This story is dedicated to Judy, my sister who got me hooked on The sentinel , especially the fan fiction and who beta read this story
Warning: For Language
This story is set in AU and is a sequel to Left Behind
Rotors beat deafeningly overhead, blinding flashes of brilliant light breached his tightly closed eyelids, the stench of death and decay assaulted his nose. Jim Ellison vainly tried to find the void of darkness that had so comfortingly embraced his battered, exhausted body just moments before. A darkness where his senses didn't assault his body more sharply than all his injuries combined. Loud voices echoed inside his head, voices that penetrated the hands he had clasped over his ears, hands that trembled from the strain of blocking out the noise that threatened his very sanity. Gentle hands gripped his, slowly lowering them to rest beside him on the bed. The roar of noise invaded his head, tears of pain escaped to slide down his face as his stomach churned with nausea. He rolled to his side, tipping his head over the edge, vomit splattering across the tiled floor. Voices argued above him, the words chaotic shards of pain ripping through his brain. Mustering the strength to speak, the words rasped out, “Shut the fuck up. Just shut up, please!” The voices stuttered to a halt, as if amazed he dared interrupt.
Captain Simon Banks glared across the bed at the army doctor as Ellison's plea for quiet finally shut the arrogant shit's know-it-all mouth. Dr. Bartley's face was mottled red as he turned on his heel barking a last order at the nurse holding Ellison's chart. Simon smiled then picked up a cup of ice from the table near the bed and placed a chip to Ellison's tightly compressed lips. Jim startled at the touch, then opened his mouth slightly, sighing with pleasure as the ice slipped into his mouth and began melting, spreading the cool liquid to his parched throat. Banks echoed the sigh as his Lieutenant's face relaxed minutely. He watched as an orderly cleaned up the mess as the nurse injected a mild sedative into the IV port. When Jim opened his mouth again, Simon was ready with more ice. He got most of the ice fed to the injured man before Jim fell once again into a restless sleep. Simon shifted his aching shoulders, tense hours of waiting for word on Ellison's condition catching up to him. He stayed a few minutes longer, making sure Ellison would stay asleep before turning to leave the ward. He spotted Dr. Bartley down the hall, spouting off rapid-fire orders to a harried nurse who scribbled on a chart. Bartley turned and saw the tall, dark Captain stalking toward him, a murderous look on his face. Bartley blanched and turned tail. He hadn't made it a dozen feet before a large hand grabbed his shoulder and whipped him around.
“Now you listen to me you self-centered prick and listen good. My Lieutenant has told you what is wrong with him; I've told you what's wrong with him and it's about time you listened, before I go to your superior. Ellison needs to be moved to a private room where he can be kept away from most of the noise that goes on in this place. Or better yet, moved into a room with that kid that was brought in with him, Blair Sandburg.” Dr. Bartley's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “You want me to authorize a 'private' room for Ellison and that hippie, his, his....what? Friend?” this last said with a sneer that saw Simon's last trace of patience go up in flames.
Bartley found himself slammed against the concrete wall with that same large hand wrapped around his throat, strong dark fingers tightening until he couldn't suck in the first bit of air. Both hands grappled at the restraining arm futilely. He looked up and up into the enraged face of the Ranger Captain, realizing his fate was sealed by his ego. Suddenly the vice on his throat fell away and he dragged air into his lungs once more. He slid to the floor, wheezing, gasping for more of the precious oxygen. He looked up to see three men dragging Banks a short distance away.
“Dammit Simon! You can't just go around assaulting a doctor in the middle of a hospital like that!! You have to wait until the sonuvabitch is outside, then take him on!” Joel gritted out as he struggled to keep Simon from lunging at the man sitting on the floor. Joel nodded at Rafe and H, signaling for them to keep Banks from the doctor. He turned to face Bartley, who was struggling to his feet. As Bartley opened his mouth, Joel spoke up; "Before you start yelling for the MP's, keep this in mind. We protect our buddies, whether out on patrol or in here. And from what we've seen, you've been doing a piss poor job of taking care of Ellison. You wouldn't want that word to get around to the rest of our unit, now would you?” He saw the doctor's face pale with the implication; nothing could be worse than having 100 US Army Rangers putting you on their shit list. “I see you do get my drift here. Now, are we done here?”
Bartley nodded, keeping a wary eye on Banks and the two men standing beside him. Joel moved in front of him once more, “We're going to visit Ellison and before we leave, we expect him to be moved to a room with more privacy and quiet. How long should we wait for that to happen?”
“He'll be moved within the hour,” Bartley hissed, grimacing in pain from the few words passing through his bruised throat.
“That's good man, that's good! We'll head on down to his ward and keep Jim company, give him the good news.” Joel walked back to the others. Simon glared one last time in the doctor's direction, then turned it on Joel, who merely grinned and patted Simon on the shoulder. Getting his temper back under control, along with his composure, Simon chuckled at the memory of the look of terror on Bartley's face.
“Good thing you men came along when you did! I don't think the 'great' Dr. Bartley is used to having his authority contested. All right you three. Thank you for the interference and don't do it again!”
Rafe and H smirked at one another before snapping a quick salute, “Sir! Yes Sir!”
Joel laughed as they headed to Ellison's bedside.
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The room change was made quietly, efficiently; Ellison hardly rousing from his drug induced sleep. The few times he had been awake and not overwhelmed by his senses, Simon or H or Rafe or Joel had been at his bedside. He knew there was something important he needed to ask, but the thought was too elusive, too fleeting to grasp. He shifted uneasily in his sleep only peripherally aware of pain from his injuries. Dreams disturbed his sleep, one dream racing past, immediately replaced by another, all nightmarish in tone, based on his past reality. The last of a boy with long curly hair and eyes blue as the ocean, face etched in pain as a VC colonel pulled his head back with a punishing grip in the long curls. Jim watched as the nightmare colonel raised his arm, saber held aloft, then the dark blade raced down to sever the throat, blood spewing from the gaping wound.
“Sandburg!!” Ellison shot straight up in his bed, eyes frantically searching the jungle for...
Hospital? I'm in a hospital? What the...the tunnel and we were climbing? Memory flooded back, as he remembered how he and Blair were carried out of that tunnel by members of his team, then transported to a field hospital. Blair had remained unconscious the entire journey and only the rise and fall of the young man's chest indicated he was still alive. Jim slumped back against the pillows, ignoring the vicious aches that had awakened with his sudden movements. The doctors at the field hospital taken one look at the kid's damaged ankle, casted it and moved on to the next patient. Jim had heard the doctors muttered comments about the injured ankle and worried about the implications. Surely they couldn't tell that the damage was too extensive without x-rays first! Simon will know, or maybe Joel. They've been here, checking up on us, haven't they?
Rafe and Henri walked through the door at that moment, grins spreading across their faces as they noticed Jim awake and alert for the first time in three days. “Hey Jimmy; welcome back to the land of the living, man!” Henri's grin widened even further. “You can't 'meet' the nurses takin' care of ya when you got them baby blues closed!” Rafe shook his head sadly, “H, you have a one-track mind and the track don't run very far, does it?” Rafe took a closer look at Jim, “What's wrong Lieutenant? Do you need a nurse or a doctor?”
