Chapter 23
John sat beside the ICU bed, his two hands cocooning Meg's left between them.
She was unconscious.
The surgery, they said, had gone well. The bleeding had been stopped, the lung repaired. They were "cautiously optimistic" that she would recover in the wake of the operation, though she had suffered a ten percent loss in lung capacity due to her injury. The body, he was informed, had much built in redundancy, and if all went well, this disability would be hardly noticeable.
John Lee dared not think about the future. Afraid to hope too much, he kept his attention focussed only on the moment. The rise and fall of her chest in steady breathing rhythm; the reassuring beep of her heart rate on the bedside monitor, the hiss of the supplemental oxygen that she received; the newly understood pulse-ox, blood pressure and temperature readings; the steady drip of fluids and medication into her IV. These things became his world.
Visiting was supposed to be strictly limited in the intensive care wards. By rules and standards he was only allowed to be with her for two hours at a time, twice a day. He was firm in his intention not to leave her side, however, ignoring the gentle admonitions of the nursing staff when the time came for him to go. They had finally given up, faced with his quiet intractibility and noticing that Meg's vitals seemed their highest when he was at her side, lower when he stepped away. He was doing no harm and might even be helping with his constant presence and tender touch.
In spite of his best intentions, his careful precautions and preparations, he always brought disruption and destruction into Meg's life. Where he had wanted to bring only love and comfort, he had inflicted greater harm.
Meg stirred slightly in her insensibility; John caught and held his breath as he watched her move then settle into stillness once more.
She was still so pale, in spite of the intravenous lines that snaked into her arm. She looked so young, so vulnerable, so ill, her beauty heartbreakingly fragile.
He brought her hand up to his cheek, kissing her palm then cradling it gently against his face.
Liu Shen knew that her brother would not be pleased to see them. But he could not have known---she herself hadn't--that the phone call he had made some hours before had not been as private as they had thought. Lee Ma had picked up her extension just as Liu Shen had, remaining silent for the duration, undetected. John's sister had not known until their dynamo of a mother had stormed into her room--bag in hand, haranguing her daughter to be up and to pack--that she had eavesdropped.
Liu Shen was glad that her mother had overheard. Whereas her brother might admit his displeasure to his sister, he would not dare stand up to their formidable mother.
They'd gotten on the next realistic flight from SEATAC, delivered to the airport by hastily awakened relatives. Within three hours of John's call they were airborne and on their way back to Los Angeles.
Liu Shen had been proud of her skill in securing transportation from LAX to the hospital, grateful that she had thought to ask John the name of the facility.
It was early afternoon as they gained the intensive care floor where John sat with Meg,
visible through the glass of the open ICU bay arrangement.
They paused now in the doorway to the room eyes riveted to the scene before them. Meg was alabaster against the hospital linens. John sat to her left, hunched over in his chair as though in physical pain, his gaze fixed on his beloved. He looked exhausted, pale with tension and worry.
They watched him in silence for a moment longer, then Liu Shen spoke, her voice carefully modulated so as not to startle.
"Jian Gor," she said softly, Brother Jian.
He turned to look at them, stunned surprise on his tired face. Liu Shen murmured to him, promising to explain later. For now, it was enough that they were there.
Jian rose, regretfully laying Meg's hand down by her side. He moved toward mother and sister, his face and posture speaking more of his pain and exhaustion than any words could.
Seeing him so, his sister's heart ached in quiet empathy.
Liu Shen shared a quick exchanged look with her mother, before stepping into her brother's arms. Lee Ma put her arms around both of them, murmuring soft Cantonese words of comfort.
Liu Shen moved silently into the doorway of Meg's room,
She had been trying to doze in the waiting room, but found herself restless. She'd left Lee Ma sleeping peacefully, covered by a light blanket provided by a thoughtful nurse. They'd sat just outside the ICU watching John and Meg through the glass for many hours, until exhaustion overtook them completely.
Liu Shen stood at the foot of Meg's bed, knowing she violated the rules, intent on being as unobtrusive as possible. She divided her attention between her brother, who sat in his accustomed position at the bedside, dozing in spite of himself, and Meg, who had yet to stir.
She and Lee Ma had tried to convince John to lie down for a bit, reminding him that he'd not slept in over twenty-four hours and that turning himself into a ghost would not aid Meg in any material way. But he would not be moved. That he slept at all now was a triumph of enervation over will, she knew. Even in sleep he held Meg's hand protectively, reassuringly.
