No infrigement is intended on the characters belonging to Stephen Summers &
Universal. R.Campbell, E.Hammond,
H.Furborough A.Trigg and N.Waters are entities borne of my own imagination.
Well, General Trigg partly belongs to
A.J.Mackey. Before she mentioned him, he didn't even exist in my little
world. No money is being made from this story,
it's for enjoyment purposes only.
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher
gama39@austarmetro.com.au
PG 13
"Nothing can so pierce the soul as the uttermost sigh of the body." George Santayana
CHAPTER 15 ~ Broken Bodies, Broken Hearts.
Whenever in dire need of it, Rick always found that nightfall dragged it's feet and now was no exception. There was no shroud of darkness to be offered as he limped his way through the dusky streets, an obvious, bleeding mess.
The trek home was a haphazard disaster! With nothing but his hand to apply pressure to the fresh wound, the length of his injured arm was a slippery mixture of blood and dirt. However, what concerned him more was the unwanted attention he drew from most of those he passed. Although his leg only trickled with blood, the pain was tortuous! Each time he leaned his weight to that side his leg rejected the motion, at times throwing him off balance and into anything from a vendor's cart to a fellow pedestrian. In order to stem the damage to himself and others, this dubious victor would steady himself against a wall and drag his leg several paces until the pain subsided enough for him to continue with the arduous journey.
Not before time, night began to claim the city but it made no difference now. Cairo was a lair for every type of crook and opportunist; and at every corner the weakened O'Connell threw a backwards glance to make sure he wasn't being followed. Knowing the city's inhabitants as he did, he very well believed it possible that word was already spreading of a reward being offered for a tall, dark haired American wanted for murder! He searched for it in the eyes of everyone he passed or knocked over.
True or not...dead or alive...nothing would matter but the money! If there was a bounty on his head, there was little he could do about it. He had no choice but to risk his identity and leave immediately after the fight to make his way home through the crowds.
It was apparent that his time in Egypt was drawing to a close. Even though the decision to leave was now forced upon him, it wasn't one which he particularly regretted, but given the choice he would have seen it happen under better circumstances. Furborough's death meant it was no longer safe for him to hang around. From today, no matter what obstacles stood in his path, he knew he had to get his family out of here before they were endangered again or used against him. What worried him most was the problem of when Evelyn would be well enough to travel and where he was going hide her and Alex until then.
"Why didn't the bastard just stay down?!" He growled beneath his breath, dragging his leg along with a fury that matched the throbbing.
By the time he'd reached Fort Brydon walking was practically impossible, yet he still had the stairs to deal with before he could close the door on this day. "C'mon! Shift your carcass!" he grumbled in an effort to spur himself along the final uphill yards. Right now, even if it meant just sitting beside her while she slept, all he wanted was his wife. He needed a sanctuary to sit and think and he had only ever found such a place with her.
Grabbing hold of the railing with a blood-smeared hand, he began to climb the first flight but his leg buckled at only the third step. Cursing fluently, Rick lurched forward to prevent yet another fall, his face contorted with the strain and his breathing interrupted. Physically pulling his leg back into position, O'Connell sucked the air through his teeth as a low growl escaped his throat and he forced his body straight and onwards, literally hauling himself up the stairs. Sweating and doubled over, the near-exhausted American stopped on the landing out of breath. For a moment he stared at the blood covering him then squeezed his eyes shut, wondering just how in the hell life had managed to get so bad in a matter of a few weeks!
Slowly raising his vision, he saw his objective about twenty feet away and laughed ironically. Considering the condition he was in, it may as well have been twenty miles! A thin line of light shone like a beacon from the crack beneath the door as if to signal his way; then with a sigh of relief, the ex-Legionnaire bowed his head in thanks before struggling the last few paces.
Stopping just outside, he pressed an ear to the door. Nothing. Not a sound. Life behind the wooden barrier seemed too quiet and an eerie sense of foreboding settled over him. After a day such as this, anything could be wrong and he wasn't in the frame of mind to take any chances.
Quietly drawing his remaining gun from it's holster, Rick set the hammer and lifted the weapon just above his shoulder. Showing the skill adapted from years of practice, he employed his injured limb to silently squeeze the doorknob, gritting his teeth against the pain which shot through his upper arm. The door came slightly ajar and still there was no sound from within, not even of Alex clattering about. Positioning himself against the frame, he gave one swift kick and the door flung open to bang against it's hinges and rebound to be caught by the same bloodied arm. In one coercive motion, O'Connell had entered the room with his weapon primed and aimed to find two men frozen to the spot watching him!
Ross and Jonathan stood startled just before their chairs There had been no time for them to move any further before being confronted with the sight of the blood-stained American bursting into his own home, gun drawn and fierce!
Utterly speechless, the pair stood staring as Rick halted to skim his eyes about the room seeking out some sort of danger they were at a loss to comprehend. They looked across at each other and then back to Rick, who had by now realized that his abrupt and impulsive entrance may have been unnecessary.
Lowering his gun half way, Rick queried anxiously, "Had any trouble?"