“No, Rafe, I'm okay, but I do want to know what happened to Sandburg? What are the doctors saying about him? The kid was in pretty bad shape when you guys pulled our butts out of that tunnel.”
“To be honest Jim, we haven't had time to check up on the kid. He was brought in here with you, but that's the last we saw of him. Do you want us to go find a nurse or your doctor?”
Before Jim could answer, Simon and Joel walked in, smiling when they saw Jim awake and talking. “It's about damned time you decided to end your 'beauty sleep' Lieutenant!” Simon's boomed. “When are you gonna get your sorry ass out of that bed and ready to get back out there with the rest of us working grunts?”
Jim smiled at the relief in his Captain's voice and that the loud voice didn't have him cringing in pain. “Well Captain Banks, I'm still wounded and pretty wiped out you know. I think that I should be recovered in, oh, a couple of weeks.” Chuckling at Simon's scowl, he eased himself up on the pillows a bit more. “And I was just asking Rafe and Henri here how Sandburg is doing. Have you checked on him?” His smile disappeared when Simon and Joel both shook their heads. “Well could someone go find out for me? The kid's been in here as long as I have, can't believe none of you didn't have five minutes to see how he's doing.” Ellison crossed his arms over his chest, disapproval in every line of his body.
“Well believe it or not Lieutenant, we've had more to do than hang around this hospital drinking lousy coffee and chatting up the nurses.” Simon answered. “We've had prisoners to process, reports to file and debriefing after debriefing. Oh, and when you're discharged, guess what you've got to look forward to, Lieutenant?”
Jim flushed with chagrin. Joel took pity on him and patted his leg; “It's okay Jim. I'll go find out where they've got the kid and how he's doing. But I thought Simon here told Dr. Bartley to have him transferred here to your room. Maybe they're still working on it.” Before Joel made it to the door, Dr. Bartley strode into the room, anger clouding his face when he saw the four Rangers standing around his patient's bed.
“If you gentlemen wouldn't mind stepping outside, I'd like to examine my patient now that he's awake.” Rafe and Henri moved toward the door, stopping when Jim protested. “That's not necessary doctor. These guys are part of my unit and are the ones who saved me from the VC. But first I want to ask you how Blair Sandburg is doing. He was brought in with me, kid had been captured by the VC a couple weeks ago, been beaten and might have a broken ankle.”
“Wouldn't know about him. This is a military hospital, as in military personnel only? As soon as we determined he was a civilian; not hard to do what with that hair, he was transferred. Now if you don't mind I'd like to start this exam. I do have other patients.”
Ellison batted away the stethoscope. Dr. Bartley started to protest, but the words withered away under Ellison's icy blue glare. “What do you mean, he was transferred? Where? There's no hospital here that treats Americans besides this hospital, is there? Are you telling me you sent that kid away without checking his injuries? He had a head injury, cracked ribs and an ankle so swollen and black he couldn't walk! And you sent him away? What the hell kind of doctor are you anyway?” Jim's voice shook with anger, outrage, and dismay. The last almost shouted. “Answer me you sonuvabitch! Where did you send that kid? Was he even conscious when you kicked him out on the street?”
Bartley was apoplectic at the end of Jim's tirade. “That hippie is a civilian! We do not treat civilians here. He was sent by ambulance to a local hospital for treatment. And don't you ever address me in that tone again, Lieutenant, or I'll have you up on charges for insubordination so fast, you'll never know what hit you.”
Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed, swaying a moment then drawing himself to his full height. “Sir! I have the right to refuse further treatment and am formally doing so at this time!” He ignored the protests from his buddies. “I am signing out of here right now, so if there are any forms you need signed, doctor, get them now.” Jim turned his back, summarily dismissing the good doctor. “Where's my uniform guys? I can't leave here dressed in this...this gown. Way too drafty.”
Jim Ellison waited impatiently for Henri to bring the Jeep around to the front of the hospital. He knew there was no way he could walk to the so-called civilian hospital in Saigon, but every second wasted signing endless forms to be discharged had put him on edge. Henri pulled up to the curb with a squeal of brakes, wide smile in place. “Brown's taxi service at your disposal, Sir!” Simon stuck his cigar between his teeth, “Taxi service my aunt fanny! All right, let's get to that 'hospital' quick before Ellison here breaks a molar.” Normally Simon would have ridden in the passenger seat, but one look at Jim's pale face and he was ordering Jim to ride up front while he drove. Henri shot Rafe a quick, confused look, but moved around to the back seat where he squeezed in with Joel and Rafe, with Rafe scrunched in the middle. As Simon pulled out in the mid morning traffic, he could hear Rafe pleading, “Guys, guys! Watch it with the elbows! Please!”
Army vehicles clogged the roadways along with rickshaws, hand carts, oxen drawn wagons, bicyclists and hundreds of others on foot. Top speed never reached over 10 mph and Simon's legs and arms were tiring from all the braking, clutching and gear shifting. Jim Ellison had not uttered the first word, just sat there with his eyes shut tightly. Simon knew the sounds and smells were bothering the younger man, but there was nothing he could do other than move them through the frustrating traffic as quickly as he could.
An exhausting hour later Simon parked the Jeep down the street from Saigon's only remaining hospital. The five men wearily climbed from the vehicle, all looking at Ellison as he held on to the fender, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. “Look Jim. Why don't you wait here and we'll go in and find Sandburg?” Simon gripped Ellison's upper arm and gently pushed him back toward the seat. “No, Captain. I'll be fine, just needed a moment to clear my head. You know I'll be able to find him faster than you could.” Sky blue eyes looked at Banks, silently pleading for the big man to understand. Simon sighed, “Alright, but we'll be keeping an eye on you.” The four men closed ranks around Jim and they marched into the hospital.
It was worse than they could have ever imagined. They had seen there were windows missing as they entered, but there was damage to the hospital throughout. And the hospital was overrun with the sick and injured. Babies wailed, children whimpered, the elderly cried out piteously. Simon tried to ask a nurse for assistance, but she shook him off and hurried to a room where the only doctor on the floor was trying to revive a grievously injured man. The hallways were crowded with patients lying on stretchers, sitting in ancient chairs or simply sitting on the floor. The ever-present fans whirled uselessly overhead, barely stirring the hot, humid air. Mosquito netting hung around most of the beds they could see, but those without that small bit of protection were at the mercy of the mosquitoes and the hordes of flies. The five Rangers walked silently through the hallways, very few even noting their passing amidst all the misery.
