It was hard for Ezra to remember a time he'd been more grateful to feel a vehicle stop moving. Of course, at this point it was getting hard for him to remember his own name, but that was a concern he wasn't ready to deal with at this moment. Right now he was choosing to be grateful for the fact the ambulance motion and all of the associated bumping and swerving, had ended. The realization that this meant he was now at the hospital took a moment to sink in, and by the time it had he was already being wheeled through the doors at high speed. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to stave of the wave of nausea that always accompanied the movement and flash of lights one was subjected to when strapped on a gurney and staring at the rapidly passing ceiling.
The smells and sounds that assaulted him were depressingly familiar. Not for the first time, he wondered what had ever possessed him to choose a career that resulted in far too much time spent in buildings like this.
"Mr. Standish? Agent Standish, can you hear me?"
"Ezra." No need for formalities, given how intensely personal this was all about to become.
The nurse smiled down at him, even though she knew he couldn't see her yet. "Well, I know your name darlin'. This isn't the first time I've had the pleasure of your company. It sure is nice to hear the smooth southern drawl of yours. Makes this Georgia girl feel right at home."
He offered a weak smile in return, but didn't feel up to a conversation, however charming his companion may be. It all just seemed like far to much effort. Maybe if he could just sleep for a few minutes…
"Now Ezra, we need you to stay with us."
He nodded slightly but continued to allow himself to drift off. It was just so much easier. Sleeping would mean he could block out all that annoying medical babble surrounding him. Why couldn't they just leave him alone for a few minutes?
"Agent Standish! Open your eyes."
"Your name wouldn't be Larabee, would it doctor?"
"No. But from what I've heard about the man, I'll take that as a compliment. Agent Standish, I need you to try to answer a few questions if you can. Do you know where you are?"
Well, that one was easy. "I am reasonably certain the ambulance delivered me to a hospital, as that is the usual routine. Couldn't say which one though."
"And do you know why you are here?"
"I presume because you would be unable to bill my HMO otherwise."
The response earned a small chuckle from someone in the room. It hardly seemed worth the effort it had taken, especially since it did nothing to disguise how he was really feeling.
With a slightly impatient tone, the doctor continued. "How is your vision?"
"Less than it should be, but nothing that I haven't dealt with before."
"Can you feel this?"
Ezra flinched at the touch. "Yes, and I will thank you not to do that again."
"Reflexes and attitude both seem to be intact."
As the medical jargon picked up again, Ezra could tell his direct participation was no longer needed, at least for the moment, so he allowed himself to tune out the comments on his blood pressure and oxygen levels. Just beginning to relax and drift off again, he was abruptly brought back to reality when his hand was touched. The curse that followed was neither gentlemanly nor quiet.
"Sorry Agent Standish. Clenching your hand isn't going to do that burn any good."
"Neither are your actions." He paid for the comment with another coughing spasm and almost immediately felt an oxygen mask being placed on his face.
"We'll get you set up with a canula in a couple of minutes, but for the moment just try to breath slowly and calmly. Not too deep – that will trigger more coughing. You took in a fair bit of smoke." The doctor turned his attention for a moment. "Let's get a fresh burn pack for this hand, and check for other similar injuries."
Slowly, Ezra could feel himself beginning to relax again. He answered a few questions, but with increasing detachment from the entire experience. A soft voice in the back of his mind was trying to ask if this might be a cause for concern, but he was unable or unwilling to pay it any heed. He barely registered the words from the nurse.
"That's very good Ezra. You just keep relaxing like that. We've given you something for the pain now, and we're just waiting for a few more test results to come back in. Then we'll be taking you for a few x-rays. Best for you to try to stay as calm and still as possible, and just let us take care of everything. Ezra? Can you hear what I'm saying?" He tried to answer her, but apparently failed. "Doctor, he is less responsive than we might want."
There was a bit more poking and prodding, and he managed to open one eye to offer what was most certainly the most feeble glare imaginable, but it did seem to assuage some of the concern. The conversation in the room continued to be little more than an annoying buzz and he tried to dismiss the sounds.
What was bothering him was the nagging sensation that there was something he should be doing. Something he should be asking about – or maybe someone? He was trying to replay the day in his head, but details were fuzzy. He knew he was hurt and was fairly sure he knew what the injuries were, or at least what some were. But how he got hurt was another matter. The details danced at the edge of his consciousness, there but not in a solid form. Forcing himself to ignore what was going on around him, he worked instead on concentrating on the details that faded in and out.
He tried to work the day backwards in his mind but staying awake and aware was becoming more and more difficult with each passing moment. If he could just sleep for a bit, maybe things would be clearer. He felt himself drifting off, but the noises and commotion around him kept him from feeling totally relaxed. Memories teased at his mind, but all he could recall clearly was being wheeled into the hospital. Coming close to being overwhelmed by the replay of those sensations, he quickly switched to reviewing the day.
Normal at work. Dull paperwork, finalizing details of upcoming testimony and a bit of prep work for an anticipated undercover which promised to be fascinating. He left at the usual time with no specific plan for the evening.
No. They left. Vin was with him. Something wrong with the jeep – again. So they were going somewhere? Not that he could recall. No, it was simply a case of giving him a lift home. Then the distraction. Something made them pull over. Yes, of course. Smoke. There was smoke coming from a building they were passing. A small apartment.
