Not always comfortable with her height of five feet eleven inches, Meg was grateful now that she was taller and stronger than the average American female, and better able to support John's mostly dead weight. John's sister and mother her as best they could, juggling what little luggage they had with them at the same time. As they had maneuvered him inside and into the freight elevator, Johns sister, who finally introduced herself as Liu Shen, explained how they had just arrived in Los Angeles a few hours past. John had been ambulatory enough at first to make it to a taxi, but had faded fast after that. It had been all they could do to get him into the alley after being left off at Meg's building.
Once in Meg's apartment, Liu Shen had tossed their luggage aside and thrown all her effort into aiding Meg with John.
Looking at their small satchels, Meg marveled that entire lives could be reduced to such small bags as the Lees fled their homeland.
Easing John down on her double bed, Meg set about removing the clothing from his unconscious form, searching his body for signs of trauma and injury that would account for his condition. She was pleased to see how well the wound to his left shoulder--which he'd suffered saving Zedkov's son--had healed. But seeing it brought her back to the moment when she'd seen him hit-- she relived the fear all over again.
John's mother silently aided Meg, drawing her attention to a bandaged area on John's right shoulder as she helped pull his shirt off and away. Meg guessed that the woman had no English, or a very limited amount since she had yet to speak.
"Our escape was a close thing." Liu Shen explained as she was shooed back by her mother as she and Meg stripped John down to his skin, "Wei's gang still has some adherents in China, out to seek revenge. We spent months in hiding, waiting for the right time to leave. It finally seemed safe to do so four days ago. My brother went out to attend to last minute details, and came back wounded. The bullet, you will see, went through, coming out the back. At the temple where we were hiding, the monks tended and bandaged him--they made him rest for two days, but the situation was such that John felt we must delay no more. The monks helped us get to the airport and on the plane. They told me to watch for infection, but I could bring none of the medicine they used with us on the plane." she said sadly.
Meg rolled John onto his left side to inspect both entry and exit wounds after removing the bandages. Whatever the monks had done, blood loss since their tending of John had been minimal. The wound did show the signs of infection however, and required immediate attention.
Meg ran to the bathroom, retrieving a bottle of antiseptic and clean towels. She returned to John's side, cleaning the wounds as best she could for now, covering them with a towel dampened with warm water. Carefully, she eased him onto his back, holding the makeshift dressing in place as she did so.
Meg began a mental list of things she'd need to treat the wound properly. More bandage material for fresh dressings, better antiseptics. Antibiotics. Broth, juices and assorted liquids to re-hydrate a body that by pinching a fold of skin on the back of John's hand --which "tented" noticeably-- told her was dehydrated by blood loss and inadequate fluid intake.
They had taken a terrible chance in flying with John in this condition. Meg suppressed a shudder thinking of the higher risk for blood clots and embolism that sitting in a pressurized cabin for upwards of fifteen hours presented. That John Lee had arrived alive seemed in itself a miracle. Their situation must have truly been desperate for him to hazard the trip at all.
Meg inspected John's body for other signs of injury, finding none to her immense relief. But the face and figure before her told the tale of months of hardship and stress. He was far thinner than he had been six months before--and his frame had been spare then for a six foot tall man. His face was lined by the same fatigue and stress Meg had seen in Liu Shen's features and saw echoed more deeply in their mother's.
Meg covered him with sheet and blankets. She reached out a hand to smooth his luxurious black hair away from his forehead, her fingers tracing the line of his cheek. John responded to the touch, turning into it slightly, his lips forming words that his voice did not have the strength to carry. She shushed him, continuing to stroke his cheek soothingly.
One miracle had occurred already. John had returned to her. She hoped it was not asking to much to hope for another.
As difficult as it was to leave, Meg did so a few minutes later. Not sure if the person or persons who had wounded John had followed them from China, she gave Liu Shen a crash course in the security features of her apartment. She urged her guests to be as quiet as possible, and not to respond to any phone calls or visitors at the door, although there was little--even with the reinforcement she'd installed in the windows and doors-- to be done to prevent a truly motivated attacker from gaining entry. She queried Liu Shen on the possibility that they had been followed from the airport. Sensitized to being stalked by years of running and hiding, John's sister assured her that they had not.
Mindful of the dangers of the dehydration, the symptoms of which John was displaying Meg left Liu Shen with instructions to rouse her brother and make him sip water while she was gone, as often and as much as he could manage.
Meg currently had no pending document transactions. She took a spare minute to change the message on her voicemail to reflect that she was unavailable until future notice. That should prevent anyone except someone tailing John and his family from showing up unexpectedly.
Meg hightailed it to a nearby drug store which carried a line of caregiving products, including hospital grade wound dressings and topical antibiotic ointment. Oral antibiotics required a prescription by law, but Meg knew someone who worked behind the counter at this particular pharmacy who owed her a few favors for helping his relatives with forged documents. She left the store with the strongest antibiotic the pharmacy had in its stocks.
She then repaired to a Chinese herbalist shop on the outer fringes of L.A.'s Chinatown to pick up a list of items John's mother had requested through her daughter. Liu Shen had, in turn, written down the items in Chinese characters to facilitate the transaction.