Ellison cleared his thoughts, remembering the low, clear tones of the young man whose voice had cut through his overwhelmed senses and righted his world. Seeking that voice, he slowly set aside all other noises, fighting the headache that was growing steadily worse as he concentrated. He felt Simon's big hand on his shoulder as they moved further into the hospital. He was aware of Joel, Rafe and Henri ahead and behind him, but his main focus was on locating that one voice. The headache grew in proportion to his efforts, filtering out the sounds of suffering and anger, searching, hoping. Simon watched as the Lieutenant's face grew more strained, lines of pain etched around his eyes and mouth. Banks could feel the slight tremors of the man's body beneath his hand, feel the shoulders tensing from the strain of listening, head tilted, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, wavering slightly as they moved. The muscles under his hand turned rock hard as Ellison abruptly stopped. The others turned to him, watching, wondering, but not speaking.
Ellison's eyes opened and he moved off with purpose. The others moved into place, knowing the search would soon be over. In a few minutes they could hear the raspy, subdued tenor voice singing softly, the only English they had heard since entering the building. As they drew closer, they heard the hitches in the voice, small gaps where breath was caught in pain. They rounded the corner and once again halted abruptly, anger, outrage and sorrow vying for dominance.
“Jesus!!” Simon Banks was appalled, and his thoughts toward a certain Dr. Bartley were murderous.
Sandburg lay on a filthy pallet on the floor, hunched in a corner. A small child lay sheltered in his arms as he continued to sing an old lullaby. Tears slid down his face, leaving streaks in the dirt. The little girl was obviously dead; the small chest was still as were the pale features, tiny mouth tinged blue. The young man lifted a shaking hand and smoothed the shiny black hair, then lifted it to swipe weakly at the flies buzzing around. The motion brought a gasp of pain, interrupting the singing. Sandburg slowly became aware he was no longer alone and painfully lifted his head to look down the corridor. He blinked several times to clear his vision, but the large shapes continued to blur.
“Are you the doctor?” His throat felt like sandpaper, but he couldn't remember the last time he had been given something to drink. “You don't have to worry about her anymore, man. She died a couple of hours ago, I think. She had stopped crying for her Mama...I think she knew she was dying or something.” The voice choked off as more silent tears rolled down his face.
Jim rushed down the hall and dropped down beside the young man. “Chief? You remember me doncha? It's me, Jim Ellison and we're gonna get you out of here, okay? Chief?” Jim swallowed past the large lump lodged in his throat as the tired blue eyes looked up at him, squinting to make out his face.
“Jim? Jim, that really you, man? You okay, I mean I guess you are but you were hurt...
I remember the medic saying som'thin'.....your head, back.....” The voice trailed off as Blair continued to stare at the face he thought he'd never see again.
“I'm okay and you will be too. We just need to get you out of here and checked over by a doctor. Did they give you anything here? Has a doctor done anything since the 'Army' doctor sent you here?” Jim knew his anger and bitterness colored his voice, but he couldn't help it. How the hell could anyone send this kid away in the shape he's in? Makes me want to throttle that self-righteous, arrogant prick to within an inch of his life. Just might do it, right after I get this kid some medical attention. Jim looked up at the four men standing silently behind him. “We need to get him out of here and soon. I don't think he's had any care since he got here.”
Joel knelt down beside him and asked hesitantly, “Sandburg, can I take the little one? You don't have to worry; I'll take good care of her.” The sorrow on his face matched that in his voice.
“No, I'm lookin' after her. Her mom was killed....I heard someone telling...think it was a doctor.” His arms tightened fractionally around the small body. “Nobody else had any time..... Jim, is she, I mean, I tried to...gave her my water and rice...but she couldn't keep it down. Is she? Please Jim, I really tried.” The curly head bent down as tears flooded his face, dropping like rain onto the small face. Jim reached out and caught his fingers in the tangled curls, rubbing the back of Blair's neck in a soothing motion.
“I know you tried Chief. But she's gone and Joel here is just gonna take her to someone who can care for her, see that she gets buried with her mother, okay?” He felt the thin shoulders shake harder and watched Joel gently remove the small body from Blair's embrace. Joel stood with the child cradled to his chest, then he, Rafe and Henri left to find a nurse or a doctor, anyone to make final arrangements for her. Jim moved the young man down onto the pallet, checking his vital signs, monitoring his breathing. Simon crouched beside him, nose wrinkled against the odor of stale urine and body waste.
“God Jim! This is supposed to be a hospital! Why haven't they cleaned him up?” The white teeth were almost biting through his cigar in frustration. “Have they done anything for him? Can you tell if he's had any care, any kind of treatment?”
“Hey Cap'n Banks. Did I thank you for gettin' us outta that tunnel? Well, I do, thank you, that is.” Blair smiled, tears catching on the upturned mouth. He turned back to Jim, “Jim, man, sorry 'bout the smell and all, but no one 'round and I jus' couldn' hold it.....”
The raspy voice faded to a whisper and then nothing.
“Jim! He okay? Did he...?”
“No Simon, he just passed out. I'm amazed he held on as long as he did. I don't think he's had anything to eat or drink since we were at the field hospital. He's in really bad shape sir. We have got to get him some help.”
Simon was amazed at the fierceness in his Lieutenant's voice; Jim rarely showed any emotion. He watched as Jim gently slid his hands under Sandburg's shoulders and eased him to a semi-upright position, head resting on the Ranger's chest. Blair stirred at the movement, eyelids fluttering open. Neither man understood the words Blair spoke in Vietnamese, but knew he was speaking to the little girl he had tried to care for. The words were soothing, consoling, tinged with regret. Sandburg had little strength left and soon slid back into unconsciousness. Simon turned as Joel, Rafe and Henri returned, followed by a petite nun, her face haggard and pinched by exhaustion. She paused and spoke rapidly in French, waving her hands about. Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, then settled his glasses firmly in place, shaking his head at her, expression on his face telling her that he didn't understand the first word she'd said. She tapped her foot impatiently, then began in halting, but recognizable English. “No room here.” With that she pointed at the young man resting against Ellison. “No GI here. You break hospital, make many hurt.” With that she turned on her heel and left four men gaping after her.
“What the hell was that all about?” Henri asked angrily. “He's not a soldier! Hell, I don't think he's old enough for the draft!”
“She's probably referring to all the fighting around here back in, what? February? Lots of locals killed in the artillery fire, probably some of the firefights damaged the hospital and they've never had the time or resources to make repairs.” Joel shook his head sadly.
“That doesn't matter right now. We have to get this kid medical attention and soon.” Jim shifted the slight frame into his arms and powered up off the floor. Simon moved in front of him and demanded, “Give me the kid, Ellison. We'll get him out of here, but I want you to take it easy. You're not 100% and you know it. Hell, you're probably gonna end up right in the hospital next to him, the way you look.” The others noted the sheen of sweat on the Lieutenant's face, the tight lines of pain around his mouth and eyes. Jim nodded tersely and passed his burden to Simon. “All right men, keep an eye out for unfriendlies and for god's sake keep Ellison on his feet. We are out of here!”