They had been able to convince him to change his clothing, which had been stained with Meg's blood and, as they later discovered, some of his own. Liu Shen had commandeered his keys and retrieved a change of clothing from the loft, Lau Ruong-Jie driving her in JohnÕs rental car which Detective Zedkov had thoughtfully arranged to be brought to the hospital.
Jian had even resisted this, until Lee Ma had impressed upon him the reality that seeing him bloody would do to Meg's sensibilities when she awakened. Lee Ma had insisted on accompanying him while he changed, leaving Liu Shen outside the ICU floor men's room to guard the door against entry. Discovering the furrowed wound to his side, Lee Ma had emitted a shriek and flown out of the men's room, fetching a nurse, who then re-entered with her to minister to his wound.
Liu Shen smiled, remembering as she stood watching her brother and his beloved, how quickly Lee Ma had developed an affection for Meg. Both of them had held the young woman in admiration for her help in returning John to them alive. Meeting her face to face had deepened the bond, watching as she took expert care of John while he was ill from the infection of his shoulder wound.
Liu Shen knew her mother to be a traditional sort, conservative and reserved, and she had worried at first how her mother would take the fact that John and Meg had begun sleeping together almost immediately on the Lees' arrival in the US. Not that the pair had not been circumspect in their attraction and intimacy, they had, but the fact had quickly become obvious.
Amazingly, Lee Ma had not batted an eyelash. No matter what her sensibilities might tell her, she had relished seeing her son so happy and so much in love, and had begun referring to Meg as her daughter in law almost immediately. In private conversations with her daughter, she had expressed, time and again that she was happy with Meg and John's relationship and looked forward to many grandchildren.
As if the force of her will could make it so.
Liu Shen's heart ached for both of them. Jian for the depth of his torment, Meg for her continued unconsciousness.
She had talked to the doctors, been assured that physically, Meg would eventually be all right.
They pointed to the fact that her vitals had shown steady improvement, claimed that her level of consciousness was rising, They seemed convinced that she would soon awaken.
But there was no outward indication of that, that Liu Shen could see, and she worried deeply for her brother, his nerves long since strained to the breaking point
Buddha was merciful. She must remember that. She must hold onto her faith.
John sat at Meg's bedside on this third day after the shooting, his eyes surveying her carefully, noting any small changes in her condition. She was still unconscious, still hooked up to the machines that had preserved her life in the wake of the shooting and the surgery that had followed. To him she still seemed porcelain pale against the hospital linens. There seemed to be little change in her aspect this new day.
His heart grieved profoundly. Liu Shen had grilled the doctors when his will had grown weak from worry and fear. They claimed his beloved Meg was holding her own, and expressed every confidence in her recovery. But watching her laying so still in the bed, he could not make himself believe it.
Lee Ma had always told him that talking to those who are ill and unconscious was one of the best things to do, that it gave the sick person's spirit something to hold on to, to keep it tied to the earth.
Believing that, John spoke again now as he had for the three days since Meg had been shot.
"Ruong-Jie sends his love. He is back at the temple, leading prayers for your recovery. He claims that the smoke from the incense can be seen from your room. You have many people praying for you." John's voice was quiet, gentle. "Detective Zedkov has come by every day. He has been trying to bring you flowers, but they are not allowed on this floor, so he has given them to Liu Shen and Lee Ma instead. They hope you will not mind."
John paused, watching Meg intently, hope flickering in his heart, but never catching full flame.
He wished, not for the first time in these last three days, that he'd been the one to be shot, that Meg could have been spared this insult, this horrible trauma. Watching her lying hurt and helpless was like a form of death for him, a slow motion shutting down of all his body systems.
He swore, that if she survived this, he would never let anything harm her again. Even if it meant that he had to leave her to insure her safety.
"Lee Ma and Liu Shen are at the temple now, praying with Ruong. They will be back soon. They told me to tell you that they love you and want you to hurry back to us."
John paused again, his fingers stroking the lax hand he held between his both of own, "Lung is dead. Zedkov says that there is no one left now of Wei's gang, his unit has swept Chinatown, the police in San Francisco have done the same there. You will be safe Meg, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that."
He gazed at her face, so peaceful in repose, the bruise from the blow Lung had dealt her already fading away. His precious, beautiful Meg.
