Mayday!

by JanetD

Nick's plane experiences serious mechanical difficulties.

3. Chapter 3

Title: Mayday! (3/4)
Date Written: 7/12/02
Author: JanetD
Rating: PG (language)
Summary: Nick's plane experiences serious mechanical difficulties.
Author's Notes: 1) This story picks up exactly where chapter two left off. Nick has just opened his eyes, and seen his father for the first time since the crash, and is too overcome with emotion to speak. 2) Thanks to Abby for once again vetting the medical aspects of the story (as before, anything that still doesn't match up to reality you can ascribe to my taking artistic license). Thanks to Goldie for her continued support. And thanks to Meghan, my appreciative fan and toughest critic.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are borrowed from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from this story. Any resemblance of a character in this story to any real person living or dead is purely coincidental. Likewise, any resemblance between an organization depicted in this story and any such actual organization is purely coincidental.

Monday Evening

Nick Fallin, eyes wet with tears, lay in the partially-reclined hospital bed and stared up at his father, whose hand was covering his own. The two men had been reduced to silence by the overwhelming emotion of this, their first meeting since the plane crash. Now the only discernible sound in the room was the soft bubbling of the Pleur-Evac vacuum pump, hanging from the bed. At last, Burton reached up awkwardly, and wiped at the tears that had slipped down his own face. he said. He sought for some less emotional topic to introduce. I, uh, I brought you some of your things, Nicholas, some clothes...pajamas. I left them in the rental car.... I knew that spare house key was in your desk...so I thought it made sense to, uhm, to stop by your place and pick up some clothes for you. He watched Nick as he voiced the next thought, Hope you don't mind.

Nick seemed to welcome his father's change of subject. No. I don't mind, he replied quietly.

Well, good. Burton was relieved. He said eagerly, I'll, uh, I'll go down to the car now, and get them if you want?

Nick said quickly. It can wait.

Burton passed his eyes over Nick's frame once again. He looked so uncomfortable, lying there with the cast on his arm, and the tubes running in and out of his body. Is there anything I can get you, son? A, a glass of water?

Nick licked his lips.

Burton poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the night stand. He brought it forward, and hesitated, not sure if he should hold it to Nick's lips for him. Nick settled the question by reaching out, and taking the cup with his good hand. He grimaced as he brought it to his mouth, then quickly swallowed the contents. he said, as Burton took the cup back.

You want some more?

Nick's face crinkled up with pain. He started to put his hand up to his chest, but then stopped himself, and laid his hand back on the bed.

Burton had observed all this with close concern. How are you feeling, Nicholas? Is that, that chest tube causing you a lot of discomfort?

Nick frowned. Yeah.... It wasn't while I was on the IV medication, but that's worn off. Now they've got me on Vicodin, and it's pretty uncomfortable.

Maybe we should talk to the doctor about putting you on something stronger?

No. It's okay, Dad.

Burton was silent for a moment. Nicholas...son...I realize that you, you probably think it wasn't my place to tell Dr. Vandenberg about the, uh, about the drugs, and, uhm, the rehab, but, well...I...I thought it was for the best. He watched Nick closely for his reaction.

Nick half-sighed. That's okay, Dad. I understand.

Burton was relieved. He'd been afraid that Nicholas would resent the intrusion, and it would drive a new wedge between them. But, he hadn't wanted to take the chance that Nick would fail to tell the doctor about his drug use, so Burton had risked Nick's displeasure instead.

What time is it? Nick asked a moment later. He was leaning his head back against the bed now, his eyes half-closed.

Burton glanced down at his watch. About 7:15.

Nick gave a little nod. It was obvious from the look on his face, that he was in some pain. Burton wished there was something he could do to make his son more comfortable. Dr. Vandenberg told me you'd probably be in here about three days. She also said that an orthopedist and, a, a pulmonary specialist would be taking over your case. Did you see them today?

Nick said.

What did they say?

Nick opened his eyes. Oh, uhm, Dr. Herbert, the ortho-orthopedist said that my broken arm was a simple fracture, and that it should, should heal in about six weeks.... He said that the ribs are harder to heal, because, you know, they're always moving as you breathe.... He couldn't predict how long it would take them to mend, but guessed between five and eight weeks. He said they might give me discomfort for a month or so after that.

Burton was nodding. What about the other doctor?

He said - Dr. Stevenson - he said that barring complications, the puncture in my lung would probably heal in a couple days...and they'd let me out of the hospital a day, or two, later.

Burton brought a hand up to stroke his mustache. He hesitated, and then asked, You, uh, you want to tell me about today, Nick? About the crash? As he uttered that last word, Burton saw Nick stiffen. Damn! He shouldn't have asked that. Still, he didn't withdraw the question, just waited to hear what his son would say.

Finally, Nick said, I...I'd rather not talk about that now, Dad, okay? As Nick spoke the words, Burton realized he sounded very weary.

Sure, sure. That's fine. He smiled at his son. We'll, uh, we'll talk about it all later.... You look tired, Nicholas. Why don't you get some sleep? I'll just sit here for a little while.... Ohh, I'll be at the Sheraton tonight, in case you need me. I'll let them know that at the nurses' station before I leave.... You just...you just get some sleep now, son.

Nick didn't need to be told twice. Before the words were barely out of his father's mouth, his eyes had closed. In a few moments, Burton saw Nick's face relax in sleep. He found the controls for the bed, and adjusted it to a level position. He knew Nicholas would be more comfortable that way. Burton spent another moment at the side of the bed, then retreated to the chair. He realized he should have brought along something to read, but he hadn't spared a thought for things like that in his hurry to pack and get to the airport. He'd stop by the news stand in the hotel tomorrow morning before he came back. He'd get some magazines for Nick to read, as well. Knowing Nick, he would be going stir-crazy the moment he started feeling more like himself. He wasn't one for enforced inactivity, that boy.

Burton spent the next 45 minutes in quiet reflection. Nick slept soundly the whole time. Burton was just about to doze off himself when a nurse came into check on Nick. Rousing himself, Burton asked the nurse a few questions about his son's condition, and then decided it was time to head to the hotel.

After the nurse had left, Burton stood by his son's bedside for just a moment. He would have liked to have touched Nick in farewell, but didn't want to risk waking him. Finally, he stuck out a hand, and just grazed the top of his son's hair gently. Nick didn't stir. With a final look, Burton sighed, and walked out of the room. He would stop at the nurses' station, and make sure they knew where to reach him, just in case Nick's condition should change during the night. Then he would head to the Sheraton.