Finally, Meg had stopped at a grocery store and loaded up on basic foodstuffs plus a variety of soups, broth, stocks as well as several ethnic Chinese items.
She returned to her apartment, never knowing she'd set a new record for speed shopping.
Stowing all the items except the wound dressing, antiseptics, antibiotics and some juice in the kitchen temporarily, she hurried back to the bedroom.
Lee's mother sat next to him on the edge of the bed, wiping his face with a cool compress. When Meg appeared, she stood and moved, indicating that Meg take her place.
Meg sat down, picked up the cloth from the bedside table where Lee Ma, as Liu Shen had indicated her mother preferred to be called, had laid it. She passed the cloth over John's face, noting the perspiration seemed to bead on his forehead almost as quickly as it was wiped away. He was shivering, even though he had no fewer than three blankets pulled up to his chin. He was still unconscious.
"We need to get more fluids into him. Dehydration is just as dangerous as infection. I have some western medicine here that should help with the infection, but we need to get it in him. Liu Shen, can you help me?"
John's sister nodded, stepping to the far side of the bed and seating herself beside her brother. Slipping an arm underneath his shoulders, she sat him up with similar assistance from Meg. Lee Ma hurried to place pillows behind her son's back.
"John," Meg urged, touching his face at first tentatively, then cupping her palm against it, stroking his cheekbone tenderly, "I need you to come back to me, John. Please wake up."
Liu Shen spoke softly to her brother in Chinese, an exotic echo to her own voice. Meg wondered if she translated, or added her own sentiments. It didn't matter. It was likely that his mother tongue would reach John first in whatever recesses his mind had repaired to in his insensibility.
But neither language seemed to bring forth the response that Meg's touch did. As before, his head moved slightly, shifting into her caress. Finally, a long minute later, his eyes opened and focussed on her face. His lips moved, forming her name, but his voice was too weak to be audible.
"That's it! Come back to me, John. I need you to take some medicine and have something to drink. Do you think you can manage?" Meg asked, her voice mild.
John nodded slightly, opening his eyes wider and regarding her, solemnly at first, then with a deeper emotion that took her breath away. His eyes moved as though he were drinking in her face, her features, cataloging any change, recommitting the whole to memory. She felt abashed by the intensity of his regard.
While his sister steadied him and his mother stood ready to assist, Meg tipped some pills out of the large envelope she'd gotten from the pharmacy. She opened the juice bottle, pressing the recommended dosage between John's dry lips, along with some ibuprofen that likely would not begin make a dent in his pain but which might be of some use in bringing his fever down. She brought the juice bottle to his mouth. John swallowed the pills without difficulty and drank long and thirstily from the juice container. So eagerly did he drink that Meg had to stop him, mindful of the fact that fluid intake had to be matched to his body's ability to handle it. She reluctantly set the bottle down.
"That was great, John, I'm proud of you. Your sister and I are going to change your dressings. It is going to hurt. I wish I had pain pills to give you, but scoring any would bring down too much unwanted attention right now. I'll try to be as gentle as I can, okay?"
Again came the slight nod, and a tired blink.
Meg spared another tender touch to John's cheek. Then she set to work.
In her varied life she'd dressed other gunshot wounds, even tending John's shoulder wound after the battle with Wei and his goons. But none had left her as drained as tending to John Lee's right shoulder. It had less to do with any particular physical difficulty or severity of the wound than it did with her desire to do what she must, but at the same time, not inflict any unnecessary pain. By the time she was finished cleaning the wound as best she could, applying copious amounts of topical antibiotic and redressing it, she felt completely enervated.
Liu Shen and Lee Ma had repaired to the kitchen as soon as Meg had finished the rebandaging, and already the delicious smells of cooking food were filling the apartment.
Meg tried to feel guilty that she was leaving her guests to shift for themselves in what had to be an unfamiliar cooking environment, but for the moment she lacked the will and desire to leave John's side. She sat now, perched on the side of the bed, smoothing the covers back around him.
John's mother had brought in a bowl of infused herbs that she had urged John to drink before he had fallen back into a weary slumber, spent from the pain and exertion of the wound dressing. Meg was relieved to see that he now seemed to be resting a bit more comfortably. She wondered if his ease had been caused by her efforts or the herbal decoction. She would have to ask Liu Shen about it.
She'd never been a drug abuser, preferring to remain in complete control of her senses and destiny at all times after some early youthful experimentation. She'd never regretted the choice until today, when having a stash of something stronger than ibuprofen might have come in handy.
Meg sat at John's side, staring at him, doing her own version of what she'd witnessed him do not long before. She studied him intensely. Committing and recommitting every little detail to memory, noting every small change.
If she had not been so worried, she might have been astonished at the underlying happiness that filled her--settling into the background of her sensibilities like a gentle fog. He was back. He was alive. She was going to keep him that way.
It suddenly seemed too unreal. To reassure herself she reached out and took his lax hand in both of hers then brought it up to cradle against her cheek.
