I meant to update a few days ago, but with the unexpected death of a friend, I had to postpone this chapter.
Btw, I knew there was some discrepancies regarding the whole hospital situation in "Exit Wounds" and well, this fan fic kinda has a hospital staff member from the show, so I'm just saying that it was St. Michaels.
Again, I'm in the US, and I researched as much as I could on martial law and other sorts of stuff that the Canadian Gov't institutes in times of national emergencies and crises, but, you can only learn so much. So no flames for discrepancies peoples (unless it has to do with the show, then fire away), plzkthx.
Key:
'Quotations and italicized' = Thoughts
Just plain italicized = Sub-conscious, unconscious state. (Comatose, dreaming. daydreaming, being high [JK] etc.)
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"There is nothing that war has ever achieved that we could not better achieve without it." Henry Ellis
The gun battle lasted long; the Joint Task Force working with the SRU had an almost unlimited supply of ammunition, but the terrorists had held on to the bitter end. They didn't die because of the gun fire from the task force, rather because of a faulty grenade that exploded in one of the trucks, causing the other explosives to detonate in a deadly chain reaction. The fire ball had taken out nearly all of the remaining adversaries, and only small pockets of resistance remained. They quickly dispersed underneath the cover of darkness.
By the time the whole battle had ended, the city was on lockdown and Greg was exhausted, he had never felt so wiped out in his life. Debrief was tough, Ed had been led away by the SIU for shooting one of the gunmen. The paper work seemed endless, by the time they had finished, it was 9 am.
Sam and Jules were both at Saint Michaels; Jules was in the general ward while Sam was still in ICU.
Greg wearily walked the halls of the hospital with the rest of the team; he met up with Dr. Gordan who worked on both Sam and Jules.
"How are they doing?" Greg asked.
"We took in Constable Callaghan for surgery to remove some shrapnel in her leg and also to set the bone, it should be able to heal up and she'll be able to return to work within months. She also had a few broken ribs, but her eyesight and hearing are only temporarily damaged. She's stable but sedated right now."
"What about Sam?" Ed asked.
"Constable Braddock sustained severe head trauma as a result of the blast, though his tactical helmet did protect his head from the worst of it, he has a severe concussion. There was also some shrapnel that managed to go through his vest and enter his back. We did our best to remove most of these fragments and stop the bleeding. Because of the head trauma though, he's not out of the woods yet. He's in a coma right now."
"Can we see him?" Greg asked.
"One person in the room at a time, I believe a friend is already visiting him."
"Okay," Greg said.
"Alright, if you need me I'll be on my rounds," Dr. Gordan left the team in the ICU in front of Sam's bed. Keith Evans was already in the room, leaning against a wall and staring at his brother in arms laying there.
"Kandahar was supposed to be more dangerous than this buddy," he whispered silently.
In a different section of the hospital, Jules's eyes fluttered open. She looked groggily around the room, her vision had returned, though there was a slightly fuzzy outline around everything, including the nurse who was standing in the corner of the room. Jules immediately recognized the nurse, she had seen her on two separate occasions.
"Trudy?" she asked weakly. She hated it when the effects of anesthesia wore off, it always made her feel vulnerable and weak.
"Really Julianna," Trudy smiled, "we need to stop meeting like this."
Jules let out a small chuckle, and wasn't surprised that it hurt. "Where's Sam?"
"He's in the ICU," Greg walked into the room. "Hey Jules, how are you feeling?" Jules looked at Greg with a critical eye, there were deep, dark bags under his eyes and he looked as if he were about to collapse, and in fact, he did, into a chair right next to Jules's bed.
"Like I nearly got blown up," Jules replied. "How's Sam doing?"
"He's in a coma right now. He has a pretty bad concussion and he had some debris lodged in his back, but he's stable."
"Oh my God," Jules said in shock.
"Jules, Sam's gonna be okay, he has a head harder than Spike's flying tackle. Sam's tough, he'll recover soon enough," Greg reassured Jules, patting her hand gently, "so just rest up so you can get back on the team."
Jules smiled and nodded, "Okay."
"Alright, rest up, I'm gonna go see how Sam's doing," Greg said getting up out of the chair.
Jules nodded, she felt pretty tired actually, Trudy had left to give her and Greg some privacy. Jules sighed and winced, she relaxed in the bed, not a small feat in a hospital. Her eyes slowly slid shut.
*Sam's unconscious state*
Sam was floating through memories, some good, some bad. He was in Kandahar, with his buddy Matt, they were smiling and laughing together at the base.
"Hey, I bet you can't hit that can over there with a rock," Matt said pointing to an empty beer can on the side of the road.
"You really want to bet me?" Sam asked picking up a pebble from the ground and tossing it up in the air and catching it.
"Yeah, I want to bet you, how about this, if you can't hit that can, I'll trade off cleaning duty with you for a week. If you miss, you'll have to cover for me next week, deal?"
"Deal," Sam grinned, he never lost any sort of bet with Matt when it required hitting a target at a distance. He picked up the rock and with the right amount of force, threw it at the beer can. It hit the can with an audible clunk and Sam smiled smugly at Matt.
"Dang it Sam, you're too good," Matt sighed and threw up his hands. "I should've known better than to risk a bet with you."
"Then why do you keep doing it?"
"I'm always hoping that for once in your life, you'd miss." Matt said looking down at an expanding blood stain on his chest. He collapsed.
"Damn it! MATT!" Sam rushed over to aid his fallen friend, this wasn't supposed to happen.
Matt gasped and choked, his eyes getting blurry, Sam suddenly felt himself being jerked backwards, no, not jerked, pushed. Some sort of unseen explosion pushing the soldier feet away, "Matt," Sam whispered once more before his world went white.
Sam's eyes opened, and then closed against the brightness of the room. 'Am I in heaven?' he thought to himself. He slowly adjusted his eyes to the drab white room in front of him; he smelled the industrial strength disinfectant and heard the monitors he was hooked up to. It was a hospital he was 100% sure.
Keith was standing there, his expression somber, "Been a while man."
"Keith," Sam said, blinking, "where am I? How long've I been out?"
"You've been unconscious for a day or so. You're in the hospital bud, you didn't realize that?"
"I was just wondering, but this isn't Kandahar. Did they ship me off to a different area?"
"Braddock, you've been discharged from the military since Matt was shot, that was over a year ago."
Sam frowned, he couldn't remember, he couldn't remember anything.
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Say what?! ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER?! ((Gosh I am so mean to Sam)).
Working on mah novel guys :) Trying to break 20 pages by Memorial Day, hopefully it'll be done by the end of the summer.
Just some announcements:
Rest in Peace Amanda Post, April 24, 1994 – May 17, 2009. A true fighter and a true friend. You will forever remain in my heart, my mind and my words. :'(
Also, RIP those who died this week, including an elderly woman who we were searching for last night in Virginia.
-sigh- it's been a crappy week, but it has also been pretty informative.