----+----

Much to his surprise, Burton had fallen right to sleep once he'd finally climbed into the bed at the hotel. He guessed later that the events of the day had just overtaken him, and his body had decided it was time for sleep. He woke up about 2:30 in the morning, disoriented. When he realized where he was, and why, he sat up, and turned on the bedside light. He picked up the paper with the hospital's number from where he had left it lying on the nightstand, and dialed the phone. 4th floor nurses' station, please, he said, when the hospital operator answered. When a nurse came on the line, he asked about Nick's condition. After a moment, she came back and reported that Nick's vitals were good, and he was sleeping peacefully. Reassured, Burton made a quick trip to the bathroom, then climbed back in bed. He lay there for a few minutes, reviewing all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, before finally drifting back to sleep.

Tuesday

Nick had spent a relatively peaceful night. They had woken him up once to give him his medication, but he had gotten back to sleep almost immediately. On waking in the morning, it had taken him a couple seconds to get his bearings. Then it had all come back to him in a rush, the plane in distress, the crash. He felt his heart rate accelerate just at the thought of it. At about the same time, he felt the pain of his broken bones, bumps and bruises, and that chest tube making itself known. He hoped the nurse would be in soon with his next pain pill. That thought made him wonder how Pete and Ned were doing this morning. The last thing they had told him the evening before was that Pete had survived the surgery, and was in critical condition, but Ned's status was unchanged. He had still been in a profound coma, and the doctors didn't look for improvement any time soon.

Besides the pain of his injuries, Nick realized that his full bladder was also causing him discomfort. He located the call-button on the side of the bed, and pressed it. Last night the nurse had had him use a...well he didn't know what you called it...it was a container about eight or nine inches high with a long neck, and a bulb-like base. It kind of resembled a very ugly flower vase. Anyway, the nurse had had him relieve himself in that, but this morning he was hoping they'd allow him to get up and walk to the bathroom.

In about three or four minutes, the nurse came into the room. Nick was glad to see she had one of those little cups with his medicine in it. Good morning, she said pleasantly. I've got your meds, and I know you pushed your call-button. Did you need to use the bathroom, or was it something else?

It was the bathroom. I'd like to try to walk to the bathroom this time.

If you're feeling up to it. First, though, let's get your meds in you. She handed Nick the pills, and then poured him a glass of water. He placed the pills in his mouth, and then took the glass from the nurse. In a few seconds, he'd drained the contents.

the nurse said, taking the glass from Nick, and placing it back on the nightstand. I'll get someone else in here to assist, and then we'll get you to the bathroom. She saw Nick make a face at this announcement. I know, she said, amused, You don't think you need two people to help you to the bathroom, but someone has to push the IV stand and carry the P-E pump, and someone else has to keep a hand on you. So, you see - two people. She smiled at him brightly, and then walked out the door, promising to return in a jiff.

True to her word, she was back in just a couple minutes with a nursing assistant. The assistant stood near Nick's right shoulder while the nurse, whose name was Karen, began to make the preparations. Moving to the right side of the bed, she said, Okay, we just have to get your chest tube unhooked from the bed here. She pulled back the sheet, and undid the fastenings that secured the tube to the railing. Then she lifted the Pleur-Evac pump from where it hung on the side of the bed, and handed it across Nick to the assistant. Here you go, Jackie, she said, as they made the hand-off. Jackie set the pump down on the floor next to the IV stand. Then Karen pulled the sheet down to the end of the bed so that Nick's legs and feet were unencumbered. Moving to the left side of the bed to stand next to Jackie, she reached down, and took the pulse oximeter off of Nick's finger. All right, she said. Now the tubing for the oxygen is long enough to stretch into the bathroom, so don't worry about that. Okay, I think we're all set. She took hold of Nick's good right hand, and said, Ready? Let's sit you up. She pulled gently, but mainly Nick sat up on his own. He felt the pain in his sore chest muscles and ribs as he did so, but he tried to ignore it.

Karen said. Now Nick, I want you to rotate your legs over to the side of the bed, but don't try to get up yet. All right? Nick nodded, and did as he was told. Good. How do you feel? Any dizziness?



All right. Ready to stand up?



Taking a firm hold on his upper right arm, she said Okay, stand up, but if you feel dizzy, or something just doesn't feel right, remember that the bed is right behind you.

With the nurse's assistance Nick slid off the bed, and onto his feet. He winced at the movement, but held his tongue.

Still okay?

He nodded.

All right.

Nick saw that Jackie now held the P-E pump in one hand and the pole of the IV stand in the other. Karen was speaking again, Okay. Let's go Nick, but just take it slow. There's no rush. He nodded, and the three started the slow progression to the bathroom. Nick found himself thinking that if he'd known it was going to be this much of a production, he would have just asked for the vase thing again. He also was finding it embarrassing to be making the trip clothed only in the hospital gown. He knew the damn thing only tied at the neck, so figured the woman, Jackie, might be getting something of a show. He thought about trying to keep the edges of the gown together in back with his left hand, but with the cast it would be awkward, and besides, wouldn't he look a little foolish doing that? So he just decided he'd have to grin and bear it.

You're doing fine, Karen said after a few steps. How do you feel?

I feel okay.

She nodded. Once they made it inside the bathroom, Jackie sat the pump down next to the toilet, and left the IV stand close by.

Do you think you can manage from here, or do you need help? Karen asked.

I can manage. Thanks.

Okay, well if you need anything, we'll be right outside the door. Don't try to lift the pump yourself when you're ready to move to the sink and wash your hands. Call us first. Okay?

Nick nodded. All right.

Both women left then, pulling the door almost, but not quite closed, due to the oxygen line. Nick moved closer to the toilet, and lifted up the seat. His chest muscles protested the motion. Pulling up the hospital gown, he took a leak. Then flushed the toilet. He called out that he was through, and the women walked back inside. Karen took his arm again (although Nick didn't think it was necessary -- he felt plenty steady on his feet), and Jackie took the vacu-pump and IV stand. They walked him over to the basin. As they approached, Nick glanced in the mirror. It was the first time he'd seen his face since the accident. It didn't look too bad, he realized. The cut with the stitches looked kind of nasty - pink and swollen, and there was a bruise along his right jaw line, but that was really it. He put his hand up, and felt carefully around the cut. Afterwards, he washed his hands, and then Karen handed him a face cloth. He wet it and squirted out some soap from the dispenser on the wall, and gingerly washed his face. He had to admit that simple act made him feel better.

Nick wanted to get a closer look at the spot where the tube was going into his chest. He had seen it last night when the nurse on duty had changed his dressings, but he had been lying down then, so really hadn't had the best view. He said to Karen, I'd like to look at my chest tube. Can I do that?

She nodded. Sure. Turn toward me a minute.