"No. None. But it appears you have." Jonathan warily moved away from his chair and peered around his brother-in-law out into the hall. "Is it just you, or are others bringing up the rear?"
Ignoring Jonathan's charade, Rick scanned the room once more to settle any uncertainty before he spoke, "Is Evelyn alright?"
"As fine as anyone could expect." Jonathan rounded the furniture and approached O'Connell, "What in God's name happened to you?!"
Rick was still reluctant to holster his gun which prompted Jonathan to lay a hand against his shoulder and motion him to a chair. At first he resisted, but Jonathan urged him by way of pressing down on his shoulder until his mulish brother-in-law succumbed and allowed his battered body to sink down into the chair. It wasn't until he finally leaned back against the seat that Rick realized just how good it felt to be off his feet. He glanced at Ross and wished he hadn't. The stout Yorkshireman had remained in the exact spot he stood when the door banged open and hadn't said a word since O'Connell arrived. However, he met the younger man's glance with an unsettling expression that forced vengeful husband to look away.
"Water? Jonathan proffered a ceramic jug and glass towards Rick before reconsidering, "On second thoughts, perhaps something with a little more kick to it."
"Straight iodine an' a roll of bandage more like." Ross cracked as he resumed his seat and folded his arms.
"Just water." Rick reached for the glass, nodding his thanks, "Where is she?"
"Still sleeping...I hope." Jonathan turned and walked softly towards Evelyn's door. Pushing it ajar, he peeked inside then pulled it shut without so much as a creak. "Yep! Out like a light. She was a little upset earlier over some sort of nightmare, but that seems to have passed, thank God. She asked about you though."
Rick swallowed the water and gripped the empty glass firmly. "I want to see her!"
Catching Ross in the corner of his eye, Rick turned and found the doctor still staring at him in silent rebuke. "What?"
"Are ya askin' for advice or do ya already know what I've got to say?"
"I already know."
Rick strained forward and started to lift himself from the chair before he was halted by Ross' chiding, "Aye. But I'm gonna tell ya anyway. Ya won't be steppin' foot inter that room until ya clean yaself up t'look half decent! Ya'll be scaring' the mite half to her death lookin' like that!" The doctor looked him up and down before adding, "An' you've no right be bleedin' all over 'er neither!"
"I'll be fine!"
"Ya'll be doin' as ya bloody well told, O'Connell!" Ross scolded as if speaking to an disrespectful child, "I'm the lass's physician and I'm not havin' 'er more terrified than she already is! Do ya understand me!" Ross glared sternly and for a moment, Rick was taken aback. "What's more, ya stink t'high heaven!"
Regaining his determination, Rick countered "If she's asleep it won't matter." Defiantly, he showed his back to the doctor only to find Jonathan barring his path. Irriated, he moved to walk around him but Jonathan side-stepped to hamper him once more. Raising his eyebrows in angry interest at the Englishman's stand, Rick warned, "Move out of my way, Jonathan."
"Sorry old boy, but I have to agree with the good doctor on this one. You're bleeding! You're filthy! And..." Jonathan sniffed the air then waved his hand at the offensive odor, "....you are a bit on the nose! I don't know how much of that blood is yours, but you can bet anything you like that you won't be going in to see her looking like that." Recalcitrant and eye to eye with his brother- in-law, Jonathan conceded a little sympathy and reasoned with him, "She's already been through enough today don't you think?"
The words hit home for Rick who agreed with an exasperated groan and dropped heavily back into the chair. "Alright! Do what you have to. But make it fast!"
"First of all..." Ross pulled his chair in front of Rick's, lifting his medical bag onto his lap in one easy movement, "...tell me what made ya charge into the room that way? Who'd ya expect t'be here?"
The reluctant patient mulled through the questions wondering which, if either, he would answer; but his lack of response just irritated the doctor further who set about cleaning O'Connell's gashed arm a degree rougher than usual. "Alright then. Did ya at least find the man ya went searchin' for?"
"Arrrgh!" The iodine gushed over his wounded shoulder! Rick winced and instinctively tried to pull away, but Ross' claw-like grip about his wrist ruined any escape, "Yeah! Arrrgh! I got him."
"Then why would ya be runnin'...if ya got 'im?"
Looking directly at Ross, Rick wondered if he should answer and drag his friend into all the trouble which would most certainly follow.
"No comment I see." Ross ran a final stroke of iodine across his patient's arm and reached into his bag. "This needs t'be stitched. D'ya want somethin' to bite on, or no?"
"No. Just sew."
Ross agreed without lifting his eyes, "It be your choice."
Looking at his proud friend, Rick softened his tone and tried to smooth things over, "It's better that you don't know, Ross."
"Oh aye!" Ross knew the American too well and threw a quick glance at him between threading the needle before inquiring casually, "Just how dead is he?"
Shaking his head with mild amusement, Rick answered clearly, "Dead."
Ross inserted the first of five stitches and Rick gripped the arm of the chair with his free hand. "I'll have that whisky now, Jonathan."
"I expect ya ignored the warnin' t'get it over with good 'n' quick 'n' dished out a damn good thumpin' first?"
