Chapter 7: The Price of Peace
Friday, 9:10 am
David Dillingham was getting to his feet now, and his voice rang out in alarm. "Elizabeth! No! The virus! Get into your bio-gear!" He slid the case across the stage to her. She tore the radio off her head and struggled to get everything out.
She would never know how she managed to get into gloves, mask, goggles and gown in the time it took her grandfather to cross fifteen feet of stage, but she was ready when he reached her.
"What's wrong with him, Grandfather? Why is he out cold? You said the Ebola wouldn't do this!" Her voice cracked under the strain.
"It wouldn't," he replied, more calmly than he felt. "They probably combined the virus with a tranquilizer - if you all hadn't been here, it would have looked at first like I'd had a heart attack or a stroke."
She drew a deep breath, and exhaled as Dimitrius skidded to her other side, already in his gear. The movement seemed to help her focus. "All right. What do I do? I doubt we'll want to move him with a virus-laden needle still stuck in his shoulder."
"Just hold his arm for a minute. Agent Gans, please help me – he's got his other hand clamped over the dart pretty good here, even unconscious." Her grandfather had his gloves on, and pulled a heavy-duty plastic freezer bag out of the case. He turned it inside out as he put his hand into it, then reached over and gently removed the small projectile from Myles' shoulder. The virologist pulled the bag right side out, still holding the dart, then sealed it shut. He sprayed the outside of the bag with something from the case, then put a second bag around the first and sprayed that one down. Elizabeth caught a whiff of a strong chemical. "Sodium hypochlorite," he said in answer to her unspoken question. "A disinfectant."
Dimitrius said, "We've got an ambulance on its way — we told them to come around to the side, so we don't spook the crowd."
"Tell Tara to call University Hospital and let them know they need to set up a full-blown quarantine area," David Dillingham said, as he pulled a small syringe out of the case. D nodded, and turned away for a moment to talk to Tara.
Elizabeth watched as her grandfather drew a blood sample from Myles. "What are you doing?"
He looked up at her. "I don't want to take the chance of spreading this virus through the hospital. I'll do his blood work at my lab, and bring the results over." He packaged the second needle like the first.
She started to say something, but it caught in her throat. The older man paused, and then gently placed a hand on her arm.
"Stay with him, Elizabeth. Stay in your bio-gear, but stay with him. He's going to need all the love and every prayer you've got."
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Friday, 4 pm
Myles groaned and stirred as he felt soft fingers on his cheek. He opened his eyes slowly. "What…?
Elizabeth's face was hidden behind a mask, and her eyes were slightly blurred by her goggles. "The dart had a tranquilizer in it, too, love — you've been out for about seven hours."
He gripped her hand tightly. "Elizabeth…did we get the guy? Please tell me we at least got him."
She nodded. "Yes. They got him. They got the rest of the vial. It just wasn't —" Her voice caught, and she had to swallow once before she could continue. "It wasn't quite fast enough."
"Your grandfather?"
"He's fine," she replied. "He's doing your blood work in his lab, so they don't have to risk contaminating the one here."
"Oh." Suddenly, the full realization of what had happened hit him. He released her hand as if he'd been burned, and came halfway up out of the hospital bed. "What are you doing in here? Elizabeth, no, you can't —"
"Myles." Her voice broke through with enough power to make him pause. She placed a gloved hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "Stop. Just listen for a minute, then you can yell at me if you want to."
He started to protest again, then stopped. "All right."
Her green eyes were ablaze. "Look at me, Myles. I've been in full-barrier nursing gear ever since you collapsed on the stage. Dimitrius, Grandfather and I got you into the ambulance, because we didn't want to risk the EMTs. We brought you in here. And you're not sick yet — remember, Ebola takes at least two days before the symptoms present themselves."
"I don't want you in—"
She cut him off with an angry wave of her hand. "Myles, I'm not going to let you lay here for two days, knowing full well what's coming, by yourself. Don't ask me to."
He stared at her incredulously for a long moment, then closed his eyes tightly and drew in a sharp breath, as if against a sudden pain.
Elizabeth's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" At his nod, she sighed. "Still want to yell at me?"
"No." He took her gloved hand in his before he opened his eyes. "Unfortunately, that mask prevents me from doing what I want to do instead." He surveyed the glove very carefully before he brought her palm to his lips. "I guess this will have to do. You are something else, you know that?"
She shrugged. "If the situation were reversed, would you be waiting out in the hall?" She read the answer in his eyes. "I didn't think so. By the way, there are a few other people out in that hall who'd like to see how you're doing."