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The walk back to the Jeep was all Jim Ellison could manage. He knew Henri and Rafe were practically glued to his sides to catch him when he collapsed. His headache was so intense his eyes were reduced to mere slits in order to watch where he was going. Other injuries had awakened with vicious reminders of his overdoing it straight out of the hospital. But he still had his hearing fixed on the young man Simon Banks carried. The heart rate was rapid but strong, breathing shallow and slow, probably the kid's body trying to take it easy on the damaged ribs. Joel walked alongside Simon, holding the injured ankle, keeping it elevated. Jim looked at the back seat, noting how far, how high it seemed from the pavement at that moment. He tried to lift his foot, but his coordination was shot and he hadn't the resolve to pull himself into the Jeep on his own, then he felt H and Rafe lifting him. He slumped into the front seat, holding his head in his hands. He listened as the same three squeezed into the same small back seat and then pull Sandburg in to lie across their laps. Jim turned enough to see Henri supporting the curly head, strong arm around the kid's chest. The Jeep rocked as Simon climbed into the driver's seat, the engine gunned to life stabbing pain through Jim's head even though he had anticipated the noise. His vision faded and a groan escaped as it felt his head was close to exploding. He heard Simon calling to him, tried to force a reply but the words slid away as he lost his battle to stay conscious.
Simon cursed as he put the Jeep into neutral and worked to rig a safety harness across Ellison's chest. When he felt the Lieutenant would stay in the seat, he turned to check on his other men. “We're heading back to the hospital. I think Jim is hurt a lot worse than he or that f&*&ing idiot Bartley let on. And what the hell are we gonna do with the kid? No way Bartley is going to check him out, much less admit him.”
“I have an idea sir.” Simon turned to Rafe and motioned for him to continue. Rafe smiled and squirmed a bit as he was sandwiched again between Henri and Joel. “I know a doctor at the hospital I think we can trust to take care, good care, of both Jim and Sandburg here.
While Jim was being checked in, I was outside trying to clear my head and I literally ran into Dr. Capalad. He was out sneaking a quick smoke and after a lot of apologizing we started talking. He's from the Philippines, moved to the States just a few years ago to finish his residency or something and then started practicing at a small hospital. Lo and behold Uncle Sam picks him to send to 'Nam and poor guy has to practically live at the hospital. Says if you don't have 'round eyes', you're liable to get shot by the MPs. I think I can get him to check these two and admit them. What do you say?” he finished quickly.
“I think we best get on the road and look up this doctor friend of yours.” Simon steered the Jeep smoothly into the traffic and began the long drive back to the army's hospital. He noted with relief when Jim's head finally raised fractionally, the slack features tightening with awareness. They were crawling along with the rest, scarcely doing 5 mph at this point. Simon yelled at the men in the back, “How's the kid doing? I think Ellison here is back with us!”
“Sandburg is still out Captain,” Henri reported. “He seems to be breathing okay, but he keeps mumbling in, I guess, Vietnamese and reaching out. I think he's still trying to take care of that little girl.”
Simon nodded that he understood and as they crept past a string of bars, he realized they were only a few blocks from the hospital. He yelled back at Joel, “You know of any shortcuts we can take to get around this mess, Sgt.?”
“Sorry Captain, most of the back streets are blocked by mortar fire damage. Best bet is to stay put and deal with it.”
Simon scowled at the snarl of traffic, bit down on his cigar and downshifted. What seemed like hours later, he pulled around to the side of the hospital, near the doctors assigned quarters, following Rafe's directions. The men in the back did a bit, make that a lot of careful shifting until Rafe could pull free without jostling Sandburg too much. He hurried inside, looking for the young doctor he hoped would help. He found him out back, grabbing another quick smoke. He quickly explained the situation, mentally crossing his fingers that Capalad would agree to help. He couldn't read the other man's expression; Dr. Capalad had quickly learned not to show any emotion, no matter the situation. Being made the brunt of racist, degrading 'jokes' had seen to that. Rafe found himself holding his breath until the doctor nodded his head and advised him to bring his friends to a part of the emergency rarely used anymore. Rafe smiled his thanks and rushed back to the Jeep.
Twenty minutes later both men were on stretchers and Dr. Capalad, aided by two nurses he trusted, was quickly and efficiently examining them. He was appalled at Sandburg's condition and became visibly agitated when Rafe told him how Dr. Bartley had had the young man sent to the 'other' hospital without any treatment. The nurses started two IVs; one loaded with vitamins to combat the obvious malnourishment. The filthy, torn clothing had been cut off and hastily discarded. The nurses gave Blair a quick, gentle sponge bath, checking for injuries. Even unconscious Blair recognized the small luxury and sighed. The nurses smiled at each other as they eased a standard hospital gown over his arms then re-covered him with the sheet and blanket. Dr. Capalad wrote several orders on a chart and one nurse swiftly applied another tourniquet and drew several syringes of blood for the lab. She and the other nurse then wheeled the stretcher away. Simon started to protest, “I sent him for x-rays. Need to see the damage to that ankle and his ribs.” Dr. Capalad explained, effectively calming the large Captain. Dr. Capalad turned to Ellison who had been blearily watching the doctor examine the young man. Dr. Capalad next thoroughly examined the Lieutenant, with a minimum of touch, much to Jim's relief. He too had had to put on one of the hospital gowns and the material scratched at his over-sensitized skin. He could smell the harsh detergent and the bleach used by the hospital laundry. Dr. Capalad emptied a syringe into the IV port and stepped back. “Lieutenant, other than your obvious injuries, I believe you have a concussion much worse than that 'other' doctor told you about. You need to be re-admitted and observed for at least 48 hours.” The doctor scribbled hastily on Ellison's chart, “I'll leave you here until your friend is back from x-ray, then assign you to the same room or ward, whatever is available.”
Simon and Joel watched, amused at the consternation on Jim's face as the doctor told him what was going to be done instead of discussing options. They were also amazed at how Jim seemed to acquiesce as the doctor told him what he would do. “If you will excuse me, I'm going to head down to x-ray and see what the films are showing.” Dr. Capalad set off a rapid pace without waiting for a reply.
Simon shook his head and chuckled, drawing questioning looks from his men. “I'd love to know how he just did that. You just laid there Jim and didn't bat an eye or make the first protest. I need to learn how he did that; you sure don't follow my orders that quietly.”
“Sorry sir. It's just that he treated me just like Sally always did.” More questioning looks followed that statement. “Um, after our Mom left, Dad hired this tiny Oriental lady named Sally to look after us and the house and stuff. She might have been a little woman, but she sure ruled with an iron frying pan, know what I mean?” Nods and laughter answered his question. “Anyway, she took care of us, did a lot more than just be a housekeeper and babysitter; that woman really loved me and Stevie, my little brother. And this doctor had that same no nonsense, 'don't give me none of your guff' tone to his voice.”
“Yep, my mama resembled those remarks, my man!” Joel laughed, “You know, she barely came up to my shoulders once I turned 13 or 14, but let me tell you, that woman swung a mean switch and none of us boys ever sassed her more than once!” The laughter died down and an easy silence came over the Rangers as they all settled down to wait for their wayward 'orphan', namely one game little college kid.
