Chapter Sixteen

Sam hesitated to give Murdoch an answer to his question about Scott's vision. There was a small chance that the head injury the blond Lancer had sustained, when he hit it on the wagon wheel, had affected his eyesight. Mostly though, he thought that it was just a reaction to an accumulation of all the young man had been through and was still suffering from. Sam was too experienced a doctor to think that Scott would wake up without any residual problems. He had simply seen it happen too many times with a variety of injuries, especially where a blow to the head was involved. Sam hated that this particular problem could potentially be such a devastating one.

Before he said anything to the elder Lancer, he held up a finger to forestall more questions and then turned toward Scott, making sure he had the young man's attention before saying, "It may just be a temporary thing, Scott. Don't try too hard to fight what's happening, and don't get too frustrated. The stress won't help. Just relax and let things sort themselves out."

After patting Scott's arm, Sam looked at Murdoch, raising his eyebrows to silently ask if what he had just told Scott had answered his question.

Murdoch's expression was unreadable, but Johnny, his expression radiating pure anxiety, stared straight at Sam. "Is it the concussion?" he asked almost hesitantly. He prayed it wasn't, otherwise the guilt he was already feeling would be multiplied, since he had been the one who had pushed Scott into the wagon wheel to begin with, unintentional though it may have been.

Sam smiled, not surprised that the dark-haired young man wasn't quite satisfied with what was just said to his brother. "Could be," the elderly doctor replied. "This is one of those things that will take time to sort out. We likely won't have an answer real soon. But, he's awake, and that's a great start."

Scott watched each of the other people in the room. At least, he tried to. It was easy for Sam to tell him not to try too hard, but it was a lot harder to put that advice into practice. He kept blinking in an effort to clear the fog, turning his head as each person spoke and trying to see the face that went with each voice. It wasn't working.

Despite the fact that whatever was wrong was evidently inside his head, it felt like there was something resembling dust in his eyes, something that he could clear away just by opening and closing his eyes. Clarity continued to elude him, however, as the haze remained stubbornly in place. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like his frustration was making the shadows even more insubstantial the more he stared at them. Would they lose definition until there was only the fog or his vision get worse and disappear all together? He half expected the cloudiness to fade to black, a thought that terrified him.

Scott raised his right hand and covered his eyes, hoping, irrationally, to rub away the problem. When that didn't work either, he blew out a breath that Johnny picked up on immediately, knowing exactly what his brother was thinking.

"It's okay, Scott." Johnny squeezed his brother's good shoulder in a gesture of comfort and support. "Like Sam says, just relax, and it'll come." His voice was calm and confident. His heart was aching and uncertain.

The eldest Lancer son wanted to reassure Johnny that he was going to take Sam's advice and not do anything that he shouldn't. He reached up and lay his hand on Johnny's, giving the shadowy shape of his brother a small smile.

The gesture gave Johnny's faith a big boost.

Everything that had happened since he had woken up was taking a toll on the weakened young man. Before he could say a word, Scott's eyelids became too heavy to keep open. They slid closed, and he sank into a darkness that had nothing to do with his vision.

Johnny smiled and gave Scott's shoulder another gentle squeeze. "Good, boy," he said, knowing that sleep was the most important thing his brother needed, at the moment.

Now that Scott was beyond hearing any conversation that took place, Murdoch turned his worried and now dissatisfied expressed on his old friend.

"All right, Sam. It's just me and Johnny who can hear you now, so level with us. What is really wrong with Scott's vision?" His tone was demanding but controlled enough not to be overly harsh.

At first, Sam was a little unhappy that his word was being doubled, yet under the circumstances, he couldn't help but understand. For a man who could hold his emotions so tightly in check, Murdoch could also display them to the point that there was no doubt what they were. "I told Scott and the two of you the truth. You know me, Murdcoh. I don't beat around the bush. What I say is what I mean."

He refrained from saying that there were times when, under special circumstances, he held things back from someone. But, he had learned a long time ago that complete honesty was usually the best policy, so when he did say something, it was the truth.

Murdoch knew his friend as well as anyone, so he had no real choice but to accept what Sam said. It wasn't that he thought the doctor was being evasive, he just wanted so desperately to have a specific diagnosis. Murdoch was a man of action. He didn't want to think about having to fight something when he didn't know exactly what it was he was fighting. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam nodded his acceptance of the apology.

"So, basically, we just have to wait and hope Scott's vision clears up." It was a flat statement from the Lancer patriarch that held more than a small measure of helplessness, a feeling that Murdoch Lancer hated.

"Right," was Sam's simple declaration. "In the meantime, we have other issues to deal with."

When both Johnny and Murdoch looked at him, he said, "We still need to bring his fever down to a more manageable level. Just because he woke up and was lucid doesn't mean his fever can't cause more problems."

Johnny hadn't ever heard the word lucid before, but from what Sam was saying, he guessed it meant that Scott knew what was going on and made sense when he spoke.

