12. Forward Motion

Cole knew the difference that a positive attitude could have on people. He'd picked up on that when he first started playing thrashball professionally. If they were getting their asses whooped at the beginning, sometimes all it took was a motivational speech to turn the game around. Doom and gloom never helped; then people just stopped trying.

So Cole had taken that knowledge with him when he enlisted. Like every other Gear, he'd lost loved ones. His folks, a lot of friends—more people than he cared to think about. But slipping down into the depths of despair didn't just decrease his own life expectancy; it lowered morale, if a guy on the squad didn't give a damn anymore. Cole made up his mind that he was going to be the bright light amidst the darkness. He didn't let his squad mates see his bad days. Repressing it wasn't healthy, of course, but that's what his letters to his momma were for.

But right now, he couldn't manage his invincible Cole Train act. Right now, this felt like one punch too many. This would be what broke him. After Andresen, Michaelson and Dom—oh god, Dom—this would be what pushed him over the edge. There was no recovering from this. Once the grubs and the glowies were gone, Cole hadn't expected to lose any more friends in the near future. And yet here he was, hovering outside the door to the operating room, while his best friend fought for his life on the other side.

And Cole couldn't do a goddamn thing to help.

He glanced sideways. Jace was leaning up against a wall, eyes closed. It almost looked like he was asleep, but Cole could see his lips moving slightly. Praying. Admirable, after all the shit they'd gone through in the last sixteen years. Cole didn't really know where he stood on the whole thing, but if angels existed, he was certain his momma would be one of them.

I don't know if you can hear me, Momma. Goddamn, I hope you can. If you're up there—or wherever—could you put in a good word with the big man for me? I won't survive this, Momma. I can't lose him. We can't lose him.

Because Cole wasn't the only one going nuts with worry over this. They were all there, waiting in tense silence: Marcus and Anya, Jace, Hoffman and Bernie, Dizzy, Mathieson, Rossi, and Sam. No one spoke; they'd all been through enough to know that platitudes didn't make a damn difference.

Nearly two hours had passed since Baird—unconscious, pale, bleeding—had been rushed into surgery. Cole had no idea how long digging a bullet out and repairing the damage should take, but he was getting antsy. Someone should have come out and told them something. Hoffman was waiting, and he was effectively running the remnants of the COG. But then again, Hayman had never given much reverence to Hoffman when he was Chief of Defence Staff. One more rung up the ladder wouldn't make much difference to her.

Cole had a new appreciation for the hell that Marcus must be going through. He knew that losing Dom, and his father, had left a big, gaping wound that might never heal. Cole missed Dom as well, more than he thought possible, but he'd never kidded himself into thinking that he was as close with Dom as Marcus was. They hadn't just been friends; they'd been brothers.

Now Cole was facing the loss of his own brother, and it wasn't just agony—it was terrifying.

Discreetly, he looked down at his hands. His arms were folded across his chest, to disguise the shaking. He didn't want to freak anyone out, but he couldn't forget what his hands had been doing mere hours ago. Pressed up against Baird's abdomen, trying desperately to stop the blood streaming out of his friend's body.

The door to the OR swung open, and Hayman stepped out. Her lab coat was spotless, as usual, and Cole wondered bitterly how long that had taken her to achieve. She arched her eyebrow that audience that awaited her, but made no comment.

"Is he…?" Cole couldn't bring himself to ask. Alive? Or are the next words out of her mouth going to end me?

"He shouldn't have made it this far." Hayman turned her icy glare on Marcus. "Especially after your little detour. And you." She rounded on Sam. "Count yourself lucky that I don't throw your ass back in a hospital bed, Byrne. You and I are going to have a nice long chat about proper recovery procedures."

To her credit, Sam didn't even flinch at Hayman's acrid tone. She stood her ground and waited until the doctor was done. "So he's okay?"

Hayman glowered at her. "He lost a lot of blood, fractured a couple ribs, and the bullet nicked his intestines. So no, Corporal Baird isn't okay. He's alive, and he'll probably stay that way unless you're planning on doing something idiotic in the near future."

A huge weight lifted off Cole's chest. He had to stop himself from heaving a sigh of relief. Glancing around, he could see the lines of worry disappear from his friends' faces. A huge grin spread across Cole's face, and he didn't care how goofy he looked. Baird was alive. This wasn't the end of the world.

He looked up at the ceiling. Thanks, Momma.

"Can we see him?" Bernie asked.

"Yes, but not all at once. I don't need a goddamn stampede in my infirmary."

Fair enough. Cole could wait now that he wasn't worrying himself to the point of feeling nauseous. Besides, he'd rather that he went last, so he didn't feel like he was keeping anyone else. Sam seemed to have the same idea. While the others broke into small groups and negotiated the visiting order, she hung back beside Cole, a smile barely visible on her face.

Her reaction piqued Cole's interest. He remembered how stressed out she'd been, watching Hoffman and Bernie interrogate Rennoll. He'd been under a hell of a lot of stress himself, so he hadn't paid much attention to it. But then, when they'd all rolled up at Griffin's secret hideout, Cole couldn't help noticing the looks that Baird kept shooting Sam.

Cole knew how his buddy felt about the latest addition to Delta. Baird had never said anything, of course, but Cole wasn't stupid. He'd suspected something was up way back on Vectes, when Baird had snubbed her in the main mess bar. But then Sam had set her sights on Dom, which didn't seem to matter either way to Baird. But then they'd taken up working on her bike together on Azura. Cole knew Baird well enough to get how big of a deal that was; Baird didn't tolerate anyone near him while he worked.

