Sydney watched from the side with bated breath as doctors worked on resuscitating Nigel, her arms crossed and her stomach churning.
For three days, Sydney had kept her focus on catching up to Nigel and Cedar. The latter had taken Nigel to find the golden leaf of Catherine of Valois. Nigel had done the work but had also left clues for Sydney to follow. Sometimes the trust he put in her really took her breath away. Even as they had moved from place to place, the constant clues had been a sign that Nigel was still alive and that he believed that she was looking for him.
The only reason he had even been in England was to visit his brother who had pleaded for him to come – which Sydney had found to be a ruse when she called the Bailey residence after Nigel failed to answer his cell phone and Preston had had no idea that Nigel was even in the country.
At the last clue point she had been met with blood splattered across the ground, and on the piece of stained glass that had ultimately led her to a small castle where she had found Nigel suspended by his wrists from the ceiling by a chain. His head had been hanging, his clothes torn and filthy with dirt and blood, his hair every which way, and his feet barely touched the floor. She had felt her heart crawl into her throat at the sight of him and had been so focused on getting to Nigel that she had completely forgotten about Cedar. He had attacked her as she had entered the room, and the resulting fight had been violent. The only thing holding her back from something she'd regret was the thought of Nigel, what he'd say and the knowledge that he needed attention; she didn't even know if he was alive. Sydney really wasn't sure in that moment whether she hated Cedar or De Viega more.
She left Cedar laying alive on the floor and had picked the lock on the chains holding Nigel up. He had collapsed against her, waking up just enough to tell her where the golden leaf was and with just enough energy to insist that she go get it. Uncharacteristically she had forgotten all about it, and she didn't think she had ever forgotten about a relic before. At his insistence though, she had gone to get it.
After, she had half dragged him out of the castle, all but thrown him into her rental car and rushed him to the hospital where they had remained for hours. Nigel's worst injuries were a cut on his hand which he had accidentally done himself after breaking the stained glass to leave for her, dehydration and polyphagia. Cedar had believed in taunting his captive with offers of food and water if he did what he was told. The hospital had bandaged his hand, and given him fluids, and food and he had been able to clean off some of the grime and blood at least.
She had all but carried him out of the castle and thrown him into her rental car. The drive to the nearest hospital had been fast as she had broken all the speed limits, and unbearably slow, with Nigel's prone form next to her in the car. At the hospital Nigel had been rushed in for surgery, where they had taken care of lacerations, internal bleeding, broken ribs, and a collapsed lung, with dehydration and polyphagia being the least of their worries. He had come out of surgery after what felt like hours on hours, Sydney pacing a hole into the floor of the waiting room, and she had planted herself next to Nigel where she was determined to wait for him to wake up. Only Nigel had yet to wake up, and had flatlined.
Sydney shifted her weight and bit her nail, a habit she usually avoided. She took Nigel on almost all of her hunts, relied on him excessively and of course that meant he was recognized in his own right, and not just as her associate. Her partners didn't last as long as he had, and didn't have his intellect or natural instinct, which made him somewhat of an anomaly. People paid attention to anomalies, especially relic hunters and thieves, of which Cedar had been both. Sydney didn't want to lose Nigel's knowledge and presence on hunts, but she also didn't want to lose him.
One, two, three – CLEAR.
Should she call his brother? Who else would she call? She was his emergency contact. It was easier to have it set up that way since the two of them were usually in the same country (he was hers for the same reason), and his secondary was Karen just in case the two of them were in danger together.
Again. One, two, three – CLEAR.
Sydney wanted to punch a wall. They were supposed to be in danger together. He was supposed to do the dangerous stuff with her, not on his own. At least with her she could try to get him out of it, could maybe do something to save him. And this time she might have been too late. She swallowed back the tears that were threatening to overtake her. She didn't remember the last time she had cried. Maybe she should call her dad? She suddenly realized that she just needed someone to talk to, and her usual call was laying in front of her in a hospital bed.
When had Nigel become this important to her? She had been afraid of Nigel being blown to pieces by the nitroglycerin when they were trapped in the mine looking for the Bear Flag, and angry when Derek Lloyd had kidnapped Nigel to get her attention. She had been devastated when Tsarlov had claimed Nigel was dead, and beyond relieved to find him still alive. He was steady and cautious when she was impulsive and reckless, book smart where she was street smart, and he picked up right where she faltered. The two of them made an excellent team, balancing the best and worst of each other. Not only on relic hunts, but his insights in her classroom was invaluable as well, and they had spent many hours arguing about theories and concepts over grading papers, dinners, and walks.
"I've got a pulse," one doctor finally announced, and Sydney leaned back against the window as the tension drained from her body and closed her eyes. She could breathe again.
