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Feedback, though always nice, is not necessary. :-) Disclaimer: Soldier of Fortune/Special Ops Force and all the characters therein are the property of Rysher, et al; this is a recreational endeavor, no profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. I respectfully thank The Powers That Be for allowing me to indirectly dabble for awhile in this amazing little universe they've created. Rating: R, for violence, language, adult themes . This story deals with 9/11 and its aftermath. Summary: In the days after September 11, Benny Ray and Margo search for the missing Matt and Nick, who were in the towers when they collapsed. This is the sequel to "Through the Fire", and some of it might not make sense if you haven't read the first one. 12 September 2001 Margo Vincent was in the kitchen, getting dirty.
Her dark hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, was dusted with flour,
and there were white streaks on her face from where she'd tried to push
back unruly strands as they fell into her eyes. The apron that clad
her thin, trim form was stained with dark red-not blood, as had so often
been the case in her life, but sweet blackberry juice. In front of her were the makings for the best
blackberry pie on the face of the planet. She had discovered some months
ago-back in early strawberry season, as it happened to be-that she was
very good with pies. She loved the feel of the dough beneath her fingers
as she masterfully kneaded it, using the power in her arms to do something
reasonably harmless, for once. "Your blackberry pie will have nothing on
mine," said Sister Mary Elizabeth from the next counter top over.
"You're kneading too fast and your berries aren't fresh enough." "You're kneading too slow and your berries
are still green," Margo told her archly. "The Margo Vincent
pie legacy will live for years." "The legacy of being the worst," the
sister grinned. It was an ongoing battle between the convent's head
cook and the young woman who was just a long-term guest, a battle that
had resulted in some very tasty dinners. It had all started some time
last year, when Sister Elizabeth had claimed that, living the lifestyle
Margo did, the other woman was incapable of cooking, and indeed, Margo's
first few attempts had crashed and burned-literally. But after a few
secretive lessons from some of the other sisters, she became a serious
contender, and the war raged on. Good things happened when Margo Vincent
went head to head in the kitchen with Sister Mary Elizabeth. Picking up a waiting rolling pin, Margo started
up a confident rhythm that soon left the dough flawlessly flat and perfect.
Lifting it up with practiced ease, she expertly dropped it in the pie
dish, skillful fingers crimping the edges in a delicate pattern. She
was just brushing it with egg white when the Mother Superior entered
the kitchen, her black habit and severe demeanor seeming out of place
in the provincial feel of the stone and stucco room. "Margo, if
you would come with me? There is a man waiting to speak to you." Surprised, she wiped her hands on a nearby washrag
and took off her apron, hanging it on a hook near the door. "Is
it John, Mother?" she asked, wondering why her brother was visiting
during the middle of the week. "He is accompanied by your brother,"
the elder woman acknowledged, but would say no more. With one last confused
glance at Sister Mary Elizabeth, Margo followed the Mother Superior
out of the room. In the Mother Superior's sparse, tastefully decorated
office, Margo saw first her brother, and ran to give him a huge hug.
It had been only a few weeks since they'd last seen each other, since
he tried to visit her at least once a month, but it was always good
to see him. "John! What are you doing here?" she demanded
happily. "I was the only one who knew of your whereabouts,"
he said, his frown indicating that he was not at all pleased with the
current circumstances. "Mr. Trout was…most persuasive." "Trout!?" Margo spun around
and speared the other man with a fearsome glare."Trout,
I told you I wasn't coming back until I felt ready, and I meant it-" He held up a hand. "Margo, I fully understand
that you wish to remain absent from such activities, and I comprehend
your reasons, especially since my very stubborn daughter has argued
on your behalf every time I open my mouth, but we have a very grave
situation that I felt it prudent you should know about." A situation. She hated that word. Crossing
her arms across her flour-dusted chest, she regarded him with suspicion.
Glancing at the Mother Superior, her eyes asked the silent question. "She knows what I'm going to tell you,"
Trout said. "While I do not condone the choices you
have made with your life, Margo, I cannot deny that you are needed,"
the Mother said with an air of great deliberation. "I have heard,
and I still do not believe." This from the woman in charge of a convent. Great.
"I'm listening." "There has been a terror attack on the United
States," Trout said. She thought of the embassy bombings in Africa,
and inwardly winced. She was tired of the grievances these terrorists
had against the U.S., and could hear his argument now. Innocent civilians.
You have to go risk life and limb to liberate them. It was her job
and what she had been trained for, but she was trying to live a somewhat
normal life for a while. Just let me heal a little while longer…don't
make me sacrifice myself so soon after learning to live again. "Yeah?" "Yesterday morning, two hijacked airplanes
were flown into the World Trade Center towers in New York. Another hit
the Pentagon, and a fourth crashed in Pennsylvania; it was thought to
be headed for the White House. Both of the towers have collapsed in
New York." "What?" Margo blinked in shock. This
was no embassy bombing. This was close to home, a personal affront.
"How-?" "That's not all, Margo." Trout gazed
at her gravely. "Matt and Nick had a meeting in the Trade Center.
There was supposed to be a mission against drug traffickers in New Mexico,
and they were being briefed by one of Nick's former DEA advisors." A hundred million images flashed through her
mind: Nick, the beloved pain-in-the-ass; Nick, flirting with some
girl on the beach; Nick, hitting on her for the trillionth time; Matt,
smiling; Matt, covered in camouflage paint; Matt dragging her through
a burning building as their escape route collapsed behind them; Matt,
kissing her. "Are-are they okay?" she found herself stammering.
Collapsed? Skyscrapers didn't just collapse. "They got out, didn't
they?" They had to have gotten out. She didn't know if she could
live without Matt… "We don't know," Trout admitted. "Thousands
are missing, Margo. The death estimates are in the ten thousands. The
fires are still burning, and there's ash all over the city." "So-so they could be…dead?" It was unthinkable. Matt and Nick were the sort of people who just didn't die. And the World Trade Centers, collapsed? Feeling like she was swimming through concrete, Margo hauled herself back to reality. "Where's Benny Ray?" "He was at Hermosa Beach during the…incident.
