Disclaimer: For nearly the last time, check the prologue! Suffice to say I don't own Eric or Kim. Dr Sonny Jackson is also borrowed, without permission, but from DPP/Rysher and from an obscure film that I seem to be the only person who likes it... (You get a cookie if you know what the film is!)

With most grateful thanks to Gamine, Ekat, Leathie and Chris who have all read various versions of this chapter and offered feedback at different times over the course of the last six months. You guys have helped me no end. Thank you.

Please offer feedback -- it tells me how I'm doing.

~*~

Chapter 11 -- Living With The Present

Eric found himself slowly drifting back to consciousness.

Every single fibre ached. His arms felt as if they might be three or four inches longer by virtue of joint dislocation; his shoulders particularly felt as though there was nothing lining up correctly. His back was sore, especially at the base of his spine. He could feel muscles complaining. His left leg didn't hurt too badly, but the heaviness and discomfort in his right leg more than made up for that. He'd have shaken his head at the state he was in, but his head felt as if moving that much might make it explode.

I feel like shit, I've been sedated...what the hell have I done to myself this time? he found himself wondering in sleepy confusion, but then the memories of bel Abis and Lemont and the hell that had been that room came back to him.

A combination of fear, alarm and confusion forced his eyes open. He found himself lying in what was obviously a hospital bed somewhere with his right leg in traction.

His first reaction was one of relief. He truly was out of that hell. But the implications of having a leg in traction were slowly sinking in as well. "Oh shit."

"Ah, you're awake."

The voice redirected Eric's attention to a person he hadn't initially spotted. A doctor. "Um..."

The doctor smiled. "I'm Dr Sonny Jackson," he announced. "How're you feeling?"

"Like three day old crap," Eric answered bluntly. Jackson smiled and nodded. "What's the damage?"

Jackson's smile never wavered. "Both shoulders dislocated, both elbows hyperextended, second degree burns and lacerations on both wrists, a third degree burn at the base of your spine, compound fracture of your right femur, blood loss and assorted, minor abrasions and lacerations on the rest of your body."

Eric winced.

"We've had you under sedation here for the past two days," Jackson continued, still smiling. "But now that you're awake, you'll be up and out of here in no time."

And I thought Hines-the-human-Barbie-Doll was bad... Eric found himself thinking. Aloud, all he said was, "Here being?"

"Angel Grove General Hospital," Jackson answered, almost grinning now. "Now, I just need to do a quick exam..."

Eric let the rest of Jackson's words and the medical exam slide by him. He answered the inevitable queries as they came up, but most of his mind was occupied by trying to work out how he'd come to be in an Angel Grove hospital.

The last thing he could remember clearly was bel Abis entering the cell after the klaxon had started to sound and what had immediately followed that. But after putting bel Abis out...

"...she's not going to be pleased that you woke up while she was gone," Jackson was saying.

The comment drew Eric out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

Jackson, smile still in place, paused. "Kimberly Cunningham," he answered. "She's barely left your bedside."

"Oh." Eric felt strangely delighted and oddly embarrassed that Kimberly had been with him while he'd been unconscious. The embarrassment, he realised, stemmed from the hazy recollection of Kimberly being the one who'd found him in that hideous little room.

"There -- all done," said Jackson. "All being, well, I see no reason why you won't be able to go home on Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" Eric echoed. "What day is it today?"

Jackson grinned again. "Sunday -- you arrived here late on Thursday night and you've been sedated for two full days."

"Oh." There didn't seem to be a great deal else Eric could say in response.

"I'll stop by later to see how you're getting on," Jackson continued, as if Eric had said nothing. "See you later."

Not if I see you coming first, Eric found himself thinking as he watched the doctor leave. Doctors really shouldn't be perky.

He barely had time to finish that thought, however, as Kimberly walked through the door.

There was a slightly awkward moment as their eyes met, then Kimberly smiled. "Hey," she murmured. "Back with us, huh?"

Eric smiled faintly in return. "I've got plenty of reasons to be back." He hesitated a second, as Kimberly came into the room and took up the seat beside the bed. "Unfinished business."

"Like?"

Take a risk. "Like telling you that I came close to giving up." Kimberly looked worried. "Until I realised that I had a huge reason to want to survive."

"And that was?"

"I didn't want to leave you." Take a risk. "Kim..." Take a risk. "Kim, I love you." Eric didn't think there were three harder words to say, but he only had a second to feel that way before Kimberly wrapped her arms around him in a careful hug and what few reservations he'd had about saying the words vanished.

"I love you too," she murmured, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"Ahem?" Eric jumped. Kimberly all but flew back into her seat. "Is this a private party or can anyone join?"

Eric looked up to see Rocky standing in the doorway trying not to look sheepish -- and failing -- and Cawdron -- who wasn't even trying not to look sheepish. Eric closed his eyes and groaned.