Rotor blades beat relentlessly overhead, but this time Jim realized it was only the ceiling fan pushing the hot, humid air around; this time the noise didn't pulse in his head. He squinted one eye open,huh, night already. Must've fallen asleep finally . He turned his head slightly and watched the slight, steady rise and fall of Blair's chest as he slept on the bed to his right. He watched for a few minutes, relief flooding through him; the breathing pattern was that of a deep sleep, not unconsciousness.
He remembered when they wheeled the kid back from x-ray and Dr. Capalad had shown them the films. The ribs were cracked, four of them, but none broken. The ankle was another story. A hairline fracture of the tibia, two small fractures of the ankle itself, amazing there was not more damage after all Sandburg had been put through. Spectacular bruising was widespread across his body; he remembered how fluently Dr. Capalad had cursed when he saw the clear boot imprints on the chest and near the right kidney. Guy sure has learned American slang pretty fast since moving from the Philippines. 'Course he does get his p's and f's mixed up some. Took me a minute to figure out what hockey had to do with calling someone a bastard. Dr. Capalad and the nurses soon had both men bandaged and splinted and ready to be admitted to the same room. Dr. Capalad especially wanted to keep an eye on Sandburg; concerned the injuries to the ribs could bring on pneumonia. Simon and Joel had assisted with the gurneys while Rafe and Henri marched ahead to clear the way. They had been settled in the room for a while when Dr. Bartley had shown up, absolutely livid.
“This is a clear violation of hospital rules and I will make sure that that....that....damned hippie is out of this military hospital immediately.” Bartley continued his tirade, but Blair remained asleep through the whole thing. Jim lay there, glaring at the pompous idiot, telling himself it would hurt him more to deck the bastard than it would to hold his temper and stay in the bed. Simon showed up five minutes later with the Chief of Staff and Dr. Capalad. The COS heard most of the vindictive diatribe. He silenced Bartley with a scowl and proceeded to ream Bartley but good. Jim's mood improved quickly and he relaxed against his pillows, enjoying the show. Dr. Capalad stood between their beds an impassive look on his face, arms crossed over his chest. Rafe, Henri and Joel were grinning hugely and all noticed the crowd gathering around the open door. Before it was over, Bartley was on report and confined to his quarters, indefinitely. He stormed out of the room, glaring malevolently at the Rangers and Blair as he left.
The Chief of Staff apologized to all and promised that Sandburg would receive the best care available, civilian or not; after all he was an American. Dr. Capalad followed him out after a quick check on his patients and giving succinct orders for Ellison to stay in bed and rest....no going to the bathroom, no sitting up, nothing other than pulling the cord to ring for a nurse. Ellison quietly agreed, astonishing his buddies once again.
Jim smiled to himself in the dark, chuckling quietly at the memory of Sally giving him the same orders, almost word for word, when he had come down with a nasty strain of flu during high school. The smile disappeared as he remembered his father's disdain that a simple virus would make him miss the championship football game. “Come on Jimmy, this is the game! Surely you're not just going to lie there and let someone else grab all the glory today?” Jim shook his head, better not to dwell on memories of his father right now. The door to his room swung open quietly as Rafe and Henri snuck in. The bright grins on both faces and a tantalizing aroma gave them away. His nose twitched as he inhaled deeply.
“Cheeseburger and onion rings. You guys are the best you know! Come on, give! The shit they call food in this place makes you wonder who the Army considers the enemy.”
Rafe pulled a small table to Jim's bedside as Henri laid out the goodies. “Sorry, no way to sneak in a beer, man. Besides, we weren't sure about beer mixing with the medicines they're pumping into your arm there,” nodding at the IV running into Jim's left hand. Henri smiled brightly, “Don't worry Jim, we'll be sure to knock a couple back for you after we leave.” Rafe elbowed him, snickering.
Jim ignored the two clowning around as he bit into the greasy cheeseburger, rolling his eyes in feigned ecstasy. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, not allowing himself to wonder just what kind of meat it was. This was a cheeseburger and it had been weeks since he'd had any food like this. And he intended to enjoy every last crumb. A low groan from the other bed alerted them to the imminent return to consciousness by Sandburg. Henri moved to the other bed, as Rafe turned on a small lamp in the corner of the room. Blair shifted uneasily, mumbling under his breath. As the mumbling grew louder and more agitated, Jim laid the burger aside, all thought of food forgotten. “What's wrong with him H? Is his fever worse? Maybe you better go get the nurse or the doctor.”
“I'll go, you stay here with them H.” Rafe rushed out to grab the nurse they had snuck past just a few minutes ago. As he rounded the corner he spotted Joel and Simon at the desk chatting with the nurse. Not wanting to disturb the other patients, he didn't yell, but did loudly announce, “Sandburg is waking up, and I think there's something wrong.”
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Blair watched as the NVA soldiers, rifles at the ready, surrounded the men of the village. He wanted to go to Dr. Stoddard's side, but stayed with Guardian, knowing he needed aid. Then a woman screamed, yelling for her husband. Suddenly, all the women from the village and Naomi were running toward them, brandishing guns and knives, all screaming at the startled soldiers. He watched as Naomi stabbed one, stabbed him over and over again until she was covered in blood. The soldiers started shooting, the women were shooting, everyone was shouting and Blair couldn't move. His pacifist, dedicated pacifist, mother had just killed a man and she was grinning at him, face splattered with blood. He opened his mouth to ask, why, but no words would come out. He was tackled by a soldier who raised his bayonet high into the air. Before the blade flashed down, Blair glanced over at his mother, but she wasn't kneeling beside the dead man anymore. Blair looked back up for the blade that would kill him and found Naomi holding the bayonet, triumphant look on her bloodied face. Blair held his breath as she raised it in both hands, then plunged the blade toward his chest. Blair loosed the held breath in a blood-curdling scream.
Noooooooooo!!!! The anguish in the voice halted all movement in the small hospital room save for one person. Jim ripped the IV from his hand and was at the young man's bedside before anyone blinked. Blair's eyes were wide open, unseeing except for the images from his nightmare, the irises almost non-existent the pupils were so dilated. “Sandburg! Come on kid, wake up. Blair, you need to wake up. Now!” Jim gently slapped the bruised face, but the eyes remained unseeing, nostrils flared wide as he strove to gain a deep breath, even with the pain from his injured ribs. Jim straightened and looked across at Simon and Joel watching at him from the other side of the kid's bed. Jim looked down and saw that Sandburg was on the verge of hyperventilating, arms and legs moving agitatedly. Reluctantly, he drew his hand back again and landed a stinging blow that rocked the young man's head. Startled blue eyes blinked back tears as Blair looked around, raising a shaky hand to his aching jaw.
“Chief? You with us now?” The curly head nodded gingerly, hand rubbing his heavily stubbled face. “You alright? You kinda scared us there for a minute.” Blair's eyes closed slowly, but popped open instantly, frightened. His lips moved, but no words emerged. “You need a drink of water Chief?” The nod was more emphatic this time. Joel found a small cup near the bed and gently lifted Blair's head until he was able to sip. The water was far from cold, but it soothed Blair's parched throat.
