Chapter Four: The Roar (Chris Tomlin)

Author note: Just as Rush University Medical Center is a real place, so, too, is their Tower. Although the description may be a bit odd, it is, indeed, a real place and I speak from personal experience.

Greg rubbed at his face as he sat on the sleeper sofa in Alanna's room. The room was very nice, with a big-screen TV, a top of the line hospital bed, an attached private bathroom, and two large wooden doors that could be closed for privacy. The room was large enough for two patients, as were all the rooms on the floor that he'd seen so far, but each room only had one patient. Even the sofa he was sitting on was much better than what he'd seen in most other hospitals; though he suspected his opinion would change after he'd slept on it for a night or two. Oh, well, if he got tired of the sofa – no pun intended – he could move to the recliner.

Just as impressive was the building itself. The Tower was the newest addition to Rush; it boasted fourteen floors, had been designed from the ground up with the very best in medical technology, ventilation technology – to reduce the risk of infection, and had even been built in the shape of a butterfly to allow nurses to be much closer to their patients than the traditional setup allowed. As a nice bonus, each room had large windows with a gorgeous view of Toronto.

Lance trailed into the room, still looking a bit lost. They'd been informed that the initial surgery to seal the aneurysm had been successful, but that news was hard to believe when Alanna was hooked up to numerous medical monitors and sported a drain on her head that was attached to an IV pole. Plus, Alanna was still unconscious on the hospital bed; she didn't even stir when the nurses came in and did their work.

Both uncle and nephew were exhausted and wrung out after their nightmare of a day; Greg had finally shooed Lance off to the hospital cafeteria to get something to eat. The Sergeant didn't want anything for himself; the idea of food made his stomach turn even though he hadn't eaten since the night before. Now the two looked at each other, both wondering what they were supposed to do next. Greg was well aware that both of them staying overnight wasn't a good idea, but driving Lance home would leave Alanna completely alone, something Greg absolutely did not want to do.

When someone entered the room, the pair looked at him rather blankly, before Greg shot to his feet. "Commander Holleran."

Holleran inclined his head. "Sergeant. How is she doing?" His gaze trailed to the still form on the bed.

Greg sighed, letting his shoulders slump. "The doctors say she came through the surgery fairly well, but it's too early to tell if there's any permanent damage."

The commander's gaze was sympathetic. "Any idea when you'll know?" At his subordinate's head shake, the commander leaned back on his heels, thinking. After a minute, he asked, "I assume you want to stay the night?" Greg gave a hesitant nod. "All right, then. I'll give your nephew a ride home tonight and back here tomorrow. I'll also brief your team tomorrow; Team One will go off rotation for now and we'll reevaluate in a week or so."

A load Greg hadn't even known was there lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, sir." Lance looked briefly rebellious, but let his breath out in a huff and moved to stand next to Holleran in silent acceptance. Holleran guided the teenager out of the room and Greg found himself back on the sofa. His eyes traveled to his niece and he blinked back tears. Fourteen years old and she'd just survived her first stroke (1).

Commander Holleran's update the next morning was unwelcome, but, as every member of the team had hit the Internet to bone up as much as they could on brain aneurysms, not unexpected. That they were being stood down for at least a week was more of a surprise, but that gave them plenty of time to figure out the best strategy for helping their boss and his nipotes. They stayed at the station in case Holleran got any more updates before they'd hashed out their plans and commandeered the briefing room as soon as Team Two left.

Wordy called Shelley and turned his phone on speaker. "Shel, we're gonna try and figure out how we're handling this. Holleran's taken us off rotation, at least for now, so we've got all hands on deck to help Sarge and the kids."

"Good," Shelley replied. She'd already plotted out a few steps herself and took charge before Ed could. "Now, first of all, we have to make sure neither Greg nor Lance are spending all their time at the hospital."

Jules nodded thoughtfully as she wrote their first priority down; she had a pen and clipboard to take notes with. "Keep them from running themselves into the ground," she mused.

"Exactly," Shelley confirmed. "Now, I was thinking more of overnight watches, but since you're going to be off-rotation, we can swing daytime shifts, too, which should take the weight off Greg's shoulders. Lance will try, I'm sure, but right now, Greg's the only adult at the hospital."