"It really is just like having your parents walk in," he muttered. Kimberly giggled.

"Pardon?" said Cawdron.

"Private joke," Eric replied, opening his eyes again.

"How're you doing?" Rocky asked, in lieu of anything better to say.

"Good," Eric answered, glancing at Kimberly. "Real good."

Rocky smirked. "I see."

Eric grinned. Kimberly glared.

"If I may," said Cawdron, "I'd like to have a few words...in private, if possible."

And here comes the military debrief, Eric mused. "Can't this wait a little longer?"

Cawdron looked more sheepish as he shook his head. "Unfortunately not."

"Why?" asked Kimberly.

Cawdron pulled a face. "Because I face a court martial hearing tomorrow."

Eric stared. "You what?"

Cawdron looked rueful. "I went AWOL last Monday night. Foster and Hines went AWOL Wednesday morning -- but because I, as their superior officer, 'led them astray', they'll both get off with slapped wrists and demotions." Cawdron smiled faintly. "I'll make sure of that in the morning."

"But why?" Eric asked, completely puzzled.

Cawdron glanced meaningfully at Kimberly and Rocky.

"Kim -- how about we go pick up Alice and come back in an hour?" Rocky suggested.

Kimberly chewed on her lip. "Are you sure?" she murmured softly, looking at Eric.

Eric sighed and nodded. "Yeah. I'll still be here -- I promise."

Kimberly smiled faintly as she stood up. "I'll hold you to that." She leant over and kissed him lightly, nothing more than a chaste brush of her lips against his, but it served to seal the promise. "See you later."

Eric watched as she and Rocky both left.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look quite so happy," Cawdron observed.

That was when Eric realised he had a goofy expression on his face. He tried to remove it, but only succeeded, he suspected, in toning it down as Cawdron came into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'll try and be brief," Cawdron said as he sat down in the seat that Kimberly had just left. "There are some things that the guys in Intel feel you ought to know about the...situation...that you're not going to like, but they figure you'll hear them better from someone you know."

Eric shivered at the sense of déjà vu. Cawdron's comments were enough to bring him back down to earth. "Such as?"

Cawdron hesitated for a long moment, clearly debating his words. "I guess the first thing to tell you is that Aaron Lemont is getting the book thrown at him -- unfortunately, as all the case against him is based on circumstantial evidence..."

"He threatened me," Eric said quietly. "Informed me I was a 'means to an end'."

Cawdron gave Eric a steady look. "Are you sure you want to say that? It'll mean you'll get called on in court..."

"Yes, I am sure I want to say that. You tell whoever in Intel they have a witness."

Cawdron nodded. "OK."

"What about bel Abis?" Eric asked.

"You mean will you face any charges?" Cawdron asked, faint amusement now on his face. "Not hardly. I know and you know that bel Abis didn't slip and break his neck, but as far as the relevant person in Intel is concerned, that is what happened."

"Isn't that perverting the course of justice or something?" Eric asked, both faintly amused and deeply relieved.

Cawdron chuckled humourlessly. "He got what was coming to him. Believe me, if I'd been able to get my hands on him three years ago..." Cawdron shook his head. "That's beside the point."

Eric nodded carefully.

Cawdron hesitated again. "I guess the other thing...kinda related to the first one is that...Lemont falsified your psyche evaluations...had your psyche evaluations falsified."

Eric stared at Cawdron, wondering if he'd heard right. "He what?"

Obviously having got the first admission out of the way, the next piece was easier to say, as Cawdron continued, "Not your initial ones -- when you were first released from the med-centre, but the ongoing evaluation." Cawdron looked down, avoiding Eric's incredulous gaze. "The one I was given when I had to convince you not to re-enlist."

"So I..." Eric stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Cawdron just nodded. "You were never mentally imbalanced. I had my doubts about the diagnosis at the time. I'd seen for myself that you were a little quieter, a little more...reserved, perhaps would be the word. But I wouldn't have said you were withdrawn, or particularly prone to bouts of depression. Anger..." Cawdron met Eric's gaze. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he continued, "but you've always had a short fuse?"

Eric smiled faintly. "Something like that."

"I knew at gut level that it was wrong -- but I'd been ordered to follow the recommendations of the evaluation." Cawdron smiled wryly. "It doesn't mean a whole lot now...just as it didn't mean a whole lot then, but I really am sorry."

Eric knew he should have been angry. Knew he should have been livid that someone had literally taken his career away from him in this way. And yet he wasn't.

He wasn't nuts; he wasn't...never had been mentally imbalanced. The relief of that realisation far outweighed any anger he might have had, and the nagging fear that had lurked at the back of his mind for the past three years -- that he might just be crazy -- melted like a snowflake in the Sahara.