"He called for you, in his sleep, on the plane," Liu Shen's voice broke into Meg's reverie, startling her. She'd been completely oblivious to John's sister's return.
Self conscious, she lowered John's hand to his side, and carefully composed herself before bringing her eyes to meet those of the young woman.
"He did?" Meg replied disbelievingly, finding no trace of guile in Liu Shen's demeanor.
"Several times. And when he was awake he talked about you, about how we should come to find you. He was anxious to see you again." John's sister continued.
Meg smiled wanly, "His passport probably just needed a touch up," she commented dismissively. She would never admit how deeply the thought of John's speaking of her, looking forward to seeing her, warmed her.
Liu Shen smiled, a knowing smile of secret amusement that Meg almost wanted to challenge her on. She fought the urge.
"When he became more ill late in the flight, it was then that I realized we must come to you sooner rather than later. I know this is a terrible imposition, but I did not know what else to do."
"You did exactly the right thing, Liu Shen, I wouldn't have it any other way. I owe you the apology, for ignoring your needs as I have. Here you are cooking and everything..." Meg did not admit that it was probably safer that they had, she was more renowned for her ability to phone for take out than culinary wizardry.
Liu Shen shook her head, "You are where you are needed, no apology necessary. I am relieved that you are taking such good care of Jian."
Meg noted the Chinese pronunciation. It was subtle. Jian. John.
"He told me all about your adventures together when he came to us in Canton. I feel as though we are already old friends." Liu Shen continued. "He has always spoken of you with great admiration."
Meg did something she never thought she could, she blushed. She remembered, all too clearly, a tense time when she and John had been at odds with each other--unwilling hostage and unrelenting captor. But he had never treated her less than gentlemanly, even when he had pinned her to the bed and held a gun to her throat. She'd seen the torment in his eyes, remembered that for all the danger of the moment, his touch had been gentle. Had noted the disgust with himself as he had broken away and stalked cross the hotel room.
"And affection. Very great affection." Liu Shen finished, looking at Meg closely, her expression kind and understanding.
Meg was dumbfounded.
"His love for you and your mother was behind everything he said or did when we were together those few days." Meg finally countered, partly to steer the conversation into less dangerous--to her emotional equilibrium at least--waters as well as to return the favor that Liu Shen was paying her.
Liu Shen dipped her head, breaking eye contact, a shift in demeanor that made Meg wonder if she had said something that gave offense.
"We have the shame of what he had to do to protect us from harm and preserve our lives," the young woman said quietly.
Meg had often wondered if John's family had been at all aware of the life he had been forced to assume by Terence Wei, had hoped somehow that they had been able to stay oblivious. Obviously, that had not been the case.
"I didn't mean it that way, Liu Shen!" Meg cried, "Wei was an evil bastard who destroyed a good many lives--literally and figuratively. Nothing he was forced to do changes the type of man John is. I've never met anyone so honorable."
"Jian was always the hope of our family, he had such a promising future. That he had to give that up..."
"Had nothing to do with you. John spoke to me of your father. There was the larger political situation to consider--and the ability of opportunists like Wei to take advantage of almost any predicament people find themselves in. You mustn't take that shame on yourselves. John wouldn't want that. He loves you too much." Meg stood and moved over to where Liu Shen stood, her head still bowed, a tear tracing its way down one porcelain cheek.
As Meg watched, Liu Shen brought her hands up to cover her face, and sobbed uncontrollably.
Meg, who never guessed that she possessed the requisite ration of empathy, was moved to reach out and enfold the young woman in her arms.
"I can only imagine the horrors you've been through, Liu Shen. The strain and fear that has been a part of your life for a long, long time. But I want you to try to believe that you are safe now, and that you all have a chance at a fresh start and a new life here. I will do everything I can to help." Meg soothed. She felt the other woman collapse against her.
"I'll bet you haven't had much rest in the last few days. And worrying about John and caring for him on the plane--you must be exhausted. You and your mother both need to rest. I have a futon in another room, let me go get blankets and pillows for you and make down a bed, while you go eat some of that delicious food I smell cooking. I'll look after John while the both of you get some rest. Everything will look much better after you've had some food and sleep, I promise you."
Liu Shen pulled away from her, looking quickly in John's direction, then shifting her gaze to meet Meg's eyes.
"Everything he said about you is true. That you are brave, resourceful, and kind," the young woman remarked.
"Don't believe a word of it. He obviously has me confused with someone else. I'm really a bully and I'm sending you eat! NOW! John will be all right for a few minutes on his own. I'll get some more liquids and nourishment into him while you and your mother rest."
Liu Shen bowed, and left the room, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she went to rejoin her mother in the kitchen.
Meg watched her go, then turned briefly to John, bending over him. She reached out to touch his forehead, smooth his hair again.
"Brave sister you've got, " she said softly.
Impulsively she kissed him on the cheek, then straightened and turned away to tend to her guests.
When she looked into the room she'd euphemistically called her "guest room" some time later, the two Chinese women were curled up side by side on the made down futon, fast asleep. The room was really little more than a place where she kept some boxes of supplies, extra clothing and the seldom used futon, and she found herself wishing she had better accommodations to offer to John's family. After all they had been through, the presidential suite at the swankiest hotel in town would have been no less than they deserved.