Nick turned to face her. Karen said, Can you hold the gown together in the back here, please? She motioned to a spot at about Nick's waistline. Jackie moved forward, and took hold of the gown, and then Karen reached up, and undid the tie at the neck. She had Nick place his arms down at his sides, and then she carefully pulled the gown down until his whole chest was exposed. She removed the tape that held the gauze dressing in place, then carefully pulled the square of gauze away. she said. Nick turned back to the mirror. The first thing he saw was the large bruise that extended horizontally across the right side of his chest. That was where his rib cage had come in contact with the table in the plane yesterday. It looked awful. No wonder it hurt so much. He could also see a bandaid that must be covering the small hole left in his chest by the insertion of the needle catheter in the helicopter. The doctor in the ER had taken the catheter out yesterday after she'd inserted the chest tube. The incision for the chest tube itself was not far from the hole left behind by the catheter. Nick could see it was about 1 1/4 inches long. The flesh around it was pink and swollen. The two sides of the incision were stitched together with the chest tube protruding from the middle. It was a funny feeling to be looking at this piece of plastic tubing, knowing that the other end was actually stuck inside him. After a moment, he said, and Karen replaced the dressing, and pulled the gown back up, then secured the tie at the neck. Then the parade of three made its way back to the hospital bed.

----+----

Waking up at 7:30, Burton made another call to check on Nick, then showered and dressed. He planned on grabbing breakfast downstairs before heading to the hospital. Closing the door of the hotel room behind him, Burton stood in the hallway for a second, getting his bearings. He was dressed in a short-sleeved, medium blue, button-downed shirt and a pair of light brown casual slacks. He was wearing brown loafers. He presented a far different picture than on a normal Tuesday morning. Gone was the conservative suit and tie. In its place was the casual attire of a man on vacation. Only the slight frown around the eyes might have given away the fact that this man was not in Atlanta to enjoy himself, he was here on deadly-serious business.

Burton made quick work of breakfast, then stopped by the newsstand in the lobby to get some reading material. He picked up The Wall Street Journal', The New York Times', and a couple of news and business magazines. He thought he might as well take several, as he and Nick were both going to have a lot of time on their hands for the next several days. He knew there was a TV in Nick's room, of course, but Nicholas had never been much for television. Burton figured when Nick did have it on at home it was probably tuned to one of the news or market-analysis channels, with an occasional ball game thrown into the mix.

Burton had been thinking about getting Nick home. He couldn't make any definite plans yet, of course. He didn't know how long the doctors would keep Nick in the hospital, or how long they'd want him to wait after that, before he made the trip back to Pittsburgh. Burton planned to drive him himself since Nicholas certainly wouldn't be in any shape for making the trip on his own, and the ER doctor had said it would be better for him not to fly (and after Nick's reaction to his own flight down here yesterday, Burton was sure that Nick had no desire to reboard a plane at this point, anyhow.) So the question was, would they be able to make the trip home as soon as Nick was released from the hospital, or would Nick need a few more days of convalescence before he felt up to spending long periods of time in the car? Burton knew it would be about a fourteen hour drive, and he had already decided to do it in two days, to make it easier on Nick. If Nicholas did need to convalesce for a few days after his release, Burton just figured to get him a room here at the Sheraton. The thing he hadn't yet decided was whether he would stay with Nick the whole time, or whether he'd fly back to Pittsburgh sometime in the middle of the week, and then fly back to take Nick home. He'd just have to see how everything went. He knew that there was no question but that Nick would be urging him to get back to work as soon as possible. Nicholas had never been one to put up with much fussing. Well, Burton corrected himself, not since his mother died. He used to let his mother fuss over him with little complaint. Although Burton realized that if Anne had lived into Nick's teens that would have changed. At ten or eleven, Nick would have already been protesting his mother's sometimes smothering attentions, but by that time Anne had already had the cancer, and Nick would have put up with any amount of coddling if it pleased his mother.

Nick had always been an independent soul, but after his mother's death that tendency had increased three-fold. Nicholas liked to take care of his own needs. Burton had learned that early on. He let out a little chuckle, picturing the problem the nurses would likely have with Nick over the next few days. It would be difficult to keep him from trying to do too much for himself. His son wouldn't like having to rely on assistance for things like going to the bathroom, and bathing. No, Burton thought, Nicholas wasn't going to like that one little bit.

----+----

Burton walked through the door to Nick's room at 9:15. He had the flight bag with Nick's clothing in one hand, and the bundle of newspapers and magazines in the other. He found Nick dozing. Walking up to the bed, Burton immediately noticed that his son's bruises were more prominent this morning. But other than that, Nick looked the same. He was still wearing the tube that supplied oxygen directly into his nose. Even the bed was in approximately the same position as when Burton had come in last night - inclined at about a 45% angle. And he realized he could hear the gurgling of the vacuum pump, just like last night.

Burton set the suitcase down at the foot of the bed, and then walked around to the far side to lay the stack of magazines on the nightstand. The chair he had pulled up to Nick's side last night had been pushed back against the window. He moved it up closer again, being careful not to make too much noise. Then he sat down, and began reading The Wall Street Journal'.

----+----

At about 10:00, Nick woke up. He opened his eyes, then made an abbreviated stretch with his right arm, while letting out a large yawn. Then he saw his dad. Burton had moved on from the journal to Newsweek'. Now he looked over the top of his reading glasses, and fixed his son with a warm smile.

Hey, Dad, Nick said casually, trying to stifle a second yawn.

Hey, son. How ya feeling this morning?

Nick shrugged. Not too bad. They increased my meds earlier.

Well, good. Did they feed you breakfast?



What'd they give you?

Uh, pancakes. It was pancakes.

Hmmm. I had an omelette myself. Ohhh.... Burton laid the magazine down, got up and walked to the foot of the bed. Here, uh, here's the stuff I brought for you. He brought the case back over, and set it in the chair. He unzipped it, and then stepped to the side so that Nick could see. Burton bent over and flipped through the contents of the bag, commenting on several. Uhm, I brought you a set of pajamas. See? Figured you'd want those right away. And some shirts and slacks. I wasn't sure if you'd want anything tight around your waist so I packed some sweatpants too. And I brought you a pair of sneakers.

That's great, Dad. Thanks, Nick said with a small smile.

Yeah. You want me to go ahead and leave these pajamas out? Maybe you can change into them later.

Sure. That's fine.... My shoes and socks are in a bag in that, that cabinet over there. Nick gestured with his good hand to a tall simulated-wood cabinet on the wall opposite the bed. Everything else they had to cut off me in the ER, I had thrown away. Nick frowned at that memory. He still regretted the loss of that suit. It was one of his favorites, and the damn things weren't cheap. I think you can fit the flight bag in the bottom there, Dad.

