Author's note: I think some of you know my mom passed away right after I updated the last time. My dad had died about six months before her, and well, life's been...different lately. Then about the time I pulled myself together, Ruh knocked my laptop off the bed and goodbye, laptop. Fortunately most everything was saved on an external hard drive. This is one of my favorite chapters; I hope you enjoy reading it.
Part 20
JD and Chris sat in tense silence in the cab of Chris' Dodge Ram. JD, in the passenger seat, kept looking at Chris out of the corner of his eye. 'He looks so tired.' The thought popped unbidden into JD's mind. He took a second look. 'Yeah...tired and old and...scared...'
Well, hell. JD himself was tired. And scared. Buck was so sick...Ezra was missing...
He found himself wanting to say something comforting-encouraging-to Chris, but he couldn't think of anything. The mere impulse angered him. He was mad at Chris, damn it! Chris had jumped all over Buck when Buck was so weak...
But Buck himself had told JD to forget that, that it was between him and Chris. Not any of JD's business.
It was his business, damn it! Buck was his best friend. And Chris was-
Chris was Buck's oldest friend. JD knew that. Theirs was a friendship that spanned so many years, was so complicated by grief and guilt and loyalty-
Loyalty?
Well, of course Buck was loyal. Too loyal. He'd back Chris no matter what, just because...
Well...
'Buck isn't stupid.' That irritating voice in his mind was back. 'He's not self-destructive. He wouldn't have stayed with Chris all this time if...if Chris didn't deserve him...
Unable to stop himself, JD stole another look at the man driving the truck. They were stuck at a red light and Chris' fingers tapped impatiently against the wheel. His eyes stared into the distance. Somehow JD knew he wasn't seeing the traffic that surrounded them.
He had to say something. Anything. The silence was stifling. His thoughts insisted on going down paths he'd prefer not to traverse.
"Chris-" he started.
"Hear you're looking for an apartment," Chris said abruptly, his words drowning out JD's.
Caught off-guard, JD's mouth hung open for an instant before he slammed it shut. "How did you-" he started, confused. 'Bobby was the only one-but why would he tell Chris?'
"Property manager called to verify employment." Chris seemed to hesitate. He had yet to look at JD.
"I-" JD was at a loss for what to say. He swallowed hard. "Bobby took me to see it." He felt embarrassed, almost ashamed, without knowing why. That made him mad. He blurted, "I can't sleep in your spare room forever."
Chris nodded, still staring out the windshield. The light finally turned green and he urged the truck forward.
JD kept talking, well babbling was more like it. "It's a nice place. Has a pool and Jacuzzi. A balcony. Like the one at home..." his words trailed off as it hit him, once again, that the place he had called "home" no longer existed.
"You talk to Buck about it?"
JD winced. Of course, he hadn't. Hadn't even thought about it. When he'd gone to look at the apartment, he hadn't known about the poison or the ventilator. He'd just been thinking that Buck was going to be in the hospital for awhile and-
Hell, he hadn't been thinking. He'd just been acting impulsively again. Missing his "home" so much he'd been desperate to create one.
But it wouldn't be home if Buck wasn't there. If Buck didn't pull through.
He became aware Chris was waiting for an answer. "No. I didn't tell him. It doesn't have anything to do with him-" Even he could hear the defensive note in his voice, but still, Chris' reaction took him by surprise.
The team leader swerved the Ram over to the curb. Slamming it into "Park", he turned to face JD, impaling the younger man with the full force of his icy green gaze. "The hell it's not," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I know you're pissed at me, JD, but don't you go dragging Buck into the middle of it."
That sounded so much like what Buck had said that JD didn't even have a response. He blinked two or three times, trying to find words and vaguely realizing he must look stupid, when the sudden shriek of nearby sirens distracted him. Four or five police cars raced past, one after another, in full lights-and-siren mode. The speeding vehicles were followed closely by two huge, unwieldy black vans, both bearing the logo of the Denver PD. The rear one had the additional words "HazMat Unit" emblazoned in yellow across the back panel doors. JD's gaze followed the vehicles. His eyes grew huge as he realized their destination.
"Chris!" he choked out, panic surging through his blood. He pointed out the window with a shaky finger. "Chris!" He repeated urgently. "They're going to the hospital. The hospital. Buck's in there!"