Meg moved through the hall, a tray in hand. It was vital that she get more fluids into John and as quickly as possible.
Meg placed the tray on the night stand and seated herself once again on the edge of the bed. She was startled when the movement resulted in John turning his head toward her, unbidden.
He was awake.
She smiled. "Hi there, how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice quiet.
He looked at her, pain evident in his eyes and face.
"I know, stupid question," Meg didn't give him a chance to try to speak. "I've got some food here, if you're up to it. Congee, your mother said. More juice. And some more of that stuff that your mother had you drink earlier. I really need you to try to get it all down. Will you try for me? We'll take it slow and easy."
"Yes," John responded. His voice was stronger, a good sign. "Thank you, Meg."
Meg beamed at him. "Don't mention it. Good to hear your voice again, my friend. But try to save your energy. There will be plenty of time to talk later. Your mother and sister are resting, in case you're missing them. They were exhausted, I made them lie down and get some sleep."
John nodded. He was still propped up on the pillows, so Meg tucked a length of paper towel under his chin, and brought a spoonful of the rice soup to mouth, tipping it between his lips.
He swallowed, and encouraged, she continued slowly and deliberately, until the bowl was empty. Next she picked up the herbal decoction and watched him drink it slowly down.
"I found this joggers bottle in my cupboards, complete with a straw, that should make this easier to drink. Juice, same as before. Do your best, and take your time." Meg urged, holding the flexible straw to John's lips. He drank slowly, but deeply, his eyes closed for much of the time as though the effort took some concentration. When she pulled the bottle away, it was half empty. Good, the combined volume of the soup, the herbal drink and the juice would go a long way to fighting the dehydration. She sat the bottle on the side table then turned, removing the paper towel, and resting her hand lightly on John's chest.
"I'm going to go out in a little while and see if I can score you some painkillers, John. I can't stand seeing you hurting. Some hydrocodone maybe."
"No, Meg. I'm all right. Don't want you to...take that risk," John responded looking directly at her, his voice louder, stronger. Through sheer force of will, Meg was sure.
"I take bigger risks every time I fire up my computer. I won't have to go more than a block to connect with a guy I know. Shouldn't take me more than fifteen minutes. Tops."
"No! I...don't want you to get into trouble. I've brought enough to you." John replied. He was reaching out with his left hand, moving to take hers. She met him halfway, relished the warmth of the fingers that curled around hers.
"I was born in trouble, John. I'll be all right. Zeedo's been giving me a free pass lately. As long as I don't run around trying to score heroin, I ought to be okay."
John shook his head with as much force as he was capable, "NO!" he fairly spat the word out, "Nothing illegal. Not any more."
"Shit, John! You always pick the damnedest times to go law abiding on me! You do NOT have to suffer! You'll heal better and faster if you get some relief, and are able to get some quality rest."
"The herbs will help, they just take time," John continued the argument, agitated.
Meg saw she was fighting a losing battle, could see the toll being taken on Lee's energy. "Okay, okay. Calm down, relax. I won't leave, I promise."
John took a deep breath, "My mother is well versed in Chinese medicine. There is no need for you to put yourself in jeopardy." Not content to win the argument by default, he was attempting to put a fine point on it via logic.
"I just wanted to help, John!" Meg cried, frustrated.
"You...already have, Meg," he responded, squeezing her hand. "You've taken... my family in...saved our lives. The pain is nothing less...than I deserve."
"You never deserved any of this! Damn it, John. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met."
John, in spite of his weakened condition and visibly fading energy, favored her with a broad grin. Meg felt dazed by the sheer brilliance of it. "What is the American...saying? That is the pot...calling the kettle black?"
Unable to suppress her own answering smile, Meg laughed, "I've missed you, John Lee. Haven't had a decent argument with anyone since you left!"
John chuckled softly, then brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, " And I've missed you, Meg Coburn. When I was shot, my greatest fear was that I might not live to see you again."
Meg fought hard to hang onto her composure, stroking his face tenderly as he kept her hand captive against his cheek.
"I'd never have forgiven you if you hadn't." Meg paused, looking away for a brief moment to compose her aggravatingly unsteady emotions. A change of subject was definitely in order.
"I need to ask, John, so that I know how to prepare. The people who shot you--are they following you?"
"Remnants of Wei's gang. They are dead. I don't know about others, we took precautions against being followed," he responded, his eyelids growing heavy.
"His organization in L.A. disintegrated after his death. The police made sweeping arrests of the survivors after you left. Those they could charge, they did. Some of them got deported--presumably the same ones who ended up chasing you over there. I think you're fairly safe here, at least in the short term. I'm not sure that LA is a good prospective home for you and your family long term though."
"I thought... about... Seattle..." John Ôs finite stores of strength were nearly depleted. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. "Some...of my mother's....relatives escaped there...fleeing the Cultural...Revolution..."
Meg brought her left hand up to cup against John's other cheek, "Awfully rainy up there. But a nice city I'm told. Mountains nearby, lots of water. Scads of trees. Pretty and green. You could do worse." She modulated her voice to soothe.