“Thanks. My throat...” A ghost of a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. Joel patted his shoulder then handed the cup to Simon who refilled it in the closet sized bathroom. They watched as Blair again drained the cup, then Joel lowered his head back to the pillow. Blair flashed him a grateful look then locked his gaze on Jim. “What happened?”
“You tell us Chief. You had been asleep for a long time, then, I guess you were having a nightmare or something.” Jim watched as Sandburg's face paled when he mentioned the nightmare, “Was it that bad, Chief? You need to talk about it?”
Sandburg shook his head, not trusting his voice at that moment. He was saved from having to explain when Dr. Capalad hurried in. “I told you,” glaring once at Jim, “stay in bed!” A nurse took Jim's arm and maneuvered him back to his bed. “You wake now?” Not waiting for an answer, the doctor checked his patient's eyes, “You scared a lot of patients a few minutes ago. What happened?”
“Just a bad dream, doctor. Sorry about the noise.” Blair closed his eyes, willing himself not to see the nightmare images again.
“No need to apologize. Many here have nightmares, some every night. Now, let me finish checking you over.” The exam was as quick and efficient as ever, with the same minimum of touch, for which Blair was grateful. He'd had enough of manhandling, enough to last a lifetime. “Your lungs are a bit congested, but not bad enough to start antibiotics. You keep elevated, no moving around, let your ribs heal. Got it?” Blair started to answer but realized it wasn't really a question as the doctor was already moving the blanket aside to check his ankle. The gentle fingers probed the swollen, blackened flesh, drawing a hiss of pain from tightly clenched teeth. “Your ankle is very bad. I do not think you will need surgery, but there is damage to not only the bones. Too much strenuous activity, but from what I was told, you had no choice about that. The swelling should start to go down in a few days and I cannot stress enough that you have to keep it elevated. You cannot put any weight on it. Right?” Blair nodded and Dr. Capalad granted him a small, pleased smile. “I will check on you tomorrow. Now, sleep. Both of you.” An arched brow was directed at Jim, whose IV had been restarted while he watched the doctor work. Another nod answered and Dr. Capalad started out, “All you people out! These men must rest. You can come back tomorrow. And where did this food come from? Nurse, get rid of this!” He strode out of the room, wondering what the laughter that erupted was all about.
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The next morning dawned clear and hot and humid; SOP. Jim wiped the trickle of sweat from the side of his face. He had slipped from bed earlier that morning, but not before he could escape breakfast. The thought of that brought a look of disgust to his face, stomach rebelling at the memory. He had walked around the hospital twice and was dismayed by the weakness of his body. He was proud of his physique, his stamina and worked hard to keep himself in prime condition. Hell, I wasn't this bad off after that bullet wound. Wonder what Colonel Travers would think now. He laughed to himself as he thought of Travers' musings, thinking no one could hear him. Jim had thought he was imagining things, but soon realized he really was hearing Travers' talking about him and the regimen he had determinedly followed after being wounded. And here he was, barely able to walk the corridors of the hospital twice before looking around for a chair to fall into.
“Ellison! I thought the doctor ordered you to stay in your room!” Jim jumped guiltily at the booming voice of his Captain. “Dammit man; sit down before you fall down!” Simon grabbed a wheelchair parked in the hallway and swung it around the Lieutenant who was swaying like a sapling in a strong wind. The man's face was pale and dotted with sweat and Simon could tell he was in pain. He shoved the chair behind Ellison's knees and with a large hand on his shoulder, guided him to the seat. “I do not have time to stay at this hospital to make sure you get some rest and recover!” Jim started to explain his actions, but a large hand raised in the air in front of his face, “Not one word, Lieutenant. Not one word! You are going back to your room and you will stay there until the doctor says otherwise!” With that Jim found himself carted back to his room and whisked into bed by a frowning nurse, guarded by a glowering Captain.
Sandburg watched the proceedings with blue eyes huge with wonder and amusement. Jim grumbled under his breath, but followed every directive given by Nurse Stadler. Joan Stadler had first served in the Army Corp of Nurses in Korea. She had been all of 20 years old when she first set foot there. She and 8 others had been driven to a MASH unit where their days and nights were spent in hellish conditions interspersed with days of endless sleep and countless games of baseball. Now serving in Viet Nam, Lieutenant Stadler was all business; thorough, efficient and totally committed to her 'boys'. She had Ellison in bed, sponged down, re-gowned and thermometer firmly in place in five minutes flat. She checked his pulse and blood pressure, removed the thermometer, noted all the vital signs, smoothed the sheet and blanket, and gave him a glass of ice water with economical ease. Simon watched with admiration as she moved with smooth, practiced grace. She was tall, hair worn sleekly under a startlingly white nurse's cap, big brown eyes flecked with gold, beautiful mocha hued complexion. She took the cup from Jim; “I'm very disappointed in you Lieutenant Ellison. I thought you to be a more reasonable man, capable of knowing his limits when injured. Now listen to me. You will stay in this bed for the rest of the day and you will eat your lunch, all of it, and you will rest. If and when the doctor okays you to be up and about, you will do so under supervision. Are we clear on this?” All this was spoken in a low, amber toned voice, deep and feminine. Jim found himself nodding and glanced over to see Simon nodding with him. He hid a grin as he watched Simon following every move she made.
Joan moved over to check on the young man in the other bed. That morning she had taken the time to shave him, as he was still far too shaky to manage it for himself. She was surprised when she took a moment after she finished. My god! He can't be a day over sixteen! What in the world is this child doing here in the middle of the godforsaken war? She had given him a thorough sponge bath, noting he was very at ease with her. She had had hardened soldiers blush like teenagers while performing the same duty. They had chatted while she worked, learned he was actually nineteen, had traveled to Laos with a professor and student team to work there, how they had been caught up in the senseless violence. When he recounted the horror of watching the NVA soldiers killing the villagers, students, his mentor and his mother, she had comforted him as he determinedly held back tears and fought for control. Blair smiled up at her, “Hey Joan, you back for more blood?” He laughed with her as she acknowledged his intense dislike of all things that resembled needles. “No, I'm not here to play vampire Blair. Just to check your vitals before lunch is served.”
A groan of theatrical proportions came from the other bed. “Just for that, what Blair doesn't finish, you get to eat!” Grumbles of protest followed that, as she turned and smiled brilliantly at Blair, whispering, “I'll make sure they put extra on your tray. That should teach him a lesson!”
“I heard that!”
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The rest of the day both men napped and talked, and talked some more. Blair napped more than he talked and when he did, it was to ask Jim about his keen sense of hearing and sight. The kid was excited enough to vibrate the bed when Jim told him about being able to see a target more clearly without his rifle scope than with. Blair had a pretty good idea about his hearing, especially after what he had witnessed down in that tunnel. He wanted to try some tests but Jim nixed that idea when Blair had yawned for the tenth time. “Come on Chief. Give it a rest today, okay? You're about to fall asleep but you're fighting it like a kid who doesn't want to take his afternoon nap. Did you give your mom this hard.....” Jim snapped his mouth shut when he realized that what was intended to tease the young man was only a reminder that his Mom was dead. What an idiot! I should just give up on talking, always make a mess of it anyway! He watched as the blue eyes darkened with pain and sorrow and guilt. Oh Christ! I sure f*&*ed that up! Way to go Ellison! “Chief, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything...”