Burton zipped up the bag, then picked it up and walked over to the cabinet. Opening it, he saw there was one shelf at the top and a rod with some clothes hangers. The cabinet was empty except for a single plastic bag on the shelf. Burton took it out, and saw the words Personal Effects stamped on the side in big letters. In the space below that Nicholas Fallin had been written with a black magic marker. Burton opened the bag. He found a smaller plastic sack inside. He realized immediately that it must hold the things Nick had had in his pockets yesterday. Picking it up, he could feel a cell phone (he smiled slightly at that, Nick wouldn't be without the damn thing), a wallet, and a set of keys. He opened the bag, and saw the items he had already identified, as well as some change, a small pair of nail clippers, a comb, a handkerchief, some business cards, Nick's watch and a money clip. He pulled the money clip out, and saw there was at least $200 there. He pulled Nick's wallet out of the bag too. An unlocked cabinet was not the place for cash or Nick's credit cards and ID. Picking up the smaller sack to get a better look at the remaining contents of the larger bag, Burton saw only Nick's socks and the ankle-boots he favored. He shook his head at the sight of the boots. He didn't see what Nick saw in those damn things either. He just didn't get it. He placed the suitcase in the bottom of the cabinet, and closed the door. He turned around and held up the wallet and the money clip to Nick. I'll just hold on to these for you, for now, son. I don't think you want to leave them in an unlocked cabinet.

Nick gave a brief nod.

Burton put Nick's wallet in his back pocket, and the money clip in his front pocket. Then he walked back over the chair, and sat down. He looked at Nick. He did look better this morning. There were no little flinches of pain crossing his face like last night. Burton was glad to see that. That brought to mind something he'd intended to ask Nick this morning. Uhm, I thought I'd try to find out how Pete and Ned are doing this morning, unless you, unless you already have.

Nick's features showed his concern. I have. The nurse told me Pete was still listed in critical condition, but he was showing some improvement. She said that Ned's condition was unchanged.

Burton nodded.

And she said that their families were here now.

Burton nodded again, Well, that's good. Maybe I'll try to stop by a little later, and see if there's anything I can do.... If not, I can at least let them know we're praying for both Ned and Pete.... That reminds me. I want to call the office, and have Sheila arrange to send flowers for the pilot's funeral.

Burton saw Nick's face fall at the mention of the pilot. Crap! He quickly sought for a new topic of conversation, but was rescued instead by a knock at the door. He and Nick both looked that direction as a man in his late forties, dressed in a dark suit, stuck his head in the door.

Mr. Fallin? he said.

said Nick.

The man walked into the room. He had a briefcase in his hand. He took a couple steps forward. Mr. Fallin, I'm James Beckett from the National Transportation Safety Board. I was hoping you'd be feeling up to giving me a statement about the crash yesterday. We find it's best to interview the witnesses as soon as possible in these situations. While the memories are still fresh, you know.

Burton had turned his attention to Nick the second the man had said National Transportation Safety Board. Nick's expression had frozen, but now he just compressed his lips, then said calmly,

Burton said quickly, Are you sure you're up to that, son? I'm sure Mr. Beckett could come back later.

No. It, it's all right, Dad. I can talk to him now.

Mr. Beckett smiled. Thank you, Mr. Fallin. I appreciate your cooperation. And I promise, I'll be as brief as possible. He walked up to Nick's bed, set the briefcase on the floor, and extracted his ID from his inside breast pocket. He held it out for Nick's inspection. Nick took a brief look, and nodded. Mr. Beckett walked back around to the other side of the unoccupied bed, and picked up the guest chair that set there. He carried it back, and placed it between the two beds. He picked up his briefcase, and set it on the empty bed. Opening it, he took out a small tape recorder and a notebook. He placed the tape recorder on the night stand. Then he sat down in the chair. Opening the notebook, he took a pen out of his breast pocket. Okay, Mr. Fallin. If you're ready, I'll just record some information to identify the particulars of this interview, and then we'll get started. Nick nodded, and Beckett turned on the tape recorder.

Nick and his father listened as Mr. Beckett recited the date, time, and place and an accident case number, as well as Nick's name.

Okay, Mr. Fallin, if you would, just tell me what happened in your own words.

Nick suddenly realized his mouth was very dry. I-I'm sorry. Could I get a glass of water first?

Mr. Beckett flipped off the recorder. Burton was already moving to pour a glass of water for Nick from the pitcher that sat at the bedside.

Here you go, son, Burton said, handing him the plastic cup. Nick took it, and drank it down. Handing the cup back to his father, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, Okay, I'm ready. Burton could clearly see the tension on Nick's face.

Mr. Beckett nodded. Okay, I'll turn on the recorder, and you just start when you're ready. He hit record', and sat back in the chair.

Nick cleared his throat. Uh, it was, it was about 11:00 in the morning. No. I remember...I-I looked at my watch a couple minutes before we heard the, the thunk'. It was 10:55 then.... I was doing some paperwork. Everything had been fine. It had been a smooth, a, a trouble-free flight. The pilot had said just a few minutes before that we were going to land in, uh, in Atlanta in about twenty minutes. Then all the sudden there was this loud thunk' and the whole plane shook violently. And we, we went into a steep dive.

Burton could see that Nick was breathing faster now, and his face was reflecting his distress. He stood up, walked close to the bed, and laid a hand gently on Nick's right shoulder. Nick glanced briefly at his father, and continued his tale.

I, uh, I knew that something had to be seriously wrong. Just about then the pilot yelled for us to fasten our seat belts. Then he started calling on the radio.... I remember he was saying Mayday! Mayday!' like, uh, like something out of the movies. I could see him struggling to regain control of the plane. I don't know how long we were in that, that dive.... I guess maybe only a couple minutes, but it-it seemed like forever. Then all the sudden the plane leveled out, and I thought, I thought we were, uh, we were maybe going to be okay. And then, then, uh, the pilot yelled that, we were going down.

Nick's voice had cracked on the last couple sentences, and his father could see that tears were visible in his eyes now. Nick took a breath, and then went on with his story.

After that I, uhm, I just held on tight, and I prayed, and I watched the ground coming closer and closer, and I.... And then, then we hit the trees.... There was an awful sound of trees breaking and, uh, hitting the plane, and I could hear metal tearing, and then we were, we were, I guess...we were sliding along the ground. Everything was so loud. And it, it was really bumpy. I think we were all getting thrown around in our seats. I, I think that's when I hit my head on the, on the wall. As he said this, Nick put a hand up to gesture to his brow. I-I'm not sure.... Everything happened so fast. I don't know how long we were moving, but finally, uh, we came to an abrupt stop, and I came down hard on the table. And then, then everything got quiet.... That, that was it.

