DISCLAIMER: Characters borrowed from Cameron, Eglee, Fox. Guys, don't you wish you'd kept them going, too?
Once again, thanks to those who have taken the time to read, and sincere appreciation for comments and reviews. They really do help keep things moving along.
METRO MEDICAL: SIX NORTH
It was late, the hospital dark and quiet, and Sam Carr was sitting at his desk in the pool of light made by the desk lamp, proofreading the transcriptions of his dictated surgical notes. The thought of his wife's lasagna made his stomach rumble, but he had four more reports to review from the week, and then he could go home to really relax and enjoy his family over the weekend. Over the years he'd found that taking one night a week, after hours, worked the best; it was far less hectic than fitting reports in between patients, or trying to do so at anytime at home with his energetic twin boys, now age six, demanding his attention...
Sam was aware that someone was coming with the shift in the dim light spilling in from the hall, and looked up to see a familiar, powerful form. "Hi, BL" the doctor's smile, though weary, was genuine. "Haven't seen you much lately–how are you?"
"Good, Sam; thanks." His expression was sympathetic. " Rough week?"
"So it shows?" Sam smiled ruefully. "Some bad ones, this week. It must be really tough out there, but then, people getting hurt right and left, I don't get out much to see it."
Bling nodded. "Just as well. You've got a great view of all there is to see parading through here, right?" It was like most of the staff comment these days, sad, gallows' humor, offered between individuals who sometimes had to laugh so they wouldn't go crazy with the never-ending want and despair in the once-vital city. At Sam's sigh and nod, Bling got to the point. "Sam--one of your new patients–the shooting victim, T-10 blow-out, came in as a John Doe–I'd like to take the assignment when you order PT."
Without hesitation Sam nodded. "Sure. You know him?"
Bling nodded. "More like a friend of a friend–his name is Logan Cale, but..." Bling had known Sam since he'd gotten the job here, right after his arrival just over two years earlier. If he couldn't trust Sam, there was no one he could trust in the hospital. Besides--there just wasn't time to check him out anyway, even if he had the resources to do so. "Sam, if you still have him listed as a John Doe, I'd ask that you keep it that way. I think that the explosion in his room was an attempt on his life, to finish the job they tried out on the street." Bling still regretted his speaking before he'd thought about it, back on six, when he called Logan by name not only to nursing staff, but to one of the fire fighters. He could only hope that the name meant nothing to them and was easily forgotten in the chaos following the explosion. "Maybe keeping his name out of things will keep everyone safer."
Sam frowned. "Why? Who is he?"
Bling followed what Peter had indicated was their explanation to the Fogle Towers security people in exacting their attention, when needed. "Logan Cale is one of the 'Cale Industry' Cales. Apparently, since the Pulse his family has been targeted by kidnappers, as have other wealthy families around the country, in the hope of scoring some fast cash. Plus, the business is engaged in technology that is literally coveted by other governments, and so is highly desirable among black marketeers. Whatever the current reason, it wouldn't be the first time someone has been after his family. Maybe killing a Cale gets the attention of the other Cales; who knows. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But in the circumstances, it might be better to be paranoid." Bling took his point home. "Sam, the other shooting victim brought in with him–the one who didn't make it–was my closest friend, from our time in service. He worked for Cale, and indicated that there might be some danger..." Bling hoped this wasn't too much to dump on the doctor. "Whether or not Mr. Cale wanted it, Peter appointed himself as his body guard, and was there as much as he could be, for him. Now that Peter's gone...and especially since Cale is going to need PT..." Bling summed, "I'd like to be his therapist."
"Of course." To his credit, Sam appeared to be relatively unruffled. "I'd thought of you anyway, his height and age..." With those words, Bling knew the physician was considering both the physical and psychological aspects of the patient's rehabilitation, as the hospital's other therapist was young, petite–and very female. Not only would Bling's added height and strength make it easier for him to deal with a taller–and therefore heavier–patient, there would be topics to consider that any man would have a hard enough time facing--and might never face fully with a pretty young girl eliciting the conversation.
Bling nodded. "Thanks, Sam. Peter asked that I look out for him, if anything happened..." He found that the words, spoken aloud, still were difficult to say in an even voice...but he went on. "Logistically, if you could have him assigned to an inside room, either without windows, or with those on the inner courtyard..."
