Waiting Wears Thin
Her knees drawn to her chest, and head down with her arms hugging her legs, Jules tried to make herself small and invisible—hard to do while wearing her SRU uniform. She couldn't stop the tears, so hid her face—nobody in the waiting room wanted to watch an officer sob—it was so unprofessional, but at this point, nothing and no one could stop the flow.
The source of her weeping was not only Sam's screams she heard before Boss ripped her headset off, but Spike woke in the ambulance and his agonizing scream ripped at her heart too. She was helpless to stop his pain … and couldn't even hold his hand to reassure him because the barbs were still embedded.
Spike's confused brown orbs did as much to undo her as his cries. It was almost as he was searching for Sam and became agitated when he couldn't locate his teammate. The final straw that set the liquid flowing from her eyes is when Spike began brokenly pleading for forgiveness from Sam right before they arrived at the hospital and was whisked away from her to a treatment room.
So absorbed in her misery, Jules didn't notice the person slumping into the seat next to her. It wasn't until a warm arm laid across her shoulders and pulled her towards him. She almost resisted until Wordy's soft voice said, "Sam's here now too. They're both going to make it."
Jules melted heavily into Wordy's side, seeking to draw strength from the team's teddy bear who defended his family with the fierceness of a grizzly bear. Of all her teammates, crying in front of Wordy didn't embarrass her … so she released the floodgates. Once cried dry, Jules drew a shaky breath and wiped at her face.
Wordy silently offered Jules the box of tissues he snagged from the reception desk upon his arrival and spotting Jules curled into herself. This petite yet powerful constable had a backbone of steel and a heart of gold and it took a lot to reduce her to tears. This situation more than qualified … hell even his eyes misted up on the ride here with Sam.
At one point during the godforsaken ride, their youngest teammate became combative … yelling that he had to save Spike … that he wouldn't let go. But the worst part was when Sam mumbled he couldn't live if another brother died because of him. Wordy knew about Matt's death. Sam once used the tale to try to reach a vet with PTSD but changed Matt's name to Ben for some reason. He never asked why … for all he knew Ben might be a nickname.
"Boss and Ed are here," Wordy said as the final two members of Team One entered the emergency room.
Jules scrubbed at her face and unfurled herself—needing to appear stronger than she felt. She couldn't fall apart, or the brass might change their mind about allowing her and Sam to serve on the same team while dating one another. Oh, and God forbid they discovered she carried his child right now. One of them would surely be transferred before they were ready to make that change themselves—one they knew was coming faster than either wanted.
Greg surveyed Jules' face, noting the red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes, denoting she cried hard. He wanted to hug her and tell her both men would be alright—but he couldn't lie. And she would know he lied, because, at this point, he didn't know the extent of their physical injuries, but hanging from forty stories believing your death was imminent would definitely mess with Sam's and Spike's heads. Hell, it messed with his, and he wasn't the one swinging in the wind wrapped in barbed wire.
Digging deep and donning her protective mask, Jules stood, ready to make a show of being okay, when actually she was so FINE—Sam's definition Fouled Up, Insecure, Nervous, and Emotional. However, her body betrayed her. Her head swam as the floor titled up to meet her, and her stomach turned as the lights went out.
Ed moved fastest, catching Jules as she passed out cold. He prevented her from smacking the cold tile, and then scooped her up into his arms, bridal style. In the next instant, he was striding to the desk as he boomed, "My teammate needs a doctor."
Wordy sighed as Ed forced them to take Jules back … Eddie never took no if one of the team needed something. He only hoped the stress of today didn't endanger Jules' delicate position. Oh, he knew the signs all too well—being a father four times over. Jules was clearly in the first trimester—still not showing. But he hadn't missed the way her hand would absently roam to her abdomen and settle there with a tiny smile gracing her features.
Nor had he missed the subtle ways Sam catered to her in the past month. Nothing obvious that would garner Jules' wrath or anyone else's notice, but being the doting husband he was to Shel, especially when she carried his precious daughters, Wordy caught on. Heck, they were trained in observation, so he had that going for him too. But he was certain none of the others were aware.
If Spike even suspected Jules to be pregnant, the whole world would know because Spike would be as excited as the couple about to be parents. If Boss discovered the secret, there would've been a team discussion at the minimum. Greg would want to ensure Jules' and the unborn child's safety. And if Ed knew … well, that really wasn't the case here. Hell, for all of Eddie's insights into subjects and tactical abilities, he could be so obtuse when it came to women and one particular blond sniper.
He glanced at Greg as the sergeant sat beside him. "The adrenaline crash must've gotten the better of her."
Greg only nodded, experiencing the post-incident drop himself, and needing a moment to regroup. After several minutes of quiet contemplation, Greg straightened as Ed exited from the treatment room. "How is she?"
Ed squeezed the nape of his neck. "Ornery as ever. She's insisting she's okay, but I told her if she got up off that bed before the doctor checks her out, she'd be running the shoot house stairs for months." He blew out a ragged breath. "Never known Jules to collapse like that … something else … the stress of her boyfriend almost dying …" he trailed off and pinned eyes on Greg. "This is why they shouldn't be on the same team. Sure, they make great partners, but what-if she passed out like that during a call."
"Now's not the time," Wordy interjected.
