The nurse came and checked on Eric's I.V. before settling in for take off. The CIA had provided a transport plane to take us back to the States, now that Eric's doctor has pronounced him fit to travel. The plane is actually much nicer than the usual military transport, with a décor similar to a normal passenger plane. Eric has been sedated for the 14-hour trip and I hope that I am lucky enough to get a few hours of sleep in during the flight. It seems as though we are the only ones on board, beside the staff; however, I know there are several diplomats, two nurses and a doctor accompanying us. Thankfully, they appear to be leaving us alone.
Eric's parents will be meeting us at the hospital in L.A. and I will relinquish some of the worry and watching to them. Yes, he is my best friend and I am partially to blame for his present condition, knowing that weighs heavily on me. But what is bothering me the most is the turn our friendship has taken. Ever since he reported me to Devlin, there has been this barrier between us. The trust has been so severely bruised, I don't know if it ever can be repaired.
The nurses come around after take off and check on Eric's vital signs; he appears to be doing well. The flight attendants bring around dinner, and I finally notice that the sun has set over the ocean. Dinner is typical airplane fare and I eat it mechanically.
Sometime after dinner I must have dozed off because several hours later turbulence has awakened me to a dimly lit cabin. A nurse scoots over and checks the monitors. All is well and she adds another dose of medicine to the new I.V. bag. She then leaves without a word, only a nod of the head.
"Your lucky to be sleeping this entire trip, buddy, because I don't know if I could stand 14 hours of you flirting with the nurses and the flight attendants. By this time one of them would be contemplating dropping something very wet and cold into your lap. You've really got to learn to be a bit more subtle."
I, for some odd reason, am suddenly compelled to carry on a conversation with my sedated friend. I chuckle at myself and the absurdity of it all.
"We're on the way back to L.A., somewhere over The Atlantic. It's the middle of the night and I bet that your entire family is already camped out at the hospital and driving the floor staff crazy. Your mom is so anxious to see you herself and will be sneaking you food in no time. Can't let her little Eric waste away on hospital food.
The doctors will be keeping you in the hospital for a while. You lost a lot of blood and you gave us all quite a scare. They're also worried about possible nerve damage because of the location of the bullet wound. You might get stuck with some physical therapy. Knowing you, you'll find the cutest therapist to help your recovery."
I stand up and walk up and down the makeshift aisle, stretching my legs a bit.
"I guess I should say that you are right when it comes to my attachment to Sydney. I do admit our relationship is much more than what protocol allows. I truly consider her a friend and would do anything to keep her safe. Maybe there's more, maybe not; I'm not sure. But, did you have to go to Devlin?
Honestly, I was working with Jack to figure out a way to help Sydney; you didn't see what they were doing to her. This Rambaldi crap was tearing away at her. They were questioning her and weren't planning on releasing her at all. Jack confirmed that. She had just recently learned that her mother was a KGB agent and responsible for the deaths of 12 CIA operatives, including my Dad. Then she realizes that her mother might be alive. A lesser woman would have completely fallen apart. You should have seen her; she almost did fall apart. She called me, Eric, saying that I was the only one she could talk to. Her relationship with her dad is barely civil, so whom else could she confide in? How could I let her down by spouting protocol?
Tell me Eric, what would you have done in my place? Because I really don't know how I could have done anything different. Jack and I couldn't figure out another way.
But you going to Devlin and report me, that cut deep. I felt so betrayed. I know you thought you were doing the right thing, in the best interest of the country and all. Keeping Sydney working for the CIA is the best thing for the country. With her help, I honestly believe we have a chance of taking down SD-6 and Arvin Sloane. Without her, I don't know if it's possible." I stop to catch my breath, "I don't know if anything is possible without her."
I am at a loss for words at the moment. I'm not sure how to tell him that I hope we can patch the holes and rebuild our friendship. I wish that he heard me just now, that what I was trying to say made any kind of sense to his unconscious brain.
I know we are going to have to talk of this sooner or later. I don't know what possessed me now to start expounding about the whole mess. I just want my friend back, safe and whole. I need him to help me stay level and sane when the job, and Sydney, is doing their worst to me. I need him to go drinking with me and loudly scope out all the pretty girls. I need him to sit on my couch and help me yell at the Kings on the TV. I need his silly yo-yo flashing outside my office and his really bad jokes. I need my friend and I hope he needs me too.
I lean back into the seat and stare out into the darkness and watch for the sunrise to catch up with us.