He's waiting for you back in the States." She should have been
furious that Trout had the gall to think he could pull her home. Incident?
Matt and Nick could be dead… "When you're ready, there's a
plane waiting." "Trout-" "Every airport in America has been shut
down," Trout told her bluntly. "This is a military transport,
and they're very anxious to get home. I realize your hesitation,"
he said, sounding less like her boss and more like a father, "but
this isn't about a mission, Margo. This is about the team. They've missed
you. I promise you can come back when everyone is safe. I'd just rather
you were on American soil right now. Are you coming?" "Of course," popped out of her mouth
before she could think of anything else, surprised at the gesture. Turning
to the Mother Superior, she looked for some sign of reprove in the woman's
face. "I mean-" "This is greater than you or I," the
Mother said firmly. "Although you have been a welcome presence
among the sisters, we knew you could not stay. You are a child of God,
but it is clear His hand moves you in ways that cannot be foretold.
It is time you continued on with your life." Margo opened her mouth
to protest, but was waved off. "No, child. Now go pack your things.
I will explain your abrupt departure to the sisters. They will understand,"
she stated. "Go." Unable to argue, Margo could only nod her thanks, and back out of the room in stunned silence. 12 September 2001 If Trout's words had stunned her, the images
on the television horrified her. Over and over, Margo forced herself
to see the airplanes, sliding seamlessly into the buildings with a pyrotechnic
display C.J. himself would have envied had not hundreds of lives been
lost in that single instant. Please, don't let Matt or Nick be among
those dead… After living in the convent this last year, she
had gotten into the habit of praying, but now, her prayers were earnest.
Please, God, don't let them die. She wished John were here; he
would know what to say, the right scripture to quote, a psalm to steady
her mind. The Vatican had expressly told him to stay put, and amid the
sudden political chaos, she completely understood. It was probably wise
of Trout to bring her home. Home. She hadn't been home in over a year,
and her guts clenched in apprehension. She had fled after being brutally
raped on a mission in Colombia, and left both the man she loved and
the only place she had ever truly belonged. Now, she was a little afraid
of what to expect. Don't let them be dead… The air was warm as she stepped out of the plane,
with the humidity unusually low. Looking around the brightly lit airfield,
Margo clutched her suitcase to her, her duffel bag slung uneasily over
her shoulder. Where was Benny Ray? Suddenly, her need to see him was
a fierce ache deep within her breast. She loved Matt, but Benny Ray
was her best friend. They were all her best friends. She needed all
of them, even Nick. Now, Nick and Matt could be dead, and she wouldn't
even know it. She had to blink quickly to avoid spilling the tears that
welled up in her eyes. Either she had voiced her question without knowing
it or Trout was a mind reader, because he gestured to a spot beyond
the floodlights. "He's over there." He didn't need to say
who. She half-expected Benny Ray to be leaning on
crutches from the leg wound he'd had the last time she'd seen him, but
he quickly strode towards her unaided, proving that a year was a long
time to be gone. He seemed thinner and stronger somehow, the plain 'U.S.
Marine Corps' t-shirt and khaki cargo pants he wore doing little to
hide his muscular form. The smile on his face was as pure and sunny
as a Georgia afternoon, and Margo couldn't help but sprint the last
few meters. "Benny Ray!" Dropping her bags and
throwing herself into his arms, all her breath was squeezed out of her
lungs in an instant by his joyous embrace. "Oh, it's
so good to see you!" "Not half as good as it is to see you, Sweet
Pea," he replied, kissing her cheek and hugging her tighter. "How
are you?" "Much better," she told him. "And
you're feeling better? You look good." "Why, thanks." He grinned, a down-home
'aw, shucks' expression that made her want to cry. She'd missed him
so much. "You're still the most beautiful lady on the earth, darlin'."
He reached out and touched her dark reddish-brown locks. "Your
hair's grown a bit. Looks good longer." Margo buried her face in his shoulder to hide
her tears, breathing in the clean, simple scent of him. "I'm so
glad you're here," she whispered. "I've missed you so badly." "Are you cryin' on me, darlin'?" he
asked softly, but she could see his own eyes glistening with moisture.
Caught up in the silence and power of the moment, they just clung together,
taking strength from each other's embrace. Trout had finally caught up with them, looking
a bit annoyed and out of breath. Waxing diplomatic, he shook the hand
Benny Ray extended. "It's good to see you, Benny Ray." "I wish it was under different circumstances,
sir," the sniper replied, one arm still wrapped protectively around
Margo's shoulders. "I checked the phones half an hour ago. Nothin',
sir." "Great. Just great." He massaged the
bridge of his nose tiredly. "Two of my best operatives missing
and possibly dead, hijacked airplanes flying into critical buildings,
and no news. Wonderful." Benny Ray and Margo traded glances. "Where
do we start looking?" she asked, suspecting that, for once, this
wasn't going to be a military mission. "I have the hospitals and morgues on the
lookout for anyone with Matt's or Nick's descriptions, but there are
thousands of families looking for their loved ones, too. The whole place
is a mess." Margo couldn't suppress a shudder. Morgues. She
wasn't ready to even begin to consider the fact that Nick and especially
Matt might be in a morgue. "What floor were they on?" "Ninety-first, north tower. The conference
room they were in was right next to an emergency exit. They should have
gotten out just fine." "Then why haven't we heard from 'em, sir?"
