"Don’t bother…it’ll never come out." Ryan shook her head as Carla folded the
blood-stained medic uniform. "Just throw it out, I’ve got a spare back at the
station." Carla nodded, staring at the stains.
Ryan turned on the faucet. It sputtered for a moment, then water poured out,
loud and hard. Ryan concentrated, letting it dull the sounds she couldn’t
stop hearing…a voice, struggling to speak…a heartbeat fading away… Closing
her eyes, Ryan cupped her hands under the stream of water and leaned over,
splashing it on her face.
She took a moment, letting the water cool the heat that continued to
suffocate her. Gripping the edges of the sink, Ryan let out a breath,
readying herself for the long wait ahead. Something tickled her arm, and she
opened her eyes.
"Thanks," she murmured, taking the paper towel Carla held out for her.
"You ready?" Carla asked, her hands smoothing the uniform as she laid it in
the trash container.
Ryan covered her face with the towel, wishing she could close her eyes
without seeing the wrecked R.A….the blood on Michael’s face… "Replay number
10," she whispered to herself.
"Ryan?"
Sighing, Ryan crinkled the paper towel in her hands, making a small ball.
Squeezing it tight, she tossed it into the trash, seeing it settle on top of
the ruined uniform. "Yeah. Let’s go."
The elevator doors slid open, and Ryan stepped out, her hands absently
running over the loose fit of the scrubs. Carla stepped out, her hand coming
to rest on Ryan’s back. Exhausted, Ryan allowed Carla to guide her towards
the waiting room.
"I told Durfee we’d meet them up here," Carla said. "It’s this way…"
Ryan nodded, her eyes on the ground. She felt…detached…numb. Her eyes heavy
with fatigue, she ordered her feet to keep moving forward. Don’t stop, Ryan
thought, don’t stop…
The hand on her back disappeared, and her feet quit moving. Lifting her head,
Ryan realized she was in the waiting room. She stared back at the faces
looking at her, their expressions sympathetic and worried. Ryan nodded at the
other members of Station ’77 and forced a small smile onto her face. She was
okay…they didn’t have to worry about her…not yet.
"Ryan?" Durfee asked, standing next to her. Ryan turned to face him. "Bell’s
family is here…they’d like to meet you."
Ryan nodded again, following Durfee as he led her to a corner in the back of
the room. Wick stood up, his eyes mirroring her own concern. Ryan blinked,
and she looked beyond him, looked at…blue eyes so familiar…Michael, her mind
screamed…
"You’re Kathleen?" a woman’s soft voice broke through…
Ryan swallowed hard, fighting to take a breath. "Yes…" she whispered.
// "So…you’re Kathleen?"
Ryan looked up, wary eyes surveying the young man standing in front of her.
"Yes."
"I’m Michael…Michael Bell." He smiled, looking more than a little nervous.
"Well…Bell," Ryan grinned at the inadvertent rhyme, "welcome to the ’77."
Standing up, Ryan faced him, schooling her face into an expression of the
utmost seriousness. "I’m going to be training you, and I am going to put you
through the wringer."
"Yes, ma’am," he answered, standing up straighter. "Looking forward to it."
Ryan laughed. "That’s the right attitude, Bell…good answer." Still laughing,
she motioned for him to follow her. "C’mon, I’ll give you the tour…"//
Ryan was pulled back from the memory as the soft voice spoke again. "I’m
Maureen…Maureen Bell."
"I know." Ryan nodded. She couldn’t look into those eyes again, she couldn’t
do it…
"Ryan, why don’t you sit down?" Durfee took her arm and guided her into a
seat.
"Michael was right," Maureen Bell smiled, "you are beautiful."
Ryan blushed, focusing on the delicate brooch on Mrs. Bell’s collar.
"Captain Durfee told me that…that you were with Michael when…"
"Yes…yes, I was." Ryan dragged her eyes upward, finally meeting the hesitant
gaze.
"I’m glad you were with him."
Ryan felt the tears threaten again. "Me, too," she said, her voice faltering.
Ryan felt the numbness begin to melt as she stared into eyes that she already
knew…eyes that she trusted. "I-"
"He talks about you a lot, you know…" Maureen Bell looked away for a moment.