John's eyes lost their battle to stay open. His breathing deepened. He was asleep.
And Seattle had another advantage. It was only a couple of hours away as the jet flies, Meg thought to herself as she watched him doze.
Once in Meg's apartment, Liu Shen had tossed their luggage aside and thrown all her effort into aiding Meg with John.
Looking at their small satchels, Meg marveled that entire lives could be reduced to such small bags as the Lees fled their homeland.
Easing John down on her double bed, Meg set about removing the clothing from his unconscious form, searching his body for signs of trauma and injury that would account for his condition. She was pleased to see how well the wound to his left shoulder--which he'd suffered saving Zedkov's son--had healed. But seeing it brought her back to the moment when she'd seen him hit-- she relived the fear all over again.
John's mother silently aided Meg, drawing her attention to a bandaged area on John's right shoulder as she helped pull his shirt off and away. Meg guessed that the woman had no English, or a very limited amount since she had yet to speak.
"Our escape was a close thing." Liu Shen explained as she was shooed back by her mother as she and Meg stripped John down to his skin, "Wei's gang still has some adherents in China, out to seek revenge. We spent months in hiding, waiting for the right time to leave. It finally seemed safe to do so four days ago. My brother went out to attend to last minute details, and came back wounded. The bullet, you will see, went through, coming out the back. At the temple where we were hiding, the monks tended and bandaged him--they made him rest for two days, but the situation was such that John felt we must delay no more. The monks helped us get to the airport and on the plane. They told me to watch for infection, but I could bring none of the medicine they used with us on the plane." she said sadly.
Meg rolled John onto his left side to inspect both entry and exit wounds after removing the bandages. Whatever the monks had done, blood loss since their tending of John had been minimal. The wound did show the signs of infection however, and required immediate attention.
Meg ran to the bathroom, retrieving a bottle of antiseptic and clean towels. She returned to John's side, cleaning the wounds as best she could for now, covering them with a towel dampened with warm water. Carefully, she eased him onto his back, holding the makeshift dressing in place as she did so.
Meg began a mental list of things she'd need to treat the wound properly. More bandage material for fresh dressings, better antiseptics. Antibiotics. Broth, juices and assorted liquids to re-hydrate a body that by pinching a fold of skin on the back of John's hand --which "tented" noticeably-- told her was dehydrated by blood loss and inadequate fluid intake.
They had taken a terrible chance in flying with John in this condition. Meg suppressed a shudder thinking of the higher risk for blood clots and embolism that sitting in a pressurized cabin for upwards of fifteen hours presented. That John Lee had arrived alive seemed in itself a miracle. Their situation must have truly been desperate for him to hazard the trip at all.
Meg inspected John's body for other signs of injury, finding none to her immense relief. But the face and figure before her told the tale of months of hardship and stress. He was far thinner than he had been six months before--and his frame had been spare then for a six foot tall man. His face was lined by the same fatigue and stress Meg had seen in Liu Shen's features and saw echoed more deeply in their mother's.
Meg covered him with sheet and blankets. She reached out a hand to smooth his luxurious black hair away from his forehead, her fingers tracing the line of his cheek. John responded to the touch, turning into it slightly, his lips forming words that his voice did not have the strength to carry. She shushed him, continuing to stroke his cheek soothingly.
One miracle had occurred already. John had returned to her. She hoped it was not asking to much to hope for another.
As difficult as it was to leave, Meg did so a few minutes later. Not sure if the person or persons who had wounded John had followed them from China, she gave Liu Shen a crash course in the security features of her apartment. She urged her guests to be as quiet as possible, and not to respond to any phone calls or visitors at the door, although there was little--even with the reinforcement she'd installed in the windows and doors-- to be done to prevent a truly motivated attacker from gaining entry. She queried Liu Shen on the possibility that they had been followed from the airport. Sensitized to being stalked by years of running and hiding, John's sister assured her that they had not.
Mindful of the dangers of the dehydration, the symptoms of which John was displaying Meg left Liu Shen with instructions to rouse her brother and make him sip water while she was gone, as often and as much as he could manage.
Meg currently had no pending document transactions. She took a spare minute to change the message on her voicemail to reflect that she was unavailable until future notice. That should prevent anyone except someone tailing John and his family from showing up unexpectedly.
Meg hightailed it to a nearby drug store which carried a line of caregiving products, including hospital grade wound dressings and topical antibiotic ointment. Oral antibiotics required a prescription by law, but Meg knew someone who worked behind the counter at this particular pharmacy who owed her a few favors for helping his relatives with forged documents. She left the store with the strongest antibiotic the pharmacy had in its stocks.
She then repaired to a Chinese herbalist shop on the outer fringes of L.A.'s Chinatown to pick up a list of items John's mother had requested through her daughter. Liu Shen had, in turn, written down the items in Chinese characters to facilitate the transaction.
Finally, Meg had stopped at a grocery store and loaded up on basic foodstuffs plus a variety of soups, broth, stocks as well as several ethnic Chinese items.
