I've put two chapters up tonight, so if you've skipped straight to this one as the last chapter you may have missed the previous one.
As Colby left, Ian settled into the chair he'd vacated. Stretching his jean-clad legs in front of him, he inspected them for a while. This was not what he'd signed up for, and he still wasn't quite sure how Colby had talked him out of leaving. It wasn't often that Ian Edgerton found himself wondering just what in the hell he was doing. It was even less often that he could find no satisfactory answer.
Some time later Don stirred, blinking awake.
"You've got to learn to duck, Eppes," Ian said.
It took Don a moment to focus on him, but then he gave a slight grin. "I knew you had our backs."
"Always."
Ian had meant it to be light-hearted if not downright ironic, but as that wasn't quite how it came out he was relieved that Don seemed less than his usual alert self. Over the next twenty minutes or so he must have asked about five times whether anybody else had been hurt, what had happened to Marriott, and if they had any leads now on his crew. To which the answers were: no; dead finally – once the fucker had broken cover long enough to keep shooting at them through the window, Ian had been able to get a bead on him; and yes.
Once Don started to focus a bit better, he started to grumble that he really didn't need to be in hospital because of a tiny hole – okay Edgerton, two tiny holes – in his leg and a dent in his skull. The crease between his brows told a different story, though; it seemed he had the sort of ferocious headache that went with the concussion turf.
"D'you want to get some sleep?" Ian asked after a while. "Give your headache time to shift."
Don moved restlessly in the bed. "Guess so." But he showed no signs of it. "Hey, did anyone let Dad and Charlie know?"
"They were here earlier and they know you're okay," Ian said. "Colby talked your dad down."
"Colby's here?"
If Ian were anyone but the compassionate sniper he was, he might feel inclined to tease: Don Eppes looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
"He stayed till he had to go back into the office."
Soon after, Don fell asleep again.
Liz was struggling to concentrate. They still had Marriott's accomplices to track down, though that should be easy enough now they had his phone, computer, and daughter. Not necessarily in that order.
Try as she might to focus on the screen in front of her, she wasn't doing a very good job of it. She'd done enough of the mandatory psych sessions to know what her mind was doing as it kept replaying disjointed scenes, but knowing that didn't make it any easier as she kept seeing Don going down and staying down, not being able to get to him without crossing a huge wide open space with bullets flying, and then concentrating too hard on covering Granger to know for sure if they'd both made it out safely. Until silence fell: the hush both surreal and ominous after the tumult. It lasted for the longest two seconds of her life before the radio crackled with Edgerton's voice confirming his kill and Granger calling for medics. Even then they'd not been able to check on Don, having to ensure the place was clear and secure it first.
She remembered glancing down at Don lying there unmoving and unaware, with blood masking one side of his face, before turning away. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't face what had been her biggest fear when they were together. She couldn't look at Colby's set face as he methodically investigated Don's injuries.
Thank God for David because, while she did her job, she knew her brain wasn't functioning as it should and, she'd be willing to bet, neither was Colby's. David stepped in and took over without hesitation.
By the time Edgerton arrived from wherever he'd hidden himself, looking as pale and grim as the rest of them, Don seemed to have come round. He wasn't making much sense but at least he seemed to know who he was, and then the ambulance arrived and he was taken away, David ordering Colby to go with him. Once the sirens faded they left a dead silence in their wake. That was when she could have kissed David Sinclair because he organised them all, tasked them all, imbued them with a sense of purpose, and only stared briefly when Edgerton disappeared on them.
Liz shook her head impatiently, trying to dispel the images, and Nikki passed her a coffee – she was really getting good at this facilitation of Liz's slight addiction – with a wan smile. Ever since they'd gotten Colby's call from the hospital things had been easier, but they were still spooked. For any agent to go down spooked everyone. When it was Don, always so forceful and full of life, suddenly silent and still… Spooked wasn't really a strong enough word any more.
She looked up from her coffee a while later when Colby came in. He was moving more carefully than usual, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just because of the bruises he must have after the bullets that his vest had stopped. It looked more like he was holding himself together by strength of will alone. She nodded at him, but didn't go to speak to him; she guessed he had too much to deal with right now. David and he had a quick exchange, then he sat down in front of his computer and started on what she assumed was his report.
He was still there when she and Nikki got up to leave. They were going for a drink together. Probably several. As they passed by his desk, she could see that he hadn't made much, if any, headway on the report.