"Sounds like you've already got this worked out," Sam observed. "So, who's first?"

Shelley paused a moment. "Do you know if Lance spent the night?"

"He didn't," Ed reported, "But Commander Holleran took him back this morning."

They heard sounds of writing from the other end; Shelley making notes as she went, just like Jules was. "Okay, I think I've got at least today and tomorrow figured out. First things first, Lance will not be spending any more nights at Greg's apartment without supervision. He can come here." Team One agreed with that sentiment. "Sam, if you and Lou could take the first daytime watch?" Before Team One could ask, she explained, "With two of you there, you can trade off for who goes to get lunch or if you need to take a break."

"Makes sense," Lou agreed. He hesitated a moment, then offered, "How 'bout I handle e-mailing folks all the updates and news? That way instead of everyone calling around every time we get an update, we have one person handling all of the contacting and communicating."

The team looked a bit startled, but then Jules remarked, "That sounds like a good idea, Lou. Then we won't accidentally leave someone out of the loop somewhere down the road."

Taking over the conversation again, Shelley continued briskly, "Jules, Ed, could you take this evening? That way we can get Greg to our house for a good night's sleep in a bed and see if we can figure out how the kids' schoolwork is going to work out." None of them had thought that far; Wordy was just grateful Shelley had.

Shelley outlined her plans for the next few days; receiving full support and approval from Team One. With plans hashed out, Ed ducked into Holleran's office to tell him that they were leaving, but asked him to keep Winnie up to date. The commander agreed and also offered to keep Commander Locksley updated. Ed had to raid his Boss's locker to find the number, but, soon enough, Commander Holleran had Madame Locksley's phone number to use as needed.

Greg's head was spinning by the time Sam, Wordy, and Lou showed up at Rush. Alanna's neurosurgeon had made an early morning visit and explained that during the initial treatment for the aneurysm, he'd located another problem. The Sergeant had never heard of Moyamoya and, quite frankly, he had bigger fish to fry. Alanna's eyes had opened that morning, but she hadn't responded to, well, anything. Not the doctors, not the nurses, and not either himself or her brother. She'd had a few…he'd almost call them fits…but nothing more than that. More mini-seizures than any type of actual interaction. In short, by the time his team showed up, he was feeling tired, discouraged, and overwhelmed.

He instinctively protested when Wordy started herding him out, Lou tugging Lance along. "Wordy, I can't just leave her."

"Easy, Sarge; Sam's gonna stay while Lou and I get you two down to my van. Then Lou comes back up here and he and Sam will keep an eye on things for the rest of today. Jules and Ed are taking the evening shift."

It took close to a minute for Greg to process that; realizing just how exhausted he was, he gave in without further protest. Lance did protest, but Wordy shut him down. "And how much sleep did you get last night, kiddo?"

The answer was obvious from the dark circles under the teen's eyes. Greg slung an arm around his nephew's shoulder. "I don't think they're going to take 'no' for an answer, mio nipote. So let's let them help, hmmm? I don't know about you, but I sure could use the help." Lance still looked rebellious, but he finally nodded.

Lou frowned as he laboriously compiled the master contact list for the planned e-mail updates. As annoying as the procedure was, it meant he didn't have to look at the still, silent form on the hospital bed. Sam had taken to pacing around the room, looking utterly frustrated at his inability to help. With the master list complete, Lou began typing the first e-mail, updating the tech-side contact members on the success of the surgery. Though he made it clear that Alanna had yet to wake up, he maintained an upbeat tone throughout the e-mail. Before sending the e-mail, Lou pushed the laptop to where Sam could see the screen, cocked his head, and hiked one eyebrow in silent question.

Sam huffed, but stopped his pacing. He came over and inspected the screen, his brows furrowing as he read the e-mail. "She hasn't even woken up yet, why are you sending an update?" Unspoken was the observation that an upbeat tone was perhaps a bit premature, considering the lingering possibility of brain damage.

"Can't give up, Sam," Lou pointed out quietly. "If we give up, all those people pulling for her are gonna give up too." Dark eyes trailed to Alanna. "And maybe she gives up; who's to say she can't hear us talking right now?"

Sam's eyes widened at the possibility. Then he forced a smile, tapped the top of the laptop's open lid, and said, "Looks great, Lou."

