DISCLAIMER: Same as before
A/N: Thanks for reading and for the reviews. It's nice to see that there's a good crop of Bling fans out there. What a great character! Why did they not keep him around, anyway? I suppose they could use the excuse that Cale Industries went bust so Logan couldn't pay his salary any more...but Bling would've come around if they really wanted him to–he was just that kind of guy.
DOWNTOWN
Bling sat in the tomb-like quiet of the vault room, alone at a table surrounded by hundreds of the small bronze faces of safety deposit boxes...his third room, and third bank, that day, following instructions from one to the next in a combination of printed directions from the box and references to locations or code numbers only he could know, from their years of friendship. Peter had gone to great length to be sure no one else would be able to get to the contents of this box...and Bling now understood why...
He sat back in the chair, unmoving, eyes closed, digesting all that he had just learned about his friend's work and employer, the man who at that moment was still unconscious in ICU, not yet awake after the long, delicate surgery to stem as much damage as possible and repair what was not yet lost... For most people, it would be hard enough, the impact of such an injury profound. But the injury to this man would affect far more than him, alone – or would, if Cale let it beat him. The irony of the circumstances burned in Bling's chest – Peter's pleas to Bling to take over his role if he was gone, to serve as body guard and right hand to Eyes Only, were drafted when Peter could have no way of knowing that Cale would need other assistance that Bling was in a position to offer, as therapist. The moment overwhelmed him...
Eyes Only...on his very first day in Seattle, Bling had seen the intense, wide eyes and had heard the driven voice, the terse words of the video hack. He, and, he would learn, countless others, admired the masked avenger, and he probably realized more than most would just how dangerous it was to do what the man did.
It didn't take long before Bling learned that Peter was involved in this work. When he first approached Bling about needing his help on a mission, Peter told him just enough to let Bling decide if he wanted in or not–and to understand that it was part of the current Eyes Only investigation of a local chemical company accused of selling chemical weapon components to anyone with the price. He'd known that first minute he wanted in, but needed to hear Peter explain his reasons for getting involved. The memory of that conversation floated over Bling, clear and powerful...
"What's in it for him?" Bling had demanded, hunched over the small cafe table where they'd sat outside, near a noisy street market, better to mask the words from unwelcome eavesdroppers. "Some civilian do-gooder? Robin Hood was fiction, man. You can't tell me he's not looking out for himself in this..."
"I can – because he's not" Peter had responded immediately. "His resources are adequate for his needs; he's doing this because he can, and no one else seems to be able or willing to go after all the crap that's out there." He had paused at that moment, and admitted, "It's why I quit the force, Bling. Most of the cops out here – anywhere – it's just like it was, back in the service. Whatever good guys still around are overrun by opportunists, who use the system to get what they can. Eyes Only is about the only one around who is giving everything he has to try and protect the little guy out there."
"Oh, great, you're Sancho Panza now?" Bling shook his head. "Are you going to get yourself killed tilting at windmills with Don Quixote? 'Cos there are better things to do with your shootable ass..."
"No, there aren't..." Peter was deadly serious, a fire in his eyes as he looked back to his friend. "You've heard him, haven't you? 'The only free voice left...' He really is, Bling. And maybe he's just taking them on one at a time, but he's fighting the same fight we wanted to fight in places where only a few had a voice..." Peter shook his head sadly. "Who would have thought that it would be us becoming a greater wasteland of insiders and cons than anywhere we ever saw, back then?"
And so Bling went to help out on one job...then another...and another...and he met a couple others fighting the fight, including a bespectacled journalist named Logan Cale.
Cale. 'I'll be damned...' he thought, remembering...