Blair's hand waved in the air, cutting off the awkward apology. “Not your fault man. And you sure don't need to apologize.” The voice was low, less raspy, more soothing to the Ranger's ears “You're right, I am kinda tired,” with that Blair rolled slightly away from Jim and closed his eyes, tears trickling slowly down his face. He hurt, he was tired and he just couldn't stop the tears or the memories. Especially the memories. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Naomi's face; smiling, laughing, eyes sparkling, darkening with pain, mouth open, screaming in pain, eyes wide with shock. He woke with a start, bolting upright in bed, falling back with his ribs shooting pain through his chest in protest. Jim had rolled out of bed when he first heard the young man's breathing speed up. He stood next to Blair's bed, watching the expressive face, almost able to 'see' what the young man was dreaming. He took Blair's hand in his and held on, trying to convey that he was there for him. Blair sat up so fast he couldn't do anything, but he did help ease him down, while pulling the cord for the nurse.
“Hey Chief. It's okay. The nurse should be here soon. Try to take short, shallow breaths, okay? You need to calm down. Look at me and try to breathe like I'm doing.” Blair locked his eyes on Jim's, concentrating on slowing his breathing, following Jim's instructions. Joan Stadler hurried in, Simon right on her heels. She allowed a brief look at Jim, didn't say anything to him. She checked Blair's pulse and respiration, quickly took his blood pressure and then his pupil reaction. Jim looked at Simon who had noted how Sandburg had a death grip on Ellison's hand. Simon moved to Jim's side, wanting to be near in case the man fell over, which didn't look to be too far off in the future, pale as the man was right now.
“You have another nightmare, Blair?” Joan asked calmly while adjusting the IV lines. The young man was shaking, deeply affected by this latest assault while asleep. He looked up and saw the understanding on Joan's face, nodded and closed his eyes; tears sliding down his face again. “I'm going to find the doctor and ask him for a little something to help you sleep tonight. Something to keep those bad dreams away, okay?” Blair nodded once then turned his head away, ashamed at everyone seeing him in tears yet again. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop them, but it happened so often anymore. A firm hand turned his face. He kept his eyes shut tightly, not wanting to see the disgust on Jim's face.
“Chief? Come on, open your eyes.” The voice was full of concern, not derision and Blair warily opened them to see Jim smiling at him. “It's okay Sandburg. I think I know what these dreams are about and you have every reason to be upset. You have nothing to be ashamed of, right Captain?”
“Damn straight, Ellison. Look Blair. You were caught in a situation you had no control over.” Blair started to contradict, “Uh, uh, uh. You let me finish here.” Blair closed his mouth and wiped his face with his free hand, noticing for the first time that Jim was still holding his other hand. “You had no way to avoid, much less control what happened in that village, but I do understand why you're having nightmares. Shit! I had nightmares for months after my first battle over here. It was at night and it was like living through a nightmare while it was happening. I woke myself and a whole company a few times, screaming my head off. So, I don't wanna hear any more of this crap about you feeling ashamed. I've done my share of crying here and I dare say I'll do some more before I get to go home again. You hear what I'm saying?” Those big blue eyes seemed to look straight into his soul, shining with tears, “Yeah, I understand. But it's so hard,” this last whispered, a plea for help. “It may be hard, but I think you'll come through this just fine Sandburg. And since I am a captain, I could make that an order.” Simon smiled as he spoke, garnering an answering smile. “Thanks, Captain Banks. I'll try, I will.”
Simon patted Sandburg's leg, then turned to Jim. “You. Back in bed. Now.” Jim squeezed the cold hand between his one more time before Simon hustled him to his own bed. Simon stood and looked at the two, “You know. I think this could be the beginning of a 'beautiful relationship'.” Two pairs of startled blue eyes locked on him. Simon loosed a booming laugh. “Two more total opposites I could never imagine, but I think you'll be good for each other. You know, kind of like two sides of the same coin or something. Good friends, best friends often happen that way.” With that, he jammed his cigar between his teeth and left two men gaping in surprise.
Jim Ellison strode through the hospital, aware of the sick and injured being treated there. He felt guilty that he had recovered from his injuries so quickly while others would be there for weeks or months, if they recovered at all. He had reported back to his unit three days earlier after Dr. Capalad had finally agreed to release him. He was not a good patient and several of the nurses had backed him when the doctor had seemed reluctant to consider discharging him. He grinned to himself when he thought about Nurse Callahan; she had almost been in tears when she thought he might be there for her next shift. Not winning any popularity contests around here Ellison!
He had been back to the hospital several times each day to check up on Blair. The kid was making progress; his ankle looked almost normal, the bruising had faded and he had gained a couple pounds as his appetite returned. They had had a lot of time to talk as the kid regained his strength and could stay awake for more than an hour at a time. The kid wouldn't talk about what had happened at the village, but he did fill Jim in on what had happened while a prisoner of the NVA. It sickened him to think about the gentle young man he had befriended undergoing such a harrowing experience. He stretched out his hearing to check on Sandburg, finding it easy these days to hone in on the young man's heart beat. And what he heard had him rushing down the corridors. Sandburg's heart was racing, pounding and his respirations were on the verge of hyperventilation.
He charged into the room to find Blair surrounded by soldiers, US Army. A colonel was barking questions at the young man in Russian, one question after another with no pause for Blair to possibly answer. Sandburg was sweating and his face held the sickly pallor as if he were seconds away from throwing up on the blonde haired man leaning over him, shouting in his face. Jim didn't hesitate; he came up behind the colonel, whirled him away from Sandburg and placed himself between his friend and the others.
“What the hell is going on in here? And just what do you think you're doing? This kid is sick.. He's in no shape for an interrogation, much less one in a foreign language.”
The colonel straightened his jacket, glanced at his men and shook his head, “What I am doing is no business of yours Lieutenant. Now back off or I'll have you arrested.”
“I rescued this man and that makes it my business. Did you clear this with his doctor? I can't see him letting you in here at all, much less unsupervised.”
“My questions for this boy are none of your business and I'm ordering you to stand down right now! One more word out of you and you will spend the night in the brig.” The colonel's face was a mottled red, veins in his neck standing out. Jim looked at the four men standing behind the colonel and acknowledged there was not a whole lot he could accomplish if he were arrested. And it would only be worse for Sandburg if he weren't there to intercede. He nodded his head and moved to the head of the bed, big hand resting reassuringly on the young man's shoulder. Blair flashed a grateful look at Jim before turning his attention back to the colonel.
“I understood part of what you asked me, but I only studied Russian for one semester last year. I'm not what you'd consider fluent in the language, but if you'll...”