Benny Ray pointed out, somewhat sharply. Margo could feel him tensing
up, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance she didn't entirely believe
herself. "Cell phone service all over the state is
probably flooded," she said, trying to stay calm and logical. "And
knowing Matt, he's probably trying to help with the rescue effort." "He would have contacted us," the sniper
argued, but at another squeeze of her hand fell silent, his own fingers
tight around hers. After winding through the base and flashing Trout's
security clearance at the guards, they reached the parking lot. "Margo,
I got some of your things in the car," Benny Ray said, and indeed,
in the front seat of the Expedition was her laptop, which she had deliberately
not taken to Italy, and a few changes of clothes in a paper bag. Grinning, she shook her head. "How did you
get into my apartment? I told the landlady not to let anyone in until
I came back." "We all have our ways," he replied
vaguely. Trout handed them a small piece of paper with
an address and room number written on it. "I've made reservations
for both of you at this hotel. It's a suite, so you'll have to argue
over who gets the master bed and who gets the couch." "Couch'd be just fine with me," Margo
said, stifling a yawn with her fist. "Where will you be?" "My superiors scheduled an emergency meeting
I was supposed to be hours ago." He looked at his watch. "Unfortunately,
I happened to be in Italy at the time." "You were in Italy just to get me?" A thin smile creased his features. "I regret
to tell you I was not. There was an intelligence conference in Venice
that I was attending. You just happened to be in a convenient location." "I'm touched," she said dryly, but
inside, she was. It was good to be back on familiar soil, however grave
the situation. She just wished Matt and Nick were here to greet her
as well. Where are you? "You had better be." Trout raised an
eyebrow at the pair of them. "I'll call your hotel room in the
morning, or if I get any information. Until that time, though, I fully
expect you both to get some sleep, and not go off on some crazy, unauthorized
mission of your own. With the state of this country right now, if you
so much as show your camo paint in public, you'll get shot." "I understand," Margo said, as Benny
Ray murmured assent. "Good." Without another word, Trout
tiredly headed off to his own car, disappearing into the shadows. Once inside the SUV, Margo reached for the radio,
but Benny Ray intercepted her hand. "D'you really wanna hear more?"
he asked gently. "I checked right before you landed. There's nothin'
new. Everyone's still in shock." "Maybe they found something." "And they'd announce it over the radio?"
He shook his head. "Darlin', it's killin' me as much as it's killin'
you." "I know." The rest of the ride to the hotel was silent,
and Margo mused that the companionable quiet made it feel like she'd
never left. She wanted to ask a million questions-how were Benny
Ray's kids, how was the Silver Star holding up, how many girlfriends
had dumped Nick since she'd been gone, how were Chance and C.J. and
Deke and Rico and Drummer…did Matt miss her…-but she knew
there was plenty of time for that later. Now, they just had to bring
Nick and Matt home alive. She pictured the whole team sitting downstairs
at the Silver Star after the bar had closed and Debbie had long gone
home, drinking beer and swapping stories about surviving this horrific
attack. It made her heart ache with longing. At the hotel, she stared at the television showing
CNN while Benny Ray got the key, and then mutely followed him upstairs.
He claimed the shower first, and she got out her laptop, running her
fingers over the keys. Logging on to the internet, she tried to see
what she could find, looking for Matt or Nick's cell phone numbers and
scanning the survivor lists on several websites. "Find anythin'?" Benny Ray's voice
startled her, jerking her back to reality. He stood in front of her,
holding one towel tightly around his waist, while scrubbing his hair
dry with another. "No." Disheartened, she logged off
and put the computer away. "Nothing. I checked everywhere. Their
cell phones haven't been used, and they aren't on either the survivor
lists or among the-the casualties." "They're still pullin' people out,"
he said. "There's still hope." She forced a smile. "I know. Is the shower
free?" He nodded. "'S all yours, darlin', and I
left plenty of hot water." A shower was just what she needed, and she stepped out fifteen minutes later relaxed and ready to sleep. Benny Ray had beaten her to the couch, and rather than wake him up and insist he take the bedroom, she just covered him up with a couple of blankets. "Good night," she whispered, lightly kissing his cheek and taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of him. She wasn't home yet, but she was with Benny Ray, and that was one step closer to home than she'd been this morning. 13 September 2001 The phone was ringing, and Margo jerked awake,
momentarily disoriented. There was only one phone at the convent, and
it was in the Mother Superior's office. Why was there a phone ringing
in her own room? Reality flooded back as Benny Ray's voice floated through
the bedroom's open door, accompanied by the sudden glare of a lamp bleeding
into the darkness. Grabbing for a blanket in lieu of having a bathrobe,
Margo draped the sheet around her body and quietly tiptoed into the
living room, trying not to interrupt the conversation. "Nick!" Pressing her ear against Benny
Ray's so they could both hear their friend, she tried to control the
sudden wavering in her voice. "Nick, are you all right? Where are
you? Where's Matt?" "Margo?" Nick sounded exhausted, and,
she thought, a little scared. "I tawt you were still in Italy." "I'm back," she told him. "For good?" "For good. Are you all right?" "Yeah…" His voice trailed off.
"A little scraped up and crispy around da edges, and dey said I
got smoke inhalation, but I'm alive." "Where are you?" Benny Ray asked. "Is
Matt with you?" Once again the ex-DEA paused, and Margo got the
impression that he was having a hard time putting his thoughts together.
"I'm in a hospital. I dunno which one. Can't be too far away from
da Trade Centers 'cause everything's black with smoke." "Nick, it's three in the morning. Can you
really see smoke?" Margo's hands were shaking, and Benny Ray wound
his fingers around hers in sympathy. "Three in da morning?" He sounded surprised. "Yeah…" "Oh. Maybe it's just dark, den." "Are you sure you're all right?" Talking
to him was like pulling teeth. "Dey lemme talk on da phone. Dat counts
for something…" "Nick, is Matt with you?" The sniper's
fingers tightened around Margo's, crushing them to the phone. "Naw…" "Is he all right? Do you know where he is?"
Margo took a deep, quavering breath, feeling
tendrils of panic beginning to take root within her chest. "I dunno…" There was the faintest
hint of tears in his voice. "He was right behind me on da fire
escape…" "Is he with you now?" Benny Ray pressed. Nick broke down, his guttural sobbing echoing
across the line. "I have no idea…he was right behind me, but
he musta gotten lost in da crowd. I dunno where he is. I tried to go
back and look for him, but dey wouldn't let me." Margo's guts clenched, and for a moment, she
was positive she was going to be sick. Pressing her forehead against
Benny Ray's slick, sweaty cheek, she felt his body quivering as he tried
to hold his grief inside. "He got out," she whispered fiercely.
