Chapter Three
SURGICARE WAITING AREA
KRESGE MEDICAL CENTER
21:20 ZULU
When she awoke, it was to a gentle hand upon her shoulder. She straightened from her uncomfortable position, slumped against the arm of the couch and blinked her eyes until her vision cleared. There was no sign of Harm, or empty coffee cups. Victor Galindez stood in his place, looking dark and serious in his black suit and blue silk tie. She shook her head and rubbed at her neck. She still couldn't quite get used to the sight of him in anything other than a Marine uniform. Never mind the fact that he had joined the agency seventeen years ago, when his last hitch with the Marine Corps was up and Clay had offered him a permanent job with the Agency.
He had told her once that it was the opportunity to work with Clay, as much as the change of pace and the better pay that had prompted him to jump the fence. He had liked working with Webb. They had made a good team in both Afghanistan and South America, and he'd liked having a partner again. Plus, he'd sensed in Clay's offer an opportunity for advancement that the Marine Corps was never going to give him. He'd taken the job and never looked back.
It had been a good decision for both of them, she realized. Clay and Victor complimented each other well. Clay's polished upbringing and Victor's barrio background allowed them to move in circles high and low and the combination of their diverse experience had saved their lives more than once. And there was an ease between them that they rarely demonstrated with other people. Both were quiet men, and though Clay's manner tended to be sharp and Victor's polite and unassuming, they understood each other perfectly and took no offense at the other's idiosyncrasies. Sarah had little doubt that it was Clay's influence as much as Victor's own experience and skill that had secured Galindez's latest appointment as Director of Operations to Southeast Asia. By the same token, she knew that she had Victor to thank for the fact that her husband had come home to her from every one of those dangerous, secretive missions they had gone on together. Each time she'd find a new scar…a cut…a bullet wound…she'd look him in the eye and ask him just how close he'd come to dying this time.
Invariably, he'd shrug and smile and say … "It got a little hairy for a second, but it was ok …Gunny had my back."
He was still doing it, she thought, noting that Kennedy had disappeared and the CIA security had slipped more quietly into the background. She rotated her neck slowly, and then looked up into Victor's worried face. "Is there any news?"
He nodded. "They just took him to the recovery room. You should be able to see him in about a half hour or so."
She rubbed her hands across her face and stared at him more clearly. "I thought you were in Israel."
"What? And miss one of your famous cookouts? No way. I wrapped things up early and caught a plane out this morning." His shy grin faded. "I was halfway over the Atlantic when I got the word. How are you and Penny holding up?"
"Oh, we're muddling through. I sent her home with Sturgis and Bobbie. She went kicking and screaming, of course, but at least she went."
He turned and reached down to the table behind him for a cup of coffee. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "You look like you could use it."
It wasn't Starbucks Hazelnut and French Vanilla Crème, but it was light with two sugars, the way she'd always drank it at the office. Victor hadn't forgotten either.
"Thanks, Gunny." She said, accepting it with a grateful smile.
"Any time, ma'am," he replied, slipping back into their old personas with an ease that belied the passing of years.
They sat in companionable silence as she sipped at the coffee and allowed her mind to wander over the odd, triangular bond she and Clay had formed with this man over the years. They had made a good team, the three of them. So much so that Harm had once referred to them, not entirely jokingly, as the three musketeers. At first she had seen it as merely one of his fits of petty jealousy. But now, looking back, she realized it was merely his own admission of the fact that others were eclipsing his place in her life. God knew there was not another man alive outside of Clay that she trusted as much as she did Victor Galindez. She'd had to. He'd held both her life --and Clay's-- in his own hands too many times for her to count. And aside from Clay and Harm, she couldn't remember another person for whom she'd been willing to risk herself as she had Gunny. He was a friend …a comrade …a Marine. And they never left their own behind.
But in the end, she knew it all came back to trust. Clay and Harm had been friends, but deep down, Harm had always suspected Clay's motives. The oddities of life had thrown Clay and Victor together in a situation where trust had come first and friendship later. It was that, she realized, that had kept them alive all these years. She had trusted each of them, and they had trusted her and each other. Together, it had made them invincible. She smiled at the simple, plain spoken man beside her. He still wasn't Harm, and he would never be Clay, but he was her friend and he would be there for her –for both of them. On nights like tonight, it was more than enough.
A nurse in surgical scrubs appeared in the doorway. "Mrs. Webb? You can see him now if you like."