Rick gratefully took the shot glass Jonathan offered him as the third stitch weaved through his skin, "He pulled a knife.... aaargh! Watch it!" Rick snatched a glimpse of the handywork forming on his arm and complained loudly, "Where's that magic touch of your's gone?"
"With what ya telling me, I doubt I've the time for dainty stitchin'. So 'e pulled a knife...carry on."
Rick watched the needle enter his skin once more and swallowed the whisky in a single gulp, "Not much more to tell. Fifteen minutes later he was choking on it."
Ross pulled the thread on the final suture and severed it between his teeth. With his usual no-nonsense manner, he pushed his chair back and stood, slapping O'Connell on the back of the shoulder as he did. His eyes revealed a glint of satisfaction and he smiled broadly. "Good Lad!"
Rick jolted forward at the doctor's congratulatory smack on the back and studied his latest handywork before pressing his hand over the wound as a muted comfort, "Looks like you've been sewing up a trawling net!"
The Yorkshireman chuckled at the sorry site of his patient, "Oh aye? Well it suits ya looks. Now drop ya trousers 'n' let's get a look at that leg o'yours."
~o~
Cairo's market places were all but deserted; barely a sould walked the streets. At night this place was, for more or less, a ghost town. Long-tailed scavengers could be heard rustling through the litter left by the day's stall-holders, but there was little else to take Emir Hammond's mind off whether or not O'Connell would keep his word and rendevous at the expected hour. The restless half-caste kicked at the ground hard enough to shift the stones beneath his feet and began to pace. Standing outside Nasser's door in the dead of night was cold, unpleasant and did nothing to ease his mind of the money problems he desperately needed to sort out. If O'Connell didn't show as promised, then Emir knew the morning would either see him dead or fleeing Cairo, either way the outlook appeared grim.
The sound of footsteps from the far end of the street caught his attention and he spun about expectedly only to be immediately disappointed. It was nothing more than two European tourists making their way hand in hand through the night. Emir whined aloud when he saw them and called out through frustration, "You fools! You will be robbed or murdered!" The couple looked over their shoulders while Emir continued venting his spleen, "...Or both!" The man extended a protective arm around the woman causing the Egyptian to laugh aloud and gibe, "Why don't you just go home...before you see something you shouldn't!"
~o~
At long last, after enduring the endless stitching and cleaning that his companions had insisted upon, Rick had finally been permitted to enter his own bedroom. During the entire journey home this evening he had thought of nothing but Evelyn. Of holding her and apologizing. Of being so sure he could set things right. Yet now as he sat beside the bed, he found himself thankful she was asleep. He shook his head dolefully and let it fall into his hands. What could he possibly say to her? How would she react on seeing him...tears? Or worse...silence. There were too many doubts and questions for his liking and what's more...he could see all the arrows of blame pointing directly to himself...and the burden was a mighty one! Furborough's death had done nothing to ease his guilt, but at least he wasn't a threat any longer. But the aftermath of the fight was yet to come.
Still, she slept so peacefully!
Her face was pale against the colour of the quilt and it appeared neither Jonathan or Ross had offered her so much as a damp cloth to wipe her face. Traces of dirt were still smeared over her cheeks and forehead and Rick wondered that perhaps she had refused their charity simply to hasten them from the bedroom. She, nor Alex, had stirred in the half hour he had sat here with them and, for now at least, he was happy just to watch them sleep. Relieved they were safe and grateful for the fact that he didn't have to speak just now. He was even reluctant to brush the hair from her face in case she woke in fright.
The covers rose and fell with her every breath, Alex's head nestled contently beneath her chin. The whole picture of his wife and son belied the grief that would burst through on their waking. Leaning forward in his chair he watched as they slept, hanging onto each other, then squeezed his eyes shut to fend off the emotion. Just beneath the line of the blankets he had seen the collar of her blouse, dirty and torn. She hadn't even attempted to change from her clothes before burying herself beneath the covers and hiding, refusing to see him. His natural impulse was to climb onto the bed beside them and hold onto them, whispering reassuring promises to her that everything was going to be fine from here on in. That nothing would ever touch or harm her again....not while he drew breath. It was an impossible wish, of course. The best he could hope for straight away would be for her to just look at him without turning away in shame.
~o~
Emir knocked loudly on the paint-stripped door he had spent the last hour pacing before. It opened far enough to allow a few inches of light into the street and reveal half the face of one of Nasser's men. "I'm going to find O'Connell before time runs out all together. There is still just over an hour until midnight. Tell Nasser I won't return without him!" The thug offered a grunt in reply and closed the door. Emir snarled and raised his hand in an insulting gesture before hunching his shoulders against the cold and walking off in search of the American. "You'll be thanking me when I bring him back!" Half way down the street he turned and shouted into the darkness, "I'm gonna make Nasser a rich man tonight!" No reply loud enough to even drown out the rats was offered, and Emir set off on his disgruntled search for O'Connell muttering as he went, "You'll see! Then we'll see who gets left standing out in the cold!"
~o~
Alex stirred, sucking in his breath as he came to wakefulness and pushing his head into the pillow. He spied his father sitting beside the bed and, half awake, instantly lunged towards him disturbing the covers and kicking his mother awake. Rick scooped the boy onto his lap, greeting him with a warm, hushed voice; then looking over his son's head he saw Evelyn quickly drop her timid gaze and turn her back to him.