Bling met Cale several times over the couple years he'd been a part of Peter's missions...at first, it was out on the street or providing information – or access to the hospital. Nearly a dozen times he was asked to check someone out, clean and stitch a wound, set a broken bone, and many times Cale was around. He knew that Cale had contacts in various places, probably begun in his work as journalist. Bling suspected that the man was one of the "brains" of the outfit, helping plan their activities with Peter there to provide the professional input. Cale wasn't too badly out of shape and could keep up with them fairly well, but he wasn't a fighter -- Bling suspected that if it wasn't for the screwed up mess the world was in, the man would be happy to be surrounded by books and research day and night. He was bright, a thinker; he wasn't made for this fight. He seemed to be a loner -- something had him in the struggle that was deep and driven. He was tireless, clearly going for hours without sleep. 'Everyone has their own reasons,' Bling used to think. 'Whatever the reason, the man gives his all...'
Bling thought back to the day he knew that he'd passed some test in the outfit, as he was allowed on a couple occasions to meet in what had to be some rich benefactor's place – one with a suspiciously impressive display of computer equipment -- and Peter gave him the key to the safety deposit box that he was to check if anything happened. He was being trusted with the protection of the system, he was told – and nothing more. He'd find all of the instructions and anything he needed to know in the box.
...that was an understatement...
METRO MEDICAL
As Bling neared the hospital he heard sirens – not normally out of place around the emergency room, but these were different...and as he rounded the corner, he saw black smoke rising from an upper, back window – the orthopedic surgical floor – and hook and ladder units spilling rubber-coated firefighters at the emergency room entrance. Bling had a sudden, intensely bad feeling about this...
Parking quickly, Bling jogged up the driveway leading to the emergency bay. Seeing one of the orthopedic interns he knew, he went up to her to ask, "Hey, Sarah, what's going on?"
"Not sure yet – there was some sort of explosion up on three west – they don't think anyone was hurt yet, but it was in post op recovery–that shooting victim of Sam's from this morning. I don't know how he wouldn't have been hurt; they said it was actually in his room."
Bling nodded grimly. Peter's words – and his request for Bling's involvement – took on a chilling immediacy. Starting to move, he touched the woman's arm lightly. "See you later." Knowing that the elevators would be limited to emergency status until the fire department cleared them, he went quickly to the stairwell and ran up the cement steps, two at a time. Pulling the door open on three, Bling looked toward the activity at the end of the hall, smoke filling the hallway and personnel largely absent. Watching as two floor nurses threaded their way in and out of rooms, checking on patients, mouths and noses covered with surgical masks against the smoke, he came toward the supply area and got a mask too. He came in behind one of the nurses. "Rose, can I help?"
"Oh, BL – thanks; yes" The head nurse looked relieved. "How did you get up here? I thought they ordered evacuation of the wing..."
He followed her as she moved to the next room. "I must have missed the order." He copied her actions as she began unhooking leads and lying IV bottles on the patient's bed. "You're moving everyone off the wing?"
She nodded "They have the fire under control, but aren't quite sure what caused the explosion, so want to move everyone for now. They don't need to be sucking in the smoke, anyway."
"Someone was in the room when it went off?"
"No – but there should have been." She shook her head, pointing to a monitor that Bling grabbed and moved along to attach to the bedframe. "It was Sam's new patient – the shooting victim, post surgical ICU. But when the thing went off, he was out, bed and all – Cleo said some young woman was just pushing him down the hall, strolling along like it was nothing to have rooms explode behind her, no big deal. It was pretty crazy for a few minutes but by the time we got the patient out of the hall and into another room, she was gone."
Bling frowned. "Staff?"
"No – in street clothes, a black leather jacket--Cleo said she'd never seen her before."
Bad news to worse? Bling didn't like puzzles, even if the puzzle here included some street-punk guardian angel. "I'm going to be working with him." Bling exaggerated – it was still only intention, not plan, but he'd make sure to get it done. "I'll help you move the beds, but would like to see him for a minute – where is he now?"
"304"
The tall man nodded. "Where will you be taking the patients?"
"They have enough room for most of them on four east. The two with less need for ICU services will go up to their floors." She gestured with her head to the other end of the hall.
"Okay – let me go look in on Mr. Cale. Let me know when you want to start moving everyone..."
"Any time – go ahead when you want. You could take him down..." she shrugged.
"Sure – thanks."