Victor rose and offered her a hand up. She accepted it, and was grateful for his silent presence as he followed her and the nurse down the maze of corridors to the recovery room. She had no trouble determining which one was his. The same guard was posted outside.
He was groggy, but he was awake. She heard his mumbled reply as he answered the nurse's questions and saw his clumsy movements as he struggled for full clarity. She smiled. Clay hated being unaware and out of control of his faculties. It made him a lousy patient. She had no doubt he'd be giving the nurses hell within the hour.
The nurse stepped back to allow her access, and she moved quickly to his side.
"Hey," she said softly, taking his hand.
His eyes softened as they focused upon her. "Hey," he murmured back.
From the other side of the bed, Galindez's hand came down upon his shoulder, and he rotated his head in the other direction to stare blearily up into the other man's face. He frowned, momentarily confused.
"Victor, what are you doing here?"
Galindez grinned. "I came for the party. I think it's gonna be a dud, though. Word is you haven't bought any steaks and you're out of beer."
"My apologies," Clay murmured.
"No sweat, Boss," Victor said. "I'll take care of the groceries. You just worry about getting back on your feet."
They sat with him for perhaps another fifteen minutes before Doctor Markham came in and gave them the report. "He came through just fine. We were able to clear all the blockages. He should be well enough to send home in a couple of days. I think we'll wait a couple weeks and let him rebuild his strength a bit before we go in to take care of the valve."
She felt Clay give her fingers a gentle squeeze. "You weren't kidding about the health plan," he muttered.
She shot him a quelling look and turned her attention back to the doctor. "How much longer will he be down here?"
Markham considered this. "Another hour or so, just to make sure everything is all right. Then they'll take him back to his room. Would you like me to have them bring in a cot for you?"
"Yes." She replied.
"No." Clay said.
She looked down at him in surprise. He was studying her intently, his olive colored eyes darkening with concern. "You're dead on your feet," he said softly. "Go home. Get some sleep. I'll be fine."
"I am not leaving you, Clay," she said firmly.
"Yes," he said with surprising conviction in his voice. "You are." He rolled his head to look at Galindez. "Take her home, Victor. That's an order."
"I still outrank you, Gunny." Mac growled.
"And I outrank both of you," Clay retorted.
Mac sighed. Obviously the anesthesia was wearing off.
Galindez sighed. "Talk about being between a rock and a hard place."
Sarah squeezed his hand harder. "I won't leave you," she said again.
He sighed and traced his thumb over her knuckles. "And I won't sleep a wink if I'm worrying about you …and right now, I'm worrying about you. Go home, sweetheart. Get some sleep. Come back in the morning. I'll be all right. I swear."
She shook her head. "I'd rather be here. Penny's with Sturgis and Bobby, and I hate the thought of going back to that house alone."
"Then don't," he said quietly. "Victor can stay in the guest room. Besides, he looks too tired to drive back to Georgetown tonight." Clay frowned as more pertinent facts started to float back into his mind. "Where did he come from, anyway?"
"Israel." Mac replied.
"It's settled then." Clay said tiredly. "He's staying over."
She hesitated, not quite sure how to argue her way around this one. He saw it and flashed a small smirk as he zeroed in for the kill. "Besides, I have an ulterior motive."
"What?"
"If you go home, you can stop at the club in the morning and pick up my car and my gym bag. God only knows what's become of my gear by now."
She shot him an exasperated look. "Just for that I will go home."
He fixed her with that cocky, knowing smile. "Bye," he said lightly.
She scowled at him. "God, you can be such a jerk!" She couldn't believe it. Even at death's door he still had the ability to infuriate her. She rose to leave, but he caught at her hand pulling her back to him.
"Have I ever told you you're angry when you're beautiful?" he murmured.
"Yes," she said shortly, collecting her handbag. "--Every time you make me that way."
He ran his fingers across her knuckles and frowned at the unfamiliar adornment upon them. He looked down to see his wedding band, hanging loosely about her middle finger. He brushed his thumb across it, looking thoughtful and her temper cooled as he opened her clenched hand and kissed her palm.
"Don't lose that," he warned her, "I'll want it back when I get out of here."
She bent down and kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you, you idiot," she sniffed.
"I know," he murmured lazily as sleep started to overtake him once again. "I love you too, sweetheart. Go home. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."
By the time they had reached the door, he was already asleep.