"He had to." "Dey said I should call you guys and let
you know I was okay," Nick said hoarsely. "Trout said dat…I
just called him. Margo…I'm glad you're back. You're…you're
okay, aren't you?" "I'm fine," she replied, wondering
how she ever managed a year without these men. "Thanks, Nick." There was a brief, muffled discourse, and then
Nick admitted, "Da nurse says for me to get off da phone." "What hospital are you at, amigo?"
the sniper insisted. There was another pause, this one longer, with
more mumbling in the background. "Dey say it's NYU Downtown." "Call us if you get discharged, okay?"
Margo told him. "We're coming over there." "No!" His reaction was immediate and
passionate, filled with agony. "Don't! Or-or at least wait until
daylight. Da whole place reeks of smoke and-and death. Da streets
are a mess. Don't come up here," he pleaded. "Wait a coupla
days." "Nick-" "Dey're kicking me off da phone," he
said abruptly. "Hang in dere, guys." Then the line went dead. "No!" In an uncharacteristic
display of emotion, Benny Ray slammed the phone back into its cradle.
"God…" Burying his face in his hands, he sank back onto
the couch, shaking with silent tears. Sitting gingerly beside him, Margo
bit into her knuckles, staring blindly at the wall. She pulled her blanket
more tightly around her shoulders, shivering from something far deeper
than cold. "Do you want a glass of water?" she
finally asked, her voice sounding pathetically weak in the sudden vastness
of the room. He could only nod, and so she numbly made her way to the
little kitchenette, mechanically pouring two glasses and handing him
one, easing herself back down on the couch and drawing her knees up
to her chin. He sipped lightly at the water, his eyes red.
She couldn't recall the last time she'd seen him cry. "You all
right?" he asked softly. "Matt's alive," she said, feeling conviction
in her very soul. "He's not dead." "Margo-" "You don't believe it, either," she
hissed. "Don't tell me we're giving up without even looking." "Everyone comes home," he told her,
and she thought of a dozen situations when they could have-should have-left
the weakest person behind, and hadn't, because of Matt's ideals. Reaching
over, he pulled her close, resting his chin on her forehead. "We'll
find him, Sweet Pea. And even if he didn't make it, we won't stop lookin'
until we have enough to bury." "I hate the thought of that," she whispered. "So do I, darlin', so do I." 13 September 2001 All hope of sleep for that night had been lost,
so instead, Margo and Benny Ray spent the remainder of the dark hours
alternating between the large road map he'd absconded from the hotel
lobby, the telephone and Margo's computer. Huddled beneath her blanket,
she tapped at the keyboard, eyes glued to the screen with frightening
intensity. "There are new names on the list," she announced
after a while. Benny Ray looked up hopefully. "Anythin'?" She shook her head, resisting the urge to pound
the table in frustration. "Nothing." Glancing sideways at
him, she bit her lip. "We've been at this for three hours, and
we still don't know squat." "But at least we ain't lyin' around feelin'
sorry for ourselves," he said. He put down his cell. "Nothin'
from any of the other hospitals." "Great." Margo decisively pulled the
phone cord out of its jack. "I for one am hungry, and I'm treating
you to breakfast." "Breakfast?" He looked at his watch.
"Oh. Six thirty already? Will anythin' even be open?" "If not, I'll make you something." "You? Cook?" She couldn't help but grin. "Don't look
so scared. I can cook. Really," she insisted
at his dubious expression. "The sisters taught me. I'm actually
pretty good." "I'll believe it when I see you in the kitchen
and there ain't a huge cloud of smoke somewhere in there with you,"
he said. "You wound me with your rapier wit, Sir
Knight," Margo retorted. "Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman?" "Just fightin' fire with fire, lady mine,
ma'am." "Don't you ever call me ma'am! It makes
me sound like some old grandmother." She was about to swat him
with part of a rolled-up newspaper when the phone rang, and both she
and Benny Ray pounced on it. Relinquishing her hold, she allowed him
to answer it, thinking that if it was anyone but Trout, Nick or Matt,
she was going to kill them. Let it be Matt, calling to tell us he's
okay… "Hello?" Benny Ray said, then frowned.
"Yes, sir, he called us. He said he'd called you first." She
relaxed slightly. It had to be Trout. "No, sir, we were just discussin'
breakfast. Haven't done anythin' all night." Margo rolled her eyes.
There was the lie of the century. It had been an uproductive but sleepless
night. She thought she'd gotten maybe an hour of sleep, at the most.
Benny Ray handed her the phone. "He wants to talk to you, Sweet
Pea." Great. Grimacing, she took the phone.
She didn't really want to talk to anyone right now. "Hello?" "Good morning, Margo." Trout sounded
tired. "I trust you slept well." "Didn't sleep much at all." His tone was disapproving. "I told you to
get some rest." "Neither of us could close our eyes after
Nick called, so we tried to track down Matt." She marveled that
her voice was steady. Just thinking about him out there made her want
to scream. Be all right. Please be all right. "Any luck?" "None. We've done everything short of going
down there ourselves." "Would you be against doing that?"
The way he said it, it seemed as though he was prepared to be rejected.
Margo let him know exactly how wrong he was in two short, succinct words-
"Hell, no!"- and she could imagine him blinking in surprise.
"Well, in that case, do it." The line clicked. "What's he want us to do?" Benny Ray
asked. "Do you have any pictures of Matt?"
Margo started clicking things on her computer. "I know I've got
at least one in here somewhere." "There's one out in the car," he said.