"Alright." Sam's eyes never left Bling's, probing...trusting, but curious. He had always respected the man's work and success with even difficult clients. But BL always made him think of the old cliche, 'still waters run deep...' He'd always suspected there was far more to the man than met the eye, even as he believed completely that whatever was underneath was just as noble and generous as he was as a therapist. Apparently, he'd been right...he hoped...
"And...just so you know..." Bling continued, diving in headlong, needing to have Logan's doctor in on this, needing to know that Sam would be there for his patient. "There's going to be a rather insistent source telling the local reporters that someone actually did die in the explosion. Of course, no one did, so the hospital will be denying it, probably just as emphatically." Bling kept his eyes on those of the surgeon. "I promise you will not be cited or used in any way on my end, but...if the reporters ask...I'm just hoping it might be enough, if we keep his name out of any hospital records, and move him quietly from four to the unit, anyone trying to get to him might believe they were successful." And a few additional records entries will help it along, he believed...
Again a nod–slower in coming this time, thoughtful, but still trusting in Bling, borne of his two years of trusting his patients to him. The man had never failed him or his patients, not once. "Okay, BL" he said softly. "Let me know if I can do anything to be of help."
Bling relaxed slightly, offering a soft smile. "Thanks. Just the offer means a lot." He shifted, and asked. "He knows about the extent of the injury, and the prognosis?"
Sam nodded. "I spoke with him this morning."
"How'd he take it?"
"Stoical...jaw clenched. He didn't say much–didn't say anything." Sam corrected. "Didn't ask any questions. He was lucid, and awake, so...I suspect he knew already."
Bling considered. "Okay. I'll just start out with the usual bed work, then on to chair, unless you need me to do something else. Anything special you anticipate?"
"No, but we'll see in a couple weeks, when the swelling subsides."
Bling nodded once more. "Okay, doc, thanks." He turned to go. "Think I'll stop in and see him now."
"Good, BL; thanks–let me know how it goes." He saw the dark face smile, a small glimmer of hope in a grim and broken world, as the therapist turned to leave on silent tread. Sam wasn't completely sure he'd heard it all–in fact, was quite sure he had not–but BL had the same effect on him as he had on his patients: that there was always hope, that trust wasn't wasted, and that one day, somehow, the world would right itself and justice, however small, however humble, would find its way back to Seattle...
METRO MEDICAL: 416
The machines were now down to only one or two, so the former cacophony of beeps and whirs and bells and whooshing sounds was down to the irritating steady beep of the PulsOx monitor Logan would gladly throw across the room, if he could reach it...if he had the strength to throw anything...
For the most part, during those times he was awake, he managed to drift along above it all, mentally reciting centuries-old poetry he'd studied as an undergrad...replaying prePulse basketball playoff games in his head, remembering Reggie Miller raining in three pointers more easily than breathing, remembering the feel of the ball in his own hands, the smoothness of the court under his feet...
...and with a sudden, sucked-in breath of pain he shifted hard and fast, back to poetry, back to words from physical movement...from the memory of that which was now lost to him...
He kept his eyes closed, denying the room, unable to see much detail around him anyway, flat on his back and without his glasses. Nothing here to see, so he hadn't pressed it; still not awake long or completely enough to seek out someone to press, if he'd wanted to...
But memory was demanding, and reality, insistent...and no matter how successful his stubborn attempts to call up the works of Poe or Whitman or Crane or Bryant, his reality was that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how focused or intense, his legs and feet lay still under the blanket. And that, no matter what, was reality, for keeps...
METRO MEDICAL: FOUR WEST
Bling came to the door, peering in through the glass panel, its blinds left open so staff could keep a periodic eye on the room's single inhabitant. It wasn't like suicide watch was in full swing; hell, there was nothing in the man's reach that could be used to end it all, if he'd so chosen, that wouldn't sound an alarm if he tried it–any tubing or wiring would trigger an alarm if disconnected, and nothing else was handy. Bling frowned a little to think of the pragmatics involved, how the staff could so easily dismiss an immobile patient–but then sighed, easing up on them. They were incredibly overworked and their behavior made sense in the circumstances. Still, for his patients...for Logan Cale...he sighed, sadly.