Lou understood, because he was having the same struggle. The odds that they'd get Alanna back were low, low enough that his upbeat tone had been hard, really hard, to keep up. As cops, they saw so many times when things didn't work out; believing that they would work out this time felt like raising false hopes, cruel hopes that would twist like a knife when the inevitable happened. But giving up without a fight…that was something they wouldn't do on a call; by that same token, he couldn't give up here without giving this fight the best he had.

Jules and Ed arrived at about the same time and, in the dead of night, had no trouble finding parking spots. They trekked through the main hospital and took the elevator up into the Tower. Once in the Tower, Ed texted Lou for the room number and the pair wandered through the ICU, finding the correct room with minimal difficulty. Inside, they found Sam and Lou, the latter packing up his laptop for the trip home.

"Hey," Sam remarked quietly, his voice subdued and a smidge of upset underneath it.

"Hey, yourself," Jules replied as cheerfully as possible. "How was the daytime watch?"

Lou flashed a brief grin and deliberately kept his voice just as cheerful as Jules'. "Got the first update e-mailed out. Maybe our girl hasn't talked yet, but she's still here, so that's something."

Ed and Jules traded disappointed looks and dropped their own bags on the sofa as Lou and Sam finished packing up and departed with visible relief. Jules rifled through her bag and pulled out The Hobbit; she tugged the recliner closer to the hospital bed and caught the blanket Ed tossed at her. Ed scouted the room and located two pillows, throwing one of them at Jules as well. Then the team leader pulled out his deck of cards and started playing Solitaire.

Jules grinned to herself and opened her book to the first page. " 'In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,' " she began. As the hours ticked by, Jules read the book aloud and Ed played endless rounds of Solitaire. None of the nurses who came in interrupted the pair, merely performing their duties and departing once again. By the time dawn peeked through the windows, Jules' voice was getting a little hoarse and Ed had abandoned his game of Solitaire in favor of his sleeping bag. To the disappointment of both, Alanna never so much as twitched.

The two nighttime watchers had traded off to get breakfast by the time Spike and his unexpected guest arrived. Spike looked a little sheepish as he walked in, followed by his mother with her knitting bag; Mrs. Scarlatti inspected the room with the air of someone who is not quite convinced that the circumstances are satisfactory or that she has been told the complete truth by her son. After a moment, Mrs. Scarlatti looked much happier, to the point that she greeted Jules and Ed quite cheerfully, "Good morning, constables. The night went well?"

Ed responded with a shrug, but Jules replied, "It was fairly quiet, but I wouldn't have minded a little disruption if that meant Alanna woke up."

Mrs. Scarlatti nodded quite sympathetically. "It is hard to see them lying there, with none of the vitality we are used to."

"Mamá, it's early days," Spike protested. " 'Lanna just needs some time, that's all."

"I second that," Wordy announced from behind them. "Seriously, we're expecting her to just pop up after major surgery?" He smirked and addressed the girl on the bed, "Not that I don't think you could do that if you wanted to, kiddo." Without missing a beat, he turned towards Mrs. Scarlatti. "You're joining us today, Mrs. Scarlatti?"

"Sí," the Italian matriarch replied, settling herself on the sofa and placing her knitting bag next to her, a reigning queen in her court. Spike looked torn between pointing out that he and Wordy needed seats, too, and keeping his mouth shut; Wordy solved the problem by ducking out and finding another chair to haul into the room.

Jules and Ed left while Spike and Wordy flipped a coin over who got the recliner first; Spike won, but Wordy didn't mind a bit. The morning nurse was subjected to a Italian cross-examination by Mrs. Scarlatti before she was permitted to attend to her patient, but the woman took it in stride, smiling and answering each question with a detailed explanation.

Wordy, both a bit embarrassed at the cross-examination and hoping for some news, slipped out of the room shortly after the nurse left. He was pleased to find her at a computer just outside the doors. "Hey, um, sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

The nurse smiled at him. "No, it's no problem. It's always nice to see patients with big families. She's your niece?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

A playful look. "And, let me guess, that's Grandma?"

Wordy choked on his laughter, the image of Mrs. Scarlatti as the British pureblood's grandmother particularly amusing in that instant. The nurse gave him a saucy wink, pleased that she'd gotten him to laugh. The constable opened his mouth to correct the nurse, then paused and shrugged instead. "Well, um, kind of?" he finally replied, "She's Spike's mom."