With his pudgy arms now wrapped firmly around his father's neck, Alex had began chattering incoherently and Rick was offering simple, gentle replies of 'yeah' and 'hey, how about that' as he crept around the bed and knelt down to Evelyn's level with his son still clinging to him. The squatting combined with the child's weight settled heavily on his leg and it was an effort for him not to react to the sensation. According to Ross and Jonathan, he was deemed presentable to be in here with her, but they also made it plain he was not to upset her with stories of blood and gore. Any discomfort from his injuries would have to be kept well well hidden until she was stronger.
As soon as Evelyn sensed him, she attempted to roll back but was stilled by the gentle pressure of her husband's warm hand resting over her wrist. He didn't speak and she kept her eyes shut tight, even when a tear squeezed it's way through her lashes and trickled down the side of her face. Her chest heaved in a bid to stem a rush of ignominy and heartache, but her defense was shattered with his simple act of reassuringly enfolding his fingers into hers. Evelyn broke down in a heavy grief and sobbed. Alex ceased his chatter and stared in confusion while Rick bit his lip and dropped his head against hers as she cried. If there was anything to be said at such a moment, he had no idea what it was. 'Sorry' seemed completely inadequate and any promise of an impending silver lining would have been a lie. There was nothing he could offer but his presence. As paltry as it seemed to him, that's exactly what he did, staying by her side gently holding her hand. Alex watched his parents, only understanding that tears meant sadness. Wrenching his tiny hand free from his father's chest, he lifted it to Evelyn's head and stroked her hair gently.
After what seemed an eternity, Evelyn's distress dissipated into broken sobs. Only then did Rick venture to raise his head and found her staring at the ceiling. Her eyes red and cheeks wet, she moaned an empty sigh so deep it made her shiver. It was hollow, pained and nothing like Rick had ever heard before. It created a sorrow within him that pierced his very soul. He understood it perfectly, yet he was damned if he knew where to begin fixing that which he was now convinced he had caused. Stroking gently at the dirt smeared on her face he thought ruefully how perfect the world would be if he could mend the rest of her as easily with soap and water.
"Evie." He whispered, but she remained staring blankly at the ceiling and he wondered what horrors were running through her mind. "Sweetheart?"
"What time is it?" It was nothing more than a broken whisper and to Rick, it was a strange question.
"It's late."
"How long have you been sitting here?"
"A while."
"Are Jonathan and Dr.Campbell still outside?" These were uncomplicated, mundane questions but they provided Evelyn with a barrier against speaking about anything to do with her attack. Rick squeezed her hand and nodded, unsure whether or not to let her continue on this way.
Sucking in a deep breath for courage, he reached out to stroke her cheek and ventured a few words of his own, "Evelyn." He paused as she turned her head to him in the deathly silence of the room, "I'm so sorry I let you go alone today." She choked back the emotion as Rick softly moved the hair from her eyes, "I should never have let you go by yourself."
Tears began to trickle onto her pillow and she lifted a hand to stroke her son's face, "How could you know anything like this would happen?"
"It's not the point, Evie. After everything that's happened, I should have just been with you to make sure you were all right." He placed his hand to her chin and lifted her face to look at him, "It's all my fault and I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. I'm so very sorry."
Evelyn cast her eyes in every direction in a bid not to cry, but when Rick leaned his head against hers the grief renewed itself and she wept. Reaching her arms about his neck, she raised herself slightly and clung to him. It would take a long time to recover from Ethan's death and Furborough's assult, but just feeling Rick's arms creep firmly about her back and hold fast was the first step on a long road.
end chapter
Thank you....
AJMACKEY ~ If it wasn't for you providing the 'hurry up' emails, this chapter would still be missing. Thanks my friend, you inspire me.
MOMMINTS ~ Thankyou, I'm always chuffed to know I can offer you a new perspective to a character, especially considering yours are so wonderful. Did the package arrive? ;) I'm glad I knocked you off your chair, lol, that gave me a wonderful image of you.
IMHOTEP'S LOVER ~ Now there's a tag that most likely raises jealousy from a few on this board. Thanks for reading, I'm glad you're enjoying it.
RUSE ~ I have the strongest feeling that Furby isn't a poster boy of yours ;) hehehe. It's good to know I sent him to his demise with just the right amount of satisfaction amongst my reviewers. Thanks for the review, matey. I'm working my way around that forum of yours... Boromirthong indeed! Loved it!
EVIEFAN ~ Another Furby fan, I see. ;) Thanks for the review and I hope you have a blast of a time on your holiday. Live it up good and proper.
MBOOKER ~ Yeah, Evelyn's clued in. She knew where Rick was. Thanks for the review. Now that ER is over you're flat out busy writing your next chapter....right???
WISE IS THE GOATEE ~ Thanks for reading and reviewing, even though parts of the story were rough, it will get brighter towards the end.
LITTLE GREEN LAWN GNOME ~ thanks for dropping in again and keeping up with the story.
