Tanner eased the door to the darkened room and slipped inside. He walked to the bed and looked at the sleeping man. Chris' hair was slightly longer than he normally kept it and hung low over his eyes. Vin could still see the dark circles under his eyes and the sunken cheeks that told of Larabee's illness and what it was taking out of him. His eyes wandered to the IV pole and he shook his head. 'Stubborn as a mule,' he thought with a smile.
He walked away from the bed and out the door, easing it closed behind him. He hurried to the kitchen and smiled as Jackson opened the oven. The smell of roast beef filled the house and caused his stomach to grumble. He knew the others were coming out to dinner, there was little doubt they'd want to check on their sick friend.
"Smells good, Nathan."
"Thanks, Vin, how's he doing?" Jackson knew where Tanner had gone, the same place he disappeared every half hour.
"He's still sleeping."
"That's the best thing for him right now, Vin. Probably the best thing for us too."
"I know what you mean. Chris was a little too easy to handle earlier."
"Yeah, which means there'll probably be hell to pay when he wakes up."
"Hopefully the others will be here by then. Figure he's gonna blow up?"
"Well, if not today then tomorrow. We'd better be ready for it when it happens."
"We will be. Can you get the sweet potatoes ready?"
"Sure. Anything else?"
Jackson covered the roast and put it back in the oven. He took off the oven mitts and hung them in the center Island. "No, I think we got it all under control," he said as he prepared the asparagus spears and the tender baby carrots.
Chris opened his eyes and looked around the familiar room. His own personal touches were obvious for anyone who saw the room. The walls were painted white, but trimmed with a black border halfway up the wall. The heavy drapes were black with white pinstripes in them. The furniture was stained oak and consisted of a king size bed, two night tables and two dressers. The lamps were brass with gray shades and worked by the touch of a hand. The carpet was the same shade of gray as the lamps, with an oval white rug beside the bed. One wall held pictures of his team on various outings from camping to fishing to relaxing at the July forth picnic held between the Larabee and Tanner ranches. A second wall held pictures and memories of Sarah and Adam Larabee. Two white frames, inlaid in gold held Adam Larabee's first school pictures, the only one that would ever be taken. Two more held pictures of a smiling Sarah and Chris Larabee holding a baby between them. It was snapped in the delivery room and although Sarah was pale her eyes held the light of life as she showed their son to the camera. A blue ribbon with a first place medal hung between the four pictures, a memory from a school picnic where he and Adam won first prize in a three legged race.
Chris smiled as he remembered the day of the picnic. Adam was six at the time and was so proud when he was given the medal. The medal was in Chris' overnight case, given to him by his son for good luck on the trip he was taking with Buck. The day they died, so had his hopes and dreams for the future, until Vin Tanner showed up and literally dragged him from the fires of hell. Chris swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He walked towards the wall and touched the medal. He smiled at the familiar warmth he felt in his body every time he touched this reminder of happier days. He lifted the medal from the wall and held it to his chest as silent tears flowed form his eyes.
'God, I miss you both so much,' he thought as he kissed the tarnished medal and hung it back in its place of honor. He shook off the deep sadness he felt and moved away from the wall.
Chris walked into the large bathroom and looked in the mirror. He frowned at the face looking back at him. The dull green eyes, the stubble covered chin, the sunken cheeks, the dark circles surrounding his eyes belonged to someone he didn't recognize. Pale lips turned up in a smile in spite of the haggard appearance.
"You look like hell, Larabee," he told his reflection. He reached for the pre shave lotion, splashed it on his hands and rubbed it on his face. He picked up his cordless Remington electric shaver and slowly removed the stubble from his face. He felt better once he completed the shave. He looked at the shower and smiled thinly.
'Now that's just what the doctor ordered,' he thought as he pulled the black shirt up over his body, revealing the light colored hair on the taut chest. He shivered in anticipation of a hot massaging shower. He closed the bathroom door and turned the lock. He reached for the clasp on the waist of the black jeans and undid it. he slid them down and sat on the edge of the vanity.
"Shit!" he hissed as a wave of dizziness broke over him. He held onto the edge of the vanity until it passed and finished removing the remainder of his clothing.
Chris slid back the gold emblazoned shower doors and smiled. The doors had been specially made for his birthday the year before. On each smoky window was a black Stallion, rearing up on its hind legs. The manes sprayed back as if a strong wind gusted through it. In the right hand corner of the left door a golden sun shone through a white cloud. The artwork was intricately done and the details on the horses must've taken hours. He stood inside the shower and closed the door. A second wave of dizziness caused him to grab onto the silver railing and took a deep breath. His throat hurt and his stomach rolled.
Ignoring the oncoming nausea he turned on the taps and adjusted the temperature. He pressed the button to turn on the shower and jumped back as the cold spray struck his bare chest. "Son of a bitch!" he swore and waited until the water warmed up before ducking under it. He felt the hot water hit his head and sighed as the hard spray relaxed the kinks in his shoulder and back. His left hand continued to grip the handrail as he fought the dizziness. He relaxed and let the water do what sleep or pain medication hadn't been able to.
Vin headed for the bedroom to check on Larabee and knew Jackson was watching him.
"You know he'd probably shoot you if he knew how often you were checking on him?"
"I know, Nathan, but it's not like Chris to sleep this long. Hell, ain't like him to agree to go to bed at all. I'll just peek in and make sure he's okay."
Jackson smiled as the younger man walked down the hallway to Larabee's room. He understood the friendship the two men shared and knew it was something that came along once in a lifetime. It seemed as if the two men were true brothers of the soul.
Vin opened the door and frowned at the empty bed. His ears perked up at the sound of the shower running and he couldn't help but smile. He knew Chris hadn't been allowed to take a shower in the hospital because of the IV. The Hep-Lock made it easier for him to do so.
Vin walked across the room and rapped lightly on the door. "Chris?" he called lightly. He waited a few seconds before repeating the knock. "Chris?"
Larabee heard the second knock and the soft Texan drawl calling his name. "Yeah."
"Are you okay in there?"
"I'm fine."
"You need any help?"
"I think I can handle things on this end, Tanner!"
"You sure?"
"Vin!"
"Alright, Chris, holler if you need anything!" the sharpshooter could almost hear Larabee growl as he turned away. He walked back into the living room and sat in the comfortable recliner.
"Is he okay?" Jackson asked.
"Yeah, he's fine. Just taking a shower," he answered and turned on the TV set. He flicked through the channels with the volume turned down in case his friend called for help.
Chris reluctantly reached for the taps and turned off the water. The shower felt great, but he knew if he stayed in any longer he'd come out looking like a prune. He slid the doors open and stepped onto the white area rug. "Whoa!" he hissed and eased onto the stool sitting in the corner. He remained seated and dried his hair, relishing the tingling feeling of a clean scalp. He dried his body and reached for a new towel hanging on the rack. He wrapped it around his waist and tied it on the side.
'Almost feel human again,' he thought as he reached for his toothbrush. Two minutes later he rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth and took a clean glass from the dispenser. The back of his throat felt raw and he groaned as he swished the water around the inside of his mouth. He spit the water down the drain and refilled the glass. 'What the hell's wrong with you? Don't be such a coward! It's only water for fuck sake!' he poured the liquid into his mouth and swallowed before his mind had a chance to register what he'd done.
His chest heaved as he fought back the resulting nausea. "Shit!" he swore and leaned over the toilet.
He could hear someone knocking at the door and then a worried voice asking if he was okay. He knew it was Jackson, but he was too sick to answer. Dry heaves plagued him as a second voice joined the first. He took a deep breath and leaned his head against the cool wall beside the toilet.
"I'm okay," he assured his friends, not at all sure he was okay.
"Open the door, Chris," Jackson ordered.
"Just give me a second, Nathan," Larabee muttered as the nausea finally subsided. He took a deep breath and walked to the door. He opened it and smiled sheepishly at the two men. "Sorry."
"What happened?" Jackson asked.
"Tried to drink some water. Hurt like a son of a bitch going down, but felt even worse coming back up," Larabee rasped.
"I bet it did," Tanner said.
"But, hey, least I had a shower."
"Good thing!" Vin told him.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It was starting to smell pretty ripe whenever I stood next to you."
"Well you know what they say, Tanner."
"What's that, Larabee?"
"Every skunk smells its own stink!"
"Okay, you two, that's enough. Chris, you look a little pale. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Jackson asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Nathan. What time is it anyway?" Larabee asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Almost five thirty," the medic asked.
"Shit! I slept all day! Why the hell didn't you guys wake me?"
"What for, Chris? You needed the rest. You look like you still do."
"Thanks, Vin, that's just what I wanted to hear."
"Chris, the others will be here in an hour. Why don't you get dressed and I'll get your antibiotics set up for you. Do you need the..."
"No thanks, Nathan. I don't need the Tylenol," Larabee assured him.
"Alright, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
Larabee just nodded and reached for the clothes Tanner handed him. "I didn't know I hired a maid, Vin."
"You didn't, Chris. Just being a friend."
The blond smiled and nodded as he placed the clothes on the bed beside him. "I know," he said simply.
Jackson picked up the phone and called Murphy's answering service. It didn't take long for her to call him back.
"What's going on Nathan?"
"Chris is still unable to hold anything down."
"Has he tried to eat or drink anything?"
"Yeah. He ate some ice cream earlier and drank some water, but it didn't stay in his stomach very long."
"How's he doing pain wise? If he's unable to keep anything down then the Tylenol won't do him any good."
"Yeah, well, Chris wouldn't admit to the pain if we asked."
"Alright, Nathan, I'm going to be at the hospital for another hour. Can you have one of the others come by to pick up some supplies. I think it's best if we run a bag or two of fluids into him. I'll also have Zofran for you to give him through the IV. But, Nathan?"
"Yeah, Doc."
"If he doesn't start eating and drinking on his own soon he's gonna end up back in here."
"I know, Doc. I'll call Buck and have him stop by."
"Watch him, Nathan and make sure he keeps trying to drink."
"I will, Doc. Thanks," he hung up and dialed Wilmington's number, hoping he'd catch him before he left to come out to the ranch. He smiled as the ladies' man picked up the phone. He explained what needed to be done and then sat back on the couch as Larabee and Tanner came into the room. One look at Larabee's face and he knew he'd heard some of the conversation with Buck. 'This is gonna be the longest ten days of my life,' he thought.
"You heard?"
"Most of it," Larabee hissed as he forced the words through his abused throat. "Hell, Nathan..."
"Don't start, Chris. You know as well as I do how little you've been getting to eat or drink..."
"Hell, Nate, it's not like he isn't tryin'!" Tanner explained.
The medic stood up and faced the two men. "Don't you think I know that, Vin? I've seen him trying and I know how much pain he's in. I also know he's too damn stubborn to admit it!"
"But he's always been that way, Nate!"
"Well 'he' is in this room," Larabee said as he realized the two men were arguing about him. "Nathan, I know you're doing what needs to be done and I do appreciate it. It's just that..."
"You hate someone else having control of your life," Jackson finished.
"Yeah," Larabee said as he sat in his favorite recliner. He saw the IV pole set up next to it and placed his arm on the chair. He watched as Jackson hooked the tubing to the heplock in his arm. He reached for the remote on the opposite arm and flicked on the TV. He surfed through the channels as Vin took a seat on the couch.
Nathan finished connecting the IV and checked to make sure it was running properly. "There, you're all set," he said.
"Thanks," Larabee said as he dropped his hand into his lap and continued through the channels.
Nathan walked towards the kitchen and checked on the meal. He knew Chris wasn't going to eat it, but he had a gallon of Vanilla ice cream in the freezer. He was hopeful that Larabee would try to eat it again.
Chris stopped on an old TV series and smiled as the young man on the couch groaned. "What's the problem, Tanner? This show's a classic."
"Yeah right! Old cars are classics, Chris, this is..."
"Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea is a great show. At least it was until they brought in all those monsters and aliens. Oh, this is a good one..."
"There are no good..."
"You have no taste, Vin. This is good. A classic thriller. Captain Crane's supposed to be alone on the Seaview, but there's an unknown spy on board."
"Ah, hell, Chris there's gotta be something better than that on."
"Nothing better than this," Larabee said as he settled down to watch the black and white show.
"I think I'll go help Nathan with dinner," the sharpshooter said as he stood up.
"No taste, Tanner," Larabee smiled as the sharpshooter left the room. Chris settled back in the chair, enjoying the show he'd watched in his childhood.