"Are we goin' to New York?" Nodding absently, she started packing her things. "We're going to find Matt." 13 September 2001 They'd been walking the streets for four hours,
and were covered in a thin layer of ash, grime and sweat. The settling
dust was so thick that Benny Ray had a bandanna tied around his face,
and Margo was holding the collar of her shirt up over her nose as they
questioned passers-by. All of humanity seemed to be in New York right
now, if not assisting with the rescue effort, then desperately displaying
pictures of loved ones, trying to locate them. "We oughta go see if Nick knows anythin',"
Benny Ray finally suggested, and Margo wearily agreed. The sleepless
night, combined with jetlag and stress, was taking its toll on both
of them. Finding the hospital, they got his room number from
the haggard receptionist, and made their way upstairs. Nick appeared to be asleep when they walked in,
but at the sound of their footfalls, he sat up, looking far too nervous
to have been sleeping. "Benny Ray! Margo!" His shadowed eyes
were wide, his hair sticking out at odd angles. There was a large bruise
on his cheek, and a strip of gauze ran around his forehead. "I
tol' you guys not to come!" "Think we'd just leave you?" She gave
him a quick hug, knowing something was really wrong when he didn't make
any comment about it. "I tol' you…" "How are you feelin', compadre?" Benny
Ray asked. The weaselly little man scrubbed at his eyes
with the palms of his hands. "I swear Matt was right behind me.
He was right behind me. Now dey tell me dey can't find him. He was right
behind me." "We've been looking," said Margo, trying
not to sound discouraged, "but we haven't found anything, either." "He was right behind me…" "Nick, it's all right," she told him
softly. "It's okay. We're going to find him. It wasn't your fault." "He was right behind me," he protested.
"Dere one minute, and den boom! He wasn't." "We're gonna find him," Benny Ray repeated.
"How are you feelin'?" "Like shit," Nick moaned. "Dis
whole thing is like a trip to Disneyland in hell!" He flopped back
against his pillow. "Dey're not letting me watch any TV. What's
news?" Margo gave him a quick overview of the situation while Benny
Ray looked around the room, eyeing Nick's unconscious roommate. When
she was done, the ex-DEA was wearing a look of stupefied shock, and
Benny Ray couldn't help but notice how her hands, clenched tightly around
each other, had white knuckles. "My gawd," Nick finally managed.
"Four airplanes? Holy shit, dis is big!" "Yeah," echoed Margo hollowly, and
Benny Ray gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was clear she was trying
to be brave, but in her weariness, her guard was slipping. "What are we gonna do?" asked Nick,
folding his arms across his chest. "If you guys've been out looking,
and dere's really not much else to do… What's Trout say?" "I tried calling him this afternoon,"
Margo said. "He's locked in emergency meetings for the next three
days." "It'll be longer than dat, knowing who he
works for." Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head
in disbelief. "Ho-ly shit. Are we in a mess or what." Margo's fingers twined around the phone cord,
and she tapped her foot anxiously as it rang. "Come on, pick up…"
Glancing at her watch, she realized that she'd probably be waking her
brother up. It was six hours difference to Rome, which would make it…
"Shit. Four o'clock in the morning." "Margie?" John sounded sleepy, but
grateful that she'd called, and she inwardly cursed herself for not
calling sooner. "Is everything all right?" "How'd you know it was me?" "Who else would place a long distance call
to me at this hour of the morning?" "Sorry." "Don't be. It is always good to talk to
you. Are you all right?" "Yeah…" She paused a moment, trying
to remember why she'd called. She was so tired. Perhaps she'd just wandered
over to the phone and her fingers had dialed on their own volition.
"I just needed to hear your voice," she confessed. "Some
of that big-brotherly wisdom. I didn't mean to wake you up; I didn't
realize how late it is here." "Have you found Major Shepherd yet?"
he asked gently. "No." She was not going to cry. She
was too tired to cry. "Not yet." She didn't want to tell him
that they had pulled the last survivors out three days ago. Now, they
were just recovering bodies. She, Benny Ray and Nick had spent the last
forty-eight hours looking to see if Matt's corpse had been put in this
morgue or that. Death clung to her clothes. She wanted to be sick, but
hadn't eaten enough to bring up. Maybe that's why she felt so shaky.
Have to remember to grab a granola bar or something. "I know you care very deeply for him,"
John was saying, "but, Margie, you must consider that the major-" "He's not dead," she whispered fiercely.
"He can't be. We just haven't looked everywhere yet." "Margie-" "John, I know." Margo slowly settled
into a nearby chair, feeling almost boneless with fatigue. "I'm
just being stubborn, I'm not facing reality, I'm holding out for the
impossible-" "Margie, there's always room for faith-" "This isn't faith, John, this is about a
miracle!" As soon as the words left her lips, she knew they were
true. Logically, there was no way Matt could have lived. All the evidence
supported that fact. Her head knew it, and her heart ached to even consider
it. She loved him, but now he was dead. Nick had made it out, but Matt
hadn't been so lucky. He'd just been lost in the crowd, and hadn't been
able to reach an exit in time. "He's gone." John sighed. "Margie, first you vehemently
deny that your major is dead, and in the next breath tell me it is so.
Which is true? Are you calling me to tell you what already believe?" "I don't know. He can't be dead,
John. I love him." Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, willing
away the tears. Matt… "I just need to know he's alive. Something.
Anything. A scrap of clothing, his dog tags, anything." Her brother was silent for a while. "Margie,
trust God to bring him home. You must have faith." "Faith alone won't bring him back." "Faith will make the journey that much easier.
Believe me, little sister." His tone was playfully chiding, then
serious. "For what it is worth, I would like to think that he is
alive. He is a very resourceful man." "I hope you're right, John." "Have faith, Margie. Now go and sleep; I
can hear the fatigue in your voice," he insisted over her protests.
"You will do no one any good when you are so tired." "All right. Thank you." "You know you can call me any time, Margie.