He could remember now. Running up the stairs and into the lobby, searching all the while for an alarm system of some kind. Nothing was obvious, and as he looked around he doubted whatever might have been there would be working anyway. When all else fails, one resorts to a more primitive method of communication. Shouting "FIRE!" as he ran, he bounded up the stairs toward what he believed had to be the source. The billows had been coming from the top, and as he approached the fourth floor he knew he was right. The air was heavy, too dense to even see to the end of the hall. He dropped low, trying as much as possible to stay beneath the cloud of acrid smoke. He could see an orange glow casting under the door of a far room and knew instinctively there was nothing he could do there, but that didn't' stop him from trying. Banging at the door, he reached for the handle. Heat was radiating through the wood, and his hand was burned the instant it grasped the knob. He pulled back, taking a step away as he prepared to kick it in. The voice of reason yelled in his head that the fire had to be too strong and opening the door would only fan and spread the flames. He looked around before making his move. Other doors in the hallway had been left opened as residents fled, telling him that he and whoever might be inside there were the only ones at risk. Just as he was about to make his move, his eyes rested on a closed door he had almost missed seeing through the haze. It made no sense that anyone had stayed behind, but it wasn't a gamble he was going to take.
He ran down the hall, shouting as he reached for the handle. This door was cool, but the smoke surrounding it was thick. Stumbling inside, he continued to call. Finally, a weak voice answered him.
"Go away. No one can come in when mommy isn't here." The words had been interspersed with rasping coughs. A small face stared up at him from a corner of the room. "Are you Superman?"
"Of course I am. Why else would I be here?" Why indeed, he wondered.
"Where's your suit? And cape? You're not him."
Moving forward to pick him up, Ezra continued to try to settle him down.
"I am in disguise at the moment. Now young man, what is your name?"
"Anthony."
"Excellent name. Anthony, there is no time to dawdle here." He looked at the ever thickening smoke outside and made a mad dash to the kitchen, soaking a couple of dishtowels under the tap as he pulled his suit jacket off, calling back to explain what was happening.
"When I am in disguise my cape becomes a jacket. Once you are engulfed in it, you shall be safe, but just to be sure I need you to hold this towel on your face. Can you do that for me?"
The youngster looked up at him. Now that he had a better look he was unconvinced of the superhero status of the individual in front of him. There were none of the required attributes as outlined in his comic books or the cartoons he had seen. Too small, wrong hair colour and Superman did not have that funny way of talking. Still, it was getting hard to breath, and he really wanted to leave but wasn't allowed to without an adult. The decision was taken out of his hands as he was swooped up and enveloped in the jacket. He covered his face and buried it against Superman's chest.
The towel he'd wrapped over his own nose and mouth was barely staying in place as Ezra ran from the apartment carrying his precious cargo. Disoriented for a moment as to where the stairs were, a faint glow of a red "exit" sign beckoned him in the right direction and he started down, making to the first landing before he heard the cracking sound that he immediately recognized as the beginning of the end.
He turned to allow his back to take the force of the blast that was coming, leading with his shoulder as he leapt toward the hall window, hoping against hope there was something other than hard concrete below. Three stories was going to be one hell of a drop, assuming the explosion didn't kill them both.
The force hit just as he broke the glass, propelling them further from the building than he had expected. He tried to turn in the air to land first, with the boy on top of him, but was having a good deal of trouble figuring out which way was up. Heat blasted out behind him, and he panicked for a moment at the thought they might actually be on fire.
He screamed as he fell, or at least he thought he did. Some small part of his mind was reassuring him that the cry was only an attempt to summon help, but he knew the sound of shear terror when he heard it. Fate was kind enough to let him twist as he fell, providing the combined benefit of shielding the child and saving both of them the horror of watching the ground approach. He didn't register that Anthony wouldn't have seen anything, swaddled as he was. Not seeing it coming did nothing to lessen the shock of impact, and Ezra felt every fibre of his being scream as the falling sensation came to an abrupt stop. It took him a moment to realize he had survived it, and that in fact it was somewhat less brutal than expected. By no means was it pleasant, but he had the feeling that the landing could have been much worse.
The feeling changed abruptly when he tried to move and discovered new levels of pain radiating through him. Movement on his chest only made that worse, although he was relieved the boy had survived, and appeared remarkably unscathed.
"Wow, that was cool. But I thought you could fly better than that."
"Superman leaps, he doesn't fly. And I leapt. You may recall my cape was otherwise occupied and could provide little assistance."
The lad looked at him for a minute, puzzling out what had been said. "Oh. OK. Can we find my mommy now?" The exhilaration was wearing off quickly and the fear quickly crept back in.
Offering what he hoped was an encourage smile, Ezra nodded. "Yes, I think you should go to do that as quickly as possible. Are you uninjured? Does anything hurt?"
After a moment's thought, he nodded. "My throat hurts some. Maybe mommy will make me some pudding."
Ezra was starting to have trouble following the conversation. "Yes, no doubt. You go around to the front of the building." His head was pounding, his chest hurt. In point of fact, extraordinarily little on his body was not currently causing him severe discomfort. "You find her, or a fireman, or police. Any grown up. Hurry now and stay away from the building." God forbid anything fell on the child after all of this. He felt the boy move away, saying something that he couldn't quite make out. Further warnings for him to be careful were lost to mumbles as he faded away again.
His eyes snapped open but refused to focus. He was alone. It was stark around him, and he had now clue where he was. What had happened? Where was the boy? And Vin – had he gotten out before the explosion? The tightness in his chest increased as he moved, and he made no effort to hide his reaction. He tried to call out but couldn't catch his breath to do so. Panic set in, spreading quickly.
"Anthony!" He tried to shout out but had no clue as to whether or not he succeeded. "Vin?" He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. There was the vague sense of people moving in around him but whether they were real of figments of his panic he couldn't discern. He tried to shout again, but there was no sound. He heard alarms, sirens and the undertone of chaos. Then he heard nothing as the world went dark.
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tbc