She returned to her apartment, never knowing she'd set a new record for speed shopping.
Stowing all the items except the wound dressing, antiseptics, antibiotics and some juice in the kitchen temporarily, she hurried back to the bedroom.
Lee's mother sat next to him on the edge of the bed, wiping his face with a cool compress. When Meg appeared, she stood and moved, indicating that Meg take her place.
Meg sat down, picked up the cloth from the bedside table where Lee Ma, as Liu Shen had indicated her mother preferred to be called, had laid it. She passed the cloth over John's face, noting the perspiration seemed to bead on his forehead almost as quickly as it was wiped away. He was shivering, even though he had no fewer than three blankets pulled up to his chin. He was still unconscious.
"We need to get more fluids into him. Dehydration is just as dangerous as infection. I have some western medicine here that should help with the infection, but we need to get it in him. Liu Shen, can you help me?"
John's sister nodded, stepping to the far side of the bed and seating herself beside her brother. Slipping an arm underneath his shoulders, she sat him up with similar assistance from Meg. Lee Ma hurried to place pillows behind her son's back.
"John," Meg urged, touching his face at first tentatively, then cupping her palm against it, stroking his cheekbone tenderly, "I need you to come back to me, John. Please wake up."
Liu Shen spoke softly to her brother in Chinese, an exotic echo to her own voice. Meg wondered if she translated, or added her own sentiments. It didn't matter. It was likely that his mother tongue would reach John first in whatever recesses his mind had repaired to in his insensibility.
But neither language seemed to bring forth the response that Meg's touch did. As before, his head moved slightly, shifting into her caress. Finally, a long minute later, his eyes opened and focussed on her face. His lips moved, forming her name, but his voice was too weak to be audible.
"That's it! Come back to me, John. I need you to take some medicine and have something to drink. Do you think you can manage?" Meg asked, her voice mild.
John nodded slightly, opening his eyes wider and regarding her, solemnly at first, then with a deeper emotion that took her breath away. His eyes moved as though he were drinking in her face, her features, cataloging any change, recommitting the whole to memory. She felt abashed by the intensity of his regard.
While his sister steadied him and his mother stood ready to assist, Meg tipped some pills out of the large envelope she'd gotten from the pharmacy. She opened the juice bottle, pressing the recommended dosage between John's dry lips, along with some ibuprofen that likely would not begin make a dent in his pain but which might be of some use in bringing his fever down. She brought the juice bottle to his mouth. John swallowed the pills without difficulty and drank long and thirstily from the juice container. So eagerly did he drink that Meg had to stop him, mindful of the fact that fluid intake had to be matched to his body's ability to handle it. She reluctantly set the bottle down.
"That was great, John, I'm proud of you. Your sister and I are going to change your dressings. It is going to hurt. I wish I had pain pills to give you, but scoring any would bring down too much unwanted attention right now. I'll try to be as gentle as I can, okay?"
Again came the slight nod, and a tired blink.
Meg spared another tender touch to John's cheek. Then she set to work.
In her varied life she'd dressed other gunshot wounds, even tending John's shoulder wound after the battle with Wei and his goons. But none had left her as drained as tending to John Lee's right shoulder. It had less to do with any particular physical difficulty or severity of the wound than it did with her desire to do what she must, but at the same time, not inflict any unnecessary pain. By the time she was finished cleaning the wound as best she could, applying copious amounts of topical antibiotic and redressing it, she felt completely enervated.
Liu Shen and Lee Ma had repaired to the kitchen as soon as Meg had finished the rebandaging, and already the delicious smells of cooking food were filling the apartment.
Meg tried to feel guilty that she was leaving her guests to shift for themselves in what had to be an unfamiliar cooking environment, but for the moment she lacked the will and desire to leave John's side. She sat now, perched on the side of the bed, smoothing the covers back around him.
John's mother had brought in a bowl of infused herbs that she had urged John to drink before he had fallen back into a weary slumber, spent from the pain and exertion of the wound dressing. Meg was relieved to see that he now seemed to be resting a bit more comfortably. She wondered if his ease had been caused by her efforts or the herbal decoction. She would have to ask Liu Shen about it.
She'd never been a drug abuser, preferring to remain in complete control of her senses and destiny at all times after some early youthful experimentation. She'd never regretted the choice until today, when having a stash of something stronger than ibuprofen might have come in handy.
Meg sat at John's side, staring at him, doing her own version of what she'd witnessed him do not long before. She studied him intensely. Committing and recommitting every little detail to memory, noting every small change.
If she had not been so worried, she might have been astonished at the underlying happiness that filled her--settling into the background of her sensibilities like a gentle fog. He was back. He was alive. She was going to keep him that way.
It suddenly seemed too unreal. To reassure herself she reached out and took his lax hand in both of hers then brought it up to cradle against her cheek.
"He called for you, in his sleep, on the plane," Liu Shen's voice broke into Meg's reverie, startling her. She'd been completely oblivious to John's sister's return.
Self conscious, she lowered John's hand to his side, and carefully composed herself before bringing her eyes to meet those of the young woman.
"He did?" Meg replied disbelievingly, finding no trace of guile in Liu Shen's demeanor.
