Thanks so all for checking out my fic!
Will it be smooth sailing for Ezra now? Let's see. : )
Part Ten
"Nathan."
The dozing healer's eyes snapped open. Immediately the medic got to his feet when he saw that it was Raine standing before him. His fiancée was off-duty and was dressed in casual jeans and a tank top. "Raine." Nathan reached for his love, pulling the beauty gently into his arms and meeting her lush lips with his hungry ones. He inhaled her sweet scent that even the medicinal smell permeating the hospital couldn't obscure.
Raine broke the kiss and smiled warmly at the worried Jackson. "You look exhausted." She didn't bother to suggest that he go home and rest - it was pointless and would be all the more so after she'd given him and the others waiting, an update on Ezra's condition.
Nathan rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I'm fine." Only then did he realize that all, except for Josiah Sanchez, were either sitting or standing close by, amusedly observing the tender scene.
Nathan flushed and sat down, his strong hands nervously clasping Raine's feminine ones as she sat down next to him. "Do you have any information on how Ezra's doing? Do you know how the test went?"
The men pressed in closer as Raine spoke. "According to my friend, Kelly who assisted in Ezra's procedure, things went well. Ezra's in recovery and the nurses are monitoring his vital signs. Has Dr. Peterson come out to talk to you yet?"
"No. Not yet," Nathan replied. He glanced at his watch. "How long has Ezra been in recovery?"
"About fifteen minutes. I don't know if anyone told you, but it's all right to go check on him for a short time while he's in recovery."
Nathan glanced sharply up at Chris. Larabee returned the unspoken question with a nod of his head.
Jackson's mouth went dry at the thought of seeing an awake Ezra. As luck would have it, every time it had been his hour to sit with Standish, he'd been deeply asleep or unconscious. Nathan hadn't had to worry about trying to hide his concerns about Ezra's future as an undercover agent from him. He was a terrible liar and had absolutely no skills whatsoever in the area of deception and suppression of emotions. The worst thing that could happen is that Standish would read in his eyes what he could not say to him in person.
Nathan had done his research. He'd looked into the medical board procedures and examined outcomes for case after case. According to what he'd discovered, the future looked pretty bleak.
Nathan was surprised at the intensity of the fear he felt at what the change could mean. They were seven, damn it! Each man was a part of the whole and a whole was always greater than the strength of the individual parts alone. What good was a hand without an arm? A foot without a leg?
Jackson sighed as if he could expel his morose thoughts that way. He stood up and began walking with Raine in the direction of the recovery room like a man going to his execution. When they reached the entrance, they both went into the brightly-lit, open bay room where several patients, in various stages of recovery, were ensconced. A group of medical personnel were congregating at a work station while an occasional nurse walked about quietly performing their duties.
Nathan's eyes swept the beds looking for Ezra Standish. Almost all of the beds, even the ones with patients, had the long privacy curtains pulled back.
Jackson walked down until he found the one he was looking for.
Ezra's eyes were closed. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and even from beneath the oxygen mask that was once more obscuring his features, he looked worn out. Nathan watched concerned as Ezra's chest moved up and down with the shallow breaths he was still forced to fight for despite the boost from the oxygen. His skin, against the white of the pillow, seemed bloodless in comparison. Nathan's eyes quickly swept over the medical equipment attached to his exhausted friend. The hiss, beeps, and swishes of the machines monitoring Ezra's heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen levels provided a backdrop of constant sound that Nathan suspected the Southerner found irritating. An IV drip delivered the Heparin into Ezra's system.
Nathan spared a quick glance at the ECG readings before stepping close to the bed. "He looks so exhausted," he whispered worriedly.
Raine rubbed Nathan's back softly. "Feeling weak and tired after the procedure is completely normal. It's just that Ezra's likely feeling it far more intensely because he's still so sick."
Nathan sighed. "I imagine his throat's gonna be mighty sore for a few days too after having that probe stuck down him." Nathan leaned over Ezra's curled figure. "Ezra." Nathan called softly. His dark fingers brushed gently against the perspiring forehead.
Slowly the Southerner's eyelids lifted only half-way to reveal groggy green eyes. "You're in the recovery room in case you didn't know." Nathan smiled, then his expression grew serious. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I just came in to check on you."
Standish slowly blinked and Nathan caught a glimpse of unfocused, sleepy eyes. Nathan wondered just how much his drugged friend would be able to understand. Just then Ezra coughed and his handsome face tightened up in a grimace of pain. Immediately the medic took hold of one pale, limp hand. "Does your throat hurt? Can I get you some ice chips?" There was a pause before Nathan felt his hand being weakly squeezed which he took as a 'yes'. "Okay, hang on. I'll fix you right on up." Nathan turned to Raine, but he didn't have to ask - she was already out the door on a mission to bring back ice chips and a spoon. She promptly returned and handed the items over to Nathan.