"At home…especially lately…with his father," her gaze returned, questioning,
"…do you-"
"I know. I’m very sorry about your husband, Mrs. Bell." Ryan nodded, watching
as Mrs. Bell twisted the wedding band around her finger.
"He can’t speak…the stroke was so massive," she swallowed, "but when
Michael’s not on duty, he and I, we…sit with his father, and Michael tells
him stories about the station, about Wick and…you…I couldn’t tell him…I just
couldn’t," she whispered, shaking her head.
Ryan got up from her seat, moving to sit next to Mrs. Bell. She took one of
the older woman’s hands in her own. "That’s okay. I know Michael wouldn’t
want him to be worried."
***
Wick paced the hall, stretching his legs. Nearly five hours had passed, and
still no word. God, he just wanted to run…or hit something…anything to
release the nervous tension that had built up inside him. He absently spun on
his heel, turning to walk the other way again. Passing the door to the
waiting room, he could see Maureen Bell and Ryan still talking, looking at
each other like some sort of mutual lifeline. Like if they could just keep
talking to each other, then it wasn’t real…that they could keep Michael alive
just by talking about him…
Wick sighed. He wished that were true…
"You did real good in there, Wick." Durfee said from behind him. Wick kept
walking, reaching the end of the hall and turning around again, walking back.
"The Bells really like you."
Wick snorted, remembering his failed conversation with Will. "I wouldn’t be
too sure ‘bout that, Cap."
Durfee offered a weak grin and shrugged. "Well, Mrs. Bell likes you, anyway."
"Yeah, well-"
"Excuse me." A tall man in scrubs moved past Wick, walking to the waiting
room. He opened the door, his eyes searching the room. "Mrs. Bell?"
Wick and Durfee turned swiftly, following him into the waiting room.
"Mrs. Bell?"
Ryan watched as a man in scrubs approached. A surgeon…Ryan felt her throat
close. "Mrs. Bell, I’m Dr. Nordmann. I operated on your son."
"How is he?" Maureen Bell asked, her hands clenched.
Durfee threw a furtive glance to the firefighters moving closer to listen.
Nordmann looked around. "Maybe we should speak in-"
"No, it’s okay…please, tell me…"
The doctor sighed, kneeling in front of her seat. "He’s in critical
condition, Mrs. Bell. He sustained very serious injuries, and he lost a great
deal of blood. We’ve done our best, but…the next 24 hours are going to be
crucial. It’s really up to him now."
"Can I see him?"
"Not yet. We’re going to keep him in Recovery for another few hours, but
after that, we’ll move him to the ICU, and you can see him."
Maureen Bell nodded, closing her eyes.
Nordmann stood up, avoiding the others as he walked out of the room. He hated
working on firefighters and police officers, hated facing entire squads and
shifts of worried faces, hated telling them that one their friends, a member
of their close-knit families wouldn’t make it. He hated it…
"Hey, wait a minute…" Someone latched onto his arm as he strode down the
hall. Nordmann stopped, turning to look at the young man by his side.
"I’m his brother…" Will Bell explained. "I just want to know…I mean, is he
gonna make it?"
Nordmann sighed. Hadn’t he already done his duty? People always thought they
wanted to know, asking for details on their loved one’s condition…but they
didn’t want to know, not really. "I can’t give any guarantees, Mr. Bell. Your
brother is in very serious condition."
Will Bell glared at him, annoyed. "Can’t you be a little more specific here?
I mean, what’s going on-"
"Mr. Bell," Nordmann interrupted, wanting nothing more than to find an empty
room to sleep in, "I-"
"Please, just tell me how he is!"
Nordmann paused, trying to garner just a little more patience.
// "Damnit, BP’s dropping! He’s crashing!"
"Flatline!"
"Let’s shock him…charge to 200!"
"Charging!"
"Clear!"
"Go again!"
"Charging 250!"
"Clear!"
"Okay…we got him back…"//
Nordmann shoved the memory of five hours of surgery to the back of his mind.