Nina grabbed the phone on the first ring. "David?" she said, desperately hoping against hope it was her brother. Although why would he call her now when he hadn't seen fit to do so far...
It wasn't him, of course. It was Monica.
"I have an idea," she said.
"That would be a refreshing novelty," Nina snapped. "Is this idea likely to blow up in our faces like the last one did?"
Silence on the phone, broken by a faint sniffle.
Nina rested her head on her hand. 'Shit.' She cleared her throat. "Sorry. Monica? Stop crying. I'm sorry."
Her cousin could be so high maintenance.
"What's your idea?" she prompted.
There was a minute of silence. To keep herself from shrieking like a madwoman, Nina leafed through a fashion magazine on her coffee table. 'Great. Pink is the color for professional women this fall. I look like a hag in pink. Monica looks good in it, but then, she looks good in every color. That is so unfair. She doesn't appreciate her coloring or that figure. Eats whatever she wants and never gains an ounce. I gain ten pounds just by looking at what she has for lunch. And does she appreciate what she has? No. She'd live in blue jeans and scrubs if I didn't drag her out to buy decent clothes every few months..."Monica!" she prodded again.
Finally. "I...I think I know where David might be."
Nina sat bolt upright on the sofa-no easy task given how overstuffed it was. "What? Where?"
"Steven's cabin up in the mountains."
"No way." Nina dismissed the idea. "Don't you need four-wheel drive to get up that road? His car would never make it."
Monica cleared her throat. "Well...no. But Steven's would."
"The Stealth?" Nina stared at the phone. OK, Monica was an idiot about cars but still..."Monica, you have the Stealth. And besides it's not four-wheel drive."
Now it was Monica's turn to sound exasperated. "Not the Stealth, you moron. The other one. The SUV. I called the parking garage and David took it out yesterday evening. He left the Mustang there."
Nina nodded slowly. The cabin. She'd never been there...it was Steven's retreat. Monica had been there once or twice but David used to go up with Steven all the time. Nina knew it was only ninety minutes or so from town.
"You know how to get there?" she asked.
"Well...not really. But I do still have the map Steven drew for me."
Nina smiled as an idea occurred to her. "Fax it to me," she ordered. "And then go play in your lab for a while. Forget we ever had this conversation."
"Nina...what are you going to do?"
"Never you mind, Cuz." Nina depressed the switch hook and then hung up the phone gently. She switched on the fax machine, then went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She heard the high-pitched squeal of the fax machine before the kettle even boiled. She smiled inwardly. Good Monica. She could trust her to do as told.
Unlike David.
Monica was easily led. She didn't want any part of their uncle's empire-just wanted to be left alone to run her lab. Well, as long as Uncle Arthur continued to foot the bill...
She could trust Monica.
She could boss Monica.
She'd never be able to trust David. Never be able to tell him what to do.
David was a hot-head. Not all that bright, either. Uncle had to know his empire wouldn't be safe with David at the helm.
But still, David was a man. And Uncle Arthur could be old-fashioned about some things.
David was in the way.
And Nina didn't like things-or people-that stood in her way.
With any luck, she could win Uncle Arthur's game and get rid of her brother.
She smiled blissfully at the prospect.
Vin and Nathan didn't speak as they drove back to the Federal Building. What was there to say? The dead body back at the morgue wasn't Ezra. That was a relief, but where was he? Was he all right? Had someone really snatched him or had he lost himself up in the mountains? Vin knew, better than anyone, Ezra was not at his best in the wilderness. Take him away from city lights and he was terminally lost. Vin winced, thinking about the blood on the shattered window of Ezra's car. A lot of blood. More than just a minor injury-
"What the heck-?" Nathan suddenly leaned forward and twisted the knob of the radio. It had been set-as usual- to Nathan's favorite classical music station. Vin's view of music was: "It should have words." He tended to block out Nathan's music.
"...repeat, this is Dana Ross with a breaking news story. Police and fire units have converged on University Medical Center in response to a possible bomb threat. Although nothing has been confirmed as of yet, sources in hospital administration have reported some sort of incident on the fourth floor near the Intensive Care Unit. Members of the bomb squad and the HazMat unit have responded, as well as two men reportedly with the ATF. Police spokesperson Lt. Richard Ryan refused to confirm or deny federal involvement in the investigation. Ryan did state officers had responded to the fourth floor and that one policeman was slightly injured. He refused to confirm-"
"Nathan!"
