DISCLAIMER: please see first chapters. Still borrowed; not mine.
MANY, MANY THANKS for all the encouragement , kind words and thoughtful comments, especially through FFN's breakdown mode. It's been wonderful to see both old timers and new names pop up in reviews. I think any writer here would tell you how much the reviews mean, and how helpful they can be in such a variety of ways. It can be daunting to scribble stories then post them for the world (literally!) to see, and sometimes hard to judge for yourself their value. So thank you all for running to the rescue and asking for more–'cos some of us just don't know when to stop!
METRO MEDICAL: THREE EAST: Two days later (Injury plus 51 days):
...he was slipping back...
Bling moved through the drink line toward the coffee at the hospital's cafeteria, amid morning staff starting their day and night shift grabbing a fast meal before heading home. He wasn't seeing the line ahead of him, not really; his thoughts were on his patient and the rising concern he had about these new events...
No, not back...away. Logan was slipping away, slipping off a cliff into depression that Bling's gut told him could rise quickly, fast and deep ...
Bling had been at this job long enough to have dealt with a number of severely injured patients before, and knew that momentary set-backs would come and go, and weren't all that unusual. But Logan's sudden withdrawal the day before was not one of those. It smacked of serious depression, of a hopelessness that Bling worried could slowly spiral him down, further and deeper, if he wasn't rescued from it soon. And because Bling felt a personal responsibility for its start he felt doubly troubled that he hadn't yet decided how best to help the man...
"BL?'
It had been the second time Sam had spoken. Roused from his thoughts, Bling blinked a little, concern still etched on his face. "Hi, Sam." He focused on the surgeon. "You've got a procedure this morning?"
"Yeah, in about 40 minutes."
"Let me get you some orange juice." Bling turned from the coffee urn with a full cup and nodded toward the cooler.
"No, it's okay..."
"C'mon, grab some juice" Bling insisted. "I wanted a couple minutes today anyway. If you could spare them now...?"
"Yeah...I heard. I was looking for you." Sam watched Bling pay for their drinks and followed him to a table "You've got him on the staff watch list?"
Bling nodded. "Since yesterday afternoon. I saw it happen, Sam; I wasn't going to mess around with it."
"No; that's fine. Do I need to order him onto psych's caseload?"
Bling grimaced, a vague shrug expressing his frustration. "Sam, I can't tell you not to refer him..." But Sam waited. Bling gathered his thoughts for a moment, then said. "I don't know; I wonder if telling him he's on suicide watch and ordered involuntarily into counseling might make it worse for him."
Sam considered the therapist. He had excellent instincts and usually was dead on. And he usually wasn't this worried. Sam considered him. "Did something happen?"
"His chair came in." Bling murmured, then looked up at the doctor, who could see the expression of guilt on the man's face. "He'd been in one of the unit's temp chairs and took one look at this hot custom model, top of the line...I made some crack about it not being confused for a hospital loaner..." The source of the man's guilt, Sam could see. "It was that moment–it all sank in, really sank in. He mumbled something like 'only a real gimp would have a designer chair,' turned and took off." Bling frowned again. "He hasn't spoken since." Bling drew at his coffee. "He's bitched and griped and fretted before, but never just–shut down, like this."
"Has he used the new chair?"
Bling snorted softly, without humor. "No. He just turned and went back to his room. He never came out to eat last night, and not yet this morning." Again a shrug. "Sam, I know it hasn't even been a whole day..."
The doctor interrupted him. "BL, I trust your judgment. Especially since you knew him before. It's not something to wait around and watch before making sure nothing will happen." He paused. "You tell me–this is your area, you see these patients at this stage far more than I do. I'm willing to do whatever you suggest, or order treatment if needed..." He paused and considered. "Look–I'll write the order and have my secretary hold it. And I'll call Paul Ashton in psych, let him know we might have a referral." Sam watched the man's face as he nodded–the suggestion gave him options he appreciated, but no real answers. "BL, it's your call–you want to wait, you take whatever time you want with him. The minute you want him on the service, call Maya and she'll send the order to Paul. They could take him immediately, if necessary."
Bling nodded again. "Thanks, Sam." He drained his coffee. "I'd better go see what's up."
"Let me know, alright?" Sam stood with him.
"As soon as I know anything, you'll know." BL clapped the surgeon gently on the shoulder. "Thanks."
"Whatever you need." Sam promised. "I know this one's special for you..."
...and for all the voiceless ones out there, waiting for Eyes Only's next hack...he thought. Special for all of us, Sam..so what the hell do I do to get him back...?