"Several times. And when he was awake he talked about you, about how we should come to find you. He was anxious to see you again." John's sister continued.
Meg smiled wanly, "His passport probably just needed a touch up," she commented dismissively. She would never admit how deeply the thought of John's speaking of her, looking forward to seeing her, warmed her.
Liu Shen smiled, a knowing smile of secret amusement that Meg almost wanted to challenge her on. She fought the urge.
"When he became more ill late in the flight, it was then that I realized we must come to you sooner rather than later. I know this is a terrible imposition, but I did not know what else to do."
"You did exactly the right thing, Liu Shen, I wouldn't have it any other way. I owe you the apology, for ignoring your needs as I have. Here you are cooking and everything..." Meg did not admit that it was probably safer that they had, she was more renowned for her ability to phone for take out than culinary wizardry.
Liu Shen shook her head, "You are where you are needed, no apology necessary. I am relieved that you are taking such good care of Jian."
Meg noted the Chinese pronunciation. It was subtle. Jian. John.
"He told me all about your adventures together when he came to us in Canton. I feel as though we are already old friends." Liu Shen continued. "He has always spoken of you with great admiration."
Meg did something she never thought she could, she blushed. She remembered, all too clearly, a tense time when she and John had been at odds with each other--unwilling hostage and unrelenting captor. But he had never treated her less than gentlemanly, even when he had pinned her to the bed and held a gun to her throat. She'd seen the torment in his eyes, remembered that for all the danger of the moment, his touch had been gentle. Had noted the disgust with himself as he had broken away and stalked cross the hotel room.
"And affection. Very great affection." Liu Shen finished, looking at Meg closely, her expression kind and understanding.
Meg was dumbfounded.
"His love for you and your mother was behind everything he said or did when we were together those few days." Meg finally countered, partly to steer the conversation into less dangerous--to her emotional equilibrium at least--waters as well as to return the favor that Liu Shen was paying her.
Liu Shen dipped her head, breaking eye contact, a shift in demeanor that made Meg wonder if she had said something that gave offense.
"We have the shame of what he had to do to protect us from harm and preserve our lives," the young woman said quietly.
Meg had often wondered if John's family had been at all aware of the life he had been forced to assume by Terence Wei, had hoped somehow that they had been able to stay oblivious. Obviously, that had not been the case.
"I didn't mean it that way, Liu Shen!" Meg cried, "Wei was an evil bastard who destroyed a good many lives--literally and figuratively. Nothing he was forced to do changes the type of man John is. I've never met anyone so honorable."
"Jian was always the hope of our family, he had such a promising future. That he had to give that up..."
"Had nothing to do with you. John spoke to me of your father. There was the larger political situation to consider--and the ability of opportunists like Wei to take advantage of almost any predicament people find themselves in. You mustn't take that shame on yourselves. John wouldn't want that. He loves you too much." Meg stood and moved over to where Liu Shen stood, her head still bowed, a tear tracing its way down one porcelain cheek.
As Meg watched, Liu Shen brought her hands up to cover her face, and sobbed uncontrollably.
Meg, who never guessed that she possessed the requisite ration of empathy, was moved to reach out and enfold the young woman in her arms.
"I can only imagine the horrors you've been through, Liu Shen. The strain and fear that has been a part of your life for a long, long time. But I want you to try to believe that you are safe now, and that you all have a chance at a fresh start and a new life here. I will do everything I can to help." Meg soothed. She felt the other woman collapse against her.
"I'll bet you haven't had much rest in the last few days. And worrying about John and caring for him on the plane--you must be exhausted. You and your mother both need to rest. I have a futon in another room, let me go get blankets and pillows for you and make down a bed, while you go eat some of that delicious food I smell cooking. I'll look after John while the both of you get some rest. Everything will look much better after you've had some food and sleep, I promise you."
Liu Shen pulled away from her, looking quickly in John's direction, then shifting her gaze to meet Meg's eyes.
"Everything he said about you is true. That you are brave, resourceful, and kind," the young woman remarked.
"Don't believe a word of it. He obviously has me confused with someone else. I'm really a bully and I'm sending you eat! NOW! John will be all right for a few minutes on his own. I'll get some more liquids and nourishment into him while you and your mother rest."
Liu Shen bowed, and left the room, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she went to rejoin her mother in the kitchen.
Meg watched her go, then turned briefly to John, bending over him. She reached out to touch his forehead, smooth his hair again.
"Brave sister you've got, " she said softly.
Impulsively she kissed him on the cheek, then straightened and turned away to tend to her guests.
When she looked into the room she'd euphemistically called her "guest room" some time later, the two Chinese women were curled up side by side on the made down futon, fast asleep. The room was really little more than a place where she kept some boxes of supplies, extra clothing and the seldom used futon, and she found herself wishing she had better accommodations to offer to John's family. After all they had been through, the presidential suite at the swankiest hotel in town would have been no less than they deserved.
Meg moved through the hall, a tray in hand. It was vital that she get more fluids into John and as quickly as possible.