Chris looked up as the show ended and the door to his house opened. He smiled tiredly at the four men who came through the door. Jackson had already unhooked the antibiotic drip and closed off the heplock.
"Hey, is that Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea?" Wilmington asked as he hurried to the couch, and placed the hospital supplies beside him.
"Just over, Buck," Larabee told him.
"Ah, hell, I keep missing the show. The damn networks should put it on at a decent hour!"
"Dinner's on the table," Jackson called to the men.
"Coming, Chris?" the ladies' man asked.
"Nah, you guys go ahead."
"Buck, did you bring the supplies from Doctor Murphy?"
"Yeah, I got 'em right here, Nate!" the ladies' man answered as he picked up the bag and headed for the dining room.
"How are you doing, Brother?" Sanchez asked as he sat across from the blond.
"I'm okay, Josiah, just hate feeling like this."
"I bet you do. I had my tonsils out when I was thirty, Chris, so I know exactly what you're going through. I bet right now you think things will never get any better and someone will always be harping on you to drink this or eat that."
Larabee smiled at being read so easily by the older man. "Yeah, that's it exactly, Josiah. I've never been one to take orders."
"That's an understatement, Chris," Sanchez said as he placed his hand on Larabee's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "All I ask is that you keep trying."
"I will," Larabee assured him as he heard a commotion in the kitchen and the sound of the blender starting up. "What the hell is going on?" he asked and stood up too quickly. He smiled in gratitude as Sanchez gripped his arm in a steadying hold. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. Now why don't you join us in the dining room?" He held up his arms to stop the protests. "I know you don't feel up to eating, but it would be good for you. I stopped at that specialty store and picked up some of that Creamy French Vanilla Ice cream you like so much."
Chris smiled thinly and nodded. The two men walked into the dining room and Chris frowned at the laughter coming from the kitchen. He turned to walk through the open arch, but Josiah eased him down in his regular chair.
"You stay here and I'll see what's going on."
Larabee nodded gratefully and rubbed his tired eyes. He heard the others talking in the kitchen and looked up as Nathan came in carrying a tray. He could smell the delicious aroma of roast beef and vegetables. "Smells good, Nathan," he said softly.
"Feel like trying some?" Jackson asked as he placed the tray on the placemats in the center of the table.
"No! Thanks, Nathan, but right now my throat couldn't handle it."
"Do you need something for pain, Chris?"
"Not much point in taking it."
"Well, Doctor Murphy sent something that might help. I can give it to you through the heplock."
"What is it?"
"Morphine and Zofran, you've had them before. I can give it to you right now if your stomach is bothering you."
"It's okay right now."
"Hey, Stud, I got just what the doctor ordered right here!" Wilmington said as he walked into the dining room.
Larabee recognized the look on Wilmington's face and knew something was up. He shook his head as he realized his friend held something behind his back. "What are you talking about, Buck?"
"We all know how much you love Nathan's roast..."
"Now hold on, Buck, I had nothing to do with this!" Dunne said from behind the ladies' man.
"Mr. Dunne is correct, Mr. Larabee. Mr. Wilmington's use of the word we is farfetched. This so called 'idea is all his and I think he should put up with the consequences of his actions. Shall I purchase some tar and feathers."
"Cowards!" the ladies' man said as he stood in front of his friend. "I would like to present you..."
"Buck..."
"With the specialty..."
"Wilmington..."
"Of the house..."
"Shit!" Larabee hissed knowing something was up.
"A roast beef gravy shake a la Buck!" the ladies' man placed the tall glass filled with a thick brownish liquid in front of the blond.
Chris fought back the rising nausea, even as a smile crossed his face. "Shit, Buck! That's....that's just...
"What the doctor ordered," the ladies' man said with a grin.
"Gross!" Dunne observed.
"Ah, Kid, ya hurt my feelings," Wilmington said as he smiled at Larabee. "Are you gonna try it, Chris?"
"Not fucking likely, Buck!"
"Oh, come on. I made it 'specially for you, Pard. I even made sure it was extra finely pureed."
"Buck!"
Wilmington ignored Larabee's sharply spoken word. "I threw in sweet potatoes, baby carrots, had to put them in 'cause ya don't wanna have to get glasses, and a nice thick piece..."
"I'm gonna puke," Larabee hissed as he listened to his long time friend's explanation of what was in the 'shake'.
Jackson noticed Larabee really did look unwell and he put a stop to Wilmington's attempt to make the team leader laugh. "Buck, I think you'd better give it up." He turned to the blond, "Chris, why don't you go lie down for a while?"
"I'm fine Nathan," Larabee said. "You guy go ahead and eat."
"All right, I'll get you some of the ice cream Josiah brought."
"Ah, hell, now what do I do with this excellent liquid dinner?" Wilmington asked and jumped as six voices shouted.
"Drink the damn thing yourself!"
"No way!" The ladies' man stated and hurried into the kitchen to get rid of the congealing mass.
Chris smiled weakly at the five men still in the dining room. He knew they were worried about him, and he was grateful for their concern, yet there was nothing he could do to put their minds at ease. Wilmington returned and took the seat at the opposite end of the table.
"Dinner's getting cold," he told them and smiled as his words had the desired effect and they started helping themselves to the meal the medic and the tracker spent so much time preparing. He watched as Jackson went into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a small dish of ice cream and placed it before him.
"Thanks, Nathan," he said as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. He let the creamy cold ice cream melt in his mouth and forced himself to swallow in spite of the sharp pain it caused.
"You okay, Chris?" Dunne asked as he lifted a piece of the roast beef and placed it on his plate.
"F...fine, Kid," the blond answered, but knew the others didn't believe him.
"Let me know if you need anything, Chris," Jackson said.
"Need you guys to stop staring at me and enjoy the dinner," Larabee told them as he put a second spoon of the creamy melting ice cream into his mouth. His stomach continued to churn and he finally pushed the dish away from him.
"Chris..."
"Not right now, Nathan," the blond hissed, standing up and hurrying from the dining room, leaving six men watching his hasty retreat.
Vin stood up and hurried after the blond. He knew the others were as worried he was about Chris Larabee, yet there was nothing he could say to relieve that worry. He walked into the bedroom, and stopped as he heard the tell tale sounds of the older man being sick in the bathroom. He stood his ground and waited until he heard the toilet flushing before knocking on the door.
Chris knew who knocked at the door, but he washed his face with warm water before opening it.
"Sorry, didn't want to ruin things for you guys."
"Jesus, Chris, you're not ruining anything."
"Seems like this kids' illness is wiping me out, Vin."
"I can see that, but ya know the doctor said it's a lot harder on an adult. Why don't you lie down for a while?"
"Not yet..."
"Chris."
The blond looked over the sharpshooter's shoulder and saw the medic standing just inside his bedroom.
"I'm okay, Nathan, just don't feel like eating anything right now," the blond said, easing past the tracker and making his way to the bed. He sat on the edge of the hard mattress and used his right hand to rub at the base of his neck. His body ached from top to bottom, and he knew if he stretched out on the bed he'd be hard pressed to get up again. He didn't want to sleep while his friends were here to visit, plenty of time for that when they went home.
"No, you're not, but you will be if you let me do what Dr. Murphy ordered. You really do need the fluids, Chris." Jackson told him.
"Shit!" the blond said, hating the way he felt and the need to lean so heavily on his friends.
"It won't be for long, Chris," the sharpshooter told him as he sat next to him on the bed.
"Why don't you lie back and I'll set up the IV?"
"Can we do it in the living room, Nate?"
Jackson smiled and nodded as his boss stood on shaky legs. He knew the Texan was standing close in case he was needed. Once in the other room he opened a bag of IV solution and hooked it on the pole. He smiled as Larabee walked towards him and sat in the recliner. He took a syringe and ran a small amount of fluid into the heplock before attaching the tubing.
"Chris, I'm gonna give you the Zofran to help with the nausea..."
"Okay," the blond said, resigned to needing the medication.
"Also gonna give you a little morphine to ease the pain."
"Dammit..."
"Chris, don't argue..."
"Not arguing with you, Nathan," the sick man said and relaxed in the chair.
"Good, bout time you realized you don't need to be so damn tough all the time," Tanner told him.
"You're one to talk," the blond hissed. He felt the IV flow into his arm and watched as Jackson prepared to inject the second medications.
"There, Chris, that should make you feel a little better," the medic told him
"Thanks, Nate...sorry for being such a pain..."
"In the ass!" the tracker finished.
"Thanks, Vin, you're all heart. Why don't you to go eat before Buck and JD eat it all."
"You gonna be alright here by yourself?"
"Yeah, just pass me the remote..."
"Ah, hell, Chris tell me you're not gonna watch that show again?" Tanner said as Jackson checked the flow on the IV before leaving the two men alone.
"Show's good, Vin. IA just had a few problems that he was too stubborn to admit too. Richard Basehart and David Hedison were excellent in the roles of Nelson and Crane."
"Yeah, well, gimme Scooby Doo any day," the tracker said and smiled at the look on Larabee's face.
"Go eat!" the blond said and started channel surfing. It wasn't long be fore he heard the others' talking in the kitchen and he smiled as Buck started telling the younger men the premise behind Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. He finally settled on a base ball game and settled into the chair. He could feel the morphine taking effect and realized it wouldn't take much for him to fall asleep.
"Look at Sleeping Beauty," Dunne said as they walked into the living room.
"If he hears you saying that, Kid, you'll be cleaning out the stalls for a month," Wilmington said.
"You call him that all the time," the youngest member of the team said.
"Yeah, but I'm bigger than he is," the scoundrel said.
"Still take you down, Buck," Larabee smiled and opened his eyes.
"Hey, Chris," Dunne said.
"Hey, Kid, you and me need to have a talk..."
"Ah, Chris, I was just kidding," the Bostonian answered swiftly.
Larabee smiled at the chagrined look on the JD's face and smiled.
"I know," he said softly and was glad when the easterner's face relaxed into a smile.
"Well, Stud, we were just about to head out," Wilmington said.
"What time is it?" Larabee asked as he sat forward in the recliner.
"A little after eight," Standish answered. "You were sleeping and we thought it best not to interrupt your repose."
"Sorry, boys, I'm not very good company right now."
"That's understandable, Brother. You just rest and get well," Sanchez said.
"Chris?"
"Yeah, Buck."
"I'll be back in the morning to make you an omelet shake that'll be to die for," the ladies' man waggled his eyebrows as the blond groaned.
"Buck, that sounds like something that probably would kill him," Jackson said.
"What the hell are you talking about, Nathan?" the scoundrel asked, a mischievous glint in his deep blue eyes.
"An omelet shake, Buck?" Tanner pretended to gag at the thought.
"Ah, hell, you guys are just plain cruel. I was talking about egg nog."
"Sure you were," Larabee said, swaying slightly as he stood up too fast.
"Easy there, Pard," Tanner said as he grabbed his arm, and frowned as the blond sat back down.
"Thanks, Vin."
"You're welcome. Where were you headed?"
"To throw out the blender."
"Ain't nothing wrong with the blender, Stud, so why would you throw it out?" Wilmington asked.
"To stop you from making anymore of your special shakes!" the kid answered and they laughed as Larabee nodded.
"Ah, you wound me!" the scoundrel said and placed a hand over his heart.
Larabee looked at his friend and smiled. "You make anymore of those s...shakes and I just might!"
"Shit, Pard..."
"That's probably what they taste like," Jackson said.
"Come on, Buck, the galloping gourmet you're not," Sanchez said.
"The what?" Vin asked.
"Never mind, Vin, it was before your time," Wilmington answered.
"Must've been made when you were a kid back in the thirties, Buck," Dunne said.
"Oh, Kid, you know you're gonna pay for that one!" the ladies' man said and began chasing the younger man.
"Okay, Children, I think it's time we let Chris get some rest," Sanchez said as they watched the antics of the two friends. He turned a serious gaze on the sick man and patted his shoulder. "Chris you take care and do as Nathan says!"
"I will, Josiah, thanks for coming by. Is everything alright at the office?" Larabee asked.
"Everything's fine. Ezra finished the reports on the Decker case and turned them over to Orrin."
"Hell, Orrin must've been surprised to get those early," Tanner said.
"I bet. What about the Carter business?" the blond asked.
"We're working on it. Jason Carter is being stubborn about his wife's refusal to give into his wishes," Wilmington said.
"I can't blame the woman. She suffered enough at his hands," Jackson said of the wife beater.
"Has he had any contact with her?" the tracker asked.