Mr. Beckett was nodding. You said you heard a loud thunk'. Can you give me any more description of that? How long did it last?

Nick took a deep breath. Uhm, it was just a single loud thunk'. I doubt it lasted more than a, a half second.

Uh-huh. Could you tell where the noise came from? Was it from the back of the plane? From the front? From the engines?

Nick thought about it. I think, yeah, I think it came from the back of the plane.

Okay. Now you said the plane shook violently'?



Did it shake hard enough that it would have, say, thrown you to the ground if you'd been standing?

Uhm, I'm not sure. Maybe.

All right. How long did the shaking last?

Not long. I mean, it was maybe, maybe two or three seconds.

Is there anything else you can tell me about the shaking? Could you tell if it started in the back, and moved to the front of the plane? Anything like that?

Nick shook his head. No. I'm sorry.

Okay. And you say there had been no sign of trouble earlier in the flight? No incidents of any kind? No strange noises, or vibrations? Nothing out of the ordinary?

Nick thought carefully before answering. No. No, if there was anything like that, I didn't notice it. But I, I was working the whole time, concentrating on my paperwork. I suppose...I suppose if there had been some small vibration or noise I might not have noticed it. Maybe, maybe when Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Barton are better they'll remember something like that.

Mr. Beckett shut off the tape recorder. All right, Mr. Fallin. I appreciate your having given us this statement. It may provide an important clue in determining the cause of the accident. And let me say personally, that I'm glad you made it through the crash in one piece. You're a very lucky man.

Nick said, Thank you.

Now if I could have your phone number and address? Just in case we would need to contact you with further questions.

Nick recited his home phone number and address. Mr. Beckett then pulled a business card out of his breast pocket. He reached over and gave it to Nick. Here's my card. If you should remember anything else, anything at all, please call me.

Nick said, All right.

Mr. Beckett had stood up, and was putting the notebook and recorder back into his briefcase. Well, thank you again, Mr. Fallin. You've been a big help. I wish you a speedy recovery.

Nick said thank you again, and Mr. Beckett was out the door.

Nick leaned his head against the bed, and closed his eyes. Against his will, those last few seconds of the crash played out once more in his mind. God! He had been so scared. He never wanted to be that scared again.

Nick opened his eyes. I, uh... Burton cleared his throat. I'm sorry you had to go through that, Nicholas, the crash I mean. I.... Well...I wish with all my heart you hadn't, uhm, hadn't been on that plane yesterday. I wish Ned Barton didn't have a phobia about flying, and that you, you'd all been on a commercial flight instead.

Nick nodded. He was still feeling shaken by recounting the details of the crash for Mr. Beckett. Still there was something he wanted to tell his father.



Nick's expression was a mix of apprehension and something else Burton couldn't quite identify. I-I want you to know that...that I tried to call you from the plane, when, uh, when it looked like we were going to crash.... I tried, but the battery in my cell, it was, it was dead. I-I'd forgotten to switch it out the night before.... I'm sorry. I wanted a chance to, to say goodbye, but....

Burton saw that tears were starting to roll down Nick's cheeks, and he felt his own eyes grow moist in response. That's okay, son. I, uh, I understand. I'm just glad to know you wanted to call me, Nicholas. I, uhm.... Thanks for telling me that, son.

Nick nodded, and wiped at his eyes. He'd always hating crying in front of his father. He remembered how, when his mom had died, he'd cried so much in the weeks afterward that he was sure his dad would decide he was a crybaby.... He realized he hadn't thought about that in years.

His father was speaking. What happened after the crash, son? Do you wanta tell me about that now?

Nick took another deep breath. After a moment he said, There's, there's not much to tell. After we stopped, I sat up, and realized that I was hurt - my ribs and my arm, and, uh, my head....my head was bleeding.... I heard Pete moaning, so I got up, and went over to him. It wasn't easy because the floor was really tilted. But, I got to Pete - he said his gut hurt. I told him, told him I was going to check on the pilot, and then, uh, check on Ned in the back of the plane.... When I got up to the cockpit, I saw that it was a mess. The nose of the plane was gone, the windshield was broken out. Then... Burton saw a stricken look descend on his son's face, and he squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Then, uh, I saw, saw that the left side of the pilot's head...it was, uh, it was smashed in. It... Tears were flowing freely down Nick's face again, and he looked away from his father, as he wiped at them awkwardly. Burton longed to take his son into his arms, and comfort him, but he was afraid that with the chest tube and the broken ribs, he'd hurt him. So he just patted Nick's shoulder softly, and said, It's okay, son. It's, it's okay.

After a moment, Nick regained his composure, and continued. Uhm, I, I was sure he must be dead, but I checked for a pulse anyway. But...there wasn't one. So I, uh, I walked back and told Pete, and then I went to check on Ned. He stopped for a breath. Ned...Ned didn't look so good either. He was unconscious. I tried, but he wouldn't wake up. Then I lifted his eyelids, and saw that the pupil in his left eye was dilated. I knew that meant he had a serious head injury. But there wasn't anything I could do for him...for him, or Pete. Nick's face mirrored his distress.

After a few seconds, Nick continued. Anyway, I-I thought that maybe we might be in danger from, from fire. We were in the middle of the woods, and I, uh, I was afraid that fuel might have spilled and set some brush alight. So, I walked back to the front of the plane, and opened the door, and had a, a look around. But I couldn't smell smoke, and I couldn't see anything, so I figured, figured we must be okay.... Then I just went back and sat down, and waited for the emergency crew to arrive.... I guess they got there about an hour later.

Burton had been listening intently to Nick's recitation, his hand still resting on his son's shoulder. It hurt him to know what all Nick had endured yesterday - the terror of the crash, the pain of his injuries, the trauma of finding the dead pilot. But he thought it was important that he did know what Nick had gone through. Burton realized that in weeks to come, Nick might very well suffer some sort of post-traumatic stress. If that was the case, he would be better prepared to help his son if he understood exactly what had transpired on that awful day.

Nick, more self-possessed now, went on to describe how the paramedics and firemen had entered the plane, and treated them, how he and Pete and Ned had ridden up to the helicopter on a wire gurney. Then he told his dad how he'd started having problems breathing in the chopper, and how the paramedics had stuck this large needle in his chest, with a plastic sheath around it. The sheath stayed in place after the needle was removed to allow the trapped air to escape from his chest. Burton visibly winced at this description. His breath caught, and he could almost feel that needle entering his own chest. Then Nick described a little bit about what they had done to him in the ER. He ended by saying, Then they got me up here about 2:30.