I love you." "I love you, too, John." He hung up,
and she let the phone slip from her fingers, leaning back against the
supporting wall. Margo wanted his words to make sense, wanted to feel
something beautiful and inspirational, but instead felt only thick-witted
from lack of sleep. She knew she should probably head back to the hotel
room with Nick and Benny Ray, but couldn't move. Curling up in the waiting-room chair, she let
her leaden eyelids slip shut, and drifted off to a dark, dreamless oblivion,
somewhere where Matt was safe and they were all on the other side of
this country in a little bar in a half-remodeled hotel. Somewhere where
she felt safe. Somewhere not choked with ash and fear. Ash. Ash floated all around them, the oppressive heat of the fire bearing down on them, angry flames-the ones they themselves had set not half an hour earlier-licked malevolently down at them from the dry rafters. They were curled between fire and the locked door that blocked their escape. She clung to Matt, knowing that death was
near, and terrified that she was going to lose everything-her life,
her love, him, here in her arms. "It's time," he whispered
to her, and she could barely make out his words over the roar of the
blaze. "Close your eyes, Margo." "No. I'm not going to leave you,"
she hissed back. "You're not dead. I know you're not." "We will be soon." He kissed her
forehead, and she moved to cover his mouth with hers, pulling his body
onto hers and down to the floor. Just touching him was magic. He seemed
somewhat taken aback, but he didn't move away. "Margo, what-?" "Listen to me," she told him, "you're
not dead. This is a dream." His soot- and sweat-streaked face crumpled
in sorrow. "Margo, we're in San Pablo, remember?" The tears
in his eyes were most definitely not from the acrid smoke. "I don't
want you to die, not after everything that has happened on this trip.
I feel so bad, Margo. I love you so much." "We're not going to die," she said.
"You're alive. I know you're alive, but I don't know where." "I'm right here." He was genuinely
confused. "Margo-" "Just listen. Where are you, Matt? I
need to know where you are so I can bring you home." She brushed
his sweaty hair off his forehead with the tips of her fingers. "Everyone
comes home. You're coming home. I need to know where you are. I need
you. I love you, Matt." "Margo, you're not getting this. That
door is locked. The hallway collapsed. We can't get out." "You're not getting this. This is a dream.
We were here a year ago. You shot the lock, and we got out. We survived.
Now you're missing, and I need to know where you are. You have to help
me, Matt, I can't do this without you." She was crying now, the
bitterness of his absence burning like acid in her heart. "I shot the lock?" "Yes. And we got out." Reaching
underneath him, she grasped the pistol and handed it to him. "Here.
You saved me, and now I'm going crazy looking for you." "I don't want you to go crazy."
He kissed her forehead again. She refused to be placated. "Promise
me you're alive." "Margo, do you know what you're asking?" "Promise me, Matt. John said this
was in God's hands. I want my hands on you, so promise me." "Margo, you can't be sure-" "Promise me!" He sighed, resigned. "I promise."
Then, with a rueful smile, "You know I wouldn't do that to you,
don't you?" "I know." She kissed him again,
and he shot at the lock and they tumbled out into the cool, dry air
of the jungle. Tumbled out- "Margo?" Strong arms caught her as
she pitched to the floor, suddenly wide awake. Blinking in confusion,
she looked around. Benny Ray gently deposited her back in the chair,
a bemused smile on his face. "You still with us, Sweet Pea? I saw
you start to nod off, and then you just nodded off right outta your
seat." She glanced from him to Nick, standing a few
feet away, still painted with bruises and dotted with scabbed cuts.
"Anything?" "Naw." The ex-DEA shook his head. "If
he's in dis hospital, dey're keeping him in a closet or somewhere where
we'd hafta get a warrant to go look. We asked about ICU, but dey said
no." "Matt's alive," she said firmly. "He
promised." "Promised, darlin'?" Benny Ray raised
an eyebrow. "You know you musta been dreamin'." "He's alive." Heaving herself to her
feet, she made a move as if to start pacing off her anxiety, then stopped,
arms dangling limply at her sides. A wave of intense fatigue almost
dropped her where she stood. "Want to go back to the hotel?" "Dat's a great idea. I'm bushed." As
if to prove his point, Nick's elastic features were stretched by a cavernous
yawn. He and Benny Ray headed for the exit. Disappointment flooded her senses. It had only
been a fervent wish, a dream, her exhausted imagination, her heart overpowering
her brain. "All right. I'm coming." Six steps to the door, and a hand grasped her
shoulder. "Wait! Ma'am?" Margo turned around, and found herself
face to face with a young, dark-haired man in a lab coat. He was clearly
a doctor. "Ma'am, may I see that picture you were showing earlier?
One of my colleagues mentioned it to me…" Taken a bit aback, she automatically fished Matt's
photograph out of her pocket. "Have you seen him?" she asked,
not really expecting an answer. "As a matter of fact, I have." Her heart stopped. "Where? Where is he?
Is he alive? Can I see him? Is he okay?" "Follow me," the doctor instructed,
and she took off like a dog on his heels, Nick and Benny Ray a few feet
behind her. They were practically running, but it still took
forever. After an eternity, they reached the doors to the ICU, the doors
swinging open with agonizing slowness. She was afraid to breathe, terrified
that if he really was here, the slightest disruption in this surreal
dream would make everything disappear. Please don't let me be dreaming.
She surreptitiously pinched her arm almost hard enough to bleed, proving
that she was indeed awake. "In here," the doctor said, holding
a finger to his lips and pushing back one of the curtains. Margo pushed
past him, hoping beyond all hope that Matt was there…and then he
was. She stopped still, just staring in relief and shock, wide eyes
darting back and forth from his still form spread out on the hospital
bed, the wayward lock of hair lying motionless on his pale forehead,
to the beeping machines hooked up to his body. "Is this the man you're looking for?"
the young doctor asked gently, shattering her reverie. "Can you
identify him? He's the last John Doe on this ward, for now." "He's Matt," she whispered, her voice
halting and hoarse as she had to forcefully remind herself to suck in
oxygen. "Matt Shepherd." Her paralysis broken, she took two
shaking steps and seized his cool hand. Looking down at Matt with eyes
that threatened to overflow, she asked, "Is he going to be all
right? Doctor….?" "Holland," he said, a sympathetic smile
creasing his smooth face. "And he's all right now. Take care of
him, Margo." She'd been concentrating on running her hands over
Matt's face, and reflexively turned at her name, but Dr. Holland had
vanished. In his place, Benny Ray and Nick appeared, slightly out of
breath and both fraught with worry. "Sweet Pea, don't you ever go runnin' off like that-" The sniper stopped short, his abrupt intake of breath signaling his brain immediately changing gears. "Major? Margo, how the hell'd you find him?