"Maybe not, but I'm not wrong." Ed paced five steps one way and five back and sank into a chair opposite the other two. "Might not be an issue moving forward. Sam's leg took the brunt of the weight … I suspect the injury he sustained will be extensive. And his hands … they're shredded from holding Spike. I can't imagine there not being some nerve damage."
Greg bowed his head, recognizing the truth of Ed's words, but when he lifted his gaze to the distraught team leader, he said, "I suggest we wait for the doctor's report before speculating on Sam's chances to return. He's surprised us before."
They each nodded, and fell quiet, lost in their own thoughts, replaying the events leading up to them waiting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs for word on their two … make that, three friends and teammates.
Her arms crossed, hugging her body, Jules sat on the gurney, mentally kicking herself for fainting. The team would demand an answer, and she couldn't tell them the true reason—not yet. However, this gave her a slight reprieve out of the public eye … her little cubicle giving her sanctuary from gawking eyes.
The tears rolled again, though she didn't think she had any left. As the curtain pulled back, she quickly swiped at her face.
"Miss …" the doctor noticed the uniform and changed his address, "Constable Callaghan, I'm Dr. Felz. I understand you had an episode of syncopy. Your blood pressure is a little lower than we'd like, but that may be due to dehydration. You told the nurse you've been throwing up lately … I'd like to explore the cause."
"Won't be necessary."
"But, Miss, with your job it could be dangerous."
Jules couldn't help the little snort. "My job is dangerous, and my teammates depend on me, so I won't be putting them at risk. I just need to make an appointment with my OBGYN to confirm what the boxed test already told me."
A smile bloomed as the young doctor caught the drift. "So, pregnant. Morning sickness."
"Yes, but I have it under control. I don't plan to tell my team until I pass the three-month mark. Today, it's just an adrenaline crash after almost losing two members of my team. Please, just sign off I'm fine, and I'll go wait with the rest of them for word on Sam and Spike."
"You must be referring to Braddock and Scarlatti."
"Yes."
Aware she had been crying, compassion a strong point for him, one his instructors constantly told him he needed to squelch because becoming too close to patients would make his job more difficult, but he disagreed, believing he would be a better provider, he said, "Perhaps you would rather wait here. I'll order rest and hydration, and ensure you are kept abreast of news on your teammates if you make one promise."
"What?"
"You schedule an appointment with your doctor within the next week. The high stress of your job can lead to complications in pregnancy … I want only the best for you and the child you now carry."
Jules nodded. "I promise, and thanks."
Dr. Felz grinned again. "You're welcome." He started to leave, but halted and asked, "Is there anyone you want to come back and wait with you … perhaps I could contact the child's father for you?"
Tears rolled out unbidden as Jules choked out, "No."
Unsure what landmine he inadvertently stepped on, Felz simply replied, "Okay," and slipped out of the room as fast as possible.
Hours ticked by followed by more hours. They paced. They sat. They drank coffee. Paced again. Checked the clock numerous times. Stretched their bladders' capacity, afraid they'd miss the doctor while using the restroom, but reaching the dam-bursting points raced to the facilities to unburden their bodies, only to hurry back and find no word had come yet. The cycle of waiting wore thin on each man as so many others came and went from the waiting room, their loved ones either admitted to a room or released to go home.
At one point, Greg made the dreaded calls to both General Braddock and Mr. Scarlatti. Neither man would win father-of-the-year awards. Both asking to be called back once they knew more, both unwilling to come to the hospital to wait. The more Greg mused over the reactions, the angrier he became until he realized Spike and Sam had all the family they needed here and now—those anxiously waiting for news on their conditions.
The door to the back opened for the hundredth time, and none of them reacted, not bothering to look, for fear of being once again disappointed.
A familiar gentle presence sat beside Greg. He turned and asked, "How are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine. Was only an adrenaline crash. The doctor had me rest and gave me some fluids. I have news about Spike." Jules rested her hand on Greg's thigh, aware he perceived Spike as a son.
Greg inhaled, preparing himself for the worst as Wordy and Ed gave Jules their undivided attention.
"They are going to move him to a room in about an hour. He is sedated, partly because it made removing the embedded barbs less painful, but also because he was quite agitated over Sam. He blames himself for Sam's injuries. Spike suffered mostly scratches and a multitude of small puncture wounds from the barbs, a few of which required stitches because they ripped into his skin.
"Nothing that will impede him from making a full physical recovery. But from the sounds of things, and what we know about Spike … the emotional trauma he's experiencing might be too much for him, depending on Sam's outcome."
Greg gripped Jules' hand. "We'll be there for him … whatever Spike and Sam need. And you too. If you want, I'll put in a leave request for you … Sam's gonna need you."
Jules shrugged. "Let's wait to make any decision until the doctor tells us how he's doing."
Aware Jules had no clue how horrific the cuts to Sam's hands were, Ed sat beside her and said, "Jules, you're a tough cookie, and so is Sam … but he's gonna need you by his side." His throat constricted, but he pushed through the tightness. "His hands are cut to shreds … he may not … they might not … what I'm trying to say is … it's unlikely Sam will have the full use of them for a long time … if ever."
Jules blanched, inhaled sharply, steeled her spine, and declared, "Not gonna happen. He's Samtastic!"