Don't own 'em, except for the ones I made up, so please don't sue!
John looked up and groaned as he saw Christa walk up to the main desk of the Emergency Room. "How did she find out?" He asked no one in particular.
The nurse attending him followed his gaze. "Your next of kin?" She asked as she finished bandaging his arm.
"Kind of. Just not sure who called her." He replied.
"Do you carry a cell phone?" John nodded. "That's how. They dialed the last number called when you were brought in unconscious. It's standard policy." She told him, adjusting the icepack on his hand.
"Terrific." He muttered, then pasted a smile on his face as Christa marched over to him. "Hi babe."
"Don't babe me. Can I see his chart?" Christa asked, flashing her hospital ID. The nurse handed it to her.
"Keep the ice on that hand. I'll be back in a few minutes Mr. Tracy." The nurse told him, walking away.
"I'm not going anywhere." John sighed. "Well, what's the prognosis?"
Christa glared at him. "A bar fight? You got into a bar fight in the North End? How stupid are you?"
John frowned. "Back off." He growled. "This isn't the place."
She glared back and continued reading his chart. "Chest contusions with a possible fracture, they're still waiting on the X-rays. Dammit John!"
"Christa…"
"Don't! Don't say anything! I'm going to go push those X-rays through." She pointed a finger at him, her indigo eyes bright with anger. "Don't you dare move do you hear me?" Without waiting for an answer, she marched off.
"Like I have any choice." John sighed.
"Excuse me, Mr. Tracy?" John looked up as the police officer walked towards him. "I'm Sergeant Mike Evans. Can I talk to you a minute?"
John nodded warily. "Am I under arrest?"
"No sir. The bar's owner and several of the patrons said you were attacked first and only defending yourself."
John sighed. "That's something."
"Plus, we ran your ID, and you've got no priors, not to mention the fact of who you are. Jeff Tracy's son."
"Jeff Tracy's son." John said it at the same time.
The policeman smiled. "Get that alot do you?" Then he sobered. "Mr. Tracy, do you intend to press charges?"
Christa had appeared again. "Of course he does."
John held up his hand, then winced. "Christa. No Sergeant. I think I'd just like to forget this whole thing ever happened."
The officer looked skeptical. "Are you sure sir?"
John nodded. "Will you be talking to the owner?"
"Yes, we've got to go back there and finish things up."
John, wincing again, pulled out his wallet and handed the officer a business card. "Please extend my apologies, and give him this. Tell him not to report this to his insurance, just send all the bills to that address. I'll take care of it."
The officer looked down at the card. "That's very generous of you sir."
"Least I could do. And please, it's John." He held out his good hand.
Sergeant Evans smiled. "Mike. Take care of yourself."
"I will thanks."
The officer started to walk off, the paused. "Oh and John? With a name like Tracy, stick to a bar in Southy." He grinned and with a last wave, left.
John slumped forward a little, wincing and bringing his hand to his ribs. "Well, did you see the X-rays?"
She nodded. "Yes. You have a hairline fracture of your eighth rib. With your previous injuries, we need to keep a close watch for the next twenty-four hours to make sure you don't develop a pulmonary contusion. They're getting ready to admit you now."
John shook his head. "No. No way. I have no idea what you just said, but I'm not staying. I'm going home." He got to his feet, and stood for a moment as the room began to spin.
"Sure you are." Christa held his arm to steady him. "Did I mention the head injury? They want to run a CAT scan."
"I'm not staying." John said again.
"John, it's just overnight, for observation."
"No. I want to go home." John looked at her, pleading. "Christa, please I can't stay here."
Christa softened at the look in his blue eyes. "All right, let me see what I can do."
A half hour later, John was seated in the passenger seat of his Jeep as Christa deftly steered them through the busy streets. Neither spoke in the fifteen minutes it took to drive back to the brownstone. Christa pulled up in front. "Go. I'll park the car and be in shortly."
John nodded and carefully stepped back out into the rain and made his way inside. He shrugged off his ruined jacket, and glaring at the torn sleeve, hung it on the rack and sat down on the couch, his head in his hands. He heard the door open and Christa's footsteps echoing down the hall. He waited for her to explode at him, but surprisingly, none came. He glanced up. Christa had sat down on the armchair across from the couch, a grim look on her face. "Hi." He smiled. Her expression didn't change. John sighed. "You heard the cop, I didn't start it."
"But you didn't walk away either did you?" Christa got up and paced the room. "You walk out of here, not telling me where you're going and then I get a phone call from the ER saying you were unconscious! What was I supposed to think!"
"I needed some air. I'm not used to having someone hovering over me all the time." John retorted.
"You've got four brothers for God's sake and you tell me I'm hovering!"
"That's not the same thing. You're my girlfriend, not my mother."
Christa shot him a look full of venom. "Well forgive me for caring." She said coldly and started from the room. The phone buzzed and she turned back. "By the way, your father's been calling all day. Guess you forgot about him too." She marched up the stairs.
John swore to himself and went into the office. "What?" He said into the video phone.
"Well hello to you too. You said you'd call." Jeff told his son.