METRO MEDICAL: THREE NORTH, TWO EAST, THREE EAST; a few hours before, a few hours after:
The previous evening, Max had watched from a distance as the unit staff–two different ones, then–had gone to Logan's room and encouraged him to come eat, to take some food, to no avail: even Max could see something was wrong with him, but no one ever took his temp or checked other signs of illness. Was it just that he'd lost weight and they worried about any skipped meal, or was there more? In varying levels of patronization she could hear them try: "Logan, kitchen's gonna close in ten minutes..." "Logan, don't you want to take something?" "Logan, you don't want to lose any more weight...Dr. Carr will have our hides."
But now he sat, unmoving, staring at the wall or eyes closed; he didn't move. He'd not gone to bed, never moved from the chair. Max felt an anxious ripple of worry for what she saw but didn't understand–she'd guessed something was up from the staff's attentions the night before so hung around, watching, staying out of sight, trying to determine what had happened...until shift change, when she heard them talking...
"BL put Logan Cale on watch." The woman packing up for the day told the one arriving. "Nothing during the night, but he refused dinner and sat up all night. His room's fairly clear–nothing too easily used to hurt himself, but we're doing hourly checks," Max heard. Suicide watch, they meant? she wondered. Logan...?
"What happened?" The newcomer asked, in some surprise.
"Not sure–I think he just learned he'd been shot" The first staffer's tone was flip, but not completely unkind. It wasn't all that uncommon to see such events in this unit, so they'd become pragmatic about the reactions of patients coming to terms with the reality of "life after." Max appreciated pragmatism; soldiers were trained to deal–but in this, their apparent lack of concern made her more anxious...why weren't they doing something?
She felt a sudden wave of relief when, from the station she'd taken in a ventilation system work duct over the hallway outside Logan's door, where she could hear everything and see a fair amount, she saw Logan's therapist come in, a serious look on his face. Her relief was heightened when, upon hearing that Cale had not moved all night, his expression darkened. This man clearly was there to get Logan's back and had been the one getting through to him before. If anyone could take care of this, she believed, this man could...
METRO MEDICAL: THREE EAST: Patient Room #4, Rehab Unit:
Bling opened the door after a brief knock, without waiting, and found Cale sitting in the hospital's chair. Still clad in the clothes in which Bling had last seen him, he looked drawn and haggard. Bling frowned. "Logan," he said in low, measured tones, without emotion. "It's 7:20. I have a 7:30, and will be done at 8:20. When I'm back here at 8:25, if you haven't gone in there and done the routine by then," he jerked his chin in the direction of the restroom, " you're going back onto the floor inpatient so they can cath you." He drew a breath. "The clothes and the shower we'll deal with after that. But you don't let this much time go by without taking care of things anymore." he said with finality. "You don't get a choice."
And with that, Bling took a step back, closed the door behind him...and left the man alone to process his order...his threat... Slowly, as if in physical pain, Logan turned his chair toward the small bathroom in his room...
...and Max started breathing again...
She shifted down along the duct to watch the therapist hesitate outside in the hall, passing a hand over his face, the strength and confident air of moments before gone...and Max could see that he was as worried, and maybe as much at a loss, as she'd been in seeing Logan's unresponsiveness...she chewed her lip, hating to feel so powerless–and suddenly felt that surge of anger again that she'd been suckered into hovering in the ceiling, watching this would-be hero feel sorry for himself. And if this therapist didn't know what to do with him, she certainly wouldn't have much to add.
7:20, he'd said...if she raced home and changed, she might be at work nearly on time. Nothing was happening here, she told herself. At least this BL guy would be around and if Logan got his senses back, he'd be there to kick Logan's ass. He looked like a guy who could do it, too...
METRO MEDICAL: ONE NORTH, eight hours later:
Max had not intended to come back here. Ever.
She certainly hadn't intended to come hover over this Logan Cale guy if he wasn't getting his mind straightened out–after all, wasn't that the Manticore lesson that had kept her alive and safe this long, assess the situation and deal? Maybe this was all new to the rich boy...Welcome to the real world, Logan Cale, she thought...
But there had been a run here, some reports or records or something, sent over from a private clinic to the hospital. And it wasn't like she volunteered for it; Normal had actually given it to her to deliver. And once at the hospital...
...well, hell, what would it hurt to just go see...?
METRO MEDICAL: THREE EAST: Rehab Unit
...she'd had to wait only ten minutes...
On her arrival to the rehabilitation wing, Logan was nowhere to be seen, but his therapist was in with another patient–she guessed things weren't too bad if he wasn't right there with Logan, and he looked about the same as she'd last seen him.
She would absolutely not lurk in the ceiling again, she decided. But if she were this far, she'd ask... and shifted, ready, when she heard BL leave the room to come her way, nearing the corner...
"Max..." Bling stopped short in surprise after rounding the corner, to find that this time it was she who stepped into his path.
"Hey," she said shortly. "What's up with him?"