"Ezra, I've got some ice here. This is how we're gonna do this. I'm gonna count to three and when I get to three I'm gonna lift off the oxygen mask. All ya gotta do is open your mouth and I'll slide the ice chips right in and put the mask back in place, Okay?" There was no response just the continued slow blinking of groggy eyes. Nathan placed some crushed ice on the plastic spoon, grasped the mask and counted to three slowly and clearly. Upon three he lifted the mask and put the utensil up to Ezra's mouth. Nathan's plan paid off when the cold lips parted. After he slid the ice into the sick man's mouth, Nathan saw a look of pure relief pass over Ezra's face. The medic smiled at Raine and mouthed a 'thank you" for the ice.
Nathan turned his attention back to the undercover agent. "Ezra, we haven't' talked to Dr. Peterson yet, but I'm guessing that if he'd have seen any clots forming he would have told us right away. If I'm right, you won't be here for much longer. He's gonna want to get the procedure started right away. You're gonna feel so much better when it's all over," Nathan predicted. He sincerely hoped so because right about now the medic was having serious doubts about just how much more Ezra could take.
Era's eyes had drifted shut and he appeared to be out of it. "Nathan." Raine squeezed her man's shoulder gently. "We should go now."
"You hang in there, Ezra Standish. You hear me?" Nathan reluctantly straightened up and left the room, but not before looking one more time at the still figure. Hang in there.
*******
Josiah Sanchez rubbed a large hand through his thick, graying hair,. He was a lone figure in the quiet office space belonging to Team Seven. Sanchez wasn't usually there after normal work hours. Chris Larabee, being the team leader, habitually stayed late because his duties demanded it. Ezra customarily left late too, not because of his duties, but because he frequently ignored the standard 8:00 am work day start time in favor of a later, what he deemed a 'more civilized' time.
Josiah was glad that he had the floor to himself. He wanted a quiet place where he could hear himself think without being disturbed by the antics of Buck and JD, or the occasionally over-bearing Nathan.
There was another reason too. He was going to call Monaco and he knew he'd have to dust off the French he'd hadn't spoken since he'd studied the language in college. He'd tracked down the number to Les Thermes Marins Resort in Monte Carlo but that was the easy part, he knew. It had to be nighttime in Monte Carlo and that meant that it was highly unlikely that Maude Standish-Deveraux- LaCroix-Bancroft could be found tucked away in her room. No, the grifter would be at any one of the exciting, high-roller casinos Monte Carlo was famous for. He was going to have to use far more French than he had the skills for and he didn't need his colleagues around to hear him humiliate himself.
He dialed, listening to the clicks from the phone as the overseas connection was made. Josiah waited nervously when the phone began ringing. It was quickly answered by a pleasant-sounding female voice.
"Est-ce que ressource de Les Thermes Marins, comment je peux diriger votre appel?"
Josiah more or less assumed that he'd been issued a standard greeting that included an inquiry as to where the call should be directed. Sanchez cleared his throat before replying. "Uh...Bonjour. Uhm...Mon nom est Josiah Sanchez." The big profiler managed to introduce himself Now he was fishing around deep in his mind for the words to communicate that he needed Maude Bancroft for an emergency situation. "J'appelle des Etats-Unis.... et j'essaye de localiser... un invité à vous près du nom de Maude Bancroft. C'est une urgence et...et très important," he managed to say.
"Un moment, S'il vous plaît," The friendly voice bade Josiah to wait.
The phone began ringing again but after eight rings the polite female voice broke in to inform Sanchez that Mademoiselle Bancroft was not in her room. Would he like to leave a message?
No, he didn't want to leave a message. What Josiah wanted was for someone to get a maid, a security guard, an agent from Interpol for cryin' out loud to track that infernal woman down and drag her to the phone so that he could tell her about her son! Josiah took a deep breath and slowly let the air out before fumbling through an impassioned plea for assistance in his rapidly dwindling French vocabulary.
Blessedly, the French woman took pity upon him and switched to flawless English. "Mr. Sanchez, if you will please give me your telephone number I will personally see to it that the message is delivered to Miss Bancroft right away if she is on the premises."
"Thank you, Miss..."
"Bouvier. Danielle-Élise Bouvier."