"I know! Hold on!"
Vin gripped the handle above his window as Nathan skidded the Bronco into a U-turn and burned rubber racing toward the hospital.
Brandishing ATF ID's and hostile attitudes, JD and Chris made it through the blockade around the hospital. More than one of the Denver cops looked dour about the thought of "the Feds" horning in on their crisis, but either because they knew Chris from his time on the force, or they didn't want to mess with federal agents, or they just took a good look at Chris' glare and JD's remarkable imitation of it, no one tried to stop them as they raced down the corridor to the bank of elevators. There was a uniformed officer there, standing next to a sign stating the fourth floor was off limits to all but essential personnel; Chris flashed his badge and the officer blinked once and backed away.
JD followed Chris onto the lift. The short elevator ride seemed to take hours. They'd turned off the Muzak system. "Never thought I'd miss hearing 'Feelings'," JD muttered. He didn't even realize he'd said it aloud until Chris smirked at him.
"Call the IRS sometime," the older man responded. "They put you on hold and play 'Flight of the Bumblebee' over and over." It was the most civil conversation the two had exchanged in what seemed like years.
The doors slid open and the two of them moved as one. They stepped out...and reeled back as a stench worse than a dozen diseased corpses hit them full-on. Tears flooded JD's eyes and he fought them back, breathing only through his mouth as he pushed past all the people and ran down the corridor toward ICU.
Chris' eyes followed the running figure before he straightened his shoulders and looked at the milling crowd. The area between the two banks of elevators teemed with people: police and firemen as well as hospital personnel. And one familiar face: Ryan Kelly, Larabee's counterpart on Team Eight. Chris elbowed his way over to the other ATF agent. "Thought you were sittin' with Buck."
The overt hostility in his tone didn't seem to phase Kelly; he understood where Larabee's head was at right now. "Kirk's with him. Seemed more important for me to be out here."
Chris nodded and squeezed the other man's arm in apology. There were very few people he trusted outside of his own "family", but Kelly was one of them. Not just Kelly but all of Team Eight. Kelly wouldn't have left Buck unless it was urgent he do so. And Kirk Guston, Buck's counterpart on Team Eight, would protect the injured agent with his very life if need be.
"What's going on?" Chris asked, trying to breathe through clenched teeth. "God, what is that smell?"
Kelly grinned humorlessly. "That smell is what someone seemed to think would make a good get-well present for Buck."
Chris froze. "What?" he hissed softly. Fire lit his gimlet eyes.
"It's okay." Kelly had been maneuvering them through the crowd. "Never got anywhere near Buck." He stopped at the open door marked "Lounge." Chris knew the room well: it held a Coke machine and snacks, as well as a coffee pot, perpetually filled.
The smell was stronger in here and Chris almost had to gasp for breath. His eyes were caught by the huge floral arrangement that the Bomb Squad and two or three HazMat guys were carefully packing up. Lots of tall, spiky blue and white flowers in a Chinese-style bowl. He frowned, knowing he'd seen something similar before. Then it hit him: Buck had received an identical bouquet the day he'd confronted him about Bolo Orlowski. Chris had taken it into his friend himself. He stiffened, but logic immediately told him this could not be the same arrangement. The flowers were fresh. His eyes met Kelly's. "Buck?"
Kelly seemed to understand what he meant and nodded. "Hospital volunteer brought 'm up." He nodded toward a middle aged blonde woman in the cheerful pink smock of the hospital volunteers, who was sitting on a hard plastic chair and sobbing. "She was goin' to show them to Buck, ask if he wanted them to go to Oncology or the Burn Ward. Don't think she realized Buck's on the ventilator."
Chris winced, not hearing the end of Kelly's sentence. His mind locked onto three words.
'The Burn Ward.'
...Listening as Adam screamed from pain beyond understanding...
...The sound of machines slowing their urgent noises as his son took his last breath and slipped away...
...The way Buck was slipping away now...
"No!" Chris said it aloud. A few people turned to stare at him. Kelly gripped his shoulder.