Murdoch understood Sam and nodded. He felt a small flush of heat when he realized that he had been so wrapped up in worrying about Scott's vision that he had forgotten all about his fever. He turned his head away and began to re-wet the cloth, applying it to his son's forehead.

x x x x x

Two hours later, Scott woke up again. It took him a moment to realize where he was and what had happened to him. He let out a sigh, when he also realized that his vision didn't seem to be any better than it had been.

Darkness had fallen outside, and a lamp had been lit and set on the bedside table. Another sigh followed the first, when he recognized that the low light wasn't what was affecting his vision now.

One thing Scott was not was a quitter. He had no idea if he could will his vision back to normal, but he had no intention of just lying in bed and not doing anything to help his own cause. That wasn't who he was.

With a determined air, he began not just blinking but opening his eyes wide and then scrunching them tightly closed. He repeated the action over and over. It might be a futile and even infantile gesture, but he had no other ideas at the moment.

Murdoch, who was sitting in a chair near the bed was snoring lightly, having given in to his aching body and the persistent insistence of both his youngest son and his friend to get some rest. He hadn't taken kindly to Sam's comment that he wasn't as young as he used to be or wanted to remain. Unfortunately, he had to admit that his body was indeed feeling the results of his worry for the life of his eldest son. Even his argument that the chair was not good for his back hadn't gotten him very far in his argument.

He had been offered a bed in Sam's house but had vehemently refused in an effort to persuade both Sam and Johnny that he should stay with Scott. Agreeing to settle in a chair in this room and try to sleep was the compromise.

Johnny, who unlike his father, had refused to give in to his own body's craving for rest, sat on the side of Scott's bed, watching his brother sleep. He tried not to think about how heartbroken he would feel if for some reason, Scott still didn't survive.

He held the cloth in his hand but was not using it, as he suddenly saw Scott's eyes open, close and open again several times. He knew what it was his brother was doing.

"Sam said not to push it, brother," he said softly.

Scott's head turned toward the voice he knew so well. He blinked again and Johnny's smiling face suddenly came into sharp focus. "You look tired, little brother."

"Not as tired as..." His eyes went wide. "You can see me?"

"Clear as a bell," the blond answered with a smile.

Johnny let out a holler that he couldn't have held back if his life had depended on it. "Sam!" he hollered.

Murdoch jerked awake. "What?" he asked in confusion, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Luckily, he saw Johnny smiling before his mind could register the opposite of good news as the reason Johnny was yelling for Sam.

The doctor, not having the benefit of seeing a happy pair of Lancers, came rushing into the room with a worried look on his face, fearing that something had gone wrong.

"Scott's awake, and he can see just fine," Johnny told the anxious doctor proudly.

When Sam approached the bed, he asked, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Scott's first instinct was to say, "You're kidding, right?" but he knew that Sam had been worried about his vision and was just doing his job in checking it out, Sam's thoroughness being something that Scott was actually grateful for.

"Three," the blond answered, as he stared at the three digits Sam held up about a foot in front of his face.

His correct answer was rewarded with a smile, a nod and a relieved sigh from the elderly doctor. "I guess that's one problem we don't have to worry about," he declared with a great deal of satisfaction.

After checking Scott's temperature, his smile returned. "Your fever has broken, as well. You, young man, appear to be on the road to recovery. However," he added in a warning tone, "that does not mean you are ready to misbehave the way your brother does when told to stay in bed and get his strength back."

"Who? Me?" Johnny asked in a voice that he was trying to make sound convincingly innocent.

"Yes, you," Sam, Murdoch and Scott all said at the same time.

"I'm outnumbered," the youngest Lancer pouted.

"Just remember that the next time I give you instructions to take care of yourself."

Same turned back to Scott. "I need to replace the bandage on your neck. Then, you can go back to sleep and get more of that rest I told you that you need."

Sam reached for a small brown bottle on the table next to Scott's bed.

Scott recognized it immediately. "I don't need that, Sam."

The doctor closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew he was in for a battle. "Scott, I know you don't like taking laudanum, but I can tell you that changing your bandage after having to cauterize the wound is going to be very painful. There's no need for you to suffer through it, since you won't need a clear head. You'll just be going to sleep afterwards."

"Take the stuff, Boston," Johnny advised.

"You're a fine one to talk, brother," Scott scoffed, "considering how much you fight taking it".

"Yeah well, it's easier to suffer yourself than see someone you care about do it." Johnny almost blushed when he said that, but it was heartfelt.

Scott might have continued to argue with Sam, but he realized that it would hurt his family to see him suffer any more than he already had, especially needlessly, just because he wanted to put up a brave front.

He looked at Sam and nodded, which pleased the elderly doctor. He was clearly surprised, having dealt with the Lancer stubbornness on quite a few occasions. He gave a silent laugh to think that these two young sons were so much like the father they had not known until two short years ago.

Sam had not exaggerated when he said the removal of the bandage on Scott's neck would be painful. The laudanum had dulled the worst of the pain, but as Sam had expected, the bandage had to be soaked loose and peeling it away was unpleasant to say the least.

Sam was pleased with what he saw. The wound was not showing any signs of infection. So, after a fresh bandage had been applied, both the oldest and youngest Lancers couldn't help but smile, as they watched Scott sink into a deep, healing sleep.

TBC