"No, she's at the shelter with her children. He's not allowed within a mile of her location and he won't violate that. The judge has already threatened him with jail if he does."
"The bastard deserves to do jail time!" Larabee hissed, remembering the bruises that dominated the young woman's face.
"He will, Chris...plenty of it," the gambler said seriously.
"Alright, that's enough about work!" the medic told them.
"Nathan, I'm..."
"Chris, you're on sick leave and I aim to make sure you get the rest you need. No more talk about work, at least not tonight."
"We'd better go," Wilmington said. "We have an early meeting with Orrin and the DA."
"Let me know what happens," Larabee ordered as he stood once more. He held tightly to the IV pole and walked his friends to the door.
"We will, Chris. You just get some sleep."
"I will, Josiah. Thanks for coming out, Boys. Sorry I wasn't better company," Larabee said. He stood in the doorway until they drove out of his yard and sighed heavily as he walked to the porch swing and sat down.
"Need anything, Chris?" Jackson asked as he checked the flow of the IV.
Larabee smiled as he looked at the medic. "Whiskey?"
"Hell, No! Don't even think about it, Chris."
"Shit, Nate, you tell me to drink and..."
"You drink whiskey, Chris, and it'll be the sorriest thing you ever done! Even the good stuff you buy would feel like fire on your throat!" Jackson saw the twinkle in the green orbs and knew his friend was teasing him. "Seriously, Chris, don't touch anything with alcohol in it. At least not until the doctor tells you it's safe."
"I won't, Nathan."
Tanner saw the look on Larabee's face and realized the blond was sincere, at least for now. He knew things would probably change as the blond's confinement continued. Chris Larabee was not a patient man and once he began to heal he would be chomping at the bit to get out from under Jackson's care. He walked into the yard and made his way towards the barn to make sure Pony and Peso were okay.
Chris watched the younger man leave and closed his eyes. He admitted to himself that the fluids entering his arm made him feel better, almost human again. He set the swing in motion and soon felt his mind drifting back over the last week. He knew he'd been unreasonable most of the time. If he was honest he'd have to admit to being a royal pain in the ass, to not only the doctors and nurses, but his friends as well. He felt Jackson watching him and he opened tired eyes.
"I think I owe all of you an apology," he whispered softly.
"Well, I'm glad you realize we are trying to help, Chris," the medic said.
"I know that. Shit, you boys should know how..."
"Ornery, cantankerous, stubborn, hard to live with..."
"Jesus, Nathan," Larabee hissed. "Am I really that bad?"
"When you're sick and don't things don't go the way you want them to," Jackson explained.
"Shit, thought that's why we all get along so well," the blond said, a small cocky grin on his pale face.
"What?"
"We're all made from the same mode. Don't think there's one man amongst the seven of us who likes being down and we tend to voice our feelings."
"Yeah, that you do," the medic said, adjusting the flow of the IV once more. He saw the green eyes close once more and knew, despite the man's protests, he was still tired. "Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"Why don't I help you to your room and you can get some sleep?"
"Think I'll sit out here for a while, Nate."
"Chris..."
"Come on, Nathan, It's a beautiful night and I'm not all that tired yet."
"Alright," Jackson said and went into the house.
Chris continued to ease the swing back and forth, content with feeling the fresh air on his skin. His eyes snapped open and he glared at the man tucking a blanket around him.
"Nathan!" he hissed.
"Chris, you just got out of the hospital and I don't want you getting sick," Jackson warned.
"Not gonna get sick. Hell, it's hot enough out here without the damn blanket," the blond grumbled as the medic finished securing the blanket around his legs.
Nathan reached out and touched Larabee's forehead, searching for any sign of the lingering fever he'd had while in the hospital.
Chris pulled away and glared at his friend. "Nathan, I don't need a mother hen!"
"Humor me, okay? Right now we're all worried about you, Chris. So you might as well get used to having us mother hens looking out for you as it seems you're not doing it for yourself. Now how about trying something to drink?" the medic saw the eyes light up and shook his head.
"Don't even think about asking!"
"Didn't say a word..."
"No, but you were going to and I can just imagine what those words..."
"Hey, Vin, how are Pony and Peso?" Larabee asked grateful at the younger man's return, as it gave him a chance to change the subject.
"They're fine," Tanner answered, his eyes drifting to the blanket tucked around his friend. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.
"Yeah, Nathan's just in full mother hen mode," Larabee answered.
"Ah..."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jackson asked the tracker.
"What?" the sharpshooter asked innocently.
"Ah...why do you guys say that when I'm trying to..."
"Nathan," Larabee called. "It's not that we don't appreciate you...it's just the way we are. Hell what would you do if we didn't complain? You'd have us bundled up and racing to the hospital...or think we'd been taken over by aliens or something."
Jackson smiled as he answered simply. "Probably."
"Well this is all your fault," the tracker told him.
"How so?" Jackson asked.
"If we don't complain you think we're sick. At least this way we get to complain and you get to put your mother hen instincts to good use," Tanner said and smiled as Larabee agreed with him.
"Okay, well, guess you boys will just have to put up with me."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Larabee assured him and saw the look of pride on the medic's face.
"None of us would, Nathan," the sharpshooter agreed.
They stayed outside for another fifteen minutes and Chris knew the time had come for him to go inside. He pulled back the blanket and placed it on the seat next to him. He used the pole to pull himself up and smiled weakly at the two men.
"Well, guess I'm heading in. You boys lock up," the blond said tiredly.
"You alright, Chris?" Tanner asked.
"Yeah, just tired," the older man said as he headed inside. He walked towards his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. He rubbed at his temples with his left arm and slid back on the bed. He felt someone watching him and looked towards the door.
"I'm okay, Nathan. Just gonna rest for a while."
"Why don't you get right into bed, Chris. You'll feel a lot better once you're under the blankets."
"It's still early..."
"Not really. It's almost ten o'clock..."
"Early."
"Not when you're recovery from surgery and complications," the medic told him. "Now come on and I'll give you a hand out of that shirt."
Chris sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and watched as the concerned man lifted the IV bag from the pole and fed it through the sleeve.
"You want a t-shirt or something to put on?"
"Yeah...t-shirts in the top drawer," the blond said as Jackson replaced the bag on the pole. Chris felt as if he'd never feel well again as his friend eased him into the shirt. "Thanks, Nathan, I can handle it from here," he said and waited for the medic to leave him alone. Once Jackson was out of the room he eased out of the jeans and tiredly pulled back the blankets. He lay back against the pillow and pulled them up over his aching body.
Half an hour later, Vin Tanner opened the door and eased into the room. The light spilled over from the dim lamp and he knew his friend was asleep. He reached for the blankets and covered him to the shoulders, smiled as Larabee turned on his side and mumbled a few unintelligible words. Vin looked at the half full bag hanging from the pole before turning out the light and leaving the blond alone.
Chris woke up to the sun streaming in through the open window. He vaguely remembered Jackson coming into the room and unhooking the IV around four am. He touched his throat and tried to swallow, remembering clearly the attempt to drink the water the medic insisted he try. He managed to drink a small amount, but the burning, needle like pain in his throat caused rivers of sweat to form on his brow and he shook his head when the younger man tried to coax him to take more.
He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at the clock on the table and saw it was eight fifteen am. Slowly he stood up, grabbing at the small table in an effort to stop the room form spinning. He knew Jackson was probably fiddling around in the kitchen, looking for something to entice him to drink. Sighing heavily he made his way to the bathroom and peeled off the t-shirt and Calvin Klein underwear. He flicked on the overhead heating lamp and turned the shower on, making sure the water was hot enough to ease the chill he felt settling in his bones. He stepped through the glass doors and stood under the needling spray, letting it warm his body from the outside in.
Nathan heard the shower go on and looked at the clock. He knew Larabee did not mean to be difficult, but the truth was, the man needed to start drinking on a regular basis or he'd end up back in the hospital. He looked in the freezer and found the ice cream Josiah brought with him the night before. He pulled out the blender and shivered as he thought of the shake Wilmington prepared for Larabee the night before.
'No wonder you got sick,' he thought. Wilmington would always find something to bring to a sick friend, yet sometimes those gifts were on the exotic side. The ladies' man was like a magnet when it came to finding food in a particular shape of the female body. The man never let up, and for that Jackson was grateful. He may be the man who knew something about the medical treatments, but Buck was the man who knew how to make a someone laugh. His lighthearted humor was harmless and often led to a smile from whoever happened to be sick or hurting at the time. He set up the blender and set up to make a simple French vanilla milkshake.
Chris felt better as he turned off the needle like spray and stepped out onto the mat. He reached for a towel on the rack and slowly towelled his hair dry. He grabbed a second towel and used it on his chest, back legs, and buttocks. Once dry he reached for a third one and wrapped the tiny covering around his waist. He reached for his comb and fixed his hair, before turning off the heating lamp and walking into his bedroom. He went to his dresser and grabbed a pair of cream colored shorts and a white t-shirt. He looked up as a knock came on the door.
"Chris, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Nathan. Just getting dressed."
"Alright, when you're ready I've got your IV set up and breakfast ready."
Larabee took a deep breath and continued dressing. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
"Okay," the medic said and walked back into the kitchen. He sat at the center island and poured himself a cup of coffee. He kept looking at the clock as time passed, waiting for the blond to make an appearance. He looked at the glass of vanilla milkshake sitting in front of Larabee's chair and hoped the older man would be able to drink it. Jackson thought about what his boss was going through and understood the pain he was in. Not only had the tonsils been removed, but an abscess had also formed and needed to be drained. He looked towards the living room as he heard soft footsteps coming towards the kitchen.
Chris didn't miss the lines of worry on the medic's face, nor did he miss the white liquid sitting on the table where he normally sat. His stomach churned and his throat seemed to close over at the thought of drinking the shake. He walked dejectedly towards the center island and sat down.
Nathan stood and walked around the island and hooked up the antibiotics. He made sure it was running properly and moved back to his own chair. The medic remained silent, watching the blond as his fingers wrapped around the misty glass.
Chris could feel Jackson watching him, but kept looking into the glass of liquid. 'How can it be this hard to take a fucking drink!' he thought. He picked up the glass and placed it before his lips.
Jackson watched hopefully as Larabee picked up the milkshake and lifted it towards his mouth. He didn't realize he was crossing his fingers until the blond took a long drink from the glass and swallowed it. he watched as the Adam's Apple worked, the hands went to the throat and the eyes opened wide.
Chris swallowed the smooth shake and gasped as the movement seemed to tear open his ravaged throat. His resolve to drink it, no matter what it took, weakened as it felt as if cut glass was cutting into his neck. He felt Jackson stand beside him and tried to speak.
"D...damn...sor...ry, Nate....tried."
"I know you did, Chris," Jackson said as he wet a cloth with cold water. He hurried back to his reluctant patient and handed him the wet cloth.
Chris took the cloth and wiped the beads of perspiration from his face. He looked at the medic for a few seconds before making his way to the garbage, where he lost the small amount of liquid he managed to swallow.
"Ah, hell!" he hissed and leaned heavily against the marble countertop.
"I can see that," Jackson said sympathetically. "Why don't you go relax and watch TV for a while?" the medic asked as the phone rang.
Chris nodded as he picked it up and rasped. "Larabee."
"Hey, cowboy, how're you feeling?"
"Hi...Vin," he managed and tried to swallow, grimacing at the fire building in his throat. "What's going on with Carter?"
"We're gonna meet with him in half an hour to find out what's gonna happen next. Mrs. Carter is set on filing charges against him."
"She gonna stick with it this time?"
Tanner heard the raspy sound and knew Larabee's struggles to drink were far from over.
"Think so, Chris. He beat her up pretty bad last time. She's got a fractured wrist and a black eye. I think she's finally realized that the man's no good and he's not gonna change."
"Good. Hopefully she'll stick to it this time. I'd hate to see those kids living under the same roof as that jerk," Larabee rasped, fighting the growing pain.
"Chris, let me speak to Vin. You go on into the living room and I'll get your medications ready."
Larabee nodded and handed the phone to the medic. Jackson held the phone and watched as the blond made his way into the living room and sank into his favorite recliner.
"Vin."
"Nathan, how is he?"
"Still the same, but he's trying. It should start getting better soon."
"What happens if it doesn't?"
"He'll end up back in the hospital. We won't let it come to that, Vin...we'll make sure it gets easier for him. Look I'm gonna go get him some Zoloft and Morphine. Hopefully that'll help and we'll try again later."
"Alright, Nathan. I'll be out as soon as we're done talking to Orrin about the Carter case."