Bling turned to go, quickly passing 304 with a fast glace in, to approach the still-smoking room 312. Near the entrance, one of the firemen saw him to speak through his respirator. "Hey, buddy, you can't be here--"
"I know; I just needed to be sure Mr. Cale's – ah, here it is." Bling walked toward the first loose object he could find that looked half legitimate, allowing him to come in and take a fast look around. "Sorry." He turned to go back into the hall and on to 304, his jaw working.
The single mobile bed bore the still form of Logan Cale, still unconscious, apparently not yet rousing even through the excitement. He was pale and drawn, a large abrasion across his cheek, but his breathing was even and unassisted. Bling came behind the bed to start pushing it down the hall to the elevator, hitting the sequence for emergency override on the elevator, mind in overdrive. That was no explosion, not the sort the hospital was thinking about, such as ignited oxygen tanks or electrical problems – the shattered window and shrapnel pattern along the wall was textbook grenade and launcher pattern. Whoever was after the people Peter and Logan were protecting was now after Cale, to finish the job, apparently. His hope that the snatch of the child and woman was sufficient for them evaporated – and he was suddenly faced with the job of protecting a man with a killer on his tail...
FOURTH FLOOR
He'd been floating in and out of awareness; he'd heard not only that distinctive hospital ping but a man's voice, calm and strong, urging his response. He felt a dull but insistent throb of pain along his back, from waist to shoulders; his head was splitting. He frowned, trying to focus...
"C'mon Logan, I know you're there. Talk to me."
He managed to pry his eyes open, immediately closing one when two unresolved images would not reconcile. Through slitted lids he saw a serene face, looking down at him.
"See? You're half way there, man."
The voice carried support, concern. The face, he knew. "...Bling..." He croaked from a dry throat sore from the tubes that had so recently been there.
"Hey. Welcome back." He reached to an unseen space behind Logan as he spoke. "Your mouth is probably pretty dry but you can't drink quite yet. I've got ice chips here, though – want some?" At the weak nod, Bling raised a piece to his lips and Cale gratefully took it, letting the cold, wet piece melt sooth his parched mouth.
"Logan, you're at Metro Med – you know why you're here?"
The eyes remained closed as Cale's brow furrowed, trying to remember... He finally put it together. "Lauren... and Sophie...?" he asked. "They've taken them..." He breathed, agitated ... "Do you know if..."
"No, I don't know what's happened. I'm sorry..." Bling saw the anguish written on the man's face, the pain of failure. "Look, things may have worked out..."
"Call Peter. He'll know." Cale managed, voice reedy with exhaustion. "Where is he? Was he hurt, too?"
Bling frowned, hating to have to do this, knowing he should lie for the moment, knowing he could not... "Logan, Peter was hit...he didn't make it..." He saw the eyes force their way open, tormented; they began to fill slightly – as Bling's did in response, mourning the same man. "He wouldn't have suffered. It was immediate."
Cale's eyes closed slowly, brow knit, the loss clear. "It's my fault..."
"No – and I don't want to hear you say that again." Bling's voice was firm. "Peter was as close to me as family – he was in this of his own volition, knew what he was doing was right–and would have never let you talk him into doing something he didn't want to do. He wouldn't have let either one of you go into something that didn't have at least a reasonable chance of working out. So don't even try to say you could have been the cause."
The pain was still there but the brow soothed a tiny bit. Bling knew that the man needed his rest and might not even remember much of this, but he needed to be sure that Cale didn't take all this on his own shoulders. He had a feeling that he'd have enough to deal with, facing life now as a paraplegic, someone out there still wanting him dead. They'd have to talk, seriously, soon. But now wasn't the time...
"Look, Logan, you just lie back and get some rest. You have some serious healing to do. I'd like to be around, though, while you do."
The green eyes managed to crack open one more time to consider the man's face. "What for?" he croaked.
"Favor to an old friend." Bling's words were immediate. "Get some rest, Logan" he soothed. "You've got a lot of work ahead..."
..to be continued..."