Chapter Eight







Renee was apologetic, but firm when she ushered them from Face's room. Her suggestion to resume the "one-at-a-time" rotation had more that a hint of command to it. Frankie had started to protest, but the looks from both Murdock and BA caused him to subside. While the others returned to the waiting room, Hannibal remained with Face-and Renee.

He watched as she reviewed the monitors and checked vital signs. Absently, she brushed the hair from Face's forehead, a gesture at odds with her brisk, professional movements. She paused, then turned to the chart and opened it. She began writing, glancing occasionally at Face.

His gaze returned to the lieutenant. The stillness there bothered him as much as it had Murdock. Only once before has he seen Face that motionless. Impatiently, he pushed the thought from his mind. Hannibal had always held-after their stay in a Vietnamese prison camp-that the team could survive anything. Part of his mind still insisted that was so, even with the reality in front of him.

The conversation with Murdock also bothered him. The captain was right, much as Hannibal hated to admit it. But then, maybe losses held the team together as much as anything else. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully, wishing he could have a cigar. Perhaps it was time to push Stockwell on the subject of their pardons.

His attention was drawn back to Renee, as she closed the chart and stood. She looked at Hannibal, then turned, and opened the blinds. She was moving toward the door when a soft sound caught her attention. Holding her breath, she turned back toward the bed.

Hannibal heard it, too. His gaze followed Renee's, and neither moved.

Face's head had fallen to one side. It remained there a few moments. Slowly, it returned to center. One hand twitched. It rose slightly, as if pushing something away, then dropped. His eyelids flickered. The hand rose again, reaching toward his face as if to pull away the oxygen cannula there.

Renee recovered first. She grabbed for the call light, pulling it from its socket. Outside, a light above the doorway began blinking in time to an insistent beeping. "Out!" she snapped to Hannibal, and hurried toward Face. She grabbed for Face's hand, pulling it back to the bed. "Templeton!" she called.

Hannibal moved swiftly to the other side. "Face!" he commanded. He snatched at Face's other hand, which reached toward an IV site as though to rid himself of that irritation. "Face!"

Staff people appeared in the doorway. "Get Johnson. Stat," snapped Renee. One nodded and left. The other two joined Renee and Hannibal in restraining Face as his drug- and pain-induced movements became more erratic. Renee and Hannibal continued to call to Face, trying to orient and calm him.

A physician appeared with a pair of syringes. Renee shifted, allowing him room to reach the IV line. He injected one via a port directly into the IV lines, followed by the second. He then moved out of the way and disposed of the syringes.

The few seconds it took for the medication to work seemed an eternity to those holding Face. Finally, his struggles slowed, and they could release their grip. Hannibal stepped out of the way as the others straightened tubing and cords, and checked that IV sites hadn't been dislodged.

When all was in order, Renee straightened, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Thanks, guys," she said to the others as they exited the room, leaving Renee, Hannibal, and the doctor. He examined Face, then called Renee aside and spoke softly to her. Hannibal caught the word "restraints," and saw Renee shake her head furiously.

The doctor shrugged. Then his gaze turned to Hannibal, taking in the scrub suit.

Guessing the question the man was about to ask, Hannibal beat him to the thought. "I'm his next-of-kin," he said glibly. He gestured at his clothes and continued, "I spilled coffee all over myself, and Renee was kind enough to lend me this."

Somewhat satisfied, the doctor opened the chart and wrote quickly. With a final word to Renee, and a nod to Hannibal, the man left the room. Renee gathered up the chart, glanced at Face, then turned to Hannibal. "Thanks for your help," she said simply.

Hannibal nodded. He looked at Face, then back to Renee. "He's awake," he said, with quiet satisfaction.

"He's conscious," Renee amended, emphasizing the word. She recognized the hope in Hannibal's voice, and sought to temper it with reality. "His blood pressure still isn't good, and I don't know how much more blood we can pump into him." She hesitated, then said softly, as though Face would hear, "We could still lose him."

"We won't," said Hannibal. He smiled confidently. "BA'd kill him otherwise."

Caught off-guard, Renee shook her head and smiled back. Then she returned to the desk.

The machines continued their hums and clicks, as Hannibal looked at Face. The stillness was back-courtesy of the medication-but it had a different quality to it. Something had returned to Face, and while Hannibal couldn't identify it, he was relieved to see it.

BA had taken Murdock's former position at the window, scowling at the cityscape below, and ignoring the other two temporarily. Frankie was fidgeting again, pretending to read a magazine, but his attention wandered between BA, Murdock, and the unit doors. He had offered to make a cafeteria run for the others, but had been turned down by Murdock. BA hadn't bothered answering.

Like Frankie, Murdock was unable to sit still. He wandered over to the ICU doors and hesitated there. He looked through the windows, debating whether to go in. He didn't want to give Renee reason to banish them, or to call Stockwell.