He took a moment to focus on what was ahead, knowing this one might be harder for him, given what he knew now. His wonder and awe for this man made this assignment daunting–all he gave, all he'd given up, his selfless fight for thousands of souls he'd never meet, just because it was right–no wonder Peter had been so fierce in his protection.
And now Peter was gone, Cale seriously injured, and the fight was not over-- far from it. Bling knew without question that Cale could be back at it, that he could get Cale back at it–but he could not let his admiration for the man lead him into treating him any differently than he would any of his patients–he had to be the one to be tough, to not buy into any self-pity or helplessness or despair. He knew from his earlier association with Cale that the man had his demons, and Bling suspected that depression could be a major threat to his recovery.
Bling would have to do his all to insist that the man move forward–he had too much work left to do. No matter his personal feeling for the remarkable sacrifices of this solitary man, Bling knew he had to get him up and working again. Not only would the lives of countless persons be affected–but so would the very soul of the man whose future he now held in his strong, capable hands...
METRO MEDICAL: 416
The sound of the door opening quietly was enough of a change to roust him out of his half-sleep, half-stupor. He would not open his eyes; usually when he did that the nurses left him alone.
But the steps were quieter and heavier than those of the nursing staff...and the sound neared, stopped– and waited. So he did, too–but he had never been good at staring contests. After a few moments, he slowly opened one eye...
"Hey. You busy?" The black eyebrow raised in gentle challenge as the slow smile quirked Bling's lips.
"Funny." Logan croaked, eyes closing again. "So I didn't just imagine that you were around."
"Nope. This is my day job. Here--" Logan looked back up to see that Bling offered him his glasses, and he reached out to take them. After only a moment's hesitation he put them on, slowly. Bling was explaining, "The ones you were wearing when you came in were lost in the shuffle–these I found in your desk..."
It took a brief moment, but the meaning then became abundantly clear as Logan understood why Bling would have been in his home. "Did you take care of things?" He asked, his mind suddenly focused, single-minded and sharp.
"Security walls are up and the mainframe disconnected from the Net." Bling spoke low, his voice even. "But–considering that you're recovering–I didn't want to pull the plug on everything without--"
"Do it." Logan's eyes closed. His voice was cold and flat. Emotionless.
"I can't–not with you still able..."
"Do it."
"Not yet." Bling watched the man's eyes open to him, and a million emotions shifted through the green depths there–helplessness, despair, rage, frustration...overwhelming powerlessness. "Things are safe for the time being. You will regret losing all that information; it would take years to rebuild–hell, you would never get it all back. I won't pull the plug yet. Not yet."
"That's not your call..."
"Actually, it is. You're here, and will be for a time. Peter handed this off to me–and, as I understand it, it was with your approval. So, for the moment, it is my call. You'll want to have everything intact for when you get back, Logan. Trust me."
"Yeah, well, trust me, I won't be going back. Or didn't they teach you what happens when a bullet does a dance through a spinal cord?"
"Actually, they probably taught me a lot more about it than you learned, in those journalism classes of yours." Bling's smooth delivery never wavered. "In fact, enough that your doctor has assigned me to get you back into the world, unless you pitch some major bitch about it being me. And even if you do– he's not likely to be too impressed. There aren't too many physical therapists around these days and he likes my work. So, I'd say you're stuck with me as your therapist for a while."
Cale was silent, his eyes boring into those of his new therapist. And it took all of Bling's resolve not to show a reaction to what he saw there–that the eyes, the familiar eyes he could now imagine inside the 'streaming freedom' video mask, could not hide a ripple of relief and surrender to the strength of the man who might help him salvage what remained of his battered life... Bling stood fast, no more willing to blink than was his patient, fearing the loss of the battles ahead....and Cale swallowed, lifting his chin a little. "How long will it take?"
"What, the therapy?"
"No, to convince you to pull the plug."
Bling's eyebrows lifted a little, and he actually allowed a chuckle–whether or not Cale would admit it, he'd sensed that it was possible to get back to the fight, and Bling heard his real question: 'How long to get back?' Bling shook his head, and let his eyes direct Cale's to the trapeze bar just over his head. "Not long as you'd think–if we get started." He watched as Logan followed his glance to the bar as Bling's large hand took hold of it. "See this? See if you can grab on..."
...to be continued...