The nurse considered him, her lips twitching. "I did wonder," she remarked, mock-thoughtful, "After all, you must have the most unusual family I've ever seen. Are you all half-siblings?" When Wordy sputtered, she outright chuckled at him. "Don't worry," she reassured him, pulling out a small stack of paperwork, "Your boss made it clear that all of you have permission to be here and advocate on Miss Calvin's behalf."

Wordy flushed as he realized she'd known all along that he and the rest weren't related to Alanna. "Oh." He fidgeted, trying to think of something to say, then blurted, "Do you know if she'll ever wake up?"

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look. "She's starting to react to stimuli again, which is a good sign." Wordy nodded. "As for waking up…every case is different. She may wake up in ten minutes, or in a day, or more than a day; we just don't know right now."

Spike slipped out of the room, drawing an arched brow from Wordy. "Mamá chased me out," the tech explained. Behind them, through the closed door, they heard her singing in Italian. "Um, let's go get lunch or something," Spike suggested. "Mamá will just shoo us away if we try to go back in now."

"Okay," Wordy agreed. To the nurse, he added, "Thanks for the information."

The nurse smiled. "My pleasure."

As he and Spike headed off, Spike added, "Mamá also said to tell you that she and Papá are claiming this evening."

"Two shifts in a row?" Wordy questioned; Shelley'd made it clear that no one was supposed to take two shifts in a row, unless there was an emergency.

The bomb tech shrugged. "I learned a long time ago that my best response when she has that tone of voice is, 'Yes, Mamá.' "

Giles frowned as Roy wound down. His partner sounded rather upset and while Giles was just as upset, there were a few things Giles was pretty sure he understood, but he needed clarification on the specifics. "Anything else?" he asked cautiously, ordering his thoughts – and his own questions.

Roy considered, then shook his head. "No, I think that's everything so far."

"Can I ask a couple questions?"

A brief head cock, then Roy waved him to continue.

"What's a steroke?"

Roy sputtered for a instant, bewildered by the question. Then he grabbed Giles by the arm and dragged him to a more private part of the station. "You don't know what a stroke is?" he hissed. When Giles shook his head, Roy let go to rake his hands through his hair. "Okay, any other words you were about to ask me about?"

Giles ducked his head at his partner's spot-on observation, but answered, "Um, I don't know what a nerosergeeon is or what an anyerism is."

Roy bit his lip, thinking hard. "Okay. Ah, uh…um, a brain aneurysm, from what Ed told me, is technically a stroke, a minor one, but still a stroke. And a stroke, well, um, I'm not sure of the 'textbook' definition, but it's bad, really bad. Usually, when someone has a stroke, they…never get back to where they were before. 'Cause, um, I don't know 'bout magic, but on this side? There's no fixing brain damage. A neurosurgeon is a doctor who works specifically on people with strokes, aneurysms; you know, people with brain damage."

"Didn't you just say…" Giles asked in confusion.

A brief shrug. "I don't think you can fix brain damage, but a neurosurgeon tries to prevent any more damage."

"Oh." Giles frowned to himself, musing that he'd never heard of such a thing in the magical world before. "Can I, um, have a…printout? Of the ee-mail?"

Roy looked both amused and exasperated. "Sure, Giles. I'll get the e-mail printout Lou gave me and give it to you."

The detective shook his head on his way back to his desk. He scooped up the printout, completely missing the smug smirks the office gossips gave each other behind his back.

Dean Parker read every last word of the e-mail his father's teammate had sent out, frowning to himself. His cousin hadn't woken up yet. He tried to tell himself it was early on, but inside, he felt a chill. He didn't even know his cousins all that well, but that didn't matter: they were family, just like his dad. And it wasn't like his cousin had done this to herself, like his dad had with the drinking… For an instant, Dean wished he and his mother lived closer, just so he could visit, maybe support his dad; the teen wasn't completely sure of his dad yet, but this? This was something that made you forget about the past and focus on the here and now; the past could wait until his cousin was better.