"Thank you Miss Bouvier." Josiah proceeded to give the woman his phone number. Afterwards he hung up the phone feeling oddly bereft as the connection was cut. What if the woman threw his number into the garbage, never intending to track Maude down? What if she simply grew too busy and forgot all about it? He had no choice but to trust Danielle-Élise to keep her word.
If there was a silver lining it was that he had given Danielle-Élise the number to his cellphone so he wouldn't be stuck sitting by the office phone. If he hurried, he might be able to make it back to the hospital before Ezra was taken for the cardioversion.
Josiah rose from his desk and swiftly turned out the lights. He rode the elevator down and exited the building by way of the parking garage. It wasn't long before he found himself on the road headed back to the hospital, negotiating his way through the rush hour volume of traffic. Too many cars and too many ill-timed traffic lights made for a maddeningly slow ride.
Sanchez's fingers thrummed out a staccato beat on the SUV's steering wheel. He kept glancing down at the silent phone next to him in the passenger's seat, willing it to ring.
Thirty-five minutes later he steered the vehicle into the parking lot of Denver Memorial. Now that he had arrived at the hospital, his mind was no longer focused on the silent phone. He was thinking about the treatment Ezra was to receive - could already be receiving. So immersed was he in his thoughts that he jumped, startled to when the cellphone begun to blare the familiar ringtone.
He pulled into the first open space, cut the engine and snatched open the phone. "Sanchez here," he fairly barked. Josiah's eyes closed in relief and he mouthed a silent 'thank you' heavenwards when he heard a feminine voice touched with a musical Southern accent. Right now that voice lacked it's customary light-hearted, flirtatious tone. Instead, Maude Bancroft's voice sounded wary and stressed suppressing anxiety. Ezra's mother laughed but the miles separating them could not disguise the forced sound of the laugh that accompanied her greeting. "Why, Mr. Sanchez surely Ezra told you that I was planning to come for a visit next month. Couldn't you wait until then to track me down?"
"No ma'am. I'm sorry, I couldn't. Look, Ms. Bancroft, this is not a social call. I'm calling because your son needs you. He's in the hospital and he's sick. Really sick."
Josiah heard what sounded like a strangled gasp, then silence. Finally, Josiah heard Maud's voice. "And what exactly is wrong with my darling boy?" This was the part Josiah dreaded the most. Having to explain to Ezra's skeptical mother that her son's life had been turned upside down ever since he'd been stung by bees.
Josiah didn't get a chance to respond because Maude kept talking. "Was he kidnapped and tortured by some miscreants of upbringing gone wrong? Has he been shot by some lowlife? I begged him to quite that job. What was my son thinking squandering his God-given gifts on a dangerous career in law enforcement!" Maude's hysteria-tinged voice was picking up speed.
Josiah moved to control the situation. "Maude, listen to me. Ezra was attacked by a swarm of bees. Apparently no one knew, not even Ezra, that he's severely allergic to bee venom. He almost died, and even though he didn't, the poison set off a some other problems. One of the problems involves a life-threatening heart arrhythmia."
"Don't be ridiculous - no one in my family is allergic to bees, and Ezra's never had any heart trouble. How can he possibly be as ill as you say he is?" Maude's fear came through loud and clear and her cultured accent had thickened.
If it had been Chris Larabee on the line, Josiah had no doubt that the fierce leader would have already had some choice, harsh words for Maude Bancroft. Luckily for her, Josiah's professional and life experience allowed him to understand that Maude's angry reaction was a smokescreen, a tool her subconscious wielded to effectively mask her fear.
Josiah's insight went even further. He realized that fear was something the woman didn't deal with well. He would have to stay on the line and explain to Maude exactly what had happened and what was still to happen with a great deal of patience and understanding.
Josiah chose his words carefully. "Ezra was in full cardiac and respiratory arrest and suffered some degree of brain damage. He had so much bee venom in his body that it set off a chain reaction. The medicine he needed to save his life is one that causes the heartbeat to accelerate. As the medicine leaves the body, the heart is supposed to return to a normal rhythm. Not only did Ezra's not do that, it got much worse until he was in danger of having a heart attack or stroke. He's going to undergo a procedure where the doctor has to shock his heart back to a normal rhythm. Now Maude, I'm not a betting man like your boy, but if I were, all my money'd be on Ezra that he's gonna come through this just fine." Josiah paused. "But there are risks...there's a chance that the procedure won't work. He could still suffer a heart attack or a stroke...or die. Your boy needs you."
Maude made a choked sound of protest. "Ezra's a grown man. A grown man I might add who turned his back on my advice not to get involved in your line of dangerous work! He turned his back on all his training. He doesn't need me," she ended bitterly.