Myles sighed heavily. "And I suppose it would be useless to protest?"
The mask tightened a little as she smiled. "Completely. But I think Jack will persuade the rest of them of the good sense in limiting the number of visitors."
"Good sense? That's a trait I'm finding in rather short supply right now." He gave her a meaningful look.
Her eyes filled with tears, though the smile didn't fade, and her voice softened. "'Unless you can swear, 'For life, for death!' — Oh fear to call it loving.'"
Myles smiled back at her. "Elizabeth Barrett Browning." Then the smile faded, and his hand tightened over hers again. "You've been here with me for seven hours, plus the entire night before the conference… When's the last time you slept?"
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
"It does. Because I'm going to tell Jack not to let you back in here until you've had at least four hours of sleep." She started to protest, and he held up a hand to stop her. "Don't argue with me, Elizabeth. You're not the only one here who cares."
Her head came up, and the hurt in her eyes went through him like a knife. He sat up and took her by the shoulders, the closest to an embrace he dared. "I'm sorry. I know that's not what you think. But, sweetheart, you are exhausted. If you're going to be in here, then you need some rest, if for no other reason than your resistance is lower when you're tired. Please…we have time."
He regretted saying it almost immediately, because the breath she drew in was harsh with tears. But she remained composed as she nodded. "All right. I'll try. I'll let the team know you're awake." She touched his cheek again, then stood and walked to the door. She paused, then turned back to him. "That's the first time you've ever called me anything but 'Elizabeth'."
Myles flashed a grin. "Sorry it took me so long."
A sad smile tightened the mask again. "You know, now I wish that kiss I gave you just before the conference had been a little longer."
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Friday, 10 pm
"I thought we'd find you here." Bobby Manning walked into the hospital's small chapel with Tara. Elizabeth was just sitting up from where she'd been asleep on one of the sofas at the back. "Feel better?"
She stretched. "Actually, yes. What time is it?"
Tara checked her watch. "About 10 pm."
"What? Six hours! Why didn't someone come find me before now?"
Bobby grinned at her. "You think any of us wanted to risk Myles' wrath?"
Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help but laugh. "Going to leave me by myself on that one, huh?
"He's all yours." Bobby sat down next to her. "Your grandfather's here, by the way. He's in talking to Myles right now."
She sighed, then dropped her head into her hands. "This is a nightmare. And there's nothing I can do but sit and watch."
Tara exchanged a glance with Bobby, then put her arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. "You know," she said softly, "I think we're in the right place to do a lot more than that."
Elizabeth looked up at her friend, something like hope brightening her eyes through the tears. She reached out for Tara's hand. "You're right." She started to turn, then felt Bobby take her other hand. The psychologist couldn't resist raising an eyebrow at him.
He shrugged. "Hey, I may give him a hard time, but the team's still family. Shall we?"
A few minutes later, Elizabeth squeezed her friends' hands. "Thanks, both of you. I needed this as much as Myles does right now. Because I just thought of something else I can do besides sit and watch."
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Friday, 10 pm
"Come on, David. You're not going to tell me anything I don't already know. So out with it."
The virologist turned from the window, his arms still folded across his chest. "All right. You're right, Myles — after this case, I don't need to tell you what's going to happen. By all current studies, you have only a 10 chance of surviving Ebola-Zaire. And it doesn't let the other 90 out of this world easily." He watched the younger man swallow hard, but admired the fact that the blue-grey eyes never wavered. "We can try administering a hyper-immune serum, before your symptoms start – it's had some very limited success. Or…" He trailed off.
"Or what?"
David Dillingham sighed and walked over to sit beside the bed. He folded his hands together, his elbows on his knees, and looked down at the floor. For a moment, Myles could see every one of the virologist's seventy-six years.
"Myles, I should have every credential to my name revoked for what I'm about to say. But I know my granddaughter, and I have seen just how deeply she cares for you. I will shortly be having this conversation with her; I'm sure of that." He paused to rub his temples with his fingertips.
Myles nodded. "You're going to suggest that we try your prototype."
Dr. Dillingham looked up. "Not a suggestion. Merely an option. I wouldn't attempt to persuade anyone to try a completely untested substance, no matter what the situation. However, since I knew that Elizabeth, at least, would approach me about it, I spent some extra time in the lab synthesizing enough serum to use if you were to choose that option. That's why it took me so long to get over here."
The agent considered him for a long moment. "What kind of a chance would it give me?
The older man shook his head. "I don't have any hard facts to give you. Not even remotely."
"All right, let me rephrase that: Based on the data you have right now, if your serum works in the same manner it has in your testing so far, would my chances of living through this relatively intact be any better than they are now?"
