eyes never leaving Nelson, who despite claims of tiredness, remained awake as evinced by his breathing.

~O~

The next day, Nelson woke to find his secretary Angie Wood sitting on the chair by his side studiously reading what looked to Nelson to be reports. At a look of confusion on her face, he smiled as he knew his illegible writing was likely the cause.

"Something wrong, Angie?" he asked softly, smiling as she jumped.

"Oh, Admiral! You're awake!" she said as she hurriedly hid the files from him. "Every time I come to see you, you're asleep. I know it's what you need, but it is so good to see you awake!"

"It's good to see you, too, Angie. How are you?"

"Me? I'm fine! I'm not the one with three bullet…" A hand to her mouth, she stopped what she was saying, and dropped eyes that shimmered in tears to the floor. "I'm sorry, sir."

"For what?" he asked with a touch of a smile to his voice. "Stating the obvious?"

When her gaze remained on the floor, he reached a hand out to hers lying on the bed and lightly touched it. "It's all right, Angie. I'm all right. Or I will be when I can get out of here," he said as he tried to sit up more in the bed, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the stab of pain his movement caused.

"Can I help you, Admiral?" Angie asked as she rose quickly to her feet and hovered over him.

"No, no…I just moved wrong," he gasped as he laid his head back against the pillows. "Now why don't you tell me what was so confusing in the file you were reading."

"File? What file," she asked, knowing Nelson was supposed to rest and not be reading reports. Or explaining what the devil it was that the he had scribbled.

"The file you were reading with a confused look on your face? The one you hid under your jacket there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was just reading a very exciting story. That's all," she said with a smile as she began to fuss with Nelson's covers, straightening them and pulling them up over her boss's chest.

He grabbed a hand gently in his. "Angie, I'm not a total invalid. Let me see it and I can tell you what my scribbles mean. Wouldn't that be easier than trying to guess?"

"I…I'm not supposed to do that."

"I imagine not but do you know how bored out of my mind I am? I don't think my reading one report is going to set my recovery back."

Angie glared at her boss. "You're going to get me in trouble and then Jamie won't let me visit you any more. Do you want that? I don't. For some reason I miss having you around although for the life of me I don't know why I…"

"Angie? The file?"

He could see her debating the pros and cons of giving in, then being the good secretary she was, complied and gave it to him, pointing out what she could not decipher.

"Right here," she said. "I'm not sure what this means."

Nelson read over the report quickly and ascertained what the problem was, correcting it quickly and handing it back. "There, does that make more sense?" he asked.

Angie read over his corrections, her face brightening as she understood what he had written. "Yes, yes it does! I can finally finish this up and get it sent out. Thank you, sir."

"Angie, are you all right?" he asked in concern. "You look tired. You're not keeping my work hours are you?"

"Hardly, Admiral. No one can keep up your hours and still function. The only person that I know can do that is…well, you," she said as she looked fondly at her boss. Admiral Nelson had hired her at the beginning of his building of the Institute. She'd been there through all the arguments and meetings with people that just didn't understand what it was he wanted to do. She knew what made Admiral Nelson, Admiral Nelson and she not only respected him but loved him as a very dear friend. She knew he would do anything for her and she ached to be able to help him. Working long hours and keeping up with all the Institute involved was a small price to pay for all that he had given her.

"How are things?" he asked, laying his head back against the pillows and gazing at her speculatively, noting again the dark circles under her eyes he would be a fool to mention.

"Things are just fine. Edith has been a huge help and so has Chip. Besides, even if they weren't all right, I know a few people that would skin me alive if I told you."

"That's quite true, Miss Wood," came a voice from the doorway. "What the admiral needs is…"

"Rest and lots of it coupled with nasty tasting food," boomed Nelson with a look of sourness on his face. "I was just asking, Will."

"I know, Admiral. I heard. And the food here isn't "nasty tasting". It's healthy food. Something you should eat more of."

"You aren't eating? He isn't eating?" she turned her head from her boss who was still glowering at Jamieson, to the doctor.