"Thank you," Eric finally said.

Cawdron looked a little bemused. "What for?"

"A lot of things, really. Mostly," Eric explained, "for being here now and telling me this."

"You're taking this rather better than I thought you would."

Eric grinned. "Not like I can exactly do anything but sit here and curse -- and there's not a whole lot of point in doing that."

Cawdron looked thoughtful. "I think maybe Lemont did you a favour, in the end."

Eric thought about what he'd been doing in the time since leaving the Marines and where he'd ended up. "I think maybe he did...in a back handed sort of way."

Silence fell after that admission. Eric briefly wondered where he would be now, had Lemont not contrived to end his career in the Marines, but that brief fantasy ended almost before it began. He realised that while he might very well have made a commissioned officer by now, he wouldn't be happy and he would unquestionably still be alone. Which just left the question, why?

"I guess," said Cawdron, breaking the silence, "you're probably wondering why Lemont did what he did."

"I'm figuring it wasn't because of my wit and charm," said Eric dryly.

Cawdron smiled faintly. "No." Eric watched as the smile faded from Cawdron's face. "You were Lemont's target," Cawdron explained, "but you were never the real victim."

You don't know dear ol' dad but I do.

Lemont's words came back to him once more and he found himself shuddering. Lemont had been telling the truth. Nothing Cawdron had said so far was a clear agreement with Lemont's words and yet...

"You're saying," said Eric quietly, "that Lemont was using me to get at someone else."

Cawdron nodded reluctantly. "I'm afraid so."

"Who?" Eric knew he wasn't going to like the answer, but he knew the question would eat away at him if he didn't ask.

"I...are you..."

"Who?" Eric repeated, cutting Cawdron off.

"Your father."

And even though he'd known that was coming, it was still a shock. Eric wasn't sure what hurt worse; knowing that the whole ordeal was because of family he didn't know or knowing that by the very definition, his father knew who he was and cared about him. Just not enough to ever introduce himself to me.

"Why?" he found himself asking.

"It was some sort of grudge," Cawdron answered, finally looking up to meet Eric's gaze. "I don't know all the details...to be honest, I didn't know about it period until Thursday."

The implication was that his father had been amongst the people who helped to rescue him. Before Eric had consciously processed that idea, he found himself asking, "Is he still around?" Where did that come from?

There was a long, long pause before Cawdron answered, "Yes...why?"

Good question. Eric wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose but that was an impossibility, thanks to his arms still currently being immobilised. He settled for sighing. "Because...I want to meet him. I need to know why."

Cawdron nodded slowly. "I can understand that."

"I don't just mean why Lemont did what he did," Eric continued quietly. "I'm tired of dragging the past around with me, but I can't lay it aside until I know the full story...and that includes knowing why he hasn't been a part of my life until now."

Cawdron nodded again. "OK."

~*~

In due course, Kimberly returned, with Alice, Rocky and Aisha, and Eric found the afternoon passed by swiftly. They left, reluctantly in the cases of Kimberly and Alice, at five o'clock. Not long after that, the nursing staff had served him an evening meal -- although that had been an interesting experience, thanks to the immobilisation of his arms. Part of him balked at virtually being spoon-fed like a baby -- the rest of him was just grateful that the nurse had done just that, otherwise he wouldn't have had anything to eat at all.

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. Looking up, Eric saw Cawdron.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Cawdron asked.

"Not a whole lot of anything going on round here," Eric answered, smiling faintly. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Cawdron broke into a grin at that. "John. It's not a difficult name to say, you know."

Eric grimaced. "Sorry."

Cawdron waved the apology off. "It's not a problem. I'm going again in a moment, I just wanted to...introduce your visitor."

Eric's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "Who the hell is it? The president?"

The flippancy brought a brief smile to Cawdron's face. "No. It's...this is Colonel Frank Peterson of Military Intelligence." As Cawdron spoke another man of about the same age as Cawdron entered the room.

Eric could only stare, wide eyed, at Peterson. He was vaguely aware of Cawdron taking his leave, but all his attention was rooted on the man who had moved to stand at the foot of the bed.

It was almost like looking in a mirror. There were differences: Peterson was tall and almost willowy in build while Eric tended towards being on the shorter side of average and stocky; Peterson's complexion hinted that the now salt-and-pepper hair had once been fair or light brown while Eric's own colouring was much darker. But while Peterson's features might have been a little more worn, a little more lined, they were unmistakably the same as the ones Eric saw every day in the mirror.

"Hello, Eric," said Peterson tentatively.

And the last vestige of the hallucinations shattered forever. "You really are him."

Peterson smiled a little. "Yes, I am."

"Why?" Eric asked quietly. "From what Cawdron's told me today, you've known about me my whole life...and Lemont wouldn't have figured his plan would work if you didn't know about me."