Burton sat back down in the chair. Listening to Nick describe it all had brought back the tense hours of waiting he himself had endured. Being notified of the crash, and not knowing at first whether Nick was alive, or dead, but realizing the odds were against his survival. Then getting the call that Nick was alive. Reveling in that news, but finding out later he was more seriously injured than his father had first thought. Burton had been immensely relieved when he had finally been able to speak to Nicholas. He'd held on to that phone conversation as a kind of talisman through those long hours waiting to reach his son's side. It was only when he'd finally walked into Nick's hospital room that he had felt the tension of the horrible day start to seep out of his body. Despite the cut and bruises, Nick's face had never looked more beautiful to his father than it had last night.

Nick said, with a question in his voice. He knew his father had been somewhere else for the last several moments, but he didn't know where.

Burton replied distractedly.

You okay?

What? Sure...sure I'm fine, son. He turned, and smiled affectionately at Nick. In a moment, he said with playful eagerness, Hey, let me ask you something, Nicholas. Do you remember that duck you had when you were about four years old? The one your grandparents gave you?

Nick said instantly.

That's right. Waddles. Burton stared off into the distance, a smile still creasing his lips. You and that damn duck were so cute together. He used to follow you all over the yard. Do you remember that, son?

Nick shrugged, Sort of...I guess.

He looked at Nick. Well it was cute as the dickens.

Nick spent a few seconds trying to dredge up memories of the duck. They were pretty vague. He remembered, though, that the duck had gone away at some point. He felt some sadness associated with that memory, even thought he couldn't recall the details now. What happened to Waddles? he asked his father.

Ohhh, eventually he got to be something of a nuisance. He kept crapping in the pool. Nick immediately had a vivid memory of Lulu's telling him her swan poo-poo story at the clinic. He shook his head ruefully. Then quickly realized his father was continuing with his narrative. So we told you he'd be happier living in the lake at the park, and you accepted that. Your mother used to take you to visit for a while, until you quit asking.

I think I remember that.

Yeah. Well... Burton glanced at his watch. It was 10:35. Is there anything you need right now, Nicholas? Maybe I should go see if I can find Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Barton. See how they're making out.

No. I'm fine. I don't need anything.

How bout something to read? Burton reached over to the night table on Nick's right, and pulled off the newspapers and magazines. He stood up, and showed the selection to Nick. Whadaya think? Anything look interesting? Nick selected Business Week'. Okay, then, his father said. I'll go down for a smoke, and then see about finding Ned and Pete's families. He glanced around the room as if making sure he wasn't forgetting something. Then said, I'll see you a little later, son. Nick nodded. Burton walked to the door, gave one last look over his shoulder, and then was gone.

----+----

His father had been gone about thirty minutes, and Nick had been trying to read his magazine, but was finding it hard to concentrate. He found himself continually having to go back and reread a paragraph he'd just read. He was just about to give up when he heard the door opening. He looked up expecting to see his dad or one of the hospital staff. Instead he saw a man a few years younger than himself, dressed in casual attire. He had short, dark hair and was about five foot, nine. He had a notebook in his hand. He came walking into the room without announcing himself, and right up to Nick. Nicholas Fallin, right? he said with a friendly smile, sticking out his hand. Hi, I'm Dennis Pinnell from the Journal, well that would be the Atlanta Journal-Constitution' to you. I'm doing a follow-up on the plane crash. I'd really like to get some background information on you and your associates, and whatever else you can tell me about your recollections of the crash. Nick did not return the man's smile, nor had he accepted his outstretched hand. He remembered that a reporter had been trying to get into his room last night, but one of the nurses had intercepted him, and shooed him out before he could get more than a step or two into the room. Nick hadn't seen the reporter then, so didn't know if this was the same man, or not. Pinnell, finally realizing that Nick was not going to shake his hand, let it drop to his side.

I'm not interested in talking to the press, Mr. Pinnell, Nick said with a set expression on his face.

Ah, come on. We'll write a nice little blurb about you, and put your picture in the paper along with the story.

Nick shook his head. I'm sorry. I'm not interested.

Pinnell hesitated. Well, can I just check some of my facts with you then? Make sure I've got everything down right? He glanced at his open notebook. You're Nicholas Fallin, age 32, of Pittsburgh?

Nick gave an impatient nod.

And you were traveling with Neddrick Barton and Peter Reynolds, also of Pittsburgh?

That's right.

Do you know their ages?

No, I don't.

But they own R & B Manufacturing, based in Pittsburgh, correct?

Nick nodded again.

Do you work for R & B, as well?



Oh, my mistake. What do you do?

I'm an attorney -- look, Mr. Pinnell, as I told you, I'm not interested in being interviewed for your paper.

You and Reynolds and Barton were flying down here on business, right? What kind of business?

That's confidential, Nick said in his best professional voice.

I see...of course. Sorry bout that. Now what about the guy that died, the pilot? We have him down as Barney Fuller. Did you know him?

No, I didn't.

Okay. Now, when did you first know the plane was in trouble?

Nick was becoming increasingly perturbed. Mr. Pinnell, I've told you I'm not interested in talking about this.

Look, you've had it rough. I understand that. But you know, sometimes it helps to talk about these things.

Nick sighed in frustration, and ran a hand down the back of his head. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now.

Look, what's it gonna hurt? You give me a few of the details, I look good in front of my editor. Everybody wins.

No. Now please leave. Nick's voice had taken on a strident tone.

Pinnell persisted. What was it like? When you knew the plane was going down. Just give me your reactions.

Nick's eyes closed involuntarily, as he was nearly overwhelmed by the immediacy of the memory of those terrifying seconds before the crash. At just that moment, his father came striding up to the bed, and asked loudly, Nicholas, who is this man? Unnoticed by either Nick or Pinnell, Burton had walked through the door in time to hear the last of their exchange. Nick's eyes popped open. He, he's a reporter, Dad.

A reporter! Burton turned his patented, 200 Watt glare on Pinnell. What's your name? he demanded.

Pinnell was taken aback by the force of the older man's personality. Dennis Pinnell, he said, trying not to show he felt intimidated.

Well Mr. Pinnell, my son has just been through a terrible ordeal. He's in no shape to answer your questions! Now, I just heard him ask you to leave. I suggest you do that. Now. Or be prepared to have yourself assisted out the door!

Pinnell debated for only a second. He could see the other man had a coats on the sidewalk look in his eye, and he didn't doubt he was serious about his threat. Admitting defeat, he said, Okay, okay, I'm going. But remember, one of these days you people may need the good will of somebody like me. This is sure no way to go about getting it. Flipping his notebook shut, he walked out the door without another word.