"I've been busy. Sorry." John said shortly. He sat down in the chair, belatedly remembering his ribs and winced.
Jeff took in his son's ragged appearance, the darkening bruise on one cheek, the bandage on his knuckles, and the torn and bloody shirt. "John, what happened?" He asked concerned.
John shook his head. "It's nothing."
"That doesn't look like nothing. What happened?"
"I'm fine Dad OK. No worse than usual. Look, this is kind of a bad time. I have to go."
"John wait! I— "
John cut the connection and went in search of Christa. He found her upstairs in his room, sitting on the window seat. "Christa?" He called out softly. She shifted, but didn't turn to look at him. He walked over to sit down next to her. "Hey…" He turned her head to look at him, and saw that she was crying. "Oh baby, don't do that." He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the pain that rippled through his chest.
He held her close as she sobbed, running his hands over her smooth cap of dark hair. "Christa, honey I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "I was scared John, so scared. You were so sick last night, then when the ER called…" She choked back a sob and he pulled her to him again.
John rested his head on top of hers. "I was an idiot Christa. You were right, I didn't try to stop the fight. I went looking for one." He sighed.
Christa pulled back, wiping at the tears on her face. "Why won't you talk to me?"
He shook his head. "I can't!" He got up and paced the room. "My…work is top secret. I'm not supposed to tell anyone."
"Do you work for the government?"
John nodded, then shook his head. "Yes, no…sometimes."
Christa dropped her hands at her sides. "I can't help you if you won't let me John." She said helplessly.
He ran a trembling hand through his hair. "It wasn't exactly a plane crash." He said quietly a few minutes later.
She looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
He sighed wearily. "My injuries didn't come from a plane crash. A group of… terrorists attacked Thun…the facility that I worked in. I got caught in the explosion. I was alone, with no way to contact help. The parts I told you, about it taking two hours to get to me, and four to get me out. That was true." He trembled at the memory.
"Oh John…"
He went on, not seeming to hear her. "Then, just when I felt safe, he escaped and tried again." His voice was cold, expressionless. "He…they…kidnapped some members of our team. I went to try and find them."
"Alone?"
John shook his head. "No, I joined the World Police Forces."
Christa's eyes opened wide in shock. "They let you do that?"
He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "It's amazing what the Tracy fortune can buy into." He turned back to stare out at the rain.
"John? Then what happened?" She asked when the silence had gone on to long.
He jumped, having forgotten she was there. "We found them. They were waiting for us." He closed his eyes. "They're not called terrorists for nothing." He closed his eyes. "He…They get…inside your head. Fuck with your mind." His body started to tremble. "You have no idea what he's…what they're capable of."
Christa stood very, very still, somehow sensing there was much more to what happened than John was telling her.
He went on as if she wasn't in the room, reliving the whole horrific episode. "They sent a thug to stop us. He shot my partner, and beat me nearly senseless, but we managed to stop him. Then it all went to hell from there. The leader, he made our commander choose. Choose which operative he wanted to live. He was going to kill the other. Luckily, one of the other officers that had gone missing, returned and took the guy out. If he hadn't come when he did then I…he…" John choked back a sob, and his whole body shook with unsuppressed emotion.
Sudden comprehension dawned on Christa, and her eyes widened in horror. "No, she whispered. "Oh John no!" She walked over and touched his hand. He was cold as ice. "John, don't. Don't do this to yourself."
He went on, not seeming to hear her. "I dream about it. Every night. I hear his voice, see his eyes, even when I'm not sleeping. Sometimes I don't even know if what I'm hearing and thinking is real." He finally turned to her, and the anguish in his eyes nearly broke her heart. "I can't do this anymore Christa. I can't live like this, wondering who's lying in wait around every corner. It's easier to just go numb. Then I don't have to think or feel." He dropped to his knees, tears running down his face.
Christa sat down and took him in her arms, gently stroking his hair. "John, honey you're right, you can't live like that. Maybe you should talk to a professional. Someone who could help you work through this."
He shook his head. "You don't understand. I can't tell anyone. It's all classified. I never should have even told you."
"Your family then? I mean, they must know what happened?'
"No, they…they don't understand." His voice choked on a sob again. "I'm alone. All alone."
Christa clasped him tightly against her. "No you're not John! I'm here, I'll never leave you."
He looked up at her, hope filling his blue eyes. "Promise?"
"I promise."
Scott lay on his bed, idly massaging his sore shoulder. It should have felt better by now, but it still ached. He feared he had really screwed it up again and the thought of more surgery terrified him. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and went to the bathroom, opening his painkillers. Only two pills fell into his palm. I couldn't have used them all. I must have dropped them or something. He shook his head in confusion and quickly filled a glass of water, noticing how much his hands were shaking. He wiped sweat off his forehead, and quickly swallowed the pills. I hope I'm not coming down with something. That's all I need at this point. He sighed and went in search of Virgil.
He found his brother in his studio, painting. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, watching his brother work. It never ceased to amaze Scott how Virgil could take what he saw and put it down on canvas. Scott couldn't even draw a passable stick person. He watched as Virgil stepped back and reached for something under a stack of rags.