“Shut up! I know you understood every word I said and I have every reason to believe that you were in Laos to spy for you comrades!” The colonel continued, seemingly oblivious to the shocked look on Sandburg's face, mouth open in soundless protest. “Now, I want you to give me the names of your contacts. How were you going to pass the information on our troop movements? Was it someone in the village? Is that why all those people were massacred? To make sure you got your precious, traitorous information through to mother Russia? Answer me boy!”
Blair had lost all color. His hand had crept unconsciously to his shoulder as the colonel accused him of spying, of being a traitor; he now had hold of Jim's hand in a white knuckled death grip. But Jim was so angry he didn't notice the pain or the lack of sensation in his fingers.
“I don't know where you got your information, sir,” the sarcastic, caustic tone with the word 'sir' enough to get him court-martialed, “but this 'man' was taken prisoner by the NVA, beaten and tortured by them for almost two weeks. He was trying to escape when we found their headquarters, even after he'd been forced to walk on a busted ankle that was so black and swollen it looked like it would burst open. This same man watched while those same soldiers killed his mentor, his fellow students, villagers and his mother!” Jim's eyes flashed blue fire as he unconsciously moved toward the colonel and his men, backing them further away from the injured man. “Sandburg helped me avoid capture down in that tunnel and you accuse him of being some kind of communist?” He shook his head and turned back to Blair who was tugging insistently at his hand.
“Jim, man, don't! You're only pissing him off and he'll, like have you arrested. And that would be really uncool! C'mon man. Calm down!” Those deep blue eyes were imploring. Jim mentally shook himself; if he were locked up he couldn't protect the kid from whatever was going on here. He straightened his shoulders and squarely faced the colonel. “Sir! Is there anything I can do to help straighten out this situation, whatever the 'situation' is in this case?” A flash of color at the door caught his eye. Good! Joan knows there's a problem in here. Help should be on the way shortly!
“I should not have to repeat myself, Lieutenant! One more outburst from you, any more interference, and you will be facing a court martial. Are we clear on this?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
The colonel turned his attention back to Blair. “I asked you a question 'Comrade' Sandburg and I'm going to get an answer. Do you understand me?” This last was spoken in a soft, low, dangerous tone. Blair swallowed convulsively, darted a worried look at Jim before answering.
“Look, I don't know anything about 'troop' movement. I was in that village with Professor Stoddard to do an anthropological study. We had already been in five other villages. I.....”his frantic explanation was halted by a loud voice from the door.
“What is going on in here! I don't remember authorizing anyone to be in this room, other than Lt. Ellison and Capt. Banks. And I did not authorize anyone to be in here interrogating my patient!” Doctor Capalad was only about 5'6” and weighed about 130 pounds, but right now his anger was palpable and the soldiers with the colonel took a few steps back.
“I'm Colonel Norman Oliver; doctor and I don't need anyone's permission to question a suspected double agent, a traitor!”
“You are very wrong when you say you don't need anyone's permission, because you do need mine! You can leave now or I will have MP's here in less than 5 minutes to arrest you. You understand?” Dr. Capalad didn't move, not a finger but his entire body radiated energy, like an arrow poised to fly from a crossbow. Ellison raised an eyebrow in admiration as he watched Oliver mutter to himself about busy body interfering know-it-all doctors as he marched out of the small room ahead of his men.
“Hooweeee, doc! You sure know how to clear a room! You had a lot of practice with this sort of thing?” the respect clearly showing in Ellison's voice.
“G#&&*#ed a**hole, think he can tell me what to do for my patient. He can go p#&* himself.” Dr. Capalad quickly checked his patient, patted his shoulder before leaving, “You're okay, pulse a little too fast, but that I understand. That's the kind of soldier who shoots anyone without round eyes and then asks questions. Makes me want to bomick!” The doctor gave Jim a knowing look and headed out to check on other patients.
Jim turned back to the injured student, but before he could say anything, Simon strode into the room. “What the hell is going on around here Ellison? Joan got hold of me, going on about you being arrested and Blair here being accused of spying....
Can't I leave you two alone for five minutes without some kind of disaster coming down on you?” A big grin was quickly smothered by clamping down on a cigar as Simon realized the situation had already been resolved.
“No problem here now, Captain. Some jerk of a colonel named Oliver was in here accusing Sandburg here of spying and forwarding info on troop movement or something to the NVA and the Russians!” “Colonel Norman Oliver?” Jim nodded. “Well, that explains a lot. He's not army Jim; he's a spook, CIA. Some mighty strange goings on since he and his bunch arrived here. I've heard rumors of gun smuggling and an increase of drug trafficking. Seems mighty fishy if you ask me.” Simon focused his attention on Sandburg. “Hey kid, you planning on getting out of here anytime soon?” In a softer tone, “You're looking some better today. Looks to me like you've managed to put on a few pounds.”
Blair smiled at the big, gruff captain. He had been more than a little afraid of Simon at first, but soon figured out that was just Simon's way of keeping things he couldn't control at arms length. “Yes sir, much better. I don't know when I'm getting out of here, the doctor keeps telling me 'we'll see'. I've been up and around for a few minutes using crutches, but he won't tell me anything definite.” A petulant tone had crept into Blair's voice; he had been getting more and more antsy to get out of the hospital bed since Jim had been released.
“Well, it best be sooner than later.” He turned to Ellison. “Just got orders from HQ today. The higher ups have decided that Professor Stoddard is too important a person to leave in Laos, never knowing if he's buried in an unmarked grave or anything. You've been ordered to be dropped as close to that village as possible and recover his body, Jim. They wanted you to go today, but I reminded them of your recent injuries and they agreed to wait until Monday. Think you'll be up to it, Lieutenant?”
“I'm ready now, Captain, but I appreciate the extra time to prepare. So, Chief, think you can draw me a map of the area and guide me to the village from here?”
“Uh, uh.” Both Rangers turned to stare at him questioningly. “I'm going with you.” Both soldiers shook their heads, but Blair started speaking before they could nix the idea. “Yes! I am going. You need me with you Jim, you know that! I can help you with, you know, the, the sensory thing problem. Besides, I wanna visit my Mom one last time.” Blair's voice had dropped to a whisper when he spoke of his mom.
Jim stared at the hopeful, beseeching young man, eyes wide and pleading. He sighed, “Look Chief, I know you'd like to go, but you're just not in any shape for this kind of mission. You still can't put any weight on that ankle and even though you're 100% better than you were, you still don't have all your strength back. So, how about that map?” Blair closed his eyes, disappointment shadowing his face.
“Okay, since you put it that way. Wouldn't want to hold you back. Guess I would be more of a burden than any help, huh?”
“Chief, I know if you were stronger and that ankle wasn't still in such bad shape, you'd be great back up for me, but it's just not in the cards this time. Come on Sandburg, chin up and all that stuff. You can help me best by showing me the best way to get there.” The curly head raised and deep blue eyes, bright with tears met his.
“Yeah, I can do that. Lead you straight to the village and where I last saw Mom and Dr. Stoddard. I won't let you down, Jim.”
“I know you won't Chief.”
The End
(of this one)