DEN ~ Another lovely reader who has been with this story from the beginning. Thankyou for hanging in there. Glad you're enjoying it.
And thankyou to everyone else who reads :D
CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher
gama39@austarmetro.com.au
PG 13
"Nothing can so pierce the soul as the uttermost sigh of the body." George Santayana
CHAPTER 15 ~ Broken Bodies, Broken Hearts.
Whenever in dire need of it, Rick always found that nightfall dragged it's feet and now was no exception. There was no shroud of darkness to be offered as he limped his way through the dusky streets, an obvious, bleeding mess.
The trek home was a haphazard disaster! With nothing but his hand to apply pressure to the fresh wound, the length of his injured arm was a slippery mixture of blood and dirt. However, what concerned him more was the unwanted attention he drew from most of those he passed. Although his leg only trickled with blood, the pain was tortuous! Each time he leaned his weight to that side his leg rejected the motion, at times throwing him off balance and into anything from a vendor's cart to a fellow pedestrian. In order to stem the damage to himself and others, this dubious victor would steady himself against a wall and drag his leg several paces until the pain subsided enough for him to continue with the arduous journey.
Not before time, night began to claim the city but it made no difference now. Cairo was a lair for every type of crook and opportunist; and at every corner the weakened O'Connell threw a backwards glance to make sure he wasn't being followed. Knowing the city's inhabitants as he did, he very well believed it possible that word was already spreading of a reward being offered for a tall, dark haired American wanted for murder! He searched for it in the eyes of everyone he passed or knocked over.
True or not...dead or alive...nothing would matter but the money! If there was a bounty on his head, there was little he could do about it. He had no choice but to risk his identity and leave immediately after the fight to make his way home through the crowds.
It was apparent that his time in Egypt was drawing to a close. Even though the decision to leave was now forced upon him, it wasn't one which he particularly regretted, but given the choice he would have seen it happen under better circumstances. Furborough's death meant it was no longer safe for him to hang around. From today, no matter what obstacles stood in his path, he knew he had to get his family out of here before they were endangered again or used against him. What worried him most was the problem of when Evelyn would be well enough to travel and where he was going hide her and Alex until then.
"Why didn't the bastard just stay down?!" He growled beneath his breath, dragging his leg along with a fury that matched the throbbing.
By the time he'd reached Fort Brydon walking was practically impossible, yet he still had the stairs to deal with before he could close the door on this day. "C'mon! Shift your carcass!" he grumbled in an effort to spur himself along the final uphill yards. Right now, even if it meant just sitting beside her while she slept, all he wanted was his wife. He needed a sanctuary to sit and think and he had only ever found such a place with her.
Grabbing hold of the railing with a blood-smeared hand, he began to climb the first flight but his leg buckled at only the third step. Cursing fluently, Rick lurched forward to prevent yet another fall, his face contorted with the strain and his breathing interrupted. Physically pulling his leg back into position, O'Connell sucked the air through his teeth as a low growl escaped his throat and he forced his body straight and onwards, literally hauling himself up the stairs. Sweating and doubled over, the near-exhausted American stopped on the landing out of breath. For a moment he stared at the blood covering him then squeezed his eyes shut, wondering just how in the hell life had managed to get so bad in a matter of a few weeks!
Slowly raising his vision, he saw his objective about twenty feet away and laughed ironically. Considering the condition he was in, it may as well have been twenty miles! A thin line of light shone like a beacon from the crack beneath the door as if to signal his way; then with a sigh of relief, the ex-Legionnaire bowed his head in thanks before struggling the last few paces.
Stopping just outside, he pressed an ear to the door. Nothing. Not a sound. Life behind the wooden barrier seemed too quiet and an eerie sense of foreboding settled over him. After a day such as this, anything could be wrong and he wasn't in the frame of mind to take any chances.
Quietly drawing his remaining gun from it's holster, Rick set the hammer and lifted the weapon just above his shoulder. Showing the skill adapted from years of practice, he employed his injured limb to silently squeeze the doorknob, gritting his teeth against the pain which shot through his upper arm. The door came slightly ajar and still there was no sound from within, not even of Alex clattering about. Positioning himself against the frame, he gave one swift kick and the door flung open to bang against it's hinges and rebound to be caught by the same bloodied arm. In one coercive motion, O'Connell had entered the room with his weapon primed and aimed to find two men frozen to the spot watching him!
Ross and Jonathan stood startled just before their chairs There had been no time for them to move any further before being confronted with the sight of the blood-stained American bursting into his own home, gun drawn and fierce!
Utterly speechless, the pair stood staring as Rick halted to skim his eyes about the room seeking out some sort of danger they were at a loss to comprehend. They looked across at each other and then back to Rick, who had by now realized that his abrupt and impulsive entrance may have been unnecessary.
Lowering his gun half way, Rick queried anxiously, "Had any trouble?"
"No. None. But it appears you have." Jonathan warily moved away from his chair and peered around his brother-in-law out into the hall. "Is it just you, or are others bringing up the rear?"
Ignoring Jonathan's charade, Rick scanned the room once more to settle any uncertainty before he spoke, "Is Evelyn alright?"