How'd you know where to look?" "The doctor, Dr. Holland," she said,
confused. "I showed him Matt's picture, and he brought me up here." "What doc?" asked Nick. "You must have just missed him," she
told him. "He'll be back later." Reaching for a nearby chair,
she pulled it up to the bedside. "Matt," Margo whispered,
giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I found you." The curtains were thrust back by an agitated
older nurse whose large form was practically quivering with anxiety.
"This is very irregular!" she was saying, swatting Nick out
of the way. Benny Ray was a little quicker, and his evasive maneuver
looked far more suave and gentlemanly than his companion's backwards
scrabble. "What do you think you're doing, barging in here like
this?" She noticed Margo's protective grip on Matt's hand, and
blinked. "Are you family, ma'am? Who gave you permission to come
in here? Visiting hours are long over." "I'm not leaving," Margo said in a
tone that booked no argument. "And yes, we're family. All
of us," she stressed, indicating Benny Ray and Nick. Looking from one to the other, the nurse finally
sighed. "All right. You can stay. But there can be only one person
in at a time, and you must be quiet, understood?" She retrieved
Matt's patient records and filled them in with the correct name and
information, then left, pulling the curtain closed behind her. "I'm staying," Margo said automatically,
drawing a little closer to Matt. "You guys go sleep." "Nope." Benny Ray shook his head. "Darlin',
I ain't the one who fell outta the waiting-room chair talkin' on the
phone. I promise I'll call you if he wakes up, okay? I'm not takin'
'no' for an answer here." "Two hours, then it's my turn." "Seven." "Seven? You've got to be out of your
mind-" "Seven." "Three, then." "Seven." "Four." "Nope, still seven." "Five." She was getting frustrating. "Seven." "Six, Benny Ray, and I mean it. I'm coming
back in here in six hours whether you're ready for me or not."
She tried to glower convincingly, but it never worked on him. "Six," he conceded, since he had been
aiming at six the whole time, "but if you're back here any sooner,
it's another eight, got it?" "Got it." Margo hauled herself to her
feet, relinquishing the chair, planting a gentle kiss on Matt's cheek
that was totally at odds with her decidedly unladylike grumbling. "Take
care of him, okay?" she said plaintively. "You know I will, Sweet Pea." He touched her shoulder briefly. After one last, long look at Matt, she reluctantly followed Nick out of the ICU, and Benny Ray eased himself into the chair. "Glad you're back, Major," he said to the unconscious man on the bed, settling back for a long but welcome night of simple guard duty. 17 September 2002 After kicking Benny Ray out about five in the
morning, Margo had dozed fitfully in Matt's bedside chair, finally ending
up with her head on her arms near his chest. His very presence was a
huge weight off her soul, and she basked in his closeness, feeling about
a hundred years younger. Thank you, God, she thought. Remind
me never to scoff at the mention of miracles again. I owe you big time
for this one. Beside her, Matt stirred, and one hand came down
to rest on her crown. He said something that sounded sort of like her
name, and she turned, grinning as she saw his sleepy blue eyes slide
open and focus on her. "Hey, beautiful," he said, so hoarse
she almost couldn't hear him. "Hi," she whispered back, throat tight
with excitement and emotion. He was awake! "Told you I'd find you." "Kept my promise." Eyes bright with tears, she wound her fingers
through his, kissing his cheek. "I never doubted it." "Thought you were still in Europe." "I'm home. Trout brought me back." "For good?" "For as long as you want me." He grinned back. "For good, then." 14 October 2002 "Margo, I dunno know how you did it,"
Nick said for the millionth time that day, "but if you hadn't gone
nutso and ran off like dat, we wouldn't've found Matt." "I told you, Dr. Holland found me,"
she retorted for just as many times, impatiently waiting outside the
bathroom while Matt changed. "He asked about Matt's picture, and
said he knew where he was. You guys just weren't fast enough to catch
him." "Dat's what you keep sayin, but I don't
believe it. How come you only saw him once?" "I think you mighta been not all the way
awake," Benny Ray told her. "I was awake." Margo looked over at
Matt, an approving smile on her face, though he was just wearing jeans
and a sweatshirt. He was healthy and walking with crutches, and they
were flying back to Hermosa Beach later that day. "You had to have
seen Dr. Holland, right?" "Young man, clean shaven, dark hair?" "Yes!" "Yeah, he was there." Matt frowned.
"I remember waking up a couple of times and being really out of
it, and hearing him tell me I was going to be okay. I wonder where he
went, because I don't remember seeing him after they moved me out of
the ICU." "Well, I'm gonna go ask the ICU people about
him," Nick declared. "Because I think you're both nuts."
He took off. "I'll go take these bags down to the car,"
Benny Ray said, prudently choosing to leave Matt and Margo alone together. After he was gone, she reached over and adjusted
Matt's collar, her fingers lingering against his skin. "You look
great." He had gained back the weight he had lost, and the scars
from his burns were barely visible. "I feel great." Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. "Come on. Let's go. We don't want to miss
our plane." "You'll tell me if you start getting tired,
right?" "Or you'll tell me, Nurse."
His words were softened with a grin. "God, I'm so glad you're back.
I thought you'd never come home." "And leave you by yourself?" She snorted,
but the derisive noise was at odds with the glistening of her eyes.
"Don't count yourself so lucky, Major." "Oh, I count myself plenty lucky." Reaching up, she kissed his cheek. "So do I. Believe me, so do I." **** Everyone and all their bags were safely stowed
in Benny Ray's Expedition by the time Nick finally decided to grace
the world with his presence. He crawled into the back seat behind Benny
Ray, and the sniper started the car and pulled into traffic. "Well?" Margo asked, somewhat smugly.