John remembered, in that moment of quiet contemplation of her fragile beauty, back to when he'd been ill. He'd been drawn from the demons of fever and infection by a soft touch, a gentle entreaty that had somehow bridged the chasm between the waking and unconscious worlds. He remembered the words vividly, spoken in Meg's lovely, loving voice, he could hear them still.
He wondered if there were some magic left in them.
John leaned in close to Meg, reaching out to touch her, at first tentatively, then laying the warmth of his palm against the coolness of her cheek, his fingers stroking the lines of her face.
"Meg," John began, putting his soul into his voice, "I need you to come back to me. Meg, please, wake up."
Meg came back to awareness slowly, trying to orient herself. Her last memory was of incredible pain, the inability to breathe, the sensation of drowning although she was not in water.
She remembered John's face suspended above hers, beautiful, beloved, had wanted to soothe away the deep lines of worry she'd seen there. But the image of him had faded, replaced first by darkness, then a frenzy of activity that had seemed to have her at its center. She'd been disconnected from herself at that point, floating high above her body, yet still feeling every needle that pierced her flesh, every probing touch, the incredible pressure that at first grew in her chest, then seemed to ease away.
John had been there, just out of reach. His presence glowing warmly beyond the hubbub, the discomfort, the disconnectedness. A beacon to focus on, a force that kept her tied to her body.
He was nearby now, she knew it. She had sensed his steady presence at her side for however long she'd been gone beyond the reach of all other sensation. She'd yearned many times to open her eyes, to seek the comfort of his arms, but somehow she had lacked the energy to push through the barrier that separated them.
He had spoken, she knew, but she'd not been able to hear, her brain absorbing the sounds but stubbornly refusing to connect to them, to allow them to make sense.
John was speaking to her now, his beautiful voice offering itself like a light in the darkness. She strained to listen as his words floated to her, enveloping her like a warm blanket, their meaning ringing loud, true and clear.
"You will be safe Meg, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that."
She could feel the gentle pressure of his hand against her cheek, his fingers stroking her face.
She turned her head into the touch, relishing this newly rediscovered sensibility.
"Meg," John said, his heart and soul in his voice as he spoke half familiar words: "I need you to come back to me. Meg, please, wake up."
She opened her eyes, hungry for the sight of him.
end of chapter 23
John sat beside the ICU bed, his two hands cocooning Meg's left between them.
She was unconscious.
The surgery, they said, had gone well. The bleeding had been stopped, the lung repaired. They were "cautiously optimistic" that she would recover in the wake of the operation, though she had suffered a ten percent loss in lung capacity due to her injury. The body, he was informed, had much built in redundancy, and if all went well, this disability would be hardly noticeable.
John Lee dared not think about the future. Afraid to hope too much, he kept his attention focussed only on the moment. The rise and fall of her chest in steady breathing rhythm; the reassuring beep of her heart rate on the bedside monitor, the hiss of the supplemental oxygen that she received; the newly understood pulse-ox, blood pressure and temperature readings; the steady drip of fluids and medication into her IV. These things became his world.
Visiting was supposed to be strictly limited in the intensive care wards. By rules and standards he was only allowed to be with her for two hours at a time, twice a day. He was firm in his intention not to leave her side, however, ignoring the gentle admonitions of the nursing staff when the time came for him to go. They had finally given up, faced with his quiet intractibility and noticing that Meg's vitals seemed their highest when he was at her side, lower when he stepped away. He was doing no harm and might even be helping with his constant presence and tender touch.
In spite of his best intentions, his careful precautions and preparations, he always brought disruption and destruction into Meg's life. Where he had wanted to bring only love and comfort, he had inflicted greater harm.
Meg stirred slightly in her insensibility; John caught and held his breath as he watched her move then settle into stillness once more.
She was still so pale, in spite of the intravenous lines that snaked into her arm. She looked so young, so vulnerable, so ill, her beauty heartbreakingly fragile.
He brought her hand up to his cheek, kissing her palm then cradling it gently against his face.
Liu Shen knew that her brother would not be pleased to see them. But he could not have known---she herself hadn't--that the phone call he had made some hours before had not been as private as they had thought. Lee Ma had picked up her extension just as Liu Shen had, remaining silent for the duration, undetected. John's sister had not known until their dynamo of a mother had stormed into her room--bag in hand, haranguing her daughter to be up and to pack--that she had eavesdropped.
Liu Shen was glad that her mother had overheard. Whereas her brother might admit his displeasure to his sister, he would not dare stand up to their formidable mother.