Movement inside the unit caught his attention. People were again concentrated at one of the cubicles, and Murdock's heart seemed to drop in his chest as he realized that it involved Face. He stepped inside the doors, then paused as one of the staff hurried back to the desk and picked up the phone. He didn't hear the page broadcasted, registering instead Hannibal's voice, calling Face by name.

As it did for those inside the room, time seemed to slow for Murdock. His hands clenched into fists, willing the situation to end favorably. Another man (a doctor?) hurried into the room, with what looked like a syringe in hand. Murdock guessed that there was no room for him inside the cubicle, not with what seemed like half the staff there already. He stayed by the ICU door, watching and waiting.

Finally, three of the staff members exited the cubicle, neutral expressions on their faces. None of them hurried toward the phone, as Renee had done earlier. Hope rising, Murdock glanced at the other set of doors, expecting to see a stretcher and attendants burst through. The doors remained closed.

The man who had entered the room with the syringes now left it, empty-handed. Murdock unclenched his hands and started toward Face's room. He saw Renee leave the room, chart in hand, but she seemed preoccupied and didn't notice him. He watched her return to the desk, then slipped into Face's room, standing so that he wasn't easily visible.

Seated next to the bed, Hannibal glanced up, and nodded acknowledgment. "Captain," he said.

"Colonel." Murdock wondered at his formality, and felt his heart drop again. "What happened?" He sensed a change in the atmosphere. Unable to immediately define it, he feared the worst. Hannibal's hesitation before answering only increased his anxiety.

"He's conscious," Hannibal said, finally, "But they've sedated him."

Murdock sagged in relief. Hannibal reached for him, but Murdock waved him off. "I'm . . . it's okay," he said. He looked at Face, seeing the same change that Hannibal had, and it was reassuring.

Hannibal glanced down at his lieutenant. "Hang in there, kid," he said softly, touching Face lightly on the arm. He walked over to Murdock, pausing to lay his hand on Murdock's shoulder. "I'll go tell BA and Frankie," he said, "They'll want to see him."

"Yeah," Murdock nodded, his voice almost inaudible. Hannibal left the room, and Murdock moved to the chair the colonel had vacated. He sat down, reaching to touch Face.

Face moaned, and his head moved slightly. Startled, Murdock pulled back his hand, as though he'd gotten an electric shock. He reached forward again, then hesitated. Remembering his earlier experience with the IV pump, he glanced at the bag on it. It was half-full, and he smiled ruefully. He laid his hand carefully on Face's arm.

"Hey, Face," he said softly, with a flash of his old self, "I know you can hear me, so don't pretend you can't. The big guy's gonna be in here soon. He ain't gonna like you laying around when there's work to do. Besides, you're setting a bad example for Frankie."

The doorway darkened, and he looked up. BA stood there. His expression caused Murdock smiled briefly to himself. The big guy looks mighty uncomfortable. He walked over to BA, who held out an arm to stop him.

"Hannibal say we gonna take shifts from now on," BA said, "You get the first one, on account that you had more sleep than the rest of us." He tried to scowl, but didn't quite make it, as he added, "But no more coffee."

Murdock's smile became visible. "Okay," he said. He left the room, and headed toward the nurse's desk. Renee was still there, with several other people. As he drew closer to the desk, he heard her discussing Face's condition with one of them. "Excuse me," he said.

She looked up with a scowl, which smoothed out quickly when she recognized him. "You know," Murdock said, "You scowl just like the big guy there." He paused. "Only he's not so pretty."

Her expression was a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. "I'm sorry," said Murdock, embarrassed himself, "I . . . I just want, um, to tell you that, uh, that . . . " He paused, struggling for the words, then gave up. "Thanks."

Renee nodded. "You're welcome," she said. She indicated the nurse-who looked as though she'd just left high school-by her side. "Sharon'll be his nurse for the next shift."

Murdock ducked his head in acknowledgment. An elusive memory flitted through his mind. Someone tapped him on the shoulder-distracting his thoughts-and he turned to see whom..

"You, uh, you gonna be okay?" asked Frankie. "You sure you don't want someone to stay with you?"

"No, no," Murdock said, "No, I'll . . . I'll be all right." The memory-or whatever it was-had gone now. He and Frankie walked to the ICU doors. Frankie looked at Murdock, the same question again in his eyes. Murdock waved him off, and Frankie ducked through the doors. Murdock watched as he joined Hannibal and BA. Hannibal was saying something about releasing the Ables, before the three of them left the floor.

Murdock turned back to the desk, but Renee had already left. The staff that were there moved about the unit, engaged their normal beginning-of-shift activities. The new nurse (Sharon?) was already in Face's room, with the blinds closed. Murdock walked over to the cubicle, and leaned against the doorframe, waiting.





TBC