C’mon, concentrate, he thought to himself, just be honest. "Mr. Bell," he
began, taking the hand gripping his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, "like
I said, your brother is in very bad shape. We managed to…well…there was a lot
of damage. And he lost a lot of blood. We did the best we could, but…"
Nordmann took a breath, "he probably won’t make it through the night."
"Oh god…"
"I’m so sorry…" Watching the young man nod, Nordmann released his hand with a
last sympathetic squeeze. He was sorry. Running his fingers through his hair,
Nordmann began to walk down the hall again, looking for someplace dark and
quiet…someplace where he could just go to sleep…
Will stood still, his heart racing. God, Mike was gonna die? Will
swallowed…years of living in his brother’s shadow…he’d always wanted to break
out…but not like this…what was he gonna do? His dad was dying…Mom wouldn’t be
able to handle it if both of them…and Mike was the one holding the business
together…he was the one who knew how to do it all…
Will rubbed hard at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears that he could
feel tracing fast down his cheeks. He had to pull it together…Mom would know
if he walked in like this…
Catching his breath, Will turned around, bumping into someone standing behind
him. He pushed his arms out, trying to steady himself and looked into shocked
eyes.
Ryan felt Will holding her as they both regained their balance…then nothing.
The heat she had felt earlier had dissipated into a fierce cold, one that
seemed to be roaring in her ears. She backed away, a dim part of her mind
aware that Will was watching her as she walked down the hall…to the
elevator…out of the hospital…
****
"I can’t watch him die." Ryan shrugged her shoulders, her voice dull as she
spoke above the traffic outside the hospital. "I’m sorry, but I just can’t."
"You don’t know that-"
"Wick, I told you what the doctor said! They don’t think he’ll make it
through the night…he’s going to die up there, and I can’t…I can’t…I can’t
watch that."
Wick stepped closer, his cheeks flushed with anger. "I don’t care what some
doctor said," he spat out, "he’s gonna be fine." He swallowed, feeling his
heart beating faster. "And you…you’re a coward, Ryan."
Ryan shoved him away. "Back off!" Wick stumbled on the sidewalk, and Ryan
watched him, her voice thick with anger. "You don’t know me. You don’t know
what I am or how I feel…you know nothing!"
Wick stood still, his eyes darkening. "You’re right, Ryan. I don’t know you."
He started back to the door but stopped, his back to her. "I thought you
could do anything…I thought you had no fear." Wick said, his voice grew
softer. "I thought I could trust you with my life…and I’ll bet Bell thought
he could trust you too."
A few more steps, and he gripped the handle of the door, his fingers curling
around it until they cramped in pain. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t
drag her back in there. "You’ll regret this for the rest of your life, Ryan,
if you…" he felt himself choke on the whispered words, "if you don’t say
goodbye."
There was nothing more to say, and Wick pushed open the door, disappearing
inside. Ryan stared after him, watching her reflection in the glass of the
door. Her hair was a mess, and the scrubs were too big, and she…she looked
wrong. Ryan shook her head and closed her eyes, feeling a light breeze touch
her as the afternoon turned to evening. Streaks of pink floated across the
Los Angeles sky, but she didn’t see them. She only saw a face…a smile…blue
eyes…the feel of a hand on her back…a whisper in her ear…Michael…
Ryan let out a heavy breath. She knew Wick was right, she knew it. Her legs
were moving her towards the door before her eyes even opened.
***
"So…then I kinda got in your brother’s face. I’m sorry, man, it
just…happened." Wick sighed, leaning his head in his hands. "I guess I
shouldn’ tell you ‘bout what I said to Ryan, huh? I mean, that’d really get
under your skin, man…I really did it this time." Wick picked his head up and
looked at Bell, his tired eyes drifting to focus on the breathing tube. "I’m
sorry, Bell," he whispered, "I can’t tell you how sorry I am…for everything,
man. I gotta big mouth, and I guess it’s just gotten ahead my brain
sometimes…there’s so many things I wish…things I wish I could take
back…things I wish I hadn’t said. Cause I didn’t mean them…I swear I didn’t
mean them, Bell. You’re a great partner, man, and I…" Wick took a moment,
trying to hold back his tears. "I wouldn’t ask for another and…I…" The tears
came, burning his face. "…just hang in there, okay? You can make it, man, I
know you can…"
"Hey…"
Wick jumped at the voice behind him. "Ryan," he murmured, grateful that she
had come. He stood, offering her the chair next to the bed. He opened his
mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. She was here…she was where she
belonged. He stepped out of the room, leaving Ryan alone with Bell.