They'd gotten on the next realistic flight from SEATAC, delivered to the airport by hastily awakened relatives. Within three hours of John's call they were airborne and on their way back to Los Angeles.
Liu Shen had been proud of her skill in securing transportation from LAX to the hospital, grateful that she had thought to ask John the name of the facility.
It was early afternoon as they gained the intensive care floor where John sat with Meg,
visible through the glass of the open ICU bay arrangement.
They paused now in the doorway to the room eyes riveted to the scene before them. Meg was alabaster against the hospital linens. John sat to her left, hunched over in his chair as though in physical pain, his gaze fixed on his beloved. He looked exhausted, pale with tension and worry.
They watched him in silence for a moment longer, then Liu Shen spoke, her voice carefully modulated so as not to startle.
"Jian Gor," she said softly, Brother Jian.
He turned to look at them, stunned surprise on his tired face. Liu Shen murmured to him, promising to explain later. For now, it was enough that they were there.
Jian rose, regretfully laying Meg's hand down by her side. He moved toward mother and sister, his face and posture speaking more of his pain and exhaustion than any words could.
Seeing him so, his sister's heart ached in quiet empathy.
Liu Shen shared a quick exchanged look with her mother, before stepping into her brother's arms. Lee Ma put her arms around both of them, murmuring soft Cantonese words of comfort.
Liu Shen moved silently into the doorway of Meg's room,
She had been trying to doze in the waiting room, but found herself restless. She'd left Lee Ma sleeping peacefully, covered by a light blanket provided by a thoughtful nurse. They'd sat just outside the ICU watching John and Meg through the glass for many hours, until exhaustion overtook them completely.
Liu Shen stood at the foot of Meg's bed, knowing she violated the rules, intent on being as unobtrusive as possible. She divided her attention between her brother, who sat in his accustomed position at the bedside, dozing in spite of himself, and Meg, who had yet to stir.
She and Lee Ma had tried to convince John to lie down for a bit, reminding him that he'd not slept in over twenty-four hours and that turning himself into a ghost would not aid Meg in any material way. But he would not be moved. That he slept at all now was a triumph of enervation over will, she knew. Even in sleep he held Meg's hand protectively, reassuringly.
They had been able to convince him to change his clothing, which had been stained with Meg's blood and, as they later discovered, some of his own. Liu Shen had commandeered his keys and retrieved a change of clothing from the loft, Lau Ruong-Jie driving her in JohnÕs rental car which Detective Zedkov had thoughtfully arranged to be brought to the hospital.
Jian had even resisted this, until Lee Ma had impressed upon him the reality that seeing him bloody would do to Meg's sensibilities when she awakened. Lee Ma had insisted on accompanying him while he changed, leaving Liu Shen outside the ICU floor men's room to guard the door against entry. Discovering the furrowed wound to his side, Lee Ma had emitted a shriek and flown out of the men's room, fetching a nurse, who then re-entered with her to minister to his wound.
Liu Shen smiled, remembering as she stood watching her brother and his beloved, how quickly Lee Ma had developed an affection for Meg. Both of them had held the young woman in admiration for her help in returning John to them alive. Meeting her face to face had deepened the bond, watching as she took expert care of John while he was ill from the infection of his shoulder wound.
Liu Shen knew her mother to be a traditional sort, conservative and reserved, and she had worried at first how her mother would take the fact that John and Meg had begun sleeping together almost immediately on the Lees' arrival in the US. Not that the pair had not been circumspect in their attraction and intimacy, they had, but the fact had quickly become obvious.
Amazingly, Lee Ma had not batted an eyelash. No matter what her sensibilities might tell her, she had relished seeing her son so happy and so much in love, and had begun referring to Meg as her daughter in law almost immediately. In private conversations with her daughter, she had expressed, time and again that she was happy with Meg and John's relationship and looked forward to many grandchildren.
As if the force of her will could make it so.
Liu Shen's heart ached for both of them. Jian for the depth of his torment, Meg for her continued unconsciousness.
She had talked to the doctors, been assured that physically, Meg would eventually be all right.
They pointed to the fact that her vitals had shown steady improvement, claimed that her level of consciousness was rising, They seemed convinced that she would soon awaken.
But there was no outward indication of that, that Liu Shen could see, and she worried deeply for her brother, his nerves long since strained to the breaking point
Buddha was merciful. She must remember that. She must hold onto her faith.