"Yes."
"How much better?"
"Fifty percent."
"And you believe you can modify the dosage sufficiently, given the data you have?"
The virologist nodded. "Yes. We'd administer it gradually, build it up in your system before your symptoms start, and keep checking your blood work to chart the progress. I have a small lab unit I can bring in here to do it. Since it's already been thirteen hours since you were infected, we'll have to start within the next hour."
He looked at Myles gravely. "Something else you need to know – I don't dare combine this serum with anything other than a saline solution to keep your fluid levels balanced. If this doesn't work…"
"I understand, David." The agent regarded him steadily. "It's a one-shot. But it's a shot I'm willing to take over one-in-ten odds without it."
The older man looked startled for a moment; then he nodded. "All right, then. I'm not going to lie to you, Myles — even if the serum does work, it's still not going to be an easy battle. All I can offer you is a better chance of a way out when the battle's over."
"If I'd wanted only easy battles, I would never have signed on with the FBI."
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A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door and Elizabeth entered, once again in full bio-hazard gear. But both men could tell she was geared up for more than protection; she was armed for a fight.
"Jack said to tell you that he reached your folks, and they should be here within the hour." Elizabeth sat down on the bed next to Myles and ran her hand through his hair. "How are you doing?"
"I'm alright. Did you get some sleep?"
She smiled through the mask. "You told Jack not to let me back in here if I didn't. He took you very seriously."
He reached for her hand. "Good. Your grandfather and I have been discussing…well…"
She didn't let him finish, her expression darkening. "What? Odds? How about options?" She turned to her grandfather. "What about your prototype?"
Her grandfather looked at her sternly. "You're a clinical psychologist, Elizabeth — a medical doctor. Surely you of all people realize the ethical considerations involved in bringing that up as a viable option."
"Ethical considerations?" Her voice went up a notch.
"Elizabeth…" Myles started.
She didn't even hear him. "This man just saved your life. He's in this hospital with a ninety-percent chance of never walking out of it again, and you're lecturing me about ethical considerations? You were all set to present your findings at the conference earlier today. You must have some confidence in its viability."
"Well, yes, and —"
Her grandfather didn't get any further. Her voice was shaking now. "But simply because it's not been tested, you're just going to let another human being almost certainly die? Your specialty might be virology, but you're still a doctor, Grandfather. What happened to doing everything in your power to save a life?"
Myles reached for her hand, his voice soothing, "Sweetheart,—"
She wrenched her hand away and swung on him. "Don't! Don't you dare take his side on this! I know it's a long shot, but it's a shot…it's something, some semblance of hope! If you're just going to lie there and wait for your 10 chance, fine! But I won't watch you do it, Myles Leland, I won't! I'll walk out of this room right now and not come back!"
Her grandfather tried again. "Elizabeth, that's enough."
She swung back around. "Oh, no, it's not, not by a long shot. Let me tell you something, Grandfather—" And she was off again.
Myles caught David's eye and raised his eyebrows. He pointed to Elizabeth, then drew his fingers across his face as if to indicate a surgical mask. Then he spread his hands, palms-up — a question.
The virologist looked confused for a second; then a knowing smile crossed his face, and his breath shook in a silent laugh. He nodded, and said, very quietly, "It'll be enough; just don't get carried away."
Elizabeth apparently hadn't seen or heard any of the exchange, because she was still going. "—can't believe you'd just —" She stopped abruptly as Myles grabbed her hand, pulled her down to sit next to him, took her by the shoulders and kissed her squarely on the lips through her mask.
Her eyes widened as he let her go, and he couldn't resist. "Hmm…loses something in the translation." He watched her eyes flare, and when she took a breath to lace into him, he squeezed her shoulders again. "Elizabeth, just stop for a minute!" He looked at her fondly, and a soft laugh escaped him.
She glared at him. "Mind telling me what you find so amusing?" She was so angry her voice had lowered in pitch almost to his baritone.
Her fury only softened his gaze further. "Sweetheart, your grandfather already offered the option. And I told him I would take the chance with his treatment. He was about to get started."
She started to retort, then she blinked. "He did…you did…he was?"
He laughed softly again. "Yes."
"Oh." Elizabeth looked over at her grandfather, totally derailed and a little chagrined. "Sorry."
The older man was chuckling, too. "It's nice to see the Dillingham temper is still strong in the bloodline. I'll go get my equipment."
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Myles had let go of Elizabeth's shoulders and was now holding both of her hands. When she turned back to face him, the intensity in his eyes made her cheeks grow warm. "What?" she asked.