"Alright, Vin," Jackson said and hung up the phone. He looked into the living room and watched as Larabee flipped through the channels. He readied the medication and hurried back to the blond.
Chris saw the syringes in Jackson's hand and nodded gratefully. He watched as Jackson opened the Heplock and injected the morphine and Zoloft.
"That's gonna make you sleepy, Chris. Do you want to go back to your room before it takes affect?" he said.
"No...this is fine, Nathan," Larabee answered and watched as the medic unhooked the empty bag of antibiotics from the pole.
"Alright, call me if you need anything."
"I will. Thanks Nathan." The sick man closed his eyes and thought about the bottle of whiskey sitting in the bar. 'If it's gonna burn going down might as well make it something that burns anyway,' he thought as he relaxed in the chair.
Chris struggled to open his eyes and smiled as he heard someone humming in the kitchen. The IV had been unhooked and he felt a little better with the fluids inside him. He stood up and walked towards the kitchen, knowing Jackson would be there fixing lunch.
The medic looked up as his patient joined him. With a practiced eye he studied the blond's face. Dark circles rimmed the eyes and the handsome face was way too pale for Jackson's liking.
"How are you feeling, Chris?"
"Better, Nathan," Larabee said, sinking into one of he chairs sitting beside the center island.
"Want to try some ice cream or maybe some Jell-O?"
"No Jell-O, Nathan. Maybe a little ice cream," Larabee answered. He saw the relief in the soft brown eyes and hoped he wouldn't disappoint his worried friend.
Jackson reached for a bowl from the cupboard and placed a single scoop of the French vanilla ice cream in it. he placed a spoon in the bowl and placed it in front of the sick man.
"Thanks, Nathan," Larabee said, dreading what he knew was to come. 'Being a coward again, Larabee,' he thought as he lifted the spoon with a tiny amount of the creamy white offering.
Jackson watched from the corner of his eyes as Larabee seemed to struggle with himself. He prayed this time the blond would be able to eat, and keep it down. He knew Chris hated being watched and he forced himself to look away. He reached into the fridge and took out the ham and Swiss cheese, intent on making himself a lunch. The sound of the a choked off gasp made him turn and he watched Larabee push the bowl away. He walked over to his friend and shook his head.
"Chris, if you don't start eating I'm gonna have to call Dr. Murphy," he told him.
"Nathan, I'm trying," Larabee said softly.
"I know you are, but..."
"But not hard enough," The blond said simply. He was tired, his body aching as he stood up and coughed. His hands went to his throat and rubbed at his neck.
"I'm sorry, Chris," Jackson said.
"For what, Nathan?" Larabee asked seriously.
"For insisting you go through with the surgery. It doesn't seem like it was such a good idea anymore," the medic said worriedly.
"You didn't make me have the surgery."
"I know but..."
"But nothing. Look, I trust you, Nathan Jackson. I may not always show you how much, but I think it's time I did. If I didn't have the tonsils out I would've just kept getting strep throat and tonsillitis, wouldn't I?"
"Yeah," the medic told him.
"Then this was the only option. Look, Nathan, I know this is only temporary and it's gonna get better. I just gotta keep trying, right?" the blond asked tiredly.
"That's right, Chris," Jackson said. "You let me know when you're ready to try some more."
"I will," Larabee yawned, and smiled sheepishly.
"Why don't you go on and lie down, Chris?"
"I just got up," the blond told him.
"I know, but it's obvious you're still tired."
"Yeah, I am. Any word from Vin on the meeting with Orrin?"
"Nothing yet."
"I hope she's smart enough to go ahead with the charges. I'd hate to see her or the kids hurt by that bastard."
"Yeah, I think this time she's finally smartened up," Jackson said, watching the blond stand up.
"We'll see when the time comes. I've seen to many women cave in when it comes time to put the sonofabitch they married away."
"I think we all have. Go on and lie down, Chris."
"I think I will, Nathan." Chris walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. His eyes strayed towards the liquor cabinet once more, but he fought the urge to get a glass of the whiskey. He knew Jackson's temper and for once didn't want to face the man's ire. He looked at the recliner, but ignored it and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
When Nathan checked no him fifteen minutes later, Chris Larabee was curled on his side with the black and white checked afghan pulled up over him. The pale face seemed relaxed in sleep, and the medic closed the door gently before going back into the living room.
"Look, Kid, just open the damn vacuum and change the bag?"
"I'm trying to, Buck!" Dunne snapped as he pulled on the case holding the full bag. "Shit, you think Chris would've changed this long ago!"
"Yeah, well, he probably only uses it once a month. The cleaning lady usually takes care of it for him."
"I hate cleaning!"
"I don't know anyone who does enjoy cleaning, Kid, but you made the mess and you need to clean it up!"
"I know!" the younger man said, frustration inn his voice.
Chris could hear the two men arguing outside his door and forced his legs over the side of the bed. He looked at the clock on his nightstand and saw it was after six. Wilmington and Dunne sounded like they were right outside the door and he wondered what the two men were up too. He stood up and made his way to the door.
"I can do it, Buck!" Dunne snapped as the ladies' man tried to help him.
"Yeah, sure you can, Kid, but it looks more like you're wrestling an alligator than a paper bag!"
"Well, the damn thing won't let..." he didn't finish as his efforts to pull the bag free resulted in it ripping down the side and weeks of dust and dirt billowed up from the ruined bag. He started to laugh, but the door he stood in front of open and Chris Larabee walked into the billowing mass of debris.
"Oh, shit, Chris!" the youngest member of the team said, but couldn't help laughing, which resulted in his inhaling some of the mess as well. His own coughing and laughing joined Wilmington's and he used his hand to brush the stuff away from his face.
Chris frowned at the dark cloud of dust in front of him, but couldn't close his mouth in time to stop his lungs from inhaling the stuff. His lungs reacted immediately and he began coughing, resulting in more of the stuff being inhaled before he stepped back into the room. He could hear the two men laughing and realized it really was funny. Everything happened in only a few seconds, but to Chris it felt like it went on forever. The dust covered his face and clothing and he saw his own footprints in the thick carpet of dirt the billowed down to the floor. He couldn't control the coughing and his throat constricted in an effort to ease the pain that was reawakened with his bodies need to rid itself of the dust in his lungs and his ravaged throat.
Buck and JD continued to laugh until the ladies' man heard the painful hacking coughs emanating from his long time friend.
"Ah, Hell!" he swore as he entered the room. "JD, go get Nathan!"
"What's wrong, Buck?" Dunne asked.
"I don't know, Kid, just get him, okay?"
"Okay," the Bostonian said and hurried to get Jackson.
"Easy, Chris," the scoundrel said, rubbing Larabee's back sympathetically.
"S...shit!" Larabee rasped, but winced as his abused throat protested vehemently.
"What's going on?" Jackson asked, hurrying into the room, and moving to check his patient.
"We were trying to change the vacuum bag!" the ladies' man explained. "Chris opened the door just as the damn thing broke and he inhaled a lot of the stuff."
"Shit! Chris listen to me. Just cough it all up," the medic explained.
"Try...ing...throat...hurts," he rasped, and continued hacking as his lungs tried to dispel the unwanted addition to the air he'd breathed.
"I know," Jackson said.
"S...sick..." Larabee said, standing up and hurrying towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Jackson, Wilmington and Dunne winced as they heard the sounds from behind the closed door. The medic stood up and looked disgustedly at the mess spread over the floor, before making his way towards the living room.
"Buck, I'm gonna set up his IV and get him something for pain and nausea. You stay here until he comes out. JD, get a new bag and clean up that mess."
"I w...will," the young man said.
Wilmington heard the guilt in the young man's voice and shook his head.
"It's not your fault, Kid," he said softly.
"Yeah, it is," the younger man told him, just as the bathroom door opened and a very pale blond exited.
Chris used the warm cloth to wash his face and shook his head at the younger man. "Did you tear the bag on purpose, JD?"
Dunne's eyes widened as he looked at the blond sympathetically. "No...I was..."
"Just trying to h...help out.," Larabee rasped painfully. "It's not your fault I opened the door just as the damn thing ripped. Hell, Kid, I've l...lost track of how many times I've done that."
"I think we all have," the ladies' man explained.
"The bags are in the cupboard in the kitchen, JD," Larabee explained, fighting the urge to cough once more. He watched the young man leave the room and sank wearily onto the bed.
"Why don't you lie back down, Chris?" Wilmington asked.
"Only just got up," the blond hissed.
"I know, but you sound terrible."
"I'm okay. Where'd Nathan get to?"
"Ah, he's gone to set up your medications," the ladies' man explained.
"Damn," Chris swore and stood on shaky legs. He coughed and held his and to his sore chest. "If he's gonna insist on that I want to be out in the living room."
"You sure you're up to it?"
"Y...yeah...th...think so," his words were forced out between coughs. He walked towards the door and made his way towards the living room. His stomach continued to churn as nausea rose and fell as if he was on a turbulent sea.
Jackson heard the rasping wheeze from the hallway and knew his stubborn patient was on his way out. He set up the antibiotics beside the recliner and waited for the man to take his seat.
Chris sat down and grabbed for the box of tissues beside the chair. He felt Jackson take his arm and expertly hook up the medication.
"Chris, I'm gonna give you the morphine and Zoloft first," Jackson said as he injected the meds through the heplock.
"...okay..." the blond said. His throat had grown steadily worse as the coughing intensified and became more of a bark.
"Buck, get him some water," Jackson ordered as Larabee spit into one of the tissues.
"Shit, Chris, how much of that stuff did you inhale?" the medic asked.
"Feels like the whole fucking b...bag," the blond said, smiling weakly.
"Sounds like it too," the medic quipped, as he hooked up the antibiotics.
"Here you go, Chris," the ladies' man said when he returned with a glass of water.
"Thanks, Buck," Larabee wheezed and accepted the glass. He lifted it to his mouth and took a tentative sip. He painfully swallowed the water, groaning as it felt like it ripped out his throat. He struggled to take a second sip, hoping it would get easier, but that wasn't to be and he passed the cup back to his long time friend. He closed his eyes as he felt the medication ease the pain in is throat and chest, missing the worried look on his friend's faces as he continued to cough up the dust he'd inhaled.
"Easy, Chris," the medic soothed as Larabee's face contorted in pain and his eyes began to water with the force of the coughing. He knew Buck and JD were watching the scene and wanted to put their minds at ease, but his boss needed his complete attention right now.
"Je...sus," Larabee hissed. Over and over he coughed, until it became a continuous fight to draw air into his lungs. He was unable to catch his breath as the harsh sounds erupted from his mouth, until he felt something tear at the back of his throat and tasted the metallic tang of blood.
Jackson saw the panic in the green eyes just before blood appeared on Larabee's lips and ran slowly down his chin. "Shit! Buck, get the car! JD call Saint Vincents and tell them we're bringing Chris in!"
"What? Why?" the kid asked, but grabbed the phone when he saw the blood.
"Chris, just try to relax," the medic said, grabbing tissues and wiping the blood from his friend's chin.
"S...shit, Nate...no...hos..pi...tal," he said as the urge to cough continued.
"Sorry, Chris, no choice in the matter. I think you've ruptured the stitches and we need to get you checked out!"
JD came back from the kitchen with a wet cloth and handed it to Jackson who used it to clean the blood from Larabee's face.
"The hospital is expecting us!" Dunne told him as Jackson unhooked the antibiotics and eased Larabee to his feet.
Chris coughed again and groaned as he felt needle like stabbing pain at the back of his throat. He grabbed a handful of tissues and spit out a wad of blood tainted sputum, before closing his eyes against a wave of nausea. He felt the strong hands of the medic on his arm and smiled gratefully at the support.
"Th...anks..." he whispered as they walked out the door and made their way towards Wilmington's car.
JD hurried to open the door and watched as Jackson eased the blond onto the seat. His eyes met the worried ones of the ladies' man as he slid into the passenger seat. He could feel the fear emanating from the scoundrel as the older man started the car and hurriedly drove out of the driveway and headed towards Billings. The silence between them was interrupted only by the coughing from the sick man and the soothing voice of the medic.
Chris tried to stop coughing, but the minute he did he could feel the trickle of blood at the back of his throat. His stomach churned and he knew he was going to be sick.
"Buck, pull over!" Jackson ordered as he recognized the look on the blond's face. He felt the car ease off the paved road and onto the gravelled shoulder and helped Larabee from the car. He watched as the blond retched and bloodied sputum dropped onto the ground. Once the attack was over he got the sick man back in the car and the journey to Saint Vincents began again, with Larabee's head slumped against the back of the car.
