A.N. Thank you all for your wonderful responses! Here's the next chapter! Short, but hopefully sweet :)
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News came again much more quickly than any of them had anticipated. In fact, it was so quick that Libby ended up missing it.
Minutes after Dr. Clarke had given them their update, David had arrived to trade with Alex, bringing with him food for everyone and various essentials for Libby, such as a change of clothes—they'd managed to obtain some scrubs for her earlier, in order to change out of the clothes that were soaked in Sam's blood, but they were much too large.
Tulio was with his father—after refusing to go to sleep though it was past his bed time and insisting on coming to the hospital—and of course asked if he could see Sam yet. The heavy silence that followed the boy's innocent question spoke volumes. Alex was the one who finally responded with as true a smile as she could muster and told him no, not yet, but if they were lucky, they'd be able to see Sam before he knew it.
Alex and Tulio left, and David finally managed to strong arm Libby into going to get her hard cast put on, since they had had news of Sam, and would likely be waiting a while before they got more.
So of course, it was once Libby was gone that a nurse came to find them and inform them in tones that still spoke of her disbelief, that they could now see Sam.
Spike knew Libby was going to be livid, and couldn't help a small smile at the image it conjured.
Team One—minus their fallen member—made their way down the halls, following in the footsteps of a nurse who made sure to inform them that this was honestly a miracle that Sam had stabilized so quickly, that they probably wouldn't be able to appreciate just how unlikely it was, but that they needed to. As they walked, united once more in a goal to see their fallen member, to see their fallen member through this and to the other side, to be there for him in ways they hadn't been before, their disagreements were shelved. Set aside. No longer productive in their goal.
Before they knew it, they stopped outside of a door, which Dr. Clarke exited.
He saw them and smiled, shaking his head a little bit. "If I had known this would happen, I would have saved you all some heartache and worry and waited to inform you of his condition until he was stabilized." His eyes flicked over Spike's shoulder, to where Ed was standing just behind Spike. "Then again, maybe this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't come to speak with you all."
Spike glanced sideways and back, eyes narrowing at Ed. Something had happened between the doctor and his team lead, and he'd get to the bottom of it, but not right now. Right now, it was not important.
"I know you all have dealt with an injured teammate before," Dr. Clarke continued, "but I just wanted to make sure you all prepare yourselves. He's stabilized but he's still in critical condition, and will be monitored closely."
The doctor would never say it, but they could read between the lines. He looks dead. He almost died. Once you've been in, you may wish you hadn't seen him.
"Thank you, Doctor," Greg murmured quietly, speaking for all of them. "We appreciate it, but you are right, unfortunately we have dealt with this before." We've dealt with it with Sam before. And we never wanted to have to deal with it again. "We understand he's heavily sedated?"
He nodded. "Yes, we're keeping him under for now, to give him a little time to heal before he has to deal with everything, but talking to patients even when they're under can do a world of good."
This time, the doctor's eyes deliberately didn't flick to Ed.
Ah, Spike thought, finally connecting the dots.
"I won't make any promises on when we'll be reducing the sedation to see if," he finally voiced the uncertainty aloud, "Sam can wake up. But it will not be soon. Now, I'll not delay you further," the doctor stepped aside.
And the team stepped forward. Prepared as they could be.
But the truth of it was, nothing could prepare them for this. Not experience, not mental walls, not emotional bracing, nothing.
They'd seen it before, they'd seen Sam in a hospital before. But not like this before.
It should be better, easier than the last time Spike saw him, after rounding the corner in the square, not knowing what to expect and being met by blood, so much blood. But it isn't better. It's just different.
Then, there had been so much blood, and Sam limp and unresponsive. Face practically unrecognizable. Chest red. Such a feeling of helplessness but a drive to do whatever he could to keep his friend alive.
Now, there was no blood. Sam looked clean. There were medical personnel so close by that all Spike had to do was raise his voice and they'd be there. They would keep his friend alive.
But while Sam no longer looked like he was dying, he still looked like death had had a rather long conversation with him, and it was only by the skin of Sam's teeth that he'd made it back. Looking around, Spike could tell he wasn't the only one thinking it.
His blond hair was still visible as a small spiky patch sticking up at the top of his head, but the rest of it was covered by a bandage that wrapped all around his head, lying low on his forehead. A small streak of red colored the left side of the otherwise pristine white, the hint of what lay beneath.
His eyes were sunken and bruised, made to look all the more worse due to the breathing tube shoved down his throat, while the angry red flush of the sunburn that colored his cheeks and arms gave his skin the illusion of vibrancy, when in reality, upon looking closer, Spike could see the paleness that spoke of the trauma his body had been through.
A blanket was pulled midway up his chest, while a bandage covered the rest. Bruising peeked out from underneath it, and covered his right shoulder, joining the sunburn in a strange tapestry.
And Spike couldn't even count the number of leads and tubes connected to Sam.
No one said a word as they moved forward, gathering around him, continuing to survey the surficial damage.
No one said a word as one by one they gently reached out and clasped Sam's hand, reassuring themselves that he was solid and there, letting him know that someone was there, before stepping back and letting someone else take their place, to receive and offer their own assurances.
One by one they settled to watch and wait, some leaning against the wall, some sitting in the few chairs provided. They all had every intention of remaining rooted to the spot until Sam rejoined them.
Hang in there Sam. Please.
(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)
Of course, having every intention to stay was different from having the ability to stay. After several conversations with the nurses and doctors, who informed them that five people permanently staying in Sam's room was not possible, not to mention the fact that they wouldn't even be reducing the sedation for at least another four days, therefore there was a guarantee that Sam wouldn't wake up before then. Greg managed to convince the hospital staff to allow one person to remain with Sam at all times starting the next morning at 6—they wouldn't allow any earlier—and set up an eight hour rotation schedule for the next 24 hours. And then he proceeded to put his foot down, take the first shift—since he hadn't had to deal with the hot call and was therefore the most rested, so he claimed—assign Jules to the second, Spike the third—only after Spike put his own foot down and refused to be last, which is where Greg wanted to put him since he was recovering from an injury—Ed fourth and Wordy fifth, and kick everyone out, ordering them to go home, eat, sleep, and stop looking like a bunch of unwashed zombies.
It was on their way out, having been kicked out of Sam's room on Greg's order—who remained behind to work out a few details regarding their shift schedule—that they encountered Libby storming down the hall toward them. For once her anger was not directed at them, and Spike spared a moment of pity for her father, as he no doubt got the business for forcing Libby to get her cast and therefore delaying her reunion with Sam further. When she saw them, though, she hesitated, anger leaving her and worry and a hint of fear inserting itself instead. But when they were able to muster halfway decent smiles of encouragement, she rushed on past them and disappeared into Sam's room, her father trailing behind.
Spike would have liked to stay and see the fireworks show, knowing Greg would no doubt try to convince her to go home after a little while, but he didn't want to intrude. Besides, he knew what the outcome of that disagreement would be. He'd bet money on it. And it wouldn't be on Greg.