Meg placed the tray on the night stand and seated herself once again on the edge of the bed. She was startled when the movement resulted in John turning his head toward her, unbidden.
He was awake.
She smiled. "Hi there, how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice quiet.
He looked at her, pain evident in his eyes and face.
"I know, stupid question," Meg didn't give him a chance to try to speak. "I've got some food here, if you're up to it. Congee, your mother said. More juice. And some more of that stuff that your mother had you drink earlier. I really need you to try to get it all down. Will you try for me? We'll take it slow and easy."
"Yes," John responded. His voice was stronger, a good sign. "Thank you, Meg."
Meg beamed at him. "Don't mention it. Good to hear your voice again, my friend. But try to save your energy. There will be plenty of time to talk later. Your mother and sister are resting, in case you're missing them. They were exhausted, I made them lie down and get some sleep."
John nodded. He was still propped up on the pillows, so Meg tucked a length of paper towel under his chin, and brought a spoonful of the rice soup to mouth, tipping it between his lips.
He swallowed, and encouraged, she continued slowly and deliberately, until the bowl was empty. Next she picked up the herbal decoction and watched him drink it slowly down.
"I found this joggers bottle in my cupboards, complete with a straw, that should make this easier to drink. Juice, same as before. Do your best, and take your time." Meg urged, holding the flexible straw to John's lips. He drank slowly, but deeply, his eyes closed for much of the time as though the effort took some concentration. When she pulled the bottle away, it was half empty. Good, the combined volume of the soup, the herbal drink and the juice would go a long way to fighting the dehydration. She sat the bottle on the side table then turned, removing the paper towel, and resting her hand lightly on John's chest.
"I'm going to go out in a little while and see if I can score you some painkillers, John. I can't stand seeing you hurting. Some hydrocodone maybe."
"No, Meg. I'm all right. Don't want you to...take that risk," John responded looking directly at her, his voice louder, stronger. Through sheer force of will, Meg was sure.
"I take bigger risks every time I fire up my computer. I won't have to go more than a block to connect with a guy I know. Shouldn't take me more than fifteen minutes. Tops."
"No! I...don't want you to get into trouble. I've brought enough to you." John replied. He was reaching out with his left hand, moving to take hers. She met him halfway, relished the warmth of the fingers that curled around hers.
"I was born in trouble, John. I'll be all right. Zeedo's been giving me a free pass lately. As long as I don't run around trying to score heroin, I ought to be okay."
John shook his head with as much force as he was capable, "NO!" he fairly spat the word out, "Nothing illegal. Not any more."
"Shit, John! You always pick the damnedest times to go law abiding on me! You do NOT have to suffer! You'll heal better and faster if you get some relief, and are able to get some quality rest."
"The herbs will help, they just take time," John continued the argument, agitated.
Meg saw she was fighting a losing battle, could see the toll being taken on Lee's energy. "Okay, okay. Calm down, relax. I won't leave, I promise."
John took a deep breath, "My mother is well versed in Chinese medicine. There is no need for you to put yourself in jeopardy." Not content to win the argument by default, he was attempting to put a fine point on it via logic.
"I just wanted to help, John!" Meg cried, frustrated.
"You...already have, Meg," he responded, squeezing her hand. "You've taken... my family in...saved our lives. The pain is nothing less...than I deserve."
"You never deserved any of this! Damn it, John. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met."
John, in spite of his weakened condition and visibly fading energy, favored her with a broad grin. Meg felt dazed by the sheer brilliance of it. "What is the American...saying? That is the pot...calling the kettle black?"
Unable to suppress her own answering smile, Meg laughed, "I've missed you, John Lee. Haven't had a decent argument with anyone since you left!"
John chuckled softly, then brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, " And I've missed you, Meg Coburn. When I was shot, my greatest fear was that I might not live to see you again."
Meg fought hard to hang onto her composure, stroking his face tenderly as he kept her hand captive against his cheek.
"I'd never have forgiven you if you hadn't." Meg paused, looking away for a brief moment to compose her aggravatingly unsteady emotions. A change of subject was definitely in order.
"I need to ask, John, so that I know how to prepare. The people who shot you--are they following you?"
"Remnants of Wei's gang. They are dead. I don't know about others, we took precautions against being followed," he responded, his eyelids growing heavy.
"His organization in L.A. disintegrated after his death. The police made sweeping arrests of the survivors after you left. Those they could charge, they did. Some of them got deported--presumably the same ones who ended up chasing you over there. I think you're fairly safe here, at least in the short term. I'm not sure that LA is a good prospective home for you and your family long term though."
"I thought... about... Seattle..." John Ôs finite stores of strength were nearly depleted. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. "Some...of my mother's....relatives escaped there...fleeing the Cultural...Revolution..."
Meg brought her left hand up to cup against John's other cheek, "Awfully rainy up there. But a nice city I'm told. Mountains nearby, lots of water. Scads of trees. Pretty and green. You could do worse." She modulated her voice to soothe.
John's eyes lost their battle to stay open. His breathing deepened. He was asleep.
And Seattle had another advantage. It was only a couple of hours away as the jet flies, Meg thought to herself as she watched him doze.