Chapter 4

That Can't Be His Whole Life

The sun rose. Kelly woke, working his stiff neck. He didn't want to take his hands from his son for even a moment, but of course that was not possible. He hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day, every muscle was screaming to be stretched, and he needed to visit the head. He rose slowly from the chair and walked to the cot, expecting to see Stella, but the cot was empty. He walked to the door and stuck his head out, but there was no sign of his fiance. He smiled, thinking of her that way. His fiance. He had been slow enough to ask, hadn't he? He couldn't believe that she had said yes. They had had a long road together.

As Kelly emerged from the restroom a couple of minutes later, he spied her headed down the hall. She had a paper sack in one hand and a duffle over her shoulder. "Hey, you," he smiled at her.

"Hey yourself, handsome." He met up with her and kissed her deeply.

"Is that food from Over Easy?"

"Why, yes. Yes, it is. Some clean clothes, too. I knew I could never persuade you to come home to eat and shower, but I figure you can find a shower somewhere around here, and I thought food from your favorite breakfast place would entice you to eat a little something, at least."

"Actually, I'm starving. Haven't had anything since lunch yesterday."

"Well, let's get it while it's still hot, then."

They reentered Jackson's room and sat together on the cot, making the best of trying to eat without benefit of a table. The coffee was sweet nectar to Kelly, and that and the food helped to revive him. He did indeed find a shower in one of the doctors' locker rooms, with the blessing of Will Halstead and Ethan Choi. The entire hospital staff was rooting for little Jack, as they called him, and were willing to help out any way they could.

Kelly returned to Jackson's room feeling much more human than he had forty-five minutes earlier, and resumed his place by the boy's bed. He began looking at the monitors. Kelly had had enough experience in hospitals to interpret some of what he was seeing, and what he noticed was that oxygen saturation had dropped into the eighties, down from high nineties the night before, and his breathing seemed a bit labored. He also noted that Jack's head felt warm—not really burning up, but significantly warmer than it should be, nonetheless. Before he could react, Crockett Marcel was in the room.

"What's going on, Doc?" Kelly inquired. "His breathing isn't right and he has a fever."

"Yeah, I know, buddy. Looks like a post-op infection. Not surprising under the circumstances. Probably an infection in that little lung. I'm going to write an order for some antibiotics and give it twenty-four hours. If things aren't improving by tomorrow morning, I'll have to take him back into surgery and see what we can see. May have to drain some crud."

"Another surgery?" Stella chimed in. "Won't that be hard on him?"

"Very," Marcel responded. "That's why I'm trying to avoid it. I'm not sure he would survive another surgery. This little body has been through a lot. He was malnourished and had an upper respiratory infection before any of this other stuff happened. So he doesn't have a lot of reserves left. He's a little fighter, though. I'll give him that. Tough as they come." Marcel grinned at Severide. "Must run in the family."

Kelly didn't smile back. "Please, Dr. Marcel. Whatever it takes. Get him well."

Marcel placed a gentle hand on Kelly's shoulder. "Hey. The whole hospital, District 21, and I know all of 51 are pullin' for this kid. Believe me, I will do everything I can. This little fella is a survivor, and I admire that in anybody. I am going full bore on this, my friend. No holds barred in this fight, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Kelly blinked back tears once more. "Thanks, Doc."

"You bet."

Once the doctor had left the room, Kelly allowed the tears to come. Head bent, gasping for breath, he let the emotions flood over him. Stella moved to his side, pulling his head against her, just holding him through this storm. Finally, he pulled back, mopping the tears as he looked up at her. "He has to make it, Stella. He has to. He can't—he can't—die like this. Nobody has ever really loved or cared about him. That can't be his whole life. It just can't." And the sobs took him again. Stella just stood, softly caressing his neck and head once more as he wept, clinging to his boy as if he could keep him tethered to the earth by sheer force of will.

The day wore on, Kelly and Stella taking turns at the bedside, talking softly, one or the other leaving on occasion to visit the restroom or hunt down some coffee. Sometime mid-afternoon Stella went to the cafeteria and brought back food for Kelly. He ate without much enthusiasm. He was too busy watching the monitors and softly caressing his son's shaggy head while speaking quietly to him, encouraging him to keep fighting, reminding him that he wasn't alone. Dr. Marcel was in and out of the room, but there was little change—not for the worse or the better.

The night was even longer than the day had been, with Kelly continuing to try to hold on to the boy with his heart and will. Kelly refused any supper at all, saying he wasn't hungry. Stella was almost as worried about him as she was about Jackson. "Kelly, you really need to eat, or at least lie down for a little while," Stella said to him as midnight approached.

"No," he answered curtly. After that, she left him alone, curling up on the cot herself to try to get a little sleep, though it never really came. She knew the next few hours were crucial. If things didn't start improving, this little boy who had suddenly become so important to them both would be facing a life-threatening surgery.

Just before 5:00 AM, something caused Kelly to jerk upward, suddenly awake. He couldn't figure out what it was at first. He stared blearily at the monitor next to the bed, and realized that what had awakened him was a new quietness. The labored breathing had eased. According to the monitor, oxygen saturation was now at ninety-five percent. He gently touched Jack's forehead and found it to be cooler than it had been only a few hours earlier. Smiling, Kelly leaned forward and kissed the top of the little head. "Good job, bud. Good job." He moved to the cot, waking a lightly dozing Stella. She

opened her eyes and looked up at him. "He's better," whispered Kelly with another smile. "Now move over. I gotta lie down before I fall down." She shifted to one side, and the two of them curled together on the cot, drifting into sleep together.

That was what Crockett discovered about three hours later when he entered the room: Jackson breathing easily, his fever retreating; and Stella and Kelly impossibly tangled together on the small cot, sound asleep. The doctor smiled. He was beginning to think this boy was going to make it.