Burton stared down at Nick with concern. Are you all right, Nicholas? Did that man upset you?

No -- I'm fine, Dad.

Burton drew a deep breath. He could still feel the effects of his confrontation with the reporter. His blood was up. Part of him would have liked nothing better than to have hustled that young idiot right out the door. At last he said, Well, I'm glad to hear it.

After a minute, Nick asked, Did you see Mrs Reynolds or Mrs. Barton?

Uh-huh. Yeah. Burton's face looked grave. I talked to both of them. Two of Pete's daughters were there too, as well as Ned's son. They're all pretty broken up.... The doctor's have told Charlotte that there's very little activity showing on Ned's brain scans. If he wakes up at all, they feel he'll have significant brain damage.

That's rough, Nick said quietly.

Yeah.... Pete's outlook is a little better. He's still critical, but the doctors say if he makes it through the next 24 hours, his chances are good for a complete recovery.

Nick nodded. Where are they staying?

At the Westin.

Father and son fell silent after that, both contemplating Nick's own very different situation from that of the other two men.

After a moment, Burton looked down at the magazine that was still in Nick's hand, and said, Did you get any reading done?

A little.

Burton nodded. He glanced around the room, and spotted Nick's pajamas still sitting, folded, on the nightstand. You want me to help you get those pajamas on?

Nick considered the question. I can probably manage. Can you pull the bed covers down for me?

Burton pulled the sheet and light coverlet down to the bottom of the bed. Then he walked around to the nightstand, and picked up the pajamas. He handed Nick the bottoms first. Nick drew up his legs, and with some small amount of difficulty, managed to get the pajama bottoms on and drawn up to his waist. Burton shook out the pajama top, and realized it had long sleeves. He hadn't thought about that when he was grabbing things out of Nick's dresser. He doubted the long sleeves were going to fit over Nick's cast. Plus, he still had the IV in his other arm. So that eliminated the long sleeves, altogether.

Nick, reading his father's thoughts, said, That's okay Dad. I can just keep the gown on for now. It's just nice to finally have some pants on. He grinned at his father, who grinned right back.

Yeah, those hospital gowns leave a lot to be desired, don't they, son? Feels like your goods are just swinging in the breeze.

Nick smiled. Yeah. That's how I felt this morning when they let me walk to the bathroom.

You got out of bed this morning, huh? I didn't realize that. Well, that's good, son. That's good.

Burton's next comment was preempted by the arrival of Nick's lunch. The aid came forward, and placed the lunch tray on the rolling table where it stood at the end of the bed. Then she pulled it around, and positioned it over Nick's lap. Nick and Burton could see that the tray contained a covered plate and a carton of milk. She took the cover off the plate, and they saw that Nick's lunch consisted of a chicken breast in some kind of white sauce, green beans, carrots, and a roll.

Well, that doesn't look too bad, son, Burton said after the aid had left. He realized that the smell of the food was making him hungry himself. Go ahead, Nick, dig in. Best thing for ya.

Nick picked up the silverware, and began to cut a piece off the chicken breast. As he did, Burton came over, and opened the carton of milk, pouring the contents into the plastic glass that was sitting on the tray. How is it? he asked. Nick was now chewing the first piece of chicken.

Not bad, he said, with his mouth full. Burton smiled to himself. If Anne were still alive she'd be aghast to see her son talking with food in his mouth like that. She'd always tried to drum good manners into Nicholas. Well, they both had, really, but Anne had been the stickler for good table manners. No elbows on the table at a meal Anne served. No Sirree.

Nick looked up from his plate. You should go get yourself some lunch, Dad. You don't have to hang around here and watch me eat.

Burton considered it. He was hungry. he said with a brief nod. I'll do that. As he reached to pull the door open, he said over his shoulder, I won't be long. Nick nodded, and returned his attention to his own lunch.

Burton returned about an hour later, and except for the occasional trip outside for a cigarette, spent the remainder of the day by Nick's bedside. He alternated between reading and making quiet conversation with Nick. Nick, meanwhile, still finding he couldn't concentrate on a magazine, spent most of the time he wasn't talking with his Dad, dozing. Burton had left messages in the morning for both Nick's doctors saying that he would like to speak with them about his son's condition. He had missed both men when they were making their morning rounds, but each managed to stop back at Nick's room at some point during the afternoon. Burton had questioned each doctor extensively until he had satisfied himself that he understood the extent of Nick's injuries, his treatment, and prognosis.

Friday

It was 10:00 Friday morning, and Nick was about to be released from the hospital. The Pleur-Evac pump had quit making its gurgling noises on Wednesday afternoon, signaling that the puncture wound in Nick's lung had healed to the point where air was no longer leaking from it, and last night the doctor had removed the chest tube. Even medicated, Nick had found the feeling of the tube being pulled out of his chest unsettling. It was a very weird sensation. He had gotten his final instructions from both doctors this morning, along with enough pain pills to get him back to Pittsburgh, and a prescription that he could fill once he got home. They'd also given him a bottle of antibiotics, and strict instructions to be faithful in taking them. In addition to that, he'd been given an elastic chest binder to wear to support his ribs. However, Dr. Herbert had advised him not to use it until the incision from the chest tube had had some time to heal, as it would be an irritation. Burton had been present during the exit interview with each doctor, and had listened attentively to all the doctors' instructions to Nick regarding limiting his physical activities and caring for his injured ribs and arm while they healed. Burton intended to make sure Nick followed the doctors' instructions to a tee.

Now Nick was getting dressed in some of the clothes his father had brought him. He'd chosen a forest-green, short-sleeved shirt with thin, white vertical stripes, and a pair of beige khakis. Along with that, he planned to wear black socks and his black ankle-boots. His father hadn't brought him anything but white socks, but Nick's garment bag had been returned to him on Wednesday, along with his briefcase. Someone had kindly gathered up the papers he had been working on prior to the crash, and placed them in his briefcase, as well. The suitcase was none the worse for wear, and neither was his briefcase, although Nick knew it had gone flying during the crash.

Burton looked at his son with an appraising eye after he had finished dressing. It was good to see Nick back in street clothes, but he still looked like someone who'd been through the wringer. The white plaster cast on his left arm stood out prominently against his clothing, and even a casual observer couldn't miss the stitches next to his right eye, nor the bruising along his jaw line. The large bruise on the back of Nick's right hand looked especially ugly. The other bruises on his arm had already started to fade, but the one on his hand was still all black and blue. Burton thought again how Nicholas must have smacked it really hard to achieve such a bruise. Nick didn't know for sure, but figured he must have hit it against the cabin wall at some point during the crash.