"No, he's not eating as well as I would like. But that's going to change or he stays here for longer than I already have him planned to stay."

"Well, my lack of eating could be fixed by sending a nice thick steak up with a baked potato with all the trimmings," he said grumpily before turning hopeful eyes to his secretary.

"Oh no you don't! Don't pull me into this or look at me with those sad eyes of yours! You may be my employer and my friend but I am not going to stand in the way of your recovery. What Jamie says, goes," she said firmly, ignoring the hurt look Nelson gave her.

"All right," he said in capitulation. "Let's change the subject matter. Where might my young roommate be? Off chasing the nurses?"

"No. Not at the moment. Right now he's down in therapy."

"Therapy? For what? Is he all right?" Nelson asked in concern

"He's doing well. He just needs to get his strength back, same as you. You'll be down there soon, don't worry."

"Is he really all right?"

"Yes. He's getting better same as you are and the same as all the…"

Nelson's gaze shot up. "All the others, Will? Just how many others are here because of me?" he asked in self-loathing.

"Harry…"

"No, Will. You keep telling me I don't need to know but what you don't realize is it is killing me to not know! I know how many died. I got that much finally from Lee. How many others were hurt?"

"I'm not going to discuss this. I want you to rest now. You've barely been conscious a week! It can wait. Knowing isn't going to make it easier for any of us"

Nelson lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes against the recriminations he felt flow through him. "Have it your way, Doctor. But sometime you're going to answer me," he said opening his eyes and trying to fix him with his most forceful stare, feeling his failure as a wave of exhaustion washed over him.

"Yes, sir but not now. I want you to rest. I can see you're fighting to stay awake as it is."

"I'll come by again tomorrow, Admiral," Angie said quietly as she grasped one of his hands in hers tightly. "You behave."

"Yes, Miss Wood. Behave. Eat the nasty food. Then I get out of here. Got it. Don't stay late tonight. I don't want a sleepy secretary…answering…my…"

Angie smiled sadly as she watched Nelson slip into a hopefully restful sleep, then turned her eyes to Jamie's who gestured for her to follow him out the door.

"He's so tired all the time, Jamie," she said, worry in her voice.

"He's been through a lot, Angie. His injuries were extensive. He shouldn't even be alive but he's too stubborn to know that."

"Well, I'm glad he is. I don't know what I would do it he weren't…" she broke off as tears threatened to fall. Jamieson drew her close and she rested her head on his chest, fighting to keep the tears at bay. It had been hard on all of them as they waited to see if Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane would recover.

"What he needs is sleep. Not reports," he said sternly.

"I didn't mean to let him see me reading it! I was just waiting to see if he would wake up. And he caught me looking puzzled about something he had written. It won't happen again."

Jamieson pushed her away slightly and stared at her with a slight smile. "I know, Angie. I don't mean to sound severe, I just don't want to risk his health. He's dealing with a lot right now, only part of which is his pain and physical recovery."

"What else?" she asked worried.

A long sigh escaped Jamieson's lips. "It seems Captain Crane informed the admiral of the scope of Malek's attack. He knows how many died and he's overwhelmed with guilt, although he was putting up a pretty good pretense in there in front of you."

Angie glanced back at the admiral's door. "He has to know it wasn't his fault. Doesn't he?" she asked turning back to the doctor.

"No. Lee says he feels they died because of him therefore, it was his fault. The news of young Sanders hit him particularly hard."

Tears filled Angie's eyes and she wiped angrily at them. "I wish there were something I could do. I hate to see him blame himself."

"Harry's strong, Angie. You know that. You've been with him for a long time. He'll be fine. He just needs time to see that he's not the one responsible for what happened. It just may take him some time."

"I hope so, Jamie. I really do. I just have this feeling things are never going to be the same and I don't know why. I just care about him so much. It kills me to think of him being in pain. Of any kind," she finished looking up at Jamieson who nodded his understanding.

"I know. I'm worried about that, too," he finished turning his eyes to the closed door, worry and concern for the man on the other side filling him.