Sorry for the long time between updates!
This chapter is unbetaed.
"Boy, are we glad to see you, Doc!"
"It's good to be seen, Carter." The wry tilt to Kurt's mouth faded as he glanced toward Hogan's quarters.
"He's not good." Kinch set his empty cup upon the table and put his hands in his pockets, clenching them tightly. "The fever's higher. O'Malley's worried about seizures."
"Is he still vomiting?"
"Some," Newkirk answered, sitting up on his bunk. "But not nearly as much as before."
"He's chilled," Olsen called out.
"And delirious," Carter added. Kurt said nothing, only went to the table and set his bag down.
"What are you thinking?" Kinch demanded quietly.
"There is a chance the infection has developed into blood poisoning."
"Blood poisoning?" Newkirk echoed, voice cracking.
"I had an aunt die from blood poisoning." Olsen said, drawing closer to the table. "One of her cats scratched her. It got infected and next thing we know, we're putting her in the ground."
"Gosh, thanks for the pretty picture," Paxton growled, glaring at him from the shadows.
"She died?" Carter's eyes were round, filled with fear for Hogan.
"Always said cats were nothing but trouble," Braveheart muttered darkly, staring into space.
Kurt's expression had turned faintly bemused. "Blood poisoning can result from many things. Wounds such as the colonel's, burns--"
"Doc," Kinch interrupted, giving him a pained smile. "Could we skip the lecture?"
"Certainly. We are getting ahead of ourselves, anyway. The fever, sickness and chills may simply be the colonel's body fighting the infection. I will have a better grasp of his condition once I see him." He gestured to Hogan's quarters, his tone suddenly hesitant. "May I see him?"
"Of course." Kinch shot a glance around the room, warning everyone to keep their comments and opinions to themselves.
Kurt strode across the silent room to Hogan's quarters. At the doorway, he paused, took a deep breath and turned back, startling the men who had been following him.
"Please wait here. The room is much too small to contain you all and I would like some privacy while I check the colonel's condition." He raised a hand, palm toward them before they could protest. "Please," he repeated softly, blue eyes imploring them for understanding.
"Of course. We'll wait here." Kinch watched him enter the room. Bring us some good news.
HH HH HH HH HH HH
"Hey, Doc," O'Malley greeted as Kurt closed the door. "Good to see you. We're not making any headway on this fever."
Kurt walked to the bed, patting LeBeau on the back as the Frenchman moved to give him room. "You both look as if you would benefit from a break. Why don't you step outside for some coffee while I check the colonel?"
O'Malley and LeBeau shared a glance, both men picking up on Kurt's unspoken request to be alone with his friend. O'Malley straightened, hands going to the small of his back to massage cramped muscles.
"A bit of coffee sounds good."
LeBeau walked with him to the door, saying sotto vocé, "As long as it is not Newkirk's coffee."
Only after they had left the room did Kurt actually look at Hogan.
"Robert," he whispered, taking the chair O'Malley had deserted. Hogan lay motionless on his back, blankets pulled to his chin, looking pallid and drained of vitality.
Kurt slid the blankets down and after warming the bell of his stethoscope in his hand, placed it over Hogan's heart. The beat was faster than he would have liked. After listening for a short time, he repositioned the bell, checking lung sounds.
Hogan suddenly gasped and shuddered. Kurt let his stethoscope fall and clasped his friend's cool hand.
"Shhh. It is just me."
Rather than soothe, his touch seemed to intensify Hogan's agitation. Kurt leaned closer, puzzled by the reaction.
"What is it?"
Hogan's eyes snapped open and locked on him, freezing him in place. Hogan's lips moved but no sound came forth. Kurt swallowed, the last traces of professional detachment completely evaporating.
"Robert . . . what are you trying to tell me?"
Hogan groaned, eyelids flickering, as if fighting to stay conscious. Kurt felt weak pressure on his hand and returned it.
"Do not worry about anything. Just concentrate on yourself for once, yes? Give your body time to heal. Your men are taking care of everything."
Hogan's raspy breathing quickened and Kurt felt the pressure on his hand increase. The grip, weak as a child's, tore at his heart.
"Mutter and Vater are safe. They send their love and wish they could be here with you."
Hogan's eyes opened to glassy slits, filled with grief and remorse. Kurt blinked, suddenly understanding. He spoke firmly, his gaze boring into Hogan's.
"It was an accident, Robert. An accident."
Moisture welled in Hogan's eyes. A single tear slipped free, trickled down his temple. Kurt bowed his head, the suffering difficult to witness.
"Robert . . ." he began, looking up again. His words died in his throat. Hogan was no longer conscious. Huffing out another ragged breath, Kurt reached out, gently wiped away all traces of the tear. He leaned down, quietly said into Hogan's ear the words he so badly wanted his friend to hear.
"We forgive you."
HH HH HH HH HH HH
Kinch glanced at his watch and arched an eyebrow in surprise. Only ten minutes had passed, but it felt much longer than that. A glance around the room showed the other men probably felt the same. His head snapped toward Hogan's quarters as the door opened.
"Just one more moment, bitte." Kurt shuffled to the common room table and sat down, tired from going almost non-stop since the night before. He caught Kinch studying him with concern and offered up a faint smile.
"My . . . how do you say it? Dogs are yelping?"
"Barking," Kinch corrected automatically. "Your dogs are barking."
The corner of Kurt's mouth twitched. "More like howling."
Paxton shot to his feet with an inarticulate noise. "So how's the colonel? Is he getting better?"
"The colonel seems much quieter," said LeBeau, glancing into Hogan's quarters. He stood beside O'Malley in the doorway, where they could see Hogan as well as hear Kurt.
Newkirk put a foot up on the bench opposite Kurt and rested his forearms on his knee. "Is that good or bad?"
"Here," Kinch said, setting a cup of coffee before the doctor. "You look like you need this."
Kurt gratefully took the warm mug between his hands, stared down at the steaming liquid.
"The colonel is resting quietly at the moment. He is very weak, but his heart sounds good and his lungs are clear. The wounds no longer show signs of infection and the vomiting has stopped for the most part."
O'Malley glanced in his direction. "And the fever?"
Kurt's bowed shoulders briefly lifted in a shrug. "Fevers often climb before breaking. That is probably the case here, considering the lack of infection in the wounds."
Smiles erupted around the room; Carter's being one of the brightest.
"That's great!"
Kurt sipped his coffee. After a few moments, the men noticed his subdued demeanor and one by one they fell silent. Olsen leaned toward him.
"That is great, right?"
"Yes." Kurt gulped the last of his coffee, stood and headed for the entrance. Just before disappearing below, he turned to them, lips curved in a thin smile.
"Time heals all. All the colonel needs now is a little more of it."
HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH HH
It was an accident.
Hogan stared down at the swan at his feet. The fragile body was broken, the lustrous black eyes now opaque in death. He knelt, stroked his hands over its feathers.
I'm sorry, he whispered to it. But the swan could no longer hear him.
TBC . . . Thank you for reading.