"That's not true. And deep down in your heart, you know it's not." Josiah's voice, which could boom out loud enough to shake the rafters like an Old Testament preacher, softened with an infinite degree of gentleness. Josiah thought back on the little things Ezra had said, and some things he hadn't spoken of whenever the topic turned to childhood upbringing. The pain of bitter longing had escaped the tight corral of Ezra's heart from time to time. Josiah also remembered what Chris had told him. Chris had shared with the older man about the revelation he'd had about Ezra when he'd asked him about his mother. "The truth is that Ezra's always needed you but you taught him well not to ask for what he thinks he can never have. Right now he's scared-half out of his mind that once again you will prove to him that something else is always more important to you than him."
Maude answered and this time, Josiah heard raw confusion in her voice mixed with regret. "I...I did the best I could, but things were very hard for me when Ezra's father was murdered." Maude suddenly gasped and her voice grew hard. "Did you say something about brain damage?" Now Maude's voice sounded far away and filled with horror. "My God, that sharp mind!"
"It's called expressive aphasia. Ezra understands what a person is saying, but the aphasia is, for the time being, making it difficult for him to speak," Josiah said bluntly.
"No. No, no, no. What has Ezra gone and done to himself?" Maude moaned. Her anguish was real, Josiah thought, but he felt his ire rising at her thoughtless choice of words.
"Ezra didn't do anything to himself!" Josiah's voice rumbled dangerously. "None of this is his fault, but if you choose to break his heart by not coming to see him, then that's one more regret you'll have to trouble your soul. We are his family and we'll be here to help get him back on his feet."
Josiah heard the barest hesitation. "Well of course I'm coming," Maude declared. "I'll come as soon as I can make arrangements."
Josiah breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Why thank you, Josiah, but no. I can take care of things myself."
"Godspeed to you then."
"Good-bye."
Josiah closed his phone triumphantly. She was coming! They'd worry, later about what would happen when Ezra's mother actually showed up, but for now, his joy at knowing that for once, Ezra would have his mother there when he really needed her and was something to savor.
The big profiler got out of his car and, with a spring in his step, began quickly walking towards the hospital entrance eager to rejoin his waiting brothers.
*******
Chris Larabee's back ached from sitting in the hard chair - a far cry from the cushioned seats in the ICU waiting room they'd all spent far too much time in. Never thought I'd miss waiting in that place. With any luck, this would be the last time that they'd have to endure a vigil in any waiting room, comfortable designed furniture or otherwise. Chris' steely gaze suddenly locked on the approaching figure of Josiah Sanchez and instantly, all thoughts of waiting room vigils were dismissed when he observed the twinkle in Josiah's eye.
Vin and Chris exchanged glances as they both stood up.
"She's coming?" Chris asked without fanfare when Josiah reached them.
Josiah gave a toothy grin. "Lord help him, but I do believe she's on her way."
Chris didn't know whether to be relieved or on his guard at the news. Perhaps a little of both would be appropriate.
JD and Buck surrounded the two conversing men. "Is it true, did you really talk Maude into coming?" JD asked.
"Yes, son, it's true."
"How'd you manage that?" JD couldn't help but be curious after all he'd heard about and knew personally from having met Ezra's mother.
Buck laughed. "Kid, can't you just hear him now with that impressive voice of his...the perfect blend of philosophical babble and good old fashioned Old Testament persuasion?"
The big man shrugged then grinned sheepishly. "I merely explained the situation to her and gave her the opportunity to be the mother she wished she could be."
JD looked with admiration upon Josiah before he sighed. "That's great, but still its a shame she won't get here until after the procedure. What if something goes wrong?"
Nathan and Raine wandered over just in time to hear JD's last sentence. Buck popped JD on the back of the head lightly. "Ezra don't need what my ma used to call, 'stinkin' thinkin' right now. The man's suffered enough already don'tcha think?"
Chris glared at JD and the young man actually took a step backwards.
"Gosh, I didn't mean...that is, I'm just saying..."
"He's just thinking about what Dr. Peterson already told us," Nathan interjected. "The procedure has risks and Ezra has the right to know what those risks are. Like it or not, the shocks being applied are going to temporarily stop his heartbeat."
"Brothers, we all know that, but more importantly, we know Ezra. He's like a cat that always lands on his feet." Josiah reminded them.
"That's for sure," JD said empathetically, eager to change the subject.
At that moment the subject of their conversation was lying anxiously on a gurney, waiting to be wheeled out of the recovery room, into the elevator and up to the cardiac wing where he was to under go the cardioversion.
In exactly two minutes time, all hell would break loose.
*******