CHAPTER 10

"But one of them is still alive?" Caitlin asked, tears still streaming down her freckled cheeks.

He nodded, suppressing the bitter words for now that came to mind.

"Does she have a name yet?"

"No, I thought you might like to do that."

"But you didn't know that I…"

"Maybe not, but I hoped." She gave him a grateful smile. "You could have named her, String."

"I know, but I wanted you to. You don't have to now though, could wait until you see her at least."

"Alright, I'll think on it until then. Have you gotten to see her?"

The look on his face as he remembered his brief visit with their daughter told her he had done more than that.

"I have. She's got gorgeous big green eyes and a tiny bit of red hair. Looks a lot like you, just like I said we'd have. She's beautiful, Cait, perfect."

For a moment he was able to put aside the fear and take in the brighter side of the story until he remembered the doctor's warnings.

"Sounding congested…more antibiotics….might be too late… young, premature, little immune system… possible to pull through, but I wouldn't get my hopes too high…"

The couldn't get the bleeding stopped any other way, hated to have to do it, but Caitlin wouldn't be having anymore kids. The tiny bundle in the other room that was clinging to life was his only chance of fulfilling a promise he so wanted to fill.

At the moment he wanted nothing more than for her to live, for this whole mess to be over. No one could say whether or not that would happen though. He just wasn't sure what he would do if it didn't.

\A/

Slowly the blurred images around him came into focus as he opened his eye, blinking several times.

Or not.

He tried, but it just wasn't working.

"Saint John, you here?"

"Yeah," his friend answered sleepily, working his way through yet another cup of coffee. "What is it?"

"I was 'bout to ask you the same thing. What's so wrong with me that they gotta give me drugs so strong? Can't see straight, can't think straight… I feel like I have the world's longest hangover, and a nasty headache it is."

"Mostly just for your shoulder I suppose. You did mess it up pretty badly."

"How much longer 'til they come with more meds?"

"Another hour at least, why?"

"Cause a couple minutes til, I want you to find me a doctor."

"I can find you one now if you want, just say the word," Saint John offered.

"Nah, wait 'til I'm a bit more sober. You might wanna stick around though, make sure I don't act like a complete idiot."

"I'm sure you'd be alright."

"Maybe, maybe not. I'd prefer to keep from getting sent to the psych ward though. I hear they lock those doors, much harder to get out."

\A/

"Mr. Rivers," the doctor tried to explain, "you were put in the medications because of the intense amount of pain you would be suffering from if you weren't on them. If I take you off them…"

"I'd just like to be able to think for myself again. I broke my collarbone and hit my head, I'm not seeing anything to keep me in the hospital this long. So give me a few prescriptions and send me on my way; that's what the Air Force would be doing.

"This is a hospital not the US Air Force, and we aren't in a war. There isn't any logical reason why you shouldn't be fully healed before returning to duty."

"War or no war, I'm ready to get out of here and off these drugs. Something needs or I'm going to be demanding discharge papers."

"Fine. I'll cut down the medicine and see how it goes for a while. Any other demands you'd like to make?" Dr. Al Safi asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, actually. Some halfway decent food sounds good; I think I'm going to make my way to the cafeteria for a sandwich or something. You're welcome to join me though if you would like."

\A/

Approximately one week later…

Saint John knocked on the door and waited a moment before entering although more out of courtesy than necessity. When he came in he didn't find Mike in the bed like had expected however.

"Mike?" he called, stepping inside curiously.

"I'm here," the Air Force Major answered from in front of a small closet tucked around the corner.

Saint John continued in, seeing his friend using his one good arm to dig through the remarkable amount of things that had been stuffed inside for his shoes.

"Where did all that come from? I only remember bringing you in with some tattered clothes that wouldn't have hardly been worth throwing away simply because there wasn't much of anything to throw away."

"I really don't know. Half this is hospital stuff, the rest though… I sent your brother on a clothing mission at some point, but I hardly view him as a shopaholic. I was trying to get his mind off Cait for a while mostly, maybe I did too good of a job. Anyway, it sure isn't helping much now. Would you be willing to dig through and see if you can find my other shoe?"

"Only you, Mike," Saint John laughed, beginning his hunt. "Does this mean they're releasing you or are you running away?"

"Releasing me, although I'm not sure where to. It's practically the same either way."

"You could fly back home. We already took the Lady back, but there isn't any use in you sticking around if you don't want to."

"I'll stay. I heard Caitlin is doing better and I'd like to see that new niece of yours if I can. When I head back it's going to be nothing but work, debriefings, and answering questions. If they already think I'm dead, what's another couple days gone? Just between you, me, and the IV stand, I wouldn't mind taking it easy for a while. I mean, I'm anxious to start flying again, but I'm sure they're going to ground me for a while after this anyway."

"I can understand that. Just do yourself a favor and don't get into any more exploding planes."

"I'll try my best," Mike promised. "But then again, sometimes they can just look so inviting. I got to sleep for a three days straight this time; that's a heck of a lot more sleep than I usually get on active, not to mention all the amenities - room service, an on call doctor, time with friends…"