Thirty minutes later they pulled into the emergency department and JD jumped out of the car and raced into the ER.
"We need help out here!" he called, relieved to see a familiar figure behind the nurses desk.
Sandy had been warned to expect Larabee and recognized JD immediately. She moved from behind the desk just as the doctor on call came out of one of the treatment rooms.
"Dr. Hale, it's the patient I told you about!" she said as she grabbed a gurney and wheeled it towards the automatic doors.
Mark Hale grabbed the opposite end of the stretcher and hurried towards the car parked just outside the ambulance bay. They stopped beside the passenger door just as two men eased a pale form from the backseat.
"Get him on here!" he ordered, noting the blood on the man's face. They lowered the gurney to make it easier for the blond to lie back and saw the panic in the green eyes.
"Sit him up a bit!" The doctor said as the stretcher was raised and Sandy lifted the end so Larabee could breath easier without swallowing any more blood. They rushed into the ER and towards an empty room.
"You three can wait in there!" Sandy ordered as Larabee disappeared inside the examination room.
"Guess we'd better call the others," Wilmington said.
"Oh, Hell, Vin was supposed to stop by tonight," Jackson explained.
"I'll see if I can get him on his cell," the ladies' man said and hurried out of the room.
Jackson took the time to look at the younger man seated dejectedly across from him. The slump of the shoulders and the bowed head told him the kid was feeling guilt for what happened at the house. He stood up and crossed the narrow space and took the seat next to him. He placed a comforting hand on Dunne's shoulder and waited for the youth to look at him. When the head lifted he could see the worry and fear on the pale face.
"JD, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Nathan," the easterner said simply.
"Sure you are, Kid. Look, JD, no one is to blame for what happened..."
"How can you say that, Nathan? I did that to him!"
"No you didn't..."
"Yes, I did. I'm the one that broke the damn bag! I shouldn't have been changing it right in front of his door! I should've done it outside!"
"Did you know Chris was going to come out just as you were changing the bag?"
"Of course not," the kid answered.
"Well then you're not to blame. None of us are. It was just hard luck that Chris stepped out just as the bag broke!"
"B...But I'm the one who broke the bag!"
"Maybe you did, but did you do it on purpose?"
"No, I just gave a small tug and the damn thing came apart!" the kid swore.
"Ah, so the blame doesn't lie with you it lies with Mr. Hoover."
"What?" Dunne asked incredulously.
"Well, he's the one who made the bags. Guess we need to pay a visit to him and sack it to him..."
"Sack it?" he kid grinned weakly. "Don't you mean sock?"
"Nope. Sack it is! After all sack is another name for bag and that's the offending device that caused this," the medic said, smiling as he saw the relief on the young man's face.
"Nathan, I'm gonna remind you of that one the next time you're making fun of my jokes," the kid said.
"Oh, hell, can we forget we had this talk?"
"Uhuh, no way," Dunne said.
"Alright, JD, I'm going to go out to the desk and see about getting Chris' chart prepared. Why don't you see if you can scare us up some coffee."
"Okay," the youngest member of the team said and followed Jackson out of the waiting room.
"Chris, I'm just gonna take a look and see what's happening. Can you open your mouth for me?" Hale asked.
Larabee nodded and opened his mouth, fighting back the nausea assaulting him once more. He felt the nurse taking his vitals and turned away from the doctor. He grabbed the basin they'd placed beside him, and spat out the crimson fluid.
"S...sorry," he apologized and smiled gratefully as Sandy passed him a wet cloth. "Thanks," he mumbled tiredly, coughing again as the tickle returned to his throat. He closed his eyes, hating the taste in his mouth, and wishing he had something to gargle with.
Hale leaned on the side of the bed and checked his patient's eyes as the nurse finished taking his vitals. He rubbed his left hand across the stubble on his chin and knew what he was about to say would not go over well with this particular patient.
"Chris?'
Larabee opened his eyes and looked at the doctor, frowning at the look he saw there. "W...what's w...wrong?"
"It looks like you've torn open the stitches at the back of your throat."
"Ah, He...hell," the blond hissed. "Guess you need to put..." he stopped and spit in the basin once more. "Put them back in."
"Yes, we do..."
"Alright, get it over with so I can go home," he said softly, the pain in the back of his throat seemed to be growing worse.
"It's not that simple. I'm afraid you're going to need to go to the OR for this."
"W...what?" Larabee asked incredulously. The door opened and he spotted a tuft of blond hair before a familiar form reached his bed.
"We can't do it here..."
"Shit!"
"I'm going to have Sandy take some blood and start an IV while I put in a call to the OR," Hale explained. "Just relax while we set things in motion!"
Larabee closed his eyes and fought the urge to cough, knowing it would just cause more pain. He hated the taste in his mouth and again spit into the small basin.
"Nathan, what's wrong?"
Jackson looked up at the question and was relieved to see Carolyn Murphy walking towards him.
"Hi, Doc, Chris is in there with Dr. Hale," He explained, pointing to the examination room Larabee and the doctor had disappeared into.
"What happened?" the specialist asked worriedly.
"He inhaled a lot of dust from a broken vacuum bag and started coughing. It just got worse until he was literally gasping for air. The next thing we knew there was blood running out of his mouth," the medic explained.
"How long ago was this?"
"About an hour and a half."
"Alright, I'm going to check on him. I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I know," the dark haired woman assured him.
"Thanks, Doc," the medic said as the woman hurried towards Larabee's room. He watched as Hale came out of the room and spoke with Murphy before he hurried towards the nurses' desk and picked up the phone there.
Chris heard the door open but kept his eyes closed, but he opened them when he heard the familiar voice beside his bed.
"I heard one of my favorite patients was here," Carolyn Murphy said, touching his shoulder and smiling at him.
"H...hi, Doc," he whispered painfully.
"Try not to talk too much, Chris. I just spoke with Dr. Hale and he's arranging for an OR. Now let me take a look," she said as she picked up a tongue depressor and reached for the light. "Open up," the doctor ordered and looked down his throat.
"W...well?" Larabee asked.
"It looks like you ruptured the sutures and maybe broken one of the vessels. You just rest easy until we get this set up. I'll see you upstairs," she told him as she hurried out of the room.
"...okay..." Larabee said as he felt Sandy take his arm and examine the heplock already in place.
"Chris, I'm going to use a different site for your IV. The heplock needs to be moved anyway," she explained as she finished setting the IV up on the pole beside his bed.
Chris simply nodded and closed his eyes as he felt her lift his left hand and begin searching for a place to put the new IV.
"You're gonna feel a small prick now, Chris," she explained as she inserted the tiny needle. She extracted the blood samples she needed before attaching the IV fluids and taping the lines in place. "There, now you just relax until they call for you."
"Thanks, Sandy," Larabee said and watched as the nurse left the room, before picking up the basin and spitting the foul tasting fluid from his mouth.
"So what's happening, Doc?" Jackson asked as Hale hung up the phone and turned towards him.
"The guys are on the way, Nathan. Any word on Chris?" Wilmington asked the medic as he joined him at the desk.
"I was just about to find out," Jackson said. "Well, Doc?" he asked as Dunne joined them, three cups of coffee in his hands.
"Okay, the heavy coughing seems to have ruptured the sutures and opened up a blood vessel. That's where the bleeding is coming from," Hale explained as Murphy exited Larabee's room.
"What are you going to do about it?" Wilmington asked worriedly.
"Dr. Murphy is scrubbing for surgery..."
"Surgery!" Dunne exclaimed, fumbling the coffee cups in his hands.
"Yes, those stitches need to be replaced and the bleeding stopped. I have to go check on my other patients."
"Can we go see Chris?" Jackson asked.
"Yes, but let him rest and don't get him talking," the doctor ordered.
"We won't," the medic assured him.
"Surgery," Dunne repeated.
Wilmington looked at the pale young man and steered him towards the waiting room. He turned his head towards the medic and called over his shoulder.
"Nathan, you go sit with Chris. I'll take care of JD."
"Okay, Buck," the medic said, worried about the young man, and glad Buck was with him. He moved towards the closed door and opened it as the nurse came out carrying three vials of blood.
"How is he, Sandy?"
"He's resting right now, Nathan, and that's the best thing for him. I'll be back as soon as the OR calls for him."
"Okay. I'm just gonna sit with him until they call." Jackson moved into the room and silently pulled a chair closer to the bed.
Larabee was turned on his right side, the basin gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were closed, but Jackson knew he wasn't sleeping. He hated seeing the vulnerability in the pale face, knowing Larabee still had a ways to go in his recovery. He saw the green eyes open to mere slits and waited for the blond to speak.
"Th..." Larabee stopped and spit into the basin before trying again.
"Don't talk right now, Chris. Just rest, okay?"
"...okay..." the sick man agreed and closed his eyes once more.
"Okay, JD, what's wrong?"
"Buck...I..." he started, but couldn't meet the older man's gaze.
"Kid, if you tell me this is your fault I'm gonna slug you..."
"But, Buck..."
"Don't but Buck me. Look JD, I'm just as much at fault as you think you are. The bag broke at a bad time. It's no one's fault except..."
"Mr. Hoover," Dunne finished.
"The vacuum guy?"
"Yeah. The bag wasn't strong enough. Least Nathan says to blame him."
"Not bad. Wonder if we can persuade Chris to sell the movie rights. We could call it Attack of the Sack."
"Or maybe a new game for Nintendo...Mario Sack Attack!" the kid finished, reaching for his coffee and handing the ladies' man his.
"JD, Chris will be fine," Wilmington reassured the Bostonian.
"I know, Buck, I just wish it hadn't happened."
"Me too, Kid," the ladies' man said and the two men lapsed into silence.
Jackson looked up as the door opened fifteen minutes later and smiled as the nurse and an orderly entered the room.
Sandy placed her hand on Larabee's shoulder and gently shook him awake. She waited for the tired green eyes to focus on her and spoke softly.
"Chris, Dr. Murphy is ready for you," Sandy explained.
"...okay..." the blond's voice sounded muffled as he winced in pain and spit into the basin.
"Nathan, you know where to wait," Sandy said as the medic moved out of the way.
"Yeah, we'll see you when this is over, Chris," Jackson assured his friend.
"Th...anks, Nathan," Larabee said and closed his eyes once more. He felt the bed moved, and remained on his side as it was wheeled out of the room. He lost track of the twists and turns the stretcher took after they exited the elevator. He felt them stop and opened his eyes to the familiar sight of an OR. He slid over onto the operating table and lay back as a new nurse began attaching leads to his chest, and his arms were pulled out at his sides.
"Hello, Chris, I'm Dr. Parsons and I'm the anesthesiologist who's going to be putting you to sleep. How are you feeling?"
"Okay...little sick to my stomach," he answered honestly. Chris turned his head as he heard Murphy's voice.
"I expect you are. You'll probably feel that way for a while. Now, just lie still and Dr. Parsons will put you to sleep and you'll wake up in recovery."
"Chris, I'm adding the medication now so just relax," the anesthesiologist said.
"Hmm," Larabee said as he felt the new medication enter his body and soon drifted into a drug induced sleep.
Six heads snapped up as Carolyn Murphy entered the surgical waiting room. She smiled at the tired faces as she sat down beside JD Dunne."
"Well, Doc, how is he?" Wilmington voiced the question on all their minds.
"He's going to be fine. Surgery went well and he's being moved to recovery now."
"Can we see him?" Tanner asked.
"Not until he's moved to his room..."
"His room?" Standish asked.
"That's right. I want to keep him for a day or two just to make sure there are no other..."
"Don't say it, Doc!" Jackson interrupted.
"Don't say what?" Murphy asked, genuinely surprised at Jackson's tone.
"The BIG C word, Doc. Don't say it," Tanner explained.
"Big C word?" Murphy frowned in puzzlement.
"Yeah...big C...you know complications," Dunne whispered softly.
"Oh," Murphy couldn't help but laugh. "I take it Chris has a lot of..."
"Yes he does, Doc," Jackson said.
"Okay, let's just say I want to keep him a day or two for observation," the woman explained.
"Have there been any major traffic accidents today?" Standish asked seriously.
"Not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?" Murphy asked.
"I'm sure we're all hoping Mr. Larabee gets a room on a regular floor and not in pediatrics," the conman said.
Murphy smiled at the six men, amazed at how these men supported their friend. Larabee's tonsillectomy was filled with complications including a stay in the children's ward when there were no other beds available.