Clearly, Cole would have to either drag or coerce the answer out of his friend. He rolled his eyes. It was like being back in high school.

Sam's heartbeat had finally slowed back to normal. For the past two hours, her heart had been hammering away in her chest, despite how hard she tried to control her breathing. But panic was panic, and there was no way to combat biological responses to stress.

With the news that Baird was going to pull through, her heart finally stopped flipping out. She was able to wait patiently as her friends all disappeared into the recovery wing, reassured that she didn't have to suffer through yet another death. Although she noticed that Cole was eyeing her, an amused expression on his face. She didn't really mind; it was good to see him grinning again.

Finally, it Sam and Cole got their turn. She walked past Hayman into the infirmary, ignoring the doctor's hostile frown. There would be time to deal with that later. Yeah, her shoulder had started to ache again now that the numbing effect of the adrenaline had worn off, but she had other things to do.

The hospital wing had cleared out a bit since Sam had spent her week in bed. In the back corner, she spotted a familiar mop of blonde hair. She felt herself starting to smile, but as they got closer, her stomach dropped. Baird looked awful. He was deathly pale, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His bruises had come out more; one side of his face almost completely covered with purple and blue marks. A ratty blanket was pulled up to cover his chest, but Sam could imagine the discoloured evidence of broken ribs.

Baird glanced up when he heard their approach. He didn't smile. "Hey."

Cole, however, was grinning enough for both of them. "Looking good, baby. How ya feeling?"

"Like I got shot, so fucking fantastic."

"That was some crazy shit you pulled back there, man. We're all glad you decided to stick around for a while."

Baird seemed to perk up a little at that. "Yeah, well. You guys would pretty much be dead without me, so…"

Sam smirked, and opened her mouth to say something… but she couldn't find the words. She couldn't really blame him anymore for being awkward when she was the one in the hospital bed. It was beyond uncomfortable, trying to figure out what to say. Especially when he'd taken a bullet for her only hours earlier. He wouldn't even look at her. But he wasn't really looking at Cole either. He just kept staring at his lap, occasionally glancing towards a wall or another bed.

All his defences had been stripped away. This was just him, exposed and vulnerable. He didn't have the energy to keep up his total-bastard act, but he was trying his hardest to keep anyone from noticing.

Cole got it, though. If Sam could see it, Cole certainly could. As if on cue, Cole gently patted Baird's shoulder. "We'll let you rest now. And I'll see if I can't smuggle some of Dizzy's bacon in tomorrow. I know how god-awful Hayman's hospital food is."

They turned to leave. Half a second later, Baird suddenly called out. "Hey, Sam."

She turned around, keeping her face neutral. "Yeah?"

"The next time you kill someone, you want to make sure they're actually dead?"

She could tell he wasn't really trying to start something. It was just an excuse to get her to stay behind. She played along. "Hey, I saved your life, thank you very much."

"Ha, barely."

Cole laughed, and kept walking towards the exit. "I think I'll let you get embarrassed in private." He gave Sam a meaningful smile as he backed out the door.

She turned back to Baird, but before she could even open her mouth, he cut her off.

"Cole knows." He finally met her gaze, his expression blank. Something was up. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought he was depressed.

"How can you tell?"

"Trust me, I can tell. He'll probably leave it alone until I don't look like I'm dying anymore, and then there will be no end to the jokes."

Sam edged closer to the bed. "Does he know that you know that he knows?"

Baird looked at her like she'd started speaking Kashkuri. "Y'know, the painkillers don't do shit for the pain, but my head feels like it's stuffed full of cotton."

"Okay, never mind that, then."

An awkward silence fell over them. There was still the background noise of the recovery wing: the occasional cough, the low murmur of chatter amongst other patients, the beeps of what little functioning machinery Hayman had scrounged up. After about five seconds, the silence had apparently become sufficiently uncomfortable for Baird to blurt out what had been bothering him.

"I guess you're gonna need to find someone else to get your rocks off while I'm stuck in here."

He said it sullenly, but without any genuine malice. If anything, he sounded disheartened. That didn't take the sting out of it, though. Sam bit back the "fuck you" that was on its way out as she tried not to take it personally. She knew how difficult it was to have all your defences stripped away, and then have to stare the one person who had the power to completely destroy you. And Baird hadn't exactly been supporting when the roles were reversed. He came in once and barely said anything.

Now was a good time for revenge. Don't I deserve better after all we've been through? A year ago, she would have used her own coping mechanism: swearing and stalking off. She'd done it plenty of times on Vectes. But she was above that now. She knew what it was like to feel completely naked. He was lashing out because he figured it was all he could do.

Sam rolled her eyes and sidled closer to him. "You really are a complete div, you know that? If I wanted just any dick, I could've had it ages ago." Before he had the chance to respond, she took a leap of faith: she slid her hand into his. "I want this dickwad."

Dom would have flinched away, or given her a pained look. She waited for Baird to do just that. Instead, he stared at their hands together, his eyebrows furrowed, like he was looking at a math problem he couldn't work out. But he didn't pull away. In fact, Sam could have sworn that she saw colour rise underneath his bruises.

"Damon."

It was out of her mouth before she realized she was even thinking of it. That earned her a bemused frown.

"Cole's the only one who calls me that," he said quietly. "And only when he's pissed at me."

That, she could work with. "I'll take that as a challenge to change how you feel about that name."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yeah? And how are you planning on doing that?"

Sam flashed him a winning smile. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

A/N: And there we have it, folks! I hope you enjoyed this. I sure had fun writing it.

Also, there may or may not be an epilogue coming (spoiler alert, there's an epilogue coming)