"Chris, it's okay. The stuff isn't deadly...just repulsive." Kelly nodded to the investigators. "They said it looked like a simple timer-anybody who walked into a Radio Shack could figure out how to make one."
Chris met Kelly's eyes. "What happened?"
"Volunteer brought them up on the elevator, was on her way to ICU when one of the cops doing guard duty stopped her, took them away from her. She was pretty irate about it but the cop insisted. Brought them in here to look them over and that was when it detonated. Cop got a lung full of the stuff."
Chris' eyes narrowed. "Which cop?"
JD's Nikes pounded on the slick linoleum as he raced through the double doors leading into ICU. Barely slowing his pace, he made a beeline for Buck's room.
And was stopped short outside the room by the scene within.
Team Eight's Kirk Gustin sat in the chair where JD had perched so many hours, reading aloud from a battered paperback. Buck's eyes were closed. JD's eyes were drawn to the monitors above the bed. He knew very little about them, but his eyes unerringly went to the cardiac monitor, which showed an even, steady beat.
Relief threatened to knock him down. He grabbed hold of the door frame and closed his eyes against the lightheadedness.
"JD?"
JD turned at the woman's voice. It was a measure of his fatigue that it took him a full thirty seconds to recognize her. "Kim! Hey. You're back..."
Kim Sykes nodded as she stepped closer. She'd been Buck's primary nurse during his first stay in ICU and had endeared herself to Team Seven by her patient but cheerful manner, as well as the way she completely ignored visiting restrictions and let them stay with Buck as much as they wanted. She'd conjured up blankets and pillows to encourage them to sleep, and-from somewhere-sandwiches and fruit and coffee to keep them going.
"Thought you were on vacation," JD said now. He was honestly so glad to see her. He'd missed her cheerful smile and always-encouraging manner since Buck had returned to ICU.
"Today's my first day back." Kim nodded over JD's shoulder at Buck's cubicle. "See Buck couldn't stand being away from the best-looking nurses in this hospital."
JD smiled a little bit at the joke, knowing Buck would have encouraged it. "Yeah..." He turned back to study his best friend worriedly. "How is he?"
Kim sighed. "He's been restless. We had to increase his sedation."
Guilt flooded JD. 'I shouldn't have left him,' he reproached himself. Then in a flash he remembered why he had. Ezra. Their friend was out there, somewhere; missing, probably injured. Maybe in the hands of some lowlife scum that wouldn't balk at killing a federal agent-would more likely be thrilled to do so. He took a deep breath. Buck would understand. Hell, if he could, Buck would have ordered JD out to look for Ezra, no matter what his own condition.
"Hey, JD." Kirk Guston had spotted him and rose, heading toward the door with that easy, long-legged grace that was so like Buck's, yet so heartbreakingly different. "I was just keepin' Buck here company until you got back."
"Where's Kelly?" JD asked, not really caring but more because he had to say something.
"You probably went right past him. He's out with that crowd by the elevators, trying to figure out where the stink-bomb came from."
JD frowned. He'd forgotten the horrible smell in his rush to get to Buck's side. He looked around, only then realizing Chris wasn't with him, and realized the older man must have stayed with the crowd to find out what was going on.
JD really didn't care. He'd find out eventually. Right now he just needed to be with Buck.
Needed his use his own presence to anchor Buck here. Buck wouldn't let go if he knew how much JD was counting on him to live.
JD knew that as well as he knew his own name.
Monica obeyed Nina partially-she went to Riverside Pharmaceuticals. But not into the lab. She knew she was too restless, too agitated to do anything productive there.
Instead she locked herself in her office. For a long time she sat at her desk, staring at the piles of paper without really seeing them. Much of the paperwork concerned T-27. The drug was promising. So promising. Early clinical trials had gone so well. Even with the recent spurt of negative publicity, two of the major pharmaceutical companies were vying for the rights to manufacture and distribute T-27. Course they'd slap some advertising-friendly name on it. That was okay. With the kind of money they were offering and the reputation this would garner her, Riverside Pharmaceuticals would be set.
Finally she cast off even the pretense of working and wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows looking onto the back of the property, onto the little stand of woods and the creek. When they were going over the plans for the building she'd originally protested putting windows there, afraid the view would distract her. Steven had overruled her. "You spend too much time inside, Monica. Do you good to remember there's a beautiful world out there." He'd been right, of course.