"As fine as anyone could expect." Jonathan rounded the furniture and approached O'Connell, "What in God's name happened to you?!"
Rick was still reluctant to holster his gun which prompted Jonathan to lay a hand against his shoulder and motion him to a chair. At first he resisted, but Jonathan urged him by way of pressing down on his shoulder until his mulish brother-in-law succumbed and allowed his battered body to sink down into the chair. It wasn't until he finally leaned back against the seat that Rick realized just how good it felt to be off his feet. He glanced at Ross and wished he hadn't. The stout Yorkshireman had remained in the exact spot he stood when the door banged open and hadn't said a word since O'Connell arrived. However, he met the younger man's glance with an unsettling expression that forced vengeful husband to look away.
"Water? Jonathan proffered a ceramic jug and glass towards Rick before reconsidering, "On second thoughts, perhaps something with a little more kick to it."
"Straight iodine an' a roll of bandage more like." Ross cracked as he resumed his seat and folded his arms.
"Just water." Rick reached for the glass, nodding his thanks, "Where is she?"
"Still sleeping...I hope." Jonathan turned and walked softly towards Evelyn's door. Pushing it ajar, he peeked inside then pulled it shut without so much as a creak. "Yep! Out like a light. She was a little upset earlier over some sort of nightmare, but that seems to have passed, thank God. She asked about you though."
Rick swallowed the water and gripped the empty glass firmly. "I want to see her!"
Catching Ross in the corner of his eye, Rick turned and found the doctor still staring at him in silent rebuke. "What?"
"Are ya askin' for advice or do ya already know what I've got to say?"
"I already know."
Rick strained forward and started to lift himself from the chair before he was halted by Ross' chiding, "Aye. But I'm gonna tell ya anyway. Ya won't be steppin' foot inter that room until ya clean yaself up t'look half decent! Ya'll be scaring' the mite half to her death lookin' like that!" The doctor looked him up and down before adding, "An' you've no right be bleedin' all over 'er neither!"
"I'll be fine!"
"Ya'll be doin' as ya bloody well told, O'Connell!" Ross scolded as if speaking to an disrespectful child, "I'm the lass's physician and I'm not havin' 'er more terrified than she already is! Do ya understand me!" Ross glared sternly and for a moment, Rick was taken aback. "What's more, ya stink t'high heaven!"
Regaining his determination, Rick countered "If she's asleep it won't matter." Defiantly, he showed his back to the doctor only to find Jonathan barring his path. Irriated, he moved to walk around him but Jonathan side-stepped to hamper him once more. Raising his eyebrows in angry interest at the Englishman's stand, Rick warned, "Move out of my way, Jonathan."
"Sorry old boy, but I have to agree with the good doctor on this one. You're bleeding! You're filthy! And..." Jonathan sniffed the air then waved his hand at the offensive odor, "....you are a bit on the nose! I don't know how much of that blood is yours, but you can bet anything you like that you won't be going in to see her looking like that." Recalcitrant and eye to eye with his brother- in-law, Jonathan conceded a little sympathy and reasoned with him, "She's already been through enough today don't you think?"
The words hit home for Rick who agreed with an exasperated groan and dropped heavily back into the chair. "Alright! Do what you have to. But make it fast!"
"First of all..." Ross pulled his chair in front of Rick's, lifting his medical bag onto his lap in one easy movement, "...tell me what made ya charge into the room that way? Who'd ya expect t'be here?"
The reluctant patient mulled through the questions wondering which, if either, he would answer; but his lack of response just irritated the doctor further who set about cleaning O'Connell's gashed arm a degree rougher than usual. "Alright then. Did ya at least find the man ya went searchin' for?"
"Arrrgh!" The iodine gushed over his wounded shoulder! Rick winced and instinctively tried to pull away, but Ross' claw-like grip about his wrist ruined any escape, "Yeah! Arrrgh! I got him."
"Then why would ya be runnin'...if ya got 'im?"
Looking directly at Ross, Rick wondered if he should answer and drag his friend into all the trouble which would most certainly follow.
"No comment I see." Ross ran a final stroke of iodine across his patient's arm and reached into his bag. "This needs t'be stitched. D'ya want somethin' to bite on, or no?"
"No. Just sew."
Ross agreed without lifting his eyes, "It be your choice."
Looking at his proud friend, Rick softened his tone and tried to smooth things over, "It's better that you don't know, Ross."
"Oh aye!" Ross knew the American too well and threw a quick glance at him between threading the needle before inquiring casually, "Just how dead is he?"
Shaking his head with mild amusement, Rick answered clearly, "Dead."
Ross inserted the first of five stitches and Rick gripped the arm of the chair with his free hand. "I'll have that whisky now, Jonathan."
"I expect ya ignored the warnin' t'get it over with good 'n' quick 'n' dished out a damn good thumpin' first?"
Rick gratefully took the shot glass Jonathan offered him as the third stitch weaved through his skin, "He pulled a knife.... aaargh! Watch it!" Rick snatched a glimpse of the handywork forming on his arm and complained loudly, "Where's that magic touch of your's gone?"