Nervously, Peterson gestured towards the chair beside the bed. "May I...?"

Eric nodded carefully. "Sure."

Peterson sat down. "I had hoped that Annie might have explained..."

Eric snorted with humourless laughter. "She refused to say a word about you -- on the rare occasions when she was sober enough for me to ask. I figured I was the result of a drunken one night stand."

Peterson winced. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "I didn't know about that...although I don't know what I could have done differently."

"Been around?" Eric suggested, unable to entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Peterson winced again. "The whole reason I wasn't around was..." He trailed off and shook his head. "For all the good it did either of us."

Eric lifted his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Peterson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that Eric knew well. "I met your mother back in 1972. She was studying at UCLA; I was home from a tour of duty in Viet Nam. We hit it off pretty good, and when I went back, we wrote to each other. Over the course of the next year or so we...got serious and on the night before I was due to go back for my fourth tour, I proposed to her."

Eric frowned as he did the math. "And this would have been...?" he asked.

Peterson looked faintly amused. "I figured you wouldn't want me to go into the gory details."

Eric gave a stiff shrug. "I just want to know the time scale."

"In that case, yes, I returned to 'Nam at the end of July 1973."

Eric nodded. "So what happened?"

"I...was MIA." It was Eric's turn to wince. "I'm in military intelligence. I was sent in behind enemy lines to scout out targets..." Peterson trailed off as Eric nodded. "Anyway. On this particular occasion, I was sent into this village and no more than about fifteen hours later, the Viet Cong destroyed the place. As near as I can piece together, the authorities figured I'd been caught and killed, particularly when I missed my rendezvous."

"Where were you?" Eric asked, curious as to how Peterson had survived.

"Someone'd tipped me off and I'd gotten the hell out but I'd had no chance to tell anyone. It took me six weeks to get back to our side...by which time Annie'd been told I'd been killed. I got back to LA and she'd gone."

"Gone?" Eric echoed.

"Vanished. Left no forwarding address and no-one seemed to know where she'd gone."

"And you didn't try and track her down?"

"Of course I did." Peterson looked faintly offended. "It took me nearly a year, but when I found you both..." Peterson sighed. "She didn't want to know. Said she'd moved on. Gave me back my ring. Pushed me out. I spent three years...though I guess you don't remember it, trying..." Peterson shrugged. "Then she moved to Silverhills, and I got posted to Germany...and that was that."

Eric nodded slowly. "I see." He wanted to be angry about the whole mess, but... "Chalk it up as yet another way Annie Myers has managed to fuck up my life." Peterson winced at that, but wisely made no comment. "So where does Lemont fit into this mess?"

Peterson gave a long groan. "That's a little more complicated."

"It's not like I'm going anywhere soon," Eric commented, smiling a little.

Peterson returned the smile briefly. "The short version is that he and I were friends...really good friends and then he got the wrong end of the stick about something..." Peterson shook his head. "Not long after I was posted to Germany, things started happening. To me, to my friends, to people who knew me...sinister stuff; things would go missing, people would get attacked -- I got beaten up by hired thugs; a private I'd taken under my wing, so to speak, was stabbed. It was crazy. There was nothing about it that suggested who was behind it -- or why. That was when I completely broke contact with you and Annie..."

"You figured if you did that there would be no way for 'them' to figure out who your family was," Eric finished, making the connection.

Peterson nodded. "Exactly."

"And Lemont was behind it?"

"Yeah." Peterson sighed. "Unfortunately, I only realised that when I realised Lemont was mixed up in your abduction this time round...which is the real reason I've never mentioned this to you." Eric's eyebrows shot up at that comment, but Peterson shook his head. "Ask your girlfriend." Eric made a note to do just that. "Either way, ultimately, I screwed up at keeping you out of this."

Eric shook his head a little to vehemently and winced as muscles complained at the action. "Lemont was my overall CO for eight years. I don't believe he's dumb enough not to have noticed the resemblance."

Peterson blinked, looking stunned.

"What? You're not blaming yourself for this?" Eric was incredulous.

"No, but I thought you would."

"I want to," Eric admitted quietly. "I want to sit here and curse you blind. But I know it isn't your fault. At the end of the day, I know that none of this would have happened if Lemont wasn't an asshole."

Peterson smiled faintly. "Couldn't have put that better myself."

Eric returned the smile.

Silence descended awkwardly.

"Where do we go from here?" Peterson eventually asked.

Eric sighed. "I don't know. I do know one thing."

"What?"

Eric looked over at Peterson and met his gaze. "However much either of us might want me to, I can't ever think of you as 'dad'. I'm sorry."

Peterson sighed and nodded. "I understand."

"But," Eric continued carefully, "I would like to get to know you."

TO BE CONTINUED...