Kathleen moved next to the bed, pulling the chair closer. She dragged her
eyes up to look at Bell. He lay still on the bed, myriad tubes and wires
tracing his figure. Kathleen longed to touch his face, run her fingers over
the smooth skin. But she couldn’t…a bandage still covered the gash on the
side of his head, and the breathing tube had been taped over the corner of
his mouth, holding it in place as the ventilator forced air into his lungs.
His chest rose and fell at a regular but unnatural rhythm…up, down, up, down.
Too mechanical. A thin sheet covered him, and Kathleen could see the heavy
bandages around his injured leg. They hadn’t put a cast on, afraid that if
the bleeding started again, they wouldn’t be able to monitor it. The
lacerated and broken arm was bound to his side, restricting movement. The
shadow of wired patches could be seen underneath the sheet, attached to his
chest to keep careful observation of his heartrate.
Kathleen reached through the bars of the bed rails, her fingers lightly
touching the bandaged wrist, feeling the warm plastic tubing of the I.V.s.
She latched onto to one of his fingers, squeezed it a little.
"Well…" She started to speak, her voice rising over the harsh sound of the
ventilator and the high-pitched beeps of the monitors. "It’s me, Michael…I’m
here. I’m here now." Kathleen looked at his face, an irrational hope forming
in her heart that he would open his eyes and look back at her.
She knew better, though, and she tried to stop the hope from playing on her
heart. Watching his face, she couldn’t stop it…he looked innocent, younger in
the drug-induced slumber. His hair had been pushed back from his face, and
his dark lashes stood out against the pallor of his skin.
Kathleen took a short breath, a soft smile relieving her face of worry for a
moment. "You look how I feel…" She could do it, she couldn’t…a sob broke from
her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand, trying in vain to
silence it. She needed to tell him…she needed to tell him before it was too
late…
"Michael," she began again, "Michael, we’ve known each other a long time, now
and…and…" Another sob broke through her barriers. "I don’t have many friends,
but…what I’m trying to say is…I don’t trust easily, but you…you made me trust
you, I don’t know how, but you did. You’re my best friend, and you’re…I don’t
what I would do without you, I swear I don’t…god, Michael, I love you…I love
you…please don’t leave me…please…"
***
Her eyes opened, sluggish and burning. Looking around the dark waiting room,
Kathleen could see the other members of the ’77, asleep. Wick, Durfee,
Bridges, Carla…they had all stayed through the night, waiting…praying…hoping.
She got up slowly, her sore muscles protesting as she stretched them. Careful
not to stumble in the dark, Kathleen moved to the door, walking into the
hallway of the ICU. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the bright
light.
"Hey, Ryan." Durfee stood behind her, rubbing his eyes. "How you doin?" he
asked, a hand reaching to touch her shoulder. His face looked aged, years
older since the morning before.
Kathleen tried to give him a smile. Sighing, she gave up. "I’m-"
A loud noise interrupted her answer, and Kathleen turned her head, her eyes
quickly finding the source of the sound.
"Oh, god! Oh, god," Mrs. Bell stood outside Michael’s room, sobbing, her
hands shaking as they covered her face. Will gathered her in his arms,
hugging her tight as he cried. Dr. Nordmann stood next to them, his hands
supporting mother and son as they wept.
"Michael…" Kathleen whispered, tears choking her. She didn’t feel Durfee grab
her arms and hold her as her knees started to buckle.
***
It was calm here, Kathleen thought. He’d like it. Large trees, a hundred
years old, lent shade to a smooth lawn of green, wispy grass. Stone monuments
were scattered here and there, some austere and foreboding, others more
fantastical with angels or cherubs.
She walked along the narrow path, enjoying the quiet sound of the breeze
ruffling the leaves in the trees, rippling like a wave in the grass. Yes, it
was very calm here, and he was at peace here, she was sure of it.