"With what ya telling me, I doubt I've the time for dainty stitchin'. So 'e pulled a knife...carry on."
Rick watched the needle enter his skin once more and swallowed the whisky in a single gulp, "Not much more to tell. Fifteen minutes later he was choking on it."
Ross pulled the thread on the final suture and severed it between his teeth. With his usual no-nonsense manner, he pushed his chair back and stood, slapping O'Connell on the back of the shoulder as he did. His eyes revealed a glint of satisfaction and he smiled broadly. "Good Lad!"
Rick jolted forward at the doctor's congratulatory smack on the back and studied his latest handywork before pressing his hand over the wound as a muted comfort, "Looks like you've been sewing up a trawling net!"
The Yorkshireman chuckled at the sorry site of his patient, "Oh aye? Well it suits ya looks. Now drop ya trousers 'n' let's get a look at that leg o'yours."
~o~
Cairo's market places were all but deserted; barely a sould walked the streets. At night this place was, for more or less, a ghost town. Long-tailed scavengers could be heard rustling through the litter left by the day's stall-holders, but there was little else to take Emir Hammond's mind off whether or not O'Connell would keep his word and rendevous at the expected hour. The restless half-caste kicked at the ground hard enough to shift the stones beneath his feet and began to pace. Standing outside Nasser's door in the dead of night was cold, unpleasant and did nothing to ease his mind of the money problems he desperately needed to sort out. If O'Connell didn't show as promised, then Emir knew the morning would either see him dead or fleeing Cairo, either way the outlook appeared grim.
The sound of footsteps from the far end of the street caught his attention and he spun about expectedly only to be immediately disappointed. It was nothing more than two European tourists making their way hand in hand through the night. Emir whined aloud when he saw them and called out through frustration, "You fools! You will be robbed or murdered!" The couple looked over their shoulders while Emir continued venting his spleen, "...Or both!" The man extended a protective arm around the woman causing the Egyptian to laugh aloud and gibe, "Why don't you just go home...before you see something you shouldn't!"
~o~
At long last, after enduring the endless stitching and cleaning that his companions had insisted upon, Rick had finally been permitted to enter his own bedroom. During the entire journey home this evening he had thought of nothing but Evelyn. Of holding her and apologizing. Of being so sure he could set things right. Yet now as he sat beside the bed, he found himself thankful she was asleep. He shook his head dolefully and let it fall into his hands. What could he possibly say to her? How would she react on seeing him...tears? Or worse...silence. There were too many doubts and questions for his liking and what's more...he could see all the arrows of blame pointing directly to himself...and the burden was a mighty one! Furborough's death had done nothing to ease his guilt, but at least he wasn't a threat any longer. But the aftermath of the fight was yet to come.
Still, she slept so peacefully!
Her face was pale against the colour of the quilt and it appeared neither Jonathan or Ross had offered her so much as a damp cloth to wipe her face. Traces of dirt were still smeared over her cheeks and forehead and Rick wondered that perhaps she had refused their charity simply to hasten them from the bedroom. She, nor Alex, had stirred in the half hour he had sat here with them and, for now at least, he was happy just to watch them sleep. Relieved they were safe and grateful for the fact that he didn't have to speak just now. He was even reluctant to brush the hair from her face in case she woke in fright.
The covers rose and fell with her every breath, Alex's head nestled contently beneath her chin. The whole picture of his wife and son belied the grief that would burst through on their waking. Leaning forward in his chair he watched as they slept, hanging onto each other, then squeezed his eyes shut to fend off the emotion. Just beneath the line of the blankets he had seen the collar of her blouse, dirty and torn. She hadn't even attempted to change from her clothes before burying herself beneath the covers and hiding, refusing to see him. His natural impulse was to climb onto the bed beside them and hold onto them, whispering reassuring promises to her that everything was going to be fine from here on in. That nothing would ever touch or harm her again....not while he drew breath. It was an impossible wish, of course. The best he could hope for straight away would be for her to just look at him without turning away in shame.
~o~
Emir knocked loudly on the paint-stripped door he had spent the last hour pacing before. It opened far enough to allow a few inches of light into the street and reveal half the face of one of Nasser's men. "I'm going to find O'Connell before time runs out all together. There is still just over an hour until midnight. Tell Nasser I won't return without him!" The thug offered a grunt in reply and closed the door. Emir snarled and raised his hand in an insulting gesture before hunching his shoulders against the cold and walking off in search of the American. "You'll be thanking me when I bring him back!" Half way down the street he turned and shouted into the darkness, "I'm gonna make Nasser a rich man tonight!" No reply loud enough to even drown out the rats was offered, and Emir set off on his disgruntled search for O'Connell muttering as he went, "You'll see! Then we'll see who gets left standing out in the cold!"
~o~
Alex stirred, sucking in his breath as he came to wakefulness and pushing his head into the pillow. He spied his father sitting beside the bed and, half awake, instantly lunged towards him disturbing the covers and kicking his mother awake. Rick scooped the boy onto his lap, greeting him with a warm, hushed voice; then looking over his son's head he saw Evelyn quickly drop her timid gaze and turn her back to him.