He printed the e-mail and left before his mother could find out what he was doing. He wanted to get the e-mail to his sports buddies; they'd been great about letting him vent his frustration instead of bottling it up. Dean did, however, forget to close his e-mail, which meant his younger half-sister found his open e-mail about an hour later. She alerted her mother, who finally found out her ex-husband's cousin/niece was sick in the hospital.

Sophie found herself regretting more and more that she'd chosen to pack herself and Clark up to visit her parents. It meant she wasn't there for Ed as he struggled through Alanna's hospitalization and the effects of that on Greg. Only her mother's quick intervention kept her from packing up and moving back posthaste. "Mom, I can't just leave him all alone to deal with this," she protested, "It's one thing if he lets the job take over, but this is completely different."

"Sophie, the more stress you put on yourself, the worse it will be for you and the baby," her mother chided gently. "Now, I agree; it's not fair to expect Ed to carry something like this alone, but it also wasn't fair for him to expect you to handle this pregnancy alone." After a moment, she added, "The best way to help that little girl is to pray. That we can do."

Sophie sighed to herself. She'd stopped believing in prayer a long time ago, but she dared not tell her parents that. Instead, she forced a smile. "Okay, Mom; let's do that."

Shelley made sure that Greg and Lance were occupied with her three little girls before calling her mother-in-law. "Hi, Andrea," she greeted when the other woman picked up.

"Shelley!" Andrea cried in delight, "Any news?"

Shelley wound the phone cord around her fingers absently. "She came through the surgery, but she still hasn't woken up. Kevin called me to let me know that the nurses aren't sure when she will."

Andrea was silent for a minute, considering the news and her response. "Shelley, dear, I know it seems very dark right now," she began. Shelley's nod was almost unconscious. "But I learned a long time ago that, as cliché as it might be, it's always darkest before the dawn."

Two days after they'd been dragged out of the hospital room, Greg and Lance were back at the hospital. The enforced break had done both a world of good, even if neither was willing to admit it. Shelley had even tried to get them to wait longer, but Greg put his foot down. As grateful as he was for the support, it was his job to watch out for his nipote. A doctor came in with his flock of students, an occurrence that the team had reported from their own daytime watches.

With the students watching attentively, the doctor pulled out a pen and held it up in front of Alanna's eyes, urging her, "Follow the pen with your eyes, Alanna." He moved the pen to the side, but Alanna's eyes didn't follow. Greg's heart sank as the doctor tried again, repeating his instructions and moving the pen. Still, Alanna's eyes didn't move.

Just as the doctor was about to try again, she spoke. "It's in my peripheral vision."

The students promptly tittered in the background and Greg couldn't help but laugh too, but his laugh was much shakier. She didn't sound anywhere close to normal and she was slurring her words a little, but she was talking, she was responding. And as the doctor asked her to follow the pen without using her peripheral vision and she obeyed, Greg watched in sheer, overwhelming relief. Lance cast his uncle a huge grin, just as buoyed by his sister's first response since the surgery.

We just might get through this after all.

[1] A brain aneurysm is considered a stroke, albeit a stroke at the lower end of the stroke range

Author note: Well, we've hit the end of another week, Thank God. I did have my second interview with our class's primary sponsor company yesterday and I think it went okay. Frankly, I really don't want to work for this company, but I won't have a choice in the matter if they decide they want me. More's the pity, but that's what I signed on for, unfortunately.

I did get asked a rather odd question right at the end, after I'd packed up my laptop to leave and let the next person go. Essentially, they asked me if I wanted to do the job I've spent the last 10-11 weeks training for or another job. I tried to be diplomatic and say that I really like the problem solving and getting things to work - I even gave them an example from my project where we had one thing that worked...except when it didn't...and how I fixed that. Honestly, I'm not a people person...I'd much rather fight with computer code than other human beings, if you know what I mean. I'd also like to do the job I was trained for...I did that once, as a mechanic, even if I only worked for eight months and I'd much rather do a job I've had schooling and training in than try to figure out some other job on the fly.

Speaking of flying, I just found out that an online weather program I used to use is getting shut down by the FAA in favor of some other program. *sniffle* Rest in peace, DUATS and never forget how many pilots treasured and valued your information. I certainly did.

Have a great weekend all and Fly High; Spirits Soar. (Cyber-cookie to anyone who gets the reference.)