She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her face against the cool glass. Unbidden the thought of Vin Tanner popped into her mind. She knew he must be frantic by now. With one of his friends in the hospital, and another one missing, his world would be teetering. Vin had told her just yesterday his teammates were the family he'd lost with his mother's death.
Family.
She shook her head. 'You ought to be grateful you don't have a family, Vin. Family isn't so great. Families only cause you pain.'
Monica had grown up knowing no one really loved her. As a child she'd felt it must be her fault some way. The few vague memories she had of her parents involved anger and noise and pain.
Her small world swept away by rage and violence, Monica had come to live with her aunt and uncle and cousin. Her uncle barely noticed she existed. Steven had been fun but then, too soon, David and Monica had come along and David and Steven were always engaged in "guy-things" that she was never allowed to know about. David teased and tormented her unmercifully; nothing gave him as much pleasure as making her cry. Steven defended her occasionally but Monica soon learned a better defense-lock her feelings away. Never let David-or anyone-see how much she hurt.
Her aunt...Monica frowned again. She tried not to think of her aunt very often. It wasn't her aunt's fault that she wanted an outgoing, vivacious daughter and got saddled with a painfully shy bookworm. It wasn't her aunt's fault that Monica's mannerisms and Irish coloring were inherited from her father, the man her aunt hated with every fiber of her being for taking away her beloved only sister.
But it was her aunt that chose to take out her anger and hatred and grief on the defenseless child left in her care.
It was emotional abuse. Monica realized it now, but for a long time she'd resisted the idea: her aunt didn't abuse her. She rarely hit her, only a slap across the face now and then. She was never spanked; the stock punishment for her crimes had been to send her to her room. In spite of everything Monica had to grin. Her aunt had never figured out that sending Monica to her room-surrounded by her books and her TV and music and imaginary friends-was not a punishment. There, she could escape from David's taunts and her uncle's indifference and her aunt's constant criticism.
…"Monica, straighten your shoulders. I swear I'm going to buy you a brace. You carry yourself like a sack of oats..." "Dear God, what is that you're wearing? Last time I let you buy your own clothes" ..."Young lady, I have never seen such rudeness. We have guests and you sit there with your nose in a book"..."Stop crying, for God's sake! David didn't hurt you. He's just teasing you..."
Monica shivered, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself as she, against her will, remembered her aunt's favorite remark, always delivered in a low, hissing voice, with an expression of true hatred on her face. "You get away from me. Out of my sight. You're just like your father. That murdering bastard! And you make me sick."
Nina had been her only real friend throughout her childhood. Younger than Monica, adored by her aunt, uncle-just about everybody-just for being Nina. Still, those green eyes could lighten Monica's spirits in a second. Those eyes and that smug smile that made her dimples show. Only with her little cousin, Monica could pour out all her pent-up love and be loved in return.
No one would take Nina away from her. Not like her parents. Or-NO! She wouldn't remember that. Wouldn't let herself remember that.
Forcing herself to block out the past, she pulled the piles of paper closer. T-27 would make her, give her respect in the scientific world. Save innumerable lives.
And it made a nifty tool for murder too.
Should have killed Ezra Standish. She still couldn't believe that the ER doctor had interned in her lab and recognized the chemical signature in Standish's blood work.
There had been no such complication the first time she used T-27 to kill, rather than to heal. Well, it wasn't T-27 then. Which version? Oh yes. Eighteen.
No one ever suspected her aunt's death wasn't natural.
She shook her head, banishing the smile. Needed to forget that. It was in the past. Done. Finished. She had another job now.
To wrap Vin Tanner so securely around her finger he didn't know whether he was coming or going.
A thought occurred to her and she smiled again. Perfect. Would score points with Vin and give her a puzzle to sink her teeth into. She reached for the phone.
"Marci," she said to her secretary. "Get me University Medical Center. The labs. Find out who's working on identifying the poison used on a patient named Buck Wilmington."
Within fifteen minutes she had the satisfaction of knowing a courier was speeding toward her with what she needed. The head of the labs at UMC had been almost pathetically grateful for Riverside's promise of help.
Monica hummed to herself as she pulled on a lab coat. She'd get to play in the lab today after all.
tbc...