Kathleen slowed her pace, stopping at a stone bench. She sat down and read
the memorial inscription. "I promise to never leave you, in this life or the
next. We will be together, always…" she read in a whisper. Simple, but
beautiful.
She didn’t know why, but it reminded her of that long day and night, over a
year ago now. Everything had changed, and for a long she hadn’t known how to
deal with it. The accident, its aftermath…it seemed like a vague nightmare,
and Kathleen shuddered at remembering it. Never…she never wanted to live
through something like that again…
She could see Michael’s face, blood dripping from the laceration to his
head…she could feel his heartbeat as she shielded him while the others tore
off the roof and hood of the ruined R.A…she could feel his heartbeat
slowing…stopped.
She shook her head, tears dropping from her eyes. No, she didn’t want to
think about this now. But…she could feel herself holding his hand, she could
see her eyes pleading with him to hang on, just a little longer…she could see…
"Hey, what’s the matter?" Kathleen was startled by the soft voice beside her.
She smiled at the concerned face in front of her, happy that he was with her.
His hand reached out, stroking her face, and she leaned into the familiar
touch. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took his hand in her own, kissing it,
relishing the feel of his fingers squeezing her own.
She shrugged, her shoulders lifting only a little as she looked at him. She
was so glad to be with him, so grateful…he made her complete, and she knew
that with him, she’d never be alone again. "Nothing’s the matter," she said,
her voice low, "I was just missing you."
Michael let out a soft laugh, and he squeezed her hand again. "I’m sorry…I
didn’t know where you’d gone."
She smiled back. "I just wanted to walk around a bit…it’s so beautiful here.
Besides," she held his hand tighter, "I thought you’d want some time alone."
Michael nodded, grateful that Kathleen had understood. "Yeah…I did." He
looked at her, his blue eyes clouding a little with tears, "Thank you."
Kathleen leaned closer to him, feeling his arms encircle her, protect her.
"You’re father would be very proud of you, Michael…I know he is. I can feel
it."
"Oh yeah?" He whispered softly into her hair. "How do you know?" He gathered
her closer to him, loving the way her body curved against his.
He felt her shrug again. "I don’t know, I just do." Kathleen lifted her head,
looking at him playfully. "Maybe it’s the hormones."
He laughed, and she buried her face in his chest, loving the feel of his
heartbeat, the quiet rumble of his laughter. "Hormones, huh?" His hand moved,
resting on the large bulge of her stomach. He kissed the top of her head. He
couldn’t fathom it, but in another month, he’d be a dad, have a child of his
own. With Kathleen. He sighed, knowing she was right…his father would be
proud of him.
Kathleen closed her eyes. It had been a hard year. Months of recovery and
rehabilitation…it was hardly a way to begin a romantic relationship. But it
was so much more than that…she’d found a part of herself that she hadn’t
known was missing, and it was Michael Bell. She had cried, cried for hours,
when she’d found out he would be all right. There was an awful moment, when
she’d seen Maureen and Will sobbing outside his room, that she’d thought
Michael had died…all she could remember was Durfee holding her, repeating to
her over and over again that Michael was okay, that he’d woken up. She
shivered, sending up a prayer of thanks to whatever, whoever had given her
that gift…the gift of having Michael back again, healthy and whole.
Michael felt Kathleen shiver, and he silently removed his jacket, wrapping it
around her shoulders. He’d never thought he could love someone so much. "It’s
getting chilly out here…let’s get you back to the car."
They stood, his arms still around her, and began walking back down the path.
She stopped in front of his father’s grave. It had been three months since he
had passed away, but…he had been at their wedding, had watched Michael heal
and become recertified for active duty, had been elated at the news of a
grandchild on the way. He wouldn’t be there to see their child, but…Kathleen
rubbed her stomach, feeling a hint of a kick…in a way, he’d always be with
them, and he would know this child as well as they would. She smiled…maybe
even a little better.
She looked up at Michael, felt his hand holding hers in a warm, loving grip.
"Promise me you’ll never leave me, in this life or the next." She took a
breath, stepping into his embrace. "Promise me we’ll be together always…"
He held her close, knowing there was no place he’d rather be than with her.
"I promise…I promise."
The end