"I told you he was there." Nick shook his head nervously, his face the color
of Elmer's glue. "You're not gonna believe dis. Are you sure the
doc's name was Holland?" "That's what his ID badge said, and that's
what he introduced himself as," she told him. "And the badge
had his picture on it." "Right." He was clearly in a state
of shock. "But when I asked 'em about dat doc, dey got all surprised
and scared, and den one of da nurses says he was on his way to a medical
conference, and he was on Flight 93." "The one that crashed in Pennsylvania?"
Margo wrinkled her nose. "That's not right. I talked to him myself
almost a week after the eleventh." "Yeah, I know, dat's what I said."
He shook his head again. "Da nurse got all teary and I decided
I'd better leave." "That's really weird, Nick," said Matt.
"Are you sure you got the name right? Maybe there are two Dr. Hollands." "I dunno," he answered skeptically. "When we get home, you just go ahead and look it up yourself, because last time I checked, dead men don't reappear and treat patients." He suppressed a shudder, and Margo reached over to brush her fingers across the back of Matt's neck, reassuring herself for the millionth time that he was actually there. 14 October 2001 Pale blue light leaked from beneath Margo's closed
door, and with a knowing grin, Matt crutched his way down his hotel's
hallway, wondering what on earth she could possibly be doing on that
computer at this hour of the night. Everyone else had captured rooms
for themselves hours ago, all feeling far too fatigued to go back to
their own places. Chance and C.J. had flown in from Hawaii, and Rico
was snoring softly on the couch downstairs. Matt had been on his way
to bed himself. Knocking lightly on the door, Matt turned the
knob, and Margo flinched almost guiltily as he entered, offering him
a sheepish smile. "You're supposed to be sleeping," she scolded. "So are you," he pointed out, and eased
himself on the bed beside her. The sheets were turned down, and she
was tightly wrapped in her fuzzy bathrobe, so it was obvious that sleep
was where she had been headed before this other thing came up. "What
are you working on?" She moved the computer screen over to where he
could see it. "I couldn't seem to close my eyes," she confessed.
"What Nick said about Dr. Holland was bothering me, so I popped
his name into the system to see what it would bring up." "And?" "And he's dead. He's been dead. Nick was
right; he had been visiting family in Newark, New Jersey, and was going
from there to a medical conference in San Francisco." Her green
eyes were wide in the darkness of the room. "Matt, there was absolutely
no way he could have been at that hospital." "Did he have a twin?" His question
wasn't a joke. "He was an only child. I know what I saw,
Matt." Her hands flew over the keyboard, and a picture of the doctor
in question phased into focus. "That's him." "That is him." "If it were just me, or just you, it wouldn't
bother me as much," she admitted. "I mean, you were injured
and incoherent, and I was exhausted and grieving. It would be easy to
hallucinate something like this." "But both of us?" "That's what makes no sense." "What about Benny Ray? I know Nick didn't
see him." "They both had their backs turned. We were
getting ready to leave." Matt twined his fingers through hers. "And
that still doesn't take into account the dream we had." "I know." Margo briefly closed her
eyes, remembering the acrid smoke and heat as though it had happened
this afternoon. "You were there." "And you wouldn't let me go." He kissed
the top of her head. "You brought me home out of faith." "Out of faith…" Her voice trailed
off, a look of disturbed comprehension on her face. She shook her head
violently, apparently dismissing the idea out of hand. "I don't
believe it. No." "What?" "It's just too strange." "After our doc?" "That's just it." She opened her mouth
as if to say something, but closed it again, rethinking her words. "I
had just gotten off the phone with John. He said…he said to just
let God bring you home. I was ready to give up." It clearly pained
her to say it. "We'd looked everywhere, Matt. Everyone we talked
to said you had to be…that you were probably…and I couldn't
accept that, but we weren't getting any other answers." She was
close to tears, and he slipped one arm around her, cuddling her close.
"And I got off the phone, and I must have fallen asleep. I was
so scared to think you were gone. Then, I was dreaming, and you were
there…I wasn't about to lose you then…and when Benny Ray woke
me up, and we were going to go back to the hotel, Dr. Holland was right
there." She bit her lip in consternation. "I don't have John's
faith in God and I know I probably never will, but it was too much of
a coincidence…" "I know what you mean." It went against
everything he'd ever known about logic and reason, and yet, she'd still
managed to find him. Reaching across, he picked up the computer and,
shutting it off, he deposited it on the nearby nightstand. Now, the
only illumination the room had came from the orange of the streetlight
outside the curtained windows, glowing darkly in the gloom. Taking her
gently in his arms, he eased down beside her, until her head was resting
in the crook of his arm. "You need to sleep," he whispered.
"It's late." "Only if you stay." She sounded so
small and fragile, but her arms were warm as they slipped around his
neck. She pulled the blankets up and over their bodies, and curled up
beside him. "I missed you." "I missed you, too." He kissed her eyelids, and, wrapped in the arms of the woman he loved, fell fast asleep. **** Some time later, in the wee, early hours of the
night, Margo awoke with the feeling they were being watched. Without
raising her head, she cast her eyes about the room, finally becoming
aware of a vague figure standing near the window, shrouded by the darkness.
Irrational fear stabbed through her, and she almost sat bolt upright
until the figure raised a hand and she somehow knew it meant no harm. "I told you he would be all right."
The voice was soft, with a gentle smile hidden beneath the world. "You
were right to trust me." "Dr. Holland," she breathed, not believing
her eyes at all. "Take care of him," the spirit told
her. "He loves you." He moved forward and she felt something
warm and metallic being pressed into her hand. Matt's dog tags.
They hadn't been recovered. "I owe you everything. How can I thank you?"
she started to ask, but the shadow had disappeared, and the room was
empty. Beside her, Matt stirred, twisting up in the blankets and blinking
at her with sleepy eyes. "You all right?" he asked. "I'm just fine." She took a breath
to steady herself, and settled back into his arms. "But I know
John was right." "Your brother is a wise man." He drifted
back to sleep, and only when she was sure he was out did she gingerly
slip the chain around his neck. "He has faith," she whispered. "Like me. And now I have you." Finis. |
Copyright 2002 by Lilith
Email me: legend_of_lilith@yahoo.com
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