John sat at Meg's bedside on this third day after the shooting, his eyes surveying her carefully, noting any small changes in her condition. She was still unconscious, still hooked up to the machines that had preserved her life in the wake of the shooting and the surgery that had followed. To him she still seemed porcelain pale against the hospital linens. There seemed to be little change in her aspect this new day.
His heart grieved profoundly. Liu Shen had grilled the doctors when his will had grown weak from worry and fear. They claimed his beloved Meg was holding her own, and expressed every confidence in her recovery. But watching her laying so still in the bed, he could not make himself believe it.
Lee Ma had always told him that talking to those who are ill and unconscious was one of the best things to do, that it gave the sick person's spirit something to hold on to, to keep it tied to the earth.
Believing that, John spoke again now as he had for the three days since Meg had been shot.
"Ruong-Jie sends his love. He is back at the temple, leading prayers for your recovery. He claims that the smoke from the incense can be seen from your room. You have many people praying for you." John's voice was quiet, gentle. "Detective Zedkov has come by every day. He has been trying to bring you flowers, but they are not allowed on this floor, so he has given them to Liu Shen and Lee Ma instead. They hope you will not mind."
John paused, watching Meg intently, hope flickering in his heart, but never catching full flame.
He wished, not for the first time in these last three days, that he'd been the one to be shot, that Meg could have been spared this insult, this horrible trauma. Watching her lying hurt and helpless was like a form of death for him, a slow motion shutting down of all his body systems.
He swore, that if she survived this, he would never let anything harm her again. Even if it meant that he had to leave her to insure her safety.
"Lee Ma and Liu Shen are at the temple now, praying with Ruong. They will be back soon. They told me to tell you that they love you and want you to hurry back to us."
John paused again, his fingers stroking the lax hand he held between his both of own, "Lung is dead. Zedkov says that there is no one left now of Wei's gang, his unit has swept Chinatown, the police in San Francisco have done the same there. You will be safe Meg, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that."
He gazed at her face, so peaceful in repose, the bruise from the blow Lung had dealt her already fading away. His precious, beautiful Meg.
John remembered, in that moment of quiet contemplation of her fragile beauty, back to when he'd been ill. He'd been drawn from the demons of fever and infection by a soft touch, a gentle entreaty that had somehow bridged the chasm between the waking and unconscious worlds. He remembered the words vividly, spoken in Meg's lovely, loving voice, he could hear them still.
He wondered if there were some magic left in them.
John leaned in close to Meg, reaching out to touch her, at first tentatively, then laying the warmth of his palm against the coolness of her cheek, his fingers stroking the lines of her face.
"Meg," John began, putting his soul into his voice, "I need you to come back to me. Meg, please, wake up."
Meg came back to awareness slowly, trying to orient herself. Her last memory was of incredible pain, the inability to breathe, the sensation of drowning although she was not in water.
She remembered John's face suspended above hers, beautiful, beloved, had wanted to soothe away the deep lines of worry she'd seen there. But the image of him had faded, replaced first by darkness, then a frenzy of activity that had seemed to have her at its center. She'd been disconnected from herself at that point, floating high above her body, yet still feeling every needle that pierced her flesh, every probing touch, the incredible pressure that at first grew in her chest, then seemed to ease away.
John had been there, just out of reach. His presence glowing warmly beyond the hubbub, the discomfort, the disconnectedness. A beacon to focus on, a force that kept her tied to her body.
He was nearby now, she knew it. She had sensed his steady presence at her side for however long she'd been gone beyond the reach of all other sensation. She'd yearned many times to open her eyes, to seek the comfort of his arms, but somehow she had lacked the energy to push through the barrier that separated them.
He had spoken, she knew, but she'd not been able to hear, her brain absorbing the sounds but stubbornly refusing to connect to them, to allow them to make sense.
John was speaking to her now, his beautiful voice offering itself like a light in the darkness. She strained to listen as his words floated to her, enveloping her like a warm blanket, their meaning ringing loud, true and clear.
"You will be safe Meg, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that."
She could feel the gentle pressure of his hand against her cheek, his fingers stroking her face.
She turned her head into the touch, relishing this newly rediscovered sensibility.
"Meg," John said, his heart and soul in his voice as he spoke half familiar words: "I need you to come back to me. Meg, please, wake up."
She opened her eyes, hungry for the sight of him.
end of chapter 23