Thoughts of patient confidentiality and client safety flickered immediately through Bling's mind, but his concern for the man's mood was insistent. He would be careful, but he could use any input he could get... "What do you mean?" he began cautiously.
"Logan–why do they have him on suicide watch? she demanded.
He sighed. " He hit a bad time with being here–I think it finally sank in, the permanence of his injury, what it means..." He shrugged. "Are you here to visit?"
"No–I had a run here." She was glad it was the truth. "Can you get him over it?" Again, blunt; she would not show any serious concern...
"I don't know." The man was honest. "I haven't found what might get him back to thinking he can live with his injury. So far, family and friends and work are all big zeros..." Bling found himself wondering if a visit from this very attractive woman might brighten the day for Logan–she certainly was interested enough, the way she kept hanging around... "Maybe he needs something to hold on to, to get him through this..." But when he looked back to her, to his surprise, at his words, Max's expression shifted and her eyes lifted to his, almost in question.
"I have something...." she remembered, words slow, haunted...then her eyes flashed with purpose. "I'll be back...give me twenty minutes..."
And Bling was left blinking in surprise at the small form slipping out through the crowded hall to fly down the stairs...
MAX'S PLACE:
Max tore through the pockets of the jacket she'd thrown in the back of her closet, even her boots, a growing worry that the little figure might have gone with the SWAT gear she'd tossed, that night....until she remembered her slim tool kit and grabbed it in hope...
And opened it to find the fuzzy little bear she'd promised to deliver...
Grabbing it and shoving it in her pocket, she remembered the short conversation she'd had with Sophy as she pulled up her first chance away to toss the stolen SWAT suit and explain everything to the scared little girl...
"Sophy, remember me? I'm Max...we're going to meet your mom..."
"Was she shot?"
Max had been surprised at first at that, knowing the child had spoken with her mother on the phone– until she remembered that Logan had gone down with Sophy in his arms...she shook her head, wanting to be comforting but also wanting to move. "No, she's fine; she's waiting..."
"But Logan was shot..." the child's eyes were large and worried. "Is he dead?"
Max softened. "No, Sophy–he's in the hospital, and they're taking care of him." She wavered, and unsure why, added, "He wants you to hurry to your mom–he wants you two to be safe."
The girl looked down, then slipped her hand in her pocket to draw out a small, brown fuzzy shape. "Max, will you give him this please?" Sophy looked up to the waiting woman. "He helped me when I was scared...maybe he will make Logan feel better."
Max took the tiny teddy bear, less than two inches tall, warmed from Sophy's pocket. "Don't you want to take him with you...?" she offered.
Sophy shook her head. "Hospitals can be scary." she whispered. "Logan might like to have him now. I won't need him anymore." The smile she showed Max, looking up to her, was as brave a look as Max had ever seen...
METRO MEDICAL: THREE EAST: Patient Room #4, Rehab Unit:
Bling looked at the tiny bear in his hand, made even tinier in his large palm. He would have preferred Max coming herself, to allow Logan a visitor to show an interest in his recovery... to have a first-hand account of the rescue. But this was better than nothing and might mean something to the man who was losing himself...he closed his hand around the form, and knocked.
Logan's voice finally came, softly, and Bling walked in. "Something came for you." He announced. His reply was a listless, long stare back from the green eyes that so recently burned with intensity. When there was no verbal response, Bling came near and held his closed hand out, waiting. Cale didn't move, however, until Bling encouraged, "...here..."
Lifting his palm, Logan watched as Bling's hand opened to drop in a familiar brown bear...and a choked sob escaped briefly from his throat... "Sophy..." he whispered...and looked up at Bling, emotion back in his eyes...
He remembered...the child showing Logan the one possession she'd been able to take in their frenzied dash to hide at his place...the small bear that she said was her friend, who made her feel braver, like a bear...and she was alive. Alive...free...and maybe she would have some real toys already, in her new home...
"After she was extracted, on her way to her mom..." Bling recounted what Max had told him. "She said she wanted you to have it, to keep you company in the hospital ..." Bling watched closely as the eyes rippled briefly, moisture making them glassy. After long moments of silence, the man who had engineered their rescue moved, fingers of his free hand touching the small shape.
"...damn it..." He whispered finally, the picture of pain, head tipped back and eyes tightly shut, refusing to let them fill... "Damn it..." he breathed again, head now falling forward and eyes opening to stare, glassy eyed, and the tiny, fuzzy bear he held in his open palm. And finally, slowly, his hand closed over the small round figure...
...to be continued...
A final note on this chapter: Bling's story here will offer a version of the 3 months missing from Logan's injury to Max's dropping in on Logan's hack. This particular chapter may stretch events more than usual, and, while it may even be a bit jarring, it's a part of what I imagine for Logan during this time, and how the others might react. I hope you'll agree.