With his pudgy arms now wrapped firmly around his father's neck, Alex had began chattering incoherently and Rick was offering simple, gentle replies of 'yeah' and 'hey, how about that' as he crept around the bed and knelt down to Evelyn's level with his son still clinging to him. The squatting combined with the child's weight settled heavily on his leg and it was an effort for him not to react to the sensation. According to Ross and Jonathan, he was deemed presentable to be in here with her, but they also made it plain he was not to upset her with stories of blood and gore. Any discomfort from his injuries would have to be kept well well hidden until she was stronger.
As soon as Evelyn sensed him, she attempted to roll back but was stilled by the gentle pressure of her husband's warm hand resting over her wrist. He didn't speak and she kept her eyes shut tight, even when a tear squeezed it's way through her lashes and trickled down the side of her face. Her chest heaved in a bid to stem a rush of ignominy and heartache, but her defense was shattered with his simple act of reassuringly enfolding his fingers into hers. Evelyn broke down in a heavy grief and sobbed. Alex ceased his chatter and stared in confusion while Rick bit his lip and dropped his head against hers as she cried. If there was anything to be said at such a moment, he had no idea what it was. 'Sorry' seemed completely inadequate and any promise of an impending silver lining would have been a lie. There was nothing he could offer but his presence. As paltry as it seemed to him, that's exactly what he did, staying by her side gently holding her hand. Alex watched his parents, only understanding that tears meant sadness. Wrenching his tiny hand free from his father's chest, he lifted it to Evelyn's head and stroked her hair gently.
After what seemed an eternity, Evelyn's distress dissipated into broken sobs. Only then did Rick venture to raise his head and found her staring at the ceiling. Her eyes red and cheeks wet, she moaned an empty sigh so deep it made her shiver. It was hollow, pained and nothing like Rick had ever heard before. It created a sorrow within him that pierced his very soul. He understood it perfectly, yet he was damned if he knew where to begin fixing that which he was now convinced he had caused. Stroking gently at the dirt smeared on her face he thought ruefully how perfect the world would be if he could mend the rest of her as easily with soap and water.
"Evie." He whispered, but she remained staring blankly at the ceiling and he wondered what horrors were running through her mind. "Sweetheart?"
"What time is it?" It was nothing more than a broken whisper and to Rick, it was a strange question.
"It's late."
"How long have you been sitting here?"
"A while."
"Are Jonathan and Dr.Campbell still outside?" These were uncomplicated, mundane questions but they provided Evelyn with a barrier against speaking about anything to do with her attack. Rick squeezed her hand and nodded, unsure whether or not to let her continue on this way.
Sucking in a deep breath for courage, he reached out to stroke her cheek and ventured a few words of his own, "Evelyn." He paused as she turned her head to him in the deathly silence of the room, "I'm so sorry I let you go alone today." She choked back the emotion as Rick softly moved the hair from her eyes, "I should never have let you go by yourself."
Tears began to trickle onto her pillow and she lifted a hand to stroke her son's face, "How could you know anything like this would happen?"
"It's not the point, Evie. After everything that's happened, I should have just been with you to make sure you were all right." He placed his hand to her chin and lifted her face to look at him, "It's all my fault and I'm so sorry, Sweetheart. I'm so very sorry."
Evelyn cast her eyes in every direction in a bid not to cry, but when Rick leaned his head against hers the grief renewed itself and she wept. Reaching her arms about his neck, she raised herself slightly and clung to him. It would take a long time to recover from Ethan's death and Furborough's assult, but just feeling Rick's arms creep firmly about her back and hold fast was the first step on a long road.
end chapter
Thank you....
AJMACKEY ~ If it wasn't for you providing the 'hurry up' emails, this chapter would still be missing. Thanks my friend, you inspire me.
MOMMINTS ~ Thankyou, I'm always chuffed to know I can offer you a new perspective to a character, especially considering yours are so wonderful. Did the package arrive? ;) I'm glad I knocked you off your chair, lol, that gave me a wonderful image of you.
IMHOTEP'S LOVER ~ Now there's a tag that most likely raises jealousy from a few on this board. Thanks for reading, I'm glad you're enjoying it.
RUSE ~ I have the strongest feeling that Furby isn't a poster boy of yours ;) hehehe. It's good to know I sent him to his demise with just the right amount of satisfaction amongst my reviewers. Thanks for the review, matey. I'm working my way around that forum of yours... Boromirthong indeed! Loved it!
EVIEFAN ~ Another Furby fan, I see. ;) Thanks for the review and I hope you have a blast of a time on your holiday. Live it up good and proper.
MBOOKER ~ Yeah, Evelyn's clued in. She knew where Rick was. Thanks for the review. Now that ER is over you're flat out busy writing your next chapter....right???
WISE IS THE GOATEE ~ Thanks for reading and reviewing, even though parts of the story were rough, it will get brighter towards the end.
LITTLE GREEN LAWN GNOME ~ thanks for dropping in again and keeping up with the story.
DEN ~ Another lovely reader who has been with this story from the beginning. Thankyou for hanging in there. Glad you're enjoying it.
And thankyou to everyone else who reads :D