His smile warmed her further. "I think that tirade just might qualify you to be a Leland someday."
She reared back a little at that, then shook her head in disbelief. "How can you be so calm about this?"
He thought about that for a minute, trying to put into words what he was feeling. It actually amazed him, too, that the abject terror of what he was facing was tempered somehow. Part of it had to be the prayers he knew were being said in his behalf (the fact that some of them were being offered at all, considering how he came across at times, was rather humbling). And part of it was sitting right in front of him. As Myles looked up at her again, the rest of what he was feeling suddenly became clear, and he found the words he needed.
"Calm? I'm terrified," he began. "But, at the same time … I'm not sure if this will make any sense…I know I did my job. I did what I was supposed to do, Elizabeth – protect the innocent. And if my life has to be the price for it, then I'll pay it gladly. That was the one thing I came out of counseling more sure of than ever before in ten years with the FBI. This is probably going to sound a little corny," he admitted with a smile, "but I guess the best way to put it is 'let peace begin with me' — whatever the cost."
"Now there's an answer I never thought I'd hear coming out of your mouth." Bobby was leaning against the wall just inside the doorway, swathed in full bio-gear, his arms folded across his chest.
Myles surprised him again by not immediately putting his defenses back up. "And I certainly never expected you to brave Ebola just to needle me some more. Guess neither one of us is as hopeless as the other had thought."
There was the sound of a knock, and they all turned to see Sue at the glass window separating the bio-hazard dressing area from the room itself. She signed something to Elizabeth, then flashed a smile at Myles and signed something else. Then she went out to the waiting area again.
"What did she say?" Myles asked.
Elizabeth turned back around to face him, and he saw more hope in her eyes than he'd seen in the past several hours. "She was telling us that your folks are here. And she said to tell you that she'd make sure Bobby didn't swipe your "Seniors Speaker" trophy while you were out sick."
That brought a laugh from both men, and Myles raised an eyebrow at Bobby. "Have you ever noticed that we seem to be surrounded by the most phenomenal women on the planet?" Bobby nodded, still chuckling.
"With all the trouble you get into, it's a good thing," Elizabeth quipped. She took a deep breath. "This is not the way I expected to meet your parents, by the way."
"I know," he replied, "but they're going to love you. Don't worry."
She ruffled his hair again, smiling. "I don't think I have room for any more worry right now, love." She turned to Bobby. "Keep an eye on him, will you? Grandfather should be back in a minute to start the treatment."
The Aussie nodded. "No worries, sheila."
She headed out the door just as her grandfather was coming back in. He set up the small lab unit in the corner, then came over to Myles. He spoke quietly for a minute, outlining what was likely to happen, what side effects were possible. The blond agent nodded, and Dr. Dillingham administered the first dosage of his serum into the IV tube. Then he stepped back with a sigh.
"Now we wait. I'll come back in about an hour and draw a blood sample." He went out.
Bobby looked at his friend, unable to keep a grin off his face. "You realize, if this works, you're probably gonna be on the cover of The New England Journal of Medicine."
"Hey, as I'm sure you're about to point out, I've tried everything else." The grin didn't fade, but changed somehow. "Look, Bobby, for what it's worth…thanks for keeping me humble."
Bobby stared at him for a minute. "I'm going to blame that on the medication, I think."
Myles let his breath out in a laugh. "Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. But… you know, I'm really starting to hate the words 'just in case.'"
The Aussie's voice held a strange edge. "Then quit using them. I don't think I can take you sincere. Messes up my whole image."
"You mean I get to rattle you for a change? Hmm…all this might be worth it after all."
Bobby's face paled. "Don't, okay. Just…don't. I don't want to hear it." He stood abruptly and walked over to look out the window.
It was the last reaction Myles had expected. He knew they had a pretty good friendship, even if it was kind of weirdly defined. The fact that they could banter with each other so easily was a testament to that. But he certainly hadn't expected this.
After a moment, Bobby Manning turned back to face him. "Sorry," he started. "Look, a couple of days ago, I read a file out of Dr. Dillingham's research notes. It was a case file on an Ebola victim – pretty detailed, too."
"Ah." Myles nodded. "And you'd just as soon not put a face to the nightmare. Even mine."
A shade of the trademark grin reappeared. "Even yours, mate. Besides, I don't want to have to start new on somebody else, trying to see how far I can push them." He walked back over and sat down. "So don't you go and ruin all my fun, eh?"
Myles held out a hand to him. "I'll do my best."
"Good." Bobby shook the proffered hand. "And I'll continue to keep you humble."