"You shouldn't be smoking those things. Trying to kill yourself?"
Virgil whirled in surprised, dropping the pack of cigarettes. "Scott! You scared the crap out of me." He looked down and then back up at Scott. "You knew?"
"The doc at the hospital told me you had a decent buildup of nicotine in your lungs. How long you been at this?" Scott asked, walking into the room.
Virgil shrugged. "Since college. I usually only need one once in a while. The craving gets worse during times of stress."
Despite himself Scott had to grin. "So you must be up to a carton a day by now." Scott quipped. He stared at his brother. "When did you start wearing a hat?"
Virgil blushed. "I just felt like it." He brought his hand up self-consciously to the Kansas City Royals cap he had on his head.
Scott laughed. "It didn't come out?"
Virgil scowled. "No, it didn't." He pushed the cap down tighter on his head. "And when I get my hands on the little brat, I'm going to drown him, then figure out a good place to hide his body where it can't be found."
"Alan helped too."
"Alan's smaller, his body can be chopped up easier."
Scott burst out laughing, accidentally jarring his shoulder. He winced.
"Hey, you OK?" Virgil asked with concern.
Scott nodded. "Yeah, just sore. You got any more of those painkillers?"
"You're out of them already?" Virgil asked in surprise.
"No, I lost half of them. Went right down the drain when I tried to open it one handed the other day. Why on earth do we need child-proof caps on them anyway? Half the time I need Alan to open the bottle for me!"
Virgil laughed. "I never thought of that. Habit I guess." He rummaged in his pocket a minute, then handed Scott a set of keys. "Here's the key to the med locker. Just take a few and give me the keys back when you're done."
"Thanks Virg." Scott waved and he made his way down to the infirmary. He unlocked the med locker and gazed inside at the bottles.
"Looking for something Scott?"
Scott turned. "Hey Steve. Virgil gave me the key. I need more of those painkillers."
Steve frowned. "You should have had plenty."
"I know. But I'd like to see you try and open a childproof cap one handed and keep them from spilling down the drain."
Steve laughed. "Never thought of that. Here, let me get those for you." He reached around Scott and took out a large bottle. He poured the pills onto a tray and counted them out, then placed them in another bottle. "Here you go. Pop off cap, should be a bit easier." He handed Scott two of the pills, and the bottle.
With an inward sigh of relief, Scott grinned. "Thanks Steve, see you around." He put the pills in his pants pocket, and glancing at his watch, noticed it was nearly dinner time. He made his way down to the kitchen. "Hey Onaha, need any help?"
The Malaysian woman smiled. "No thank-you, and you should be resting that arm. Kyrano told me it was still bothering you."
"Some." He sat down at the table. Alan, Fermat and Tin-Tin arrived shortly, and Alan made sure to sit on the opposite side of Scott. Scott glared. "Don't think that's going to save you Sprout."
Alan grinned. "No idea what you're talking about bro."
Scott scowled. "Just don't let Virgil get a hold of you. He mentioned something about you being small enough for him to chop into little pieces."
Alan swallowed audibly, and his friends laughed. Jeff and Brains walked in, followed quickly by Gordon. Gordon took one look at Scott, grinned and sat down next to Fermat. Virgil was next, still wearing his Royals cap.
Jeff frowned at him. "Virgil, hats off at the table."
Virgil shook his head. "I'd rather not Dad."
"Virgil. Hat off, now." Virgil scowled and with a glare at his younger brothers, took the cap off. Jeff nodded. "Much better. Now Brains, about—" He stopped and stared up at his middle child. "Virgil?"
"Ask them." He snarled, pointing to Alan and Gordon.
Jeff arched an eyebrow at his two youngest sons. They stared back, both with innocent expressions on their faces. Jeff shook his head. "I don't think I want to know."
Onaha and Kyrano appeared at that moment, and served dinner. Soon, everyone was eating and talking. During a lull in the conversation, Jeff looked over at Tin-Tin. "Tin-Tin, everything all right?"
The girl looked puzzled. "Fine, Mr. Tracy, why?"
"I heard your scream this morning and—" He was cut off as Gordon choked and started coughing, sending milk snorting out his nose. Alan pounded on his back, trying to help. "Gordon!" Jeff called out alarmed.
"Let him choke." Scott said bitterly.
Jeff looked from Scott and Virgil's angry glares to Alan and Gordon's self satisfied expressions. He tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. "I see."
"V-V-Virgil? I hate to mention this, but I analyzed the sh-sh-shampoo you gave me. I'm sorry, there's n-n-nothing you can do. I'm afraid it's p-p-permanent." Brains told him.
"You could cut it." Gordon said innocently.
"You little…" Virgil shot up out of his chair as both Gordon and Alan bolted from theirs. "I'll kill you both!" He rushed after them, Scott following, only a little more slowly.
"We'd better go help Alan." Tin-Tin and Fermat quickly ran after the brothers.
Jeff smiled at Brains, Onaha, and Kyrano. "Looks like things are getting back to normal." They all laughed as they heard a roar and a loud splash from outside. Jeff picked up his glass and saluted his friends. "It's about time."