Soldiers
It's been way too long! Sorry to leave you all hanging for so long. But in my defense, I did start uni in september and it has been pretty crazy :) Without further postponing this, voila, here's the new chapter!
"Neal?" His mother was stretching out her hand toward him. He had a choice to make. He shifted his eyes toward Kate. She was smiling at him, drawing him into her world. Her watery blue eyes stared back at him lovingly.
"I..." He hesitated.
"If you come with us, I promise you won't feel any pain. Ever. But if you go back..." Kate's voice trailed away into the distance. It was then that Neal began to sense change in the atmosphere. The sun was uncomfortably powerful. The crashing waves were too agressive. The wind was too angry. It blasted at him, forcing him to stumble upon the sand. Worry began to gnaw at him. What was he doing on a beach, stranded with his dead girlfriend and mother?
"Am I-" But Neal couldn't finish the dreadful sentence. He looked out at the endless Ocean instead. It's sereness soothed him, it eased his growing panic.
"Son, you're not dead. Not yet. You have a choice to make." This time it was his mother that spoke. He tore his eyes from the water and allowed himself to properly study his mother, Lisbeth Caffrey. She had been a charming woman, full of confidence and energy. There had been an eagerness for life that Neal had always admired about his mother. Lisbeth never faltered. She faced her choices head on. She dove into everything whith such fiery passion... it inspired him. Yes, she had been flawed. A little selfish at times and of course impatient. But after all, she was a human being. Neal loved her to bits. He smiled at his deceased mother, amazed at her presence. She looked well. Nothing like that sickly frail woman in the hospital. This Lisbeth was almost a stranger to him.
"You look well mother" Neal observed.
"Well yes I suppose I do. I'm not sick anymore Neal. Well to be truthful, i'm not really anything at the moment." Lisbeth chuckled to herself.
"Sorry to interrupt the chit chat, but Neal there is literally no time left. As your mother said, you must decide. Us, or-"
Neal flung his eyes open. His breathing had become steadier. He noticed a mask had been placed over his mouth. His vision remained blurry. The pain came then, crushing his back. He gasped out.
"Neal?" A voice, thick with concern called out. Yet he couldn't respond. The pain was unbearable. He scrunched his eyes shut, and focused on the breathing.
"Come on Neal, you're stronger than this. Fight God damn it." The voice became more distant... it was as if he were dreaming. Faces blended together, casting shadows over his face. Only one thing was on his mind. With a shaky, heavily bandaged hand, Neal took off the oxygen mask and shifted his head slightly in the direction of the voice.
"Am I going to die?" The words spilled out quietly, filled with pain and sadness.
A face came into his line of vision. Peter.
"I'm not going to let that happen. The paramedic team isn't going to let that happen. Elizabeth is definetly not going to let that happen. All we need you to do is not to give in. Please ." Peter's voice was strangely distant, as if he were in another room. Blue sky met his eyes again. Wind fought against him. An engine buzzed. Someone re-placed the mask. Flow of oxygen became easier then. Odds and ends of words were exhanged.
"We're losing him, push 10 of epi and hang some fluids" The voice faded away.
Peter observed helplessly as Neal went into V-fib.
"Let's move, get some 50mg of epi to keep him up!" The paramedic ordered.
"It's in" One of them unscrewed the syringe from the IV.
One of the young female Paramedic's counted to herself. No response. "Ok, charge to 150"
"Clear"
Neal's body jerked as the paddles sent shockwaves through him. Another 5 seconds passed before she yelled, "charge to 200, clear!"
-Beep!-
Peter allowed himself to breathe. He became aware of his surroundings again. The ambulance speedboat was approaching closer to land. Hang in there Neal.
As if in response to his friend's silent plea, Neal came to. His blue eyes were filled with panic, as his body jolted upright but was met with the restraints of the belts, securing him to the gurney.
"Welcome back" The paramedic was smiling like he'd won the lottery. "We're almost there, another 5 minutes tops." He added.
His working colleague looked relieved.
"Hang some fluids and push 50 of morphine. Let's ease some of his pain."
Raw, terrifying emotions coarsed through Peter, sinking him into a deeper pit of despair. The FBI agent couldn't hold himself together. All rational thinking deserted him. He resorted to silent prayers, even though he wasn't religious. The female paramedic spotted his distress. She flashed him a sympathetic smile.
"Despite your friend hanging by a thread, he's tough as old what it's worth, will can dramatically influence whether one lives or dies."
"Thank you" He replied hoarsly.
Peter checked his watch. Four hours and 23 minutes had passed since Neal had been rushed into surgery. He had overhead one of the surgeons muttering "it's a bad one". His hopes had instanteously sunk and now he was left hunched over in his chair with Elizabeth's hands wrapped around his.
"Honey, he's going to be ok."
"I honestly don't know. El you didn't see him... you didn't see what that sick bastard did to him. He was hanging by a thread on our way here." Peter stared off into the distance, and tried to grasp a reality without Neal in it. He shuddered.
"He's strong. He's managed to survive everything else." Elizabeth tried to talk some sense into him, yet her voice was gripped with terror.
"Even if he does come out of this alive...I can't imagine what psychological damage he must have experienced on that boat." Peter's throat felt empty. He couldn't talk about this. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to dull the growing sadness that threatened to overwhelm him. El began to sob again, her hand weak in his. All they had left was hope.
"Agent Burke?"
Peter nudged Elizabeth and both rose, clutching hands as they faced
"How's he doing?" Peter asked, his voice laced with fear.
"Neal's first knife wound punctured his abdomen and cut through his peritoneal cavity. We were able to succesfully repair that. His second stab wound was located two inches away from his spinal chord. His other bruising caused some internal bleeding, and he has a moderate concussion. He has two cracked ribs and his left wrist is broken. Six of his fingers are broken, and i'm afraid it will take some therapy for him to regain full movement of his left hand. Yet all these injuries we have been able to repair. What worried me was the severe amount of blood loss he experienced."
Peter frowned at this. "How much are we talking about exactly"
" He experienced a loss of 30-40% of circulating blood volume. Added to his drowning incident, his brain underwent oxygen starvation which has consequently brought unconsciousness. His numerous injuries have created complications."
"What are you saying then?" His voice shook, dreading the news that were about to be delivered.
"I'm afraid Neal is in a coma. Sometimes the body acts this way as a defense mechanism, so the body can healthily heal itself."
Elizabeth began to cry again. Yet Peter could not muster the strength to comfort his wife. Dr. Ross gave her a sympathetic look.
"How long will it take for him to.. to ah wake up?"
"That depends on Neal. I'm afraid he's under monitoring at the moment in the intese care unit. I'll brief you in on his condition in a couple of hours. By tomorrow, visiting hours should be put in place."
Peter thanked the Doctor and guided Elizabeth back to the chairs. The torturous waiting continued.