"Chris will not have to share a room with children this time around. We've got a private room waiting for him. I'm sure if you check with the nurses on the surgical floor they'll tell you where Chris will be staying."
"Thanks, Doc," Sanchez said.
"Oh, Doc."
"Yes, Vin," Murphy said as she stood up.
"Does Chris know he's staying overnight?" the tracker asked.
"Not yet. Would you like to volunteer to give him that information?"
"Ah...no....not really," the sharpshooter said.
"Coward!" Dunne said with a smile.
"When it comes to Chris and hospitals I am!" Tanner answered.
"Gentlemen," Murphy said. "I'm on my way to see Chris now and will give him the news. Like I said check with the nursing station to see what room he's in."
"We will, Doc, thanks," Jackson told her.
"Well, Gentlemen, since we can't visit our illustrious leader until he's settled might I suggest dinner in the cafeteria?"
"You buyin' Ez?" Tanner asked.
"I could be persuaded to foot the bill on this one," Standish answered smoothly.
"Persuaded, Ez?" Dunne asked.
"How would you all like to wager on the length of Mr. Larabee's stay..."
"I'm surprised at you, Son. Taking wagers on a man when he's down," Sanchez berated the younger man.
"Ah, I..."
"Put me down for twenty dollars and make the time thirty six hours," the ex-preacher said with a toothy grin.
"Twenty dollars for Mr. Sanchez," Standish said as he pulled out a small notebook and a pen. "Anyone else?"
"Twenty says he'll be here for forty eight," Tanner answered confidently.
"You people should be ashamed of your selves," Jackson said as he opened the door.
"How much and how long, Mr. Jackson?" the conman asked.
"Twenty dollars for twenty four hours," the medic told him with a smile.
"Twenty for twenty," Dunne said.
"How about you, Buck?" Tanner asked.
"Might as well stick with the twenty and make it twelve hours. Chris is stubborn and he won't lie still for this," the ladies' man said with a grin.
"What about you, Ez?" the youngest member of the team asked as they walked towards the elevator.
"I'm going with twenty dollars and forty hours," the conman said. "Okay, that's it the book is closed for wagering."
"Chris."
Larabee heard the voice calling him and slowly opened his eyes. It took a few minutes to focus and remember where he was. He smiled at the nurse standing next to the bed, she looked familiar, but he couldn't recall her name. He licked his lips in an effort to moisten them and tried to speak.
"W...what..." he stopped as the words were strained past his ravaged throat and hissed softly.
"Easy, Chris," the nurse said as she moistened his lips with a medicinal sponge.
"T...thanks," he moaned as he struggled to wake from the anesthetic.
"You're welcome. Dr. Murphy is coming this way."
"G...good...want to go h...home," Larabee said as the doctor joined the nurse beside the bed.
"How are you feeling, Chris?" the doctor asked.
"Sore...tired," he answered honestly.
"That's understandable, you've been through a lot. Now I want you to relax and let the nurses know if you need anything."
"M...my pants," Larabee told her.
"Well, you see," she could see the glassy eyes growing cold, but didn't let it affect what she had to say. "You won't be needing your pants for at least a day or two."
"Wh...what..."
"Look, Chris, you've just had surgery...again... You haven't been eating or drinking properly and you're run down. I want to keep you for at least twenty four hours and then we'll see how things go from there."
"Hell, D...doc..."
"Chris, it's for your own good. Now relax," she saw the grimace on his face as he tried to form a few choice words. "I'm going to have Shawna give you something for pain while they get your room ready."
"N...not in P...pe...dia...trics!" Larabee hissed, resigned to being stuck in the hospital overnight.
"No, Chris," Murphy laughed. "We've got a nice private room just for you, but..."
"What?"
"I could arrange to have some rap mus..."
"Not funny, Doc!" Larabee hissed as Shawna placed a syringe in his IV and injected the morphine.
"I'm sorry, Chris. I couldn't resist. We'll make sure no one on the floor plays rap music during your stay. Now let the medication help you sleep. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
"...okay..." the blond whispered as his eyes drifted closed. He fought to open them once more as he realized what she'd said. There was no way in hell he was staying in until tomorrow afternoon, but he didn't voice the protest as he slipped into the soft dreams he'd been having.
Two hours later he woke up to find a nurse and an orderly ready to transfer him to a bed in a private room. He opened his eyes and smiled weakly as Shawna spoke softly to him.
"Chris, do you think you can scoot over onto this bed for me?"
"Y...yeah," Larabee said tiredly. He waited until the nurse held the IV line in his left hand and easily moved onto the softer bed. He turned onto his side as nausea once more rolled through his stomach. He turned onto his right side and found a small basin held there for him. His stomach heaved until he fell back against the pillows and moaned weakly.
"Chris, Dr. Murphy left orders for Zofran. I'm going to have your nurse bring it and your pain meds. Okay?"
"Y...yeah, thanks," the blond said as she tucked the blankets around him. The pain in his throat had escalated since he vomited and he knew it would ease with the morphine and Zofran. He opened his eyes as someone touched his hand and inserted a syringe into his IV line.
"Tha...nks," he mumbled tiredly.
"You're welcome, Chris. My name is Tara and I'll be one of the nurses looking after you tonight. I'm just going to take your vitals and let you go back to sleep. Okay?"
"...okay..." Larabee said as he felt the thermometer placed in his ear. He felt her taking his pulse and BP and opened his eyes as she finished marking the results on his chart.
"There, all done. Now there are six men waiting outside. Do you feel like seeing them or should I tell them to come back tomorrow?"
"Nah, send them in," Larabee said as he pressed the button to raise the head of his bed.
"You need to rest, Chris, but I'll let them in for a few minutes."
She left the room and Larabee let his eyes close as he got comfortable. He opened them as he heard the door open and couldn't help smiling as JD and Buck stuck their heads through the narrow opening.
"Come on in," he told them and smiled as his bed was soon surrounded by six men.
"Hi, Chris, how are you feeling?" Dunne asked.
"F...fine, Kid," Larabee answered softly.
"That's good, Pard, 'cause ya look like five miles of bad road," Wilmington told him.
"Thanks, Buck, I really needed to hear that," the blond said tiredly.
"Well, hell, Chris, ain't my fault ya had a run in with Mr. Hoover," the ladies' man said.
"Who?" the sick man asked.
"Hoover...the vacuum guy. We figure it's his fault you're back in here," Dunne told him.
"Huh...must be the anesthetic," Larabee told them.
"What must be the anesthetic?" Jackson asked worriedly.
"Buck and JD a...actually m...made sense," Larabee said, yawning tiredly.
"Well, Son, it looks like you need to go on back to sleep," Sanchez said.
"Josiah's right, Chris. You go to sleep and we'll come see you in the morning," Jackson assured him.
"...okay..." the blond said as his eyes closed. He frowned as he heard Wilmington whispering something about his making a bad bet. 'Why wasn't I in on the bet?' he thought as he gave in to the call of sleep.
Vin walked out of the elevator and made his way towards the room housing his best friend. He knew it was early, but he hadn't slept much the night before. Chris seemed to be having a run of bad luck lately and he was beginning to wonder if the man had walked under a dozen ladders or broken more mirrors than Kellogg's had corn flakes. He smiled at the nurse seated at the desk and knew she wouldn't try to stop him. They knew him, and they understood that if Chris was in the hospital he would be there and vice versa. He stood in front of the door and eased it open.
Chris lay on his side, both legs, slightly bent, his right arm tucked under his head. Vin almost smiled at the innocent look on his friend's face as he pulled the chair closer to the bed. He took the headphones from the table and put them on his head before turning on the TV. The Simpsons cartoon was on and he relaxed in the chair, stifling his laughter each time Homer came on screen. He looked sideways at Chris and smiled as a pair of green eyes slowly opened. Taking off the headphones Vin waited for his friend to wake up completely.
"Morning, Cowboy," the tracker greeted softly.
"Not a cowboy...Shit," Larabee winced as talking aggravated his throat.
"Guess I'd better not ask how you're feeling."
"Not a good i...dea right now," the blond answered, reaching for the controls on the side rail.
"Going somewhere?"
"You m...might say that." The side dropped into place and long legs slid over the edge.
"Chris..."
"V...Vin. I need to go..."
"Not until Dr. Murphy says you can go."
"Jesus, Vin, s...since when do I n...need permission to go to the bathroom?" He smiled as Tanner's cheeks turned red.
"Oh, Hell, sorry, thought you meant you were leavin'!"
"In this. I don't think green stripes are my color..."
"Well, I wouldn't say that...they match your eyes. Maybe we can arrange to buy you one for your..."
"You do and I'll get you a gift certificate to get a hair cut!" Larabee hissed. Standing up he reached for the IV pole and used his other hand to hold the hospital gown together at the back. He slowly made his way to the washroom, hoping the nausea he felt would ease the longer he was up. He made it to the bathroom door and had to release the gown to pull it open.
"Chris, I need to take...oh my," the nurse said, smiling as she got a full view of her patient's assets.
"Oh shit!" the blond hissed and grabbed the gown, turning so that his back was to the door. He glared at the sharpshooter who'd started laughing the instant the door opened.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Chris," Pamela said. She'd worked with this patient before and knew he could take a joke. "I must say though, they were not the cheeks I was expecting to see."
This set Tanner off again and Chris felt the heat rise to his face as he pushed his way into the bathroom. The younger man was doubled over in his chair, the laughter coming in spurts as he tried to get himself under control.
"I'll get you for this, Tanner," the blond hissed as the door closed behind him.
"What the hell did I do?" the sharpshooter asked through hiccupping laughter.
"Just remember, I got a long memory."
"Chris I'll come back in a few minutes to take your vitals," Pamela called.
"Yeah!" the blond hissed.
Pamela looked at the young man seated beside the bed. She knew how much they teased each other and couldn't help adding.
"I do hope he didn't mind my joke at his expense, but he really does have such sweet cheeks..."
"Oh, Hell," the blond cursed as the nurse's words sent the tracker off again.
"Are you alright, Chris?" Pamela asked.
"Just fu...Just fine," he corrected as he opened the door once more. He saw the mischief in Vin Tanner's sparkling blue eyes and knew there'd be a lot of references to this one. He held onto the back of his hospital gown as he pushed the IV pole out of the bathroom.
"Isn't it kind've early for visitors?" Larabee asked, his voice raspy as he made his way to his bed and sat on the edge.
"Careful, Chris, wouldn't want to damage those sweet..."
"Finish that and you'll find yourself in the unemployment line!" Larabee warned.
"Sheets, Chris, I was going to say sweet sheets," The tracker smiled at his pale friend. "But sweet cheeks fit too."
"That's it..."
"Chris, lie back so I can take your blood pressure," Pamela ordered as she moved towards the bed.
"Hmm, it's probably sky high, Pamela, look at the rosy cheeks."
"Vin, get..."
"Ah, now is that any way to talk to a man who gives up a good night's sleep to come visit a sick friend? I'm hurt, Chris."
"Yeah, right, Tanner..."
"Whoa, Chris, your blood pressure is a little high," Pamela said.
"Goes with the territory," Larabee said. "Look, it happens sometimes..."
"Because of your men?"
"We've been known to cause his blood pressure to rise," Tanner said. "But it doesn't last."
"I'm glad to hear that. Your temperature is a little high, but that sometimes happens after surgery. Dr. Midland will be making her rounds shortly and she'll be in to check on you."
"Good, I'm ready to get out of here," the blond said. He settled back on the bed, amazed at how tired he felt from the simple trip to the washroom.
"Well, you just rest until the doctors..."
"Sign the discharge papers," Larabee interrupted. He heard the nurse leave and closed his eyes, he knew he was still not well, but he wasn't about to admit it to anyone.
"So, Chris, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Vin."
"Sure. You gonna eat your breakfast when they bring it?"
"Depends on what it is."
"Probably something soft...Oatmeal..."
"You're kidding right. The oatmeal here is thicker than sludge."
"Chris ya gotta start eating or they'll keep you here."
Larabee heard the undercurrent of worry in the young man's voice and turned to look at him. He knew he wouldn't be able to set his mind at ease until everything was normal with his body.
"Vin, I'm trying..."
"I know, Chris, but..." He didn't get to finish as the door opened and Stacey Midland entered the room. She smiled at two of her most frequent patients as she moved to the bed.
"Good morning, Chris, how do you feel?"
"I'm fine, Doc. Sign the papers so I can get out of here," the blond said.
"Sorry, but I'm not the admitting doctor here. Dr. Murphy will be in this afternoon and she'll let you know if you're going home or not."
"I'm going home!"
"Chris!"
"Doc, she said overnight. The night is over and I..."
"And you're going to lie there and wait for her to come in."
"Hell, Doc..."
"Chris, how long has it been since you've managed to drink anything, let alone eat anything?"
"I drank some water yesterday..."
"And proceeded to throw it back up..."
"Vin, you're not helping here."
"Yes, he is, Chris. Look, you need to realize you've lost a bit of weight and you can't really afford that. If you don't start eating and keeping it down soon we're going to have to talk about a feeding tu..."
"No way!" Larabee hissed, wincing as it strained the back of his throat. He swallowed and again felt a burning sensation and sharp pain from the surgical site.
"There may not be a choice. You keep going like this and you won't have the strength to get out of that bed," Midland told him.
"Shit!"
"Just keep trying, Chris, that's all I'm asking."
"I will, Doc," Larabee assured her tiredly.
"Breakfast should be here in half an hour. Vin, did you go home last night?" the woman asked.
"Yeah, came in early..."
"Because you couldn't sleep," Midland said, seeing the truth in the blue orbs. "Well, it looks like you both need some rest. Vin, go home and get some sleep."
"I will," Tanner said.
"I'll believe that when I see it," Midland said, smiling at the two friends before leaving. She walked to the nurse's station and took Larabee's chart. His weight loss wasn't too bad yet, but if it continued the man could have serious complications. She really didn't want to have to resort to the feeding tube, but it was beginning to look more and more like they'd have to seriously consider it. She made a note on the chart about his weight loss and planned to meet with Murphy and the hospital's dietitian.
Chris was alone in his room while he waited for Carolyn Murphy to come into the room. He knew she was at the desk, going over his chart with the nurse before she came to see him. He'd tried to eat the soft food they brought at breakfast and lunch, but the little he managed to swallow came right back up again in spite of the Zofran. His eyes closed as he felt sleep drawing him, but he snapped them open and slid his legs over the edge of the bed in order to stay awake. He stood on shaky legs, made his way to the window and sat in the chair. He looked out into the sunshine, thinking about the problems he was having, but looked up as the door opened and the woman he'd been waiting for walked into the room.
"Good afternoon, Chris," Murphy greeted him with a smiled.
"Doc, so did you sign my discharge papers?"
"Well, Chris..."
"Come on, Doc..."
"Chris, I'm not signing any discharge papers until I'm sure everything is as it should be and that includes your being able to drink..."
"Have been drinking..."
"How much?" She watched him closely while she waited for an answer, smiling as he remained silent. "You know you're not drinking near enough and what you do drink makes a return trip within a minute or two, right?"
"Guess so," Larabee said, leaning his head heavily against the back of the chair.
"Look, give me one more day. If things improve I'll agree to letting you go tomorrow. Meanwhile I'd like you to keep trying to drink as much as you can."
"One more day..."
"If things improve," she corrected.
"Alright," he reluctantly agreed.
"Good, now come back to the bed and let me take a look at your throat," she ordered, frowning as he stood up and walked back to the bed. She could see the devastation this illness was having on him and also realized it was worse than normal, even for an adult.
Chris sat on the edge of the bed and smiled in spite of his discomfort. He watched as she pulled a tongue depressor from the container and took a penlight from her pocket.
"Okay, Chris, open your mouth," Murphy ordered.
Larabee did as he was told and waited as the doctor finished her examination of his throat. She finally removed the item from his mouth and placed the light back in her pocket, before sitting on the bed beside him.
"I know you don't feel well, Chris..."
"Feel fine, Doc..."
"Do your friends believe you when you tell them that?"
"Not really," he said with a small smile.
"I didn't think so. Well, your throat looks a little raw, but hopefully it'll start to feel better. Now, I have a few other patients to see, but I want you to relax and like I said...Drink! Whether it hurts or not, that's the only thing that's gonna help you heal."
"I will," the blond told her.
"Good, I'll be back to see you tomorrow."
"Okay."
"Chris?"
"Yeah, Doc?"
"You do know we're doing everything we can to get you out of here and feeling better?"
"I know."
"Good, because I want you to realize we may have to resort to a fee..."
"Don't say it, Doc. Ain't gonna happen," Larabee hissed.
"I hope you're right, Chris, but..."
"No buts."
"Okay, at least right now we won't talk about that. Just do what you can. I'll be back in the morning."
"Okay," the blond said and eased back on the bed. He turned on his side and closed his eyes, missing the worried frown on the doctor's face before she left the room.
Buck walked into the room an hour later to find his long time friend sleeping. He reached for the blanket and pulled it up over the lean body, his keen eyes taking in the signs that Larabee had lost more weight than he could afford. He remembered Sarah was always after her husband to gain a little weight, but Chris was adamant about staying at the weight he was. She'd make meals that would normally help gain pounds, but Larabee always managed to work off the extra calories. The man could eat more than most, but there was little evidence of that when you looked at the well muscled body. He finished covering the blond with the blankets and sat in the chair beside the bed.
Chris felt the added warmth and opened his eyes, smiling at his long time friend.
"Hey, Chris."
"Buck, shouldn't you be at work?"
"Nah, things are slow there right now so I figured you'd like some company."
"Thanks...appreciate it."
"Anytime, Chris. So, how are you feeling?"
"Tired, sore...feel like shit..."
"Figured as much. Talked to Pamela and she told me Dr. Murphy wanted you to stick around for another night. Can I get you anything?"
"Water," the blond answered, smiling at the look on Wilmington's face. He watched as the ladies' man went to get fresh ice water before easing his legs over the edge of the bed once more.
"Here you go, Pard."
"Thanks, Buck," the blond said. Taking the glass he took a tentative sip, before swallowing with some difficulty. He could feel his friend watching him and smiled as he placed the water on the table.
"Chris, that ain't enough."
"I know, Buck, just gonna take it slow."
"Okay."
"JD okay?"
"He's still feeling guilty about your run in with Mr. Hoover."
"Wasn't his fault."
"He knows that, Chris, but seeing you back in here is hard on the kid...hell it's hard on all of us."
"I know...sorry..."
"It's not your fault either, Pard," the ladies' man said, watching as the blond took another sip of the water.
Chris felt the other man watching his every move and smiled inwardly at the long time friendship they shared. Somehow, Buck Wilmington was always there, whether good times or bad he could always rely on this man being at his side.
"Thanks, Buck," he said tiredly.
"For what?" the scoundrel asked.
"For being the man you are and not letting me push you away."
"Oh, hell, Chris, that goes both ways. You may be a stubborn SOB sometimes, but I wouldn't have you any other way," the ladies' man assured him.
"Me either, Pard," Larabee said, reaching for the basin as his stomach churned.
"Easy, ol' son," the ladies' man said as the blond's face paled considerably. He rubbed the lean shoulders, watching as his friend fought to get his rebellious stomach under control.
"T...thanks, Buck," the blond said, looking towards the door as Pamela entered the room.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, hurrying to the bed.
"Y...yeah, think so...just nauseous," Larabee answered.
"I'm going to get your Zofran, Chris," she said. "How's the pain?"
"Right now...bad..." he answered as the retching caused his throat to throb painfully.
"I'll be right back," she said, hurrying from the room.
"Want to lie back down, Chris?"
"N...not yet, Buck...can you get me a cold cloth...feel kind of hot," he answered.
"Sure, you okay until I get back?"
"Yeah...fine..." The blond continued to fight the churning sensation in his stomach at the same time he tried to ignore the burning pain at the back of his throat.
"Here you go, Chris," the ladies' man said, passing the cloth to the ill man.
Chris took the cloth and quickly washed it over his face, before lying back on the bed and placing it over his eyes. He heard the door open, but didn't bother looking to see who it was.
"Chris, I've got morphine and Zofran here for you. How's the nausea?"
"Still there..."
"Did you drink anything?" she asked as she cleaned the site on his IV.
"A little..."
"He drank a few sips of water," Wilmington told her.
"That's great...now hopefully this'll help you keep it down," the nurse said.
"Thanks, Pamela," the blond said gratefully.
"You're welcome, Chris. Now, I'm just going to take your vitals and then I'll let you rest, okay?"
"...okay..." the blond agreed. He felt the morphine ease the pain at the back of his throat and sighed as his stomach finally calmed. He felt the nurse complete her task and ease the blankets up over him.
"Try to sleep, Chris, but drink when you can," the nurse told him.
"I will," Larabee said and heard her leave the room.
"How are you feeling now?" Wilmington asked a few minutes later.
"Better...I think."
"Good, ya know she's kind of pretty," the ladies' man said.
"I know," Larabee agreed.
"Why don't you ask her out? I mean she is the one who said you had sweet..."
"Tell Tanner to get his affairs in order!" Larabee hissed softly.
"Why....sure we've always known you had sweet cheeks, although we weren't talking about the same ones Pamela was."
"Buck, while Vin's putting his in order you'd best do the same," the blond warned.
"Although those sweet cheeks would probably be even sweeter with a bit more meat on them. You ain't got much of a rump roast there," the ladies' man said, smiling as he heard Larabee's soft laughter.
"Hell, Buck, give it a rest..."
"Sure...you okay now?"
"Yeah, just tired."
"Well, go on to sleep. I got your rump...er back," the scoundrel said, winking as Larabee looked at him through half open eyes.
"Go home, Buck, I can watch my own rump...or maybe I'll ask Pamela to watch it for me," the blond said, smiling as the ladies' man stood up to leave.
"I bet any one of the nurses would stand in line for that job, Chris...might be a few males among them too."
"Out, Buck!"
"Alright, I'm going. Get some rest, Pard...and drink."
"I will," Larabee said, turning on his side and pulling the blankets up over his body as the need for sleep came over him.
Chris awoke several hours later and rubbed at his throbbing temples. He threw back the blankets and sat up dizzily.
"W...whoa," he thought, running his hand through his sweat soaked blond hair. His stomach had eased some, but he wondered why the hospital had suddenly turned up the heat as he stood up and slowly made his way to the washroom. He stepped inside the small room and looked at the face in the mirror, the dark circles around the eyes, the gaunt cheeks, the pale face all spoke to him of a man who'd been sick for months, yet less than two weeks had passed since his tonsils were removed.
"Shit Larabee," he thought as he wet a cloth and slowly washed it over his heated skin.
"Chris, you in there?"
"Yeah, Nathan, be out in a minute," Larabee answered as he finished wiping his face. He placed the cloth back on the rack and turned away from the ghostly face reflected in the mirror.
Jackson watched as his friend and boss came out of the bathroom. He knew the other man was still feeling lousy as he took short, but deliberate steps towards the bed.
"How are you feeling?" the medic asked.
"Honestly, Nate, I don't know. Sometimes I feel okay, but other times I just feel like shit..."
"This being one of the times you feel like shit?"
"It shows that much?" Larabee asked, a weak smile on his face as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Yeah, you look a little flushed...when did the nurse take your temperature last?" The medic reached out to touch the blond's forehead and smiled as the man batted at his hand
"I don't know...Buck was here...I'm okay, Nathan."
"Sure you are," the younger man said.
"Nathan, look, I..."
"Feel like shit..."
"Yeah...okay, that sounds about right," the blond said sheepishly. He looked at the door as it opened and Pamela entered the room.
"Hello, Chris, Nathan."
"Pamela," Larabee said as the nurse came over to the bed.
"Dinner is on the way up and I wanted to make sure you weren't nauseous," the concerned nurse said.
"No, I'm okay..."
"Are you sure, you look a little flushed...."
"That's what I said," Jackson grinned as Larabee turned a pale imitation of his glare in his direction.
"Said I'm fine..."
"Well, let's just check to make sure. I'll be right back," Pamela told him.
"Shit!"
"What's wrong, Chris?"
"Nothing," the blond answered as he raised the head of his bed and lay back against the pillows. He reached for the blankets and pulled them up over himself.
"You cold?"
"Yeah...a little."
"You've got a fever," the medic said worriedly.
"No..."
"Chris, I'm going to take your temperature," Pamela said when she entered the room.
"Okay," the blond said and soon felt the thermometer against his ear. He sighed as he heard Jackson asking what it was, knowing the medic was worried about him.
"It's up a little," Pamela answered, and wondered whether there was something else going on. She shook her head as she finished with the vitals and patted Larabee's shoulder. "Chris, I'm going to put in a call to Dr. Murphy..."