Burton suddenly realized that Nick had noticed his appraisal. You look fine, son, just fine, he said, in a reassuring tone. Nick gave a brief nod, and then father and son sat down to wait for the nurse to bring the papers with Nick's discharge instructions. They intended to stop in and visit Pete and Ned before they left the hospital. Ned's condition was unchanged, but Pete was now well on the way to recovery. After that, they would start the drive back to Pittsburgh. Burton intended to play it by ear as far as how many miles they would cover that day. There was no rush, so they would just see how Nick got along riding in the car.

Just as Burton had expected, by Tuesday evening Nick had begun urging his father to go back to Pittsburgh so that he could get back to work at Fallin & Associates. He had said that he could return at the end of the week to drive him home, but that it was unnecessary for him to stay in the meantime. Burton had taken this as a good sign on two counts, 1) Nick was exhibiting his normal independent streak (which had to be encouraging), and 2) Nick seemed to have overcome his fear of his dad's flying. So, despite the fact that he'd had to cross swords with Nicholas over the issue, Burton was still pleased.

The nurse finally brought in the discharge instructions, and Nick read, and signed them. The nurse wanted Nick to get into a wheelchair for the trip out of the hospital, but when he explained that they would be visiting the other victims of the plane crash first, she relented. She had said, however, Now, if you fall down and hurt himself before you're out of this hospital it's gonna be my butt, so you'd better step careful! But she had said it with a smile in her voice. Burton picked up the suitcase that he had brought down for Nick, and with a final look around the room to make sure they weren't forgetting anything, they had walked out the door. Nick's garment bag and briefcase, and Burton's own luggage were already in the rental car downstairs.

The two Fallins made their way up to Pete's room on the sixth floor. Burton kept one eye on Nick as they walked. He seemed to be doing fine, just wasn't stepping out with his usual brisk stride. Burton made a mental note to continue to let Nick set the pace when they walked together for the immediate future. They knocked before entering Pete's room, and heard Pete's wife Lucille call out come in. Lucille had come by Nick's room the day before to say hello to Nick. Now they saw that Lucille, and Pete's daughter, Beth, were both in the room with him. As Nick and Burton entered, Pete raised a hand in greeting. He still looked pale, and would be spending another week or two in the hospital, but he would be going home. Unfortunately, the same thing couldn't be said of Ned. The doctors predicted that even if he did come out of the coma, he would almost certainly require around-the-clock specialized care. Nick was not looking forward to the stop at Ned's room. He'd never been good at dealing with people in extreme distress or grief, and felt uncomfortable when placed in those situations. Charlotte Barton hadn't come by to see Nick, having not left her husband's bedside since arriving Monday night. Nick had met the woman on one or two occasions, at social business functions, but he certainly didn't know her well.

As Nick and Burton approached, Beth stepped back from the bed to make room for the two visitors. Pete seemed very pleased to see both Nick and Burton. He smiled fondly at Nick, who couldn't help but return the smile. Pete said enthusiastically, That's some boy you've got here, Burton. You should have seen how he stepped up to the plate after the crash -- checking on everybody, opening the door to try to find out where we were -- all the while injured himself. You should be proud of him. Burton replied, with a smile of his own, I am, Pete, I sure am. Pete had actually told Burton all these same things the day before. That had been the first day he'd been out of ICU, and allowed to have visitors outside his immediate family. But Burton didn't mind hearing it again. He was proud of his son. That was the truth.

Nick and Burton spent a few minutes visiting with Pete and then made their farewells. Burton promised to visit Pete again once he was back home in Pittsburgh. As they were leaving, Pete sang out to Nick, Now you take care of yourself, Nick, understand? Nick nodded, while Burton laughed softly, and replied, He will, Pete, don't worry. I intend to make sure of that.

The atmosphere in Ned's room was the extreme opposite from the room they had just left. It was quiet (except for the soft hum of the machinery that was monitoring Ned's condition), and the sorrow of the family members was palpable. Ned's wife Charlotte was sitting beside the bed, holding Ned's hand in hers. His son Ned, Jr. and his wife Jeanie were sitting on the other side of the bed. The two younger people had looked up when Nick and Burton had entered the room, but Charlotte had kept her attention fixed on her husband. Nick saw at once that Ned didn't look good. He was pale, and seemed thinner than he had only a few days before, and there was a respirator doing his breathing for him.

Burton had immediately gone up to Charlotte, and laid his hand on her shoulder, bending over to bring his head closer to hers. He was now saying something comforting to the grief-stricken wife. Nick knew his father was really good at this kind of thing. He'd seen him demonstrate that on many occasions (it had never occurred to Nick, but it had to Burton, that the only time he had completely failed to comfort someone in his grief was when it was his own son. He had been totally inadequate to the task on that occasion). Unfortunately, this ability to find the right words of comfort wasn't a gift Burton had passed along to his son, and Nick knew his turn was coming next. When his father at last stepped back, Nick said to the room at large, I'm sorry. I wish, I wish there was something I could do.... I'm sorry. The members of the Barton family seemed to accept this as adequate, and expressed their thanks. Well, that's over, Nick thought to himself, relieved. Just a few more minutes now, and they could make a graceful exit.

Sure enough, after only a few more moments, father and son were saying their goodbyes, and offering final well-wishes. When they left the room, both Nick and Burton felt as if they'd taken some of the family's grief along with them. They didn't speak as they waited for the elevator, and then made their way out of the hospital. It was only when they were on the sidewalk, that Burton finally broke the silence. He told Nick he could wait there while he fetched the car from the parking structure. Nick had replied that that wasn't necessary. He could walk to the car. Burton briefly debated arguing the point, but knew Nick would be resting in the car for the next several hours, so decided not to force the issue.

Father and son crossed the driveway to the parking structure together. The elevator came almost immediately, and in just minutes they were standing next to Burton's rental car. Burton unlocked the car, and Nick opened the passenger door, and got gingerly into the seat, while Burton placed the suitcase in the trunk with the other bags. Shutting the trunk, Burton came around to the driver's door, and got in. He saw that Nick was moving his seat back to allow for the maximum amount of legroom. Next he adjusted the seat back to a reclined position. Not too far, son, Burton cautioned. I've read where if the seat's too far back, your seat belt won't hold you properly if you're in an accident. You slide underneath it, and it grabs you in the wrong place. They both realized, as Burton said these words, that something similar to this is what had caused Pete's injuries. His belt had been riding around his middle, rather than at his lap. Nick brought the seat back back up a little, and Burton nodded, satisfied. All set? he asked. Nick replied. Let's go home. His father smiled, and said, All right, son. Home it is. Starting the car, Burton carefully backed out of the parking space, and headed for the exit. They were on their way home, and it felt good.