"Ah, hell..."
"I just want to see if we can give you some Tylenol and get that fever back down. You just rest."
"Okay," the blond said. He looked at the medic and smiled weakly at him before closing his eyes and drifting towards sleep.
Nathan watched the sick man sleep and walked to the window as he waited for the others to arrive. He knew they'd all show up here eventually and wished he had better news to tell them. He looked at the door as the nurse came in once more. She held a small white cup in one hand and a new bag of intravenous fluid in the other.
Pamela smiled at the medic as she placed the cup on the table and moved to change the IV bag. She quickly attached the new one and soon had it running into her patient's arm. She took a syringe from her pocket and injected the Zofran into the juncture closest to Larabee's arm. Next she touched his shoulder and waited for the green eyes to open and focus on her.
"Chris, I just gave you some Zofran and hopefully it'll help your stomach. Dr. Murphy ordered Tylenol for your fever. Think you can sit up and take it for me?"
"Yeah..." the blond said and struggled upwards in the bed, his body trembling as the cooler air touched his skin. He took the cup and looked at the white pills inside it, frowning at the thought of forcing them down. 'Just do it, Larabee,' he thought and dumped the two pills into his mouth. He accepted the glass of water from Jackson and swallowed the pills with a minimum amount of the cold liquid. He placed the glass back on the table and lay back against the pillows as the nurse pulled the blankets up over him once more.
"Nathan, let me know if he loses them," she said.
"I will," the medic said, watching as the nurse left the room. He settled back and looked at the pale face of a man he'd come to admire in the years he'd worked with him. A man who'd been shot, beaten, and stabbed numerous times and came out of it faster than anyone had a right too. Yet here he was with a simple operation, and it was taking the good right out of him.
"I'm okay, Nathan, why don't you go on home and get some rest?"
"I will, Chris, as soon as I know you're really okay."
"I am, Nathan...or at least I will be. I'm not about to let a kid's illness get the best of me, although right now it seems to have the last word," Larabee told him, smiling as he heard the soft chuckle from the medic.
"Yeah, well, knowing you it may have the last word, but you'll beat the damn thing into submission and make it cower in some corner. Go on to sleep. I'll call you when dinner gets here...and no I don't want to hear you ain't hungry."
"Sounds like a plan, Nate," Larabee said and drifted off to sleep.
Chris lay awake in the early hours of the morning. He'd long ago given up on sleep and sat in the chair by the window, gazing out at the approaching dawn. He'd been given more Tylenol through the night as his fever continued unabated, but he'd been able to keep the pills down and he was beginning to think there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He looked up at the IV bag as the machine it ran through began to beep and knew the night nurse would soon enter his room to change it.
He looked across at the bed and wondered if he should even bother making the effort to get back under the covers as the nurse came into the room. The small flashlight shone on the empty bed before it moved across the room and stopped on him.
"Having trouble sleeping, Chris?" Terry asked.
"Yeah...just can't seem to get comfortable in these damn beds," the blond answered as she checked the feed into the monitor.
"I bet...but you do need your rest and I need to take your vitals. So why don't we get you back into bed so I can do my job, okay?"
"Guess so," the blond agreed and stood up slowly. He smiled as she moved the IV pole alongside him and helped him climb back into bed. He eased his long legs up on the bed and thanked the nurse as she covered him with the blanket.
"How's the throat?"
"Sore..."
"Have you been drinking anymore?"
"Yeah...had some water...think it's even going to stay put."
"That's good news." She took his vitals and saw that his temperature was still a little high. "I'm going to get you your Tylenol and hopefully you'll be able to go back to sleep."
"Okay," the blond agreed and shifted on the bed. He lay quietly as the nurse entered the room a few minutes later with the pills and a fresh glass of water.
"Here you go, Chris," she said and watched him sit up. She held the cup to him and watched as he dumped the pills into his mouth and took a couple of small sips from the water.
"Thanks," the blond said, closing his eyes and waiting for sleep to take him away.
"Mr. Larabee, I need to take a little blood."
Chris opened his eyes and blinked as the bright light stabbed into them. He swore under his breath as the lab tech reached for his wrist. The night had been a long one and he knew he'd only just fallen asleep. He placed his arm over his eyes as he felt the rubber tubing wrapped around his bicep and the woman slapped at his skin to make the veins more prominent. He felt the tip of the needle slide under his skin and the tubing was released.
"There, all done," she said as she placed a piece of gauze over the tiny wound and bent his elbow. "Just keep it like that for a few minutes."
Chris watched her leave and let his eyes close once more as exhaustion made him queasy. It wasn't long before he was drifting towards sleep, only to be awakened by hospital routine once more. He opened his eyes as Carolyn Murphy's voice reached his ears.
"Good morning, Chris."
"Morning, Doc."
"How do you feel?"
"Tired, didn't get much sleep last night."
"So I see. Was there any reason for it? Something I should know about?"
"No, just couldn't get comfortable." Larabee answered as he pressed the button to raise the head of his bed.
"Well, that's understandable. There's nothing like your own bed when it comes to sleeping."
"Does that mean I'll be sleeping in my own bed tonight?"
"We'll see. I want to take a look at your throat and maybe figure out where this fever is coming from." Murphy told him as a woman came into the room. Chris recognized her from previous stays and smiled at the petite blond.
"Hello, Chris, Dr. Murphy," the bubbly nurse greeted them both.
"Jane, would you please check Chris' vitals while I look over his chart," Murphy said.
"Yes, Doctor," Jane Carlson said as she lifted the BP cuff from the stand and wrapped it around her patient's bicep.
"I see you've been able to drink a little more," the doctor said.
"Yeah...even kept it down," Larabee said, smiling thinly at the woman.
The doctor nodded and reached for a tongue depressor as she pulled a tiny penlight from her pocket. "Okay, open up." She shone the light at the back of his throat and moved the wooden implement around until she was satisfied by what she saw.
"Well?" Larabee asked.
"It looks a little better today," she answered and turned to the nurse. "What's his temperature, Jane?"
"101.2, Doctor."
"That's down a little from last night. I want you to continue with the Tylenol..."
"As long as I can take them at home," Larabee told her adamantly.
"I didn't say I was releasing you..."
"Hell, Doc, I've been drinking..."
"Yes, you have, but it's still not nearly enough."
"You said one more day..."
"I know, but..."
"Uhuh, Doc, no buts. I can take the Tylenol at home."
"Yes, but you need those IV antibiotics..."
"Nathan was doing them and I'm sure he won't mind making sure I take them again. How many more days have I got on those damn things anyway?"
"Five days. All right, I'll make a deal with you. Breakfast should be here in an hour. You eat..."
"Drink..." he smiled as the doctor laughed.
"Drink what's on your tray and I'll let you go home. Deal?"
"Deal!" Larabee said. "Now if you two would excuse me I'm going to see if I can make up for last night's lack of sleep."
"You go ahead and do that, Chris and I'll be back right after breakfast. Sleep well."
"Think I will, night, Doc."
"Goodnight, Chris," Murphy said as she finished making notations on the chart and handed it to the nurse before leaving.
"Chris, breakfast is here."
Larabee shifted on the bed, wincing as he turned over and hooked the IV in the sheets, pulling on the line in his arm. He smiled sheepishly at the nurse standing beside the bed. Pressing the button to raise his head set off fireworks in his skull and he closed his eyes in an effort to stop the mounting nausea.
"Chris, are you okay?"
"Y...yeah, I'm f...fine..." he opened his eyes and smiled in spite of the headache.
"Sure you are. Now what's wrong?"
"Headache," Larabee answered.
"Really," Jane asked, touching his forehead and frowning at the heat she felt there. She reached for the thermometer and pressed it against his right ear.
Chris let his eyes close once more as the nurse took his vitals. He wanted to leave the hospital today, but in order to do that he had to drink the liquid diet they'd brought for him. Forcing his eyes to open, he sat up further in the bed and felt his stomach churning at the idea of drinking anything.
"Chris, your temperature is up again. I'm going to put in a call to Dr. Murphy..."
"Don't. I'm okay. Just need to eat...drink this and get out of here," Larabee grumbled as he reached for the spoon and dipped it into the green Jell-O.
Jane watched as he struggled to eat the first mouthful and knew it wasn't going to stay down as he dropped the spoon onto the table once more. She saw the determination in the handsome visage as the blond sipped at the bland juice.
Larabee felt her watching him and tried to keep from showing the discomfort it caused him as he forced himself to swallow. 'Dammit!' he thought as the churning nausea continued and he knew the liquids were about to make a return trip. He turned on his side and reached for the basin, but found it was already before his mouth. Over and over he heaved until his body had no strength left with which to hold himself up. He lay back against the pillows, closed his eyes and placed his right arm over them.
"I'll be right back, Chris," Jane assured him, before leaving the room.
Chris lay still as chills raced through his body. He reached for the blankets and pulled them up over himself, wondering what the hell was causing him to feel so lousy this morning. The night had been a long one, but at least he'd been able to drink and keep it down. Right now he felt as bad as he had earlier in the week. He had no idea how long he lay there before he heard the door open and someone walking up to his bed.
"Chris?"
Larabee opened his eyes and recognized the worried face of the surgeon. He tried to sit up further, but she placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving.
"Just lie still. Tell me what's going on," she ordered sympathetically.
"I don't know, Doc. Stomach's churning again," the blond answered as Jane came back into the room.
"What about your throat? Is it feeling any better?"
"N...no...not really."
"Alright," she said, patting his shoulder as the nurse reached for his IV. "Jane's giving you the Zofran. What I want to do is check your blood test results. I have a feeling the antibiotics are not working on the infection you have. If that's the case we simply need to put you on a stronger one...probably a cocktail..."
"Whiskey Sour?" The blond smiled as the nurse let out a small laugh.
"Not that kind of cocktail, Chris," Murphy told him.
"Damn, had to try."
"Yes, and I do appreciate your sense of humor. Now you stay put while I check on the results of this morning's blood work," Murphy told him.
"...and sign my discharge papers..."
"Not yet I won't. Sorry, Chris, I want to find out what's going on with you before I release you!"
"Doc..."
"Before you say it I know you could just sign yourself out, but I know you're smarter than that. You need to stay here until we get the next course of antibiotics started and make sure they are working."
"How long?" Larabee asked a put upon expression on his pale face.
"Hopefully just twenty four to forty eight hours."
"Damn..."
"I know, but we need to get you straightened out. We've already discussed what could happen if this infection continues unchecked."
"ARF...still sounds like something a dog would say," the blond answered.
"Yes, it certainly does. Now you keep trying to eat and drink and I'll be right back," Murphy told him. She reached for his chart and walked out through the door, smiling as the nurse began taking her reluctant patient's vital signs. The door closed behind her and she watched two men walking towards her from the elevator. She moved to the desk knowing they'd follow her.
"Hey, Doc, how's Chris?" Wilmington asked.
"Are we taking him home today?" Dunne inquired hopefully.
"I don't think he'll be going home today..."
"What?" the ladies' man asked.
"Why not?" escaped from JD at the same time
"Chris is still running a fever. I'm just going to check his blood work and see if I can figure out where this is coming from. Hopefully it's just a simple matter of adjusting the antibiotics until we find the right one. That may take a day or two longer."
"Damn, how's he taking it?" the rogue asked.
"Surprisingly better than I thought he would," Murphy told them.
"That's what worries me. It's not like Chris to willingly stay in the hospital," Wilmington told her.
"Its not like any of us to stay in the hospital, Buck," Dunne corrected.
"Yeah, Kid, but this is Chris. The most stubborn ornery cuss..."
"That's why you and him have been friends for so long," Dunne said and saw the smile on the doctor's face.
"Ha, ha, Kid. Can we see him, Doc?"
"Yes, but he's had a rough night, so try to keep it to a minimum," the woman warned.
"We will, Doc, thanks," the ladies' man said as he turned JD away from the desk and headed towards Larabee's room.
Chris heard the nurse leave and kept his eyes closed. He hated hospitals. Hated being stuck in them, hated visiting people in them, and mostly hated how weak hospitals made him feel. He remembered being here to visit one of his friends when they were ill, and how hard it was to ignore the medicinal smells associated with being sick. He heard the door open again, but still kept his eyes closed, hoping if it was a nurse, doctor or lab tech they'd leave him alone for a while. JD's whispered voice made him smile and open his eyes.
"He's sleeping, Buck, maybe we should leave."
"I'm awake, JD, just resting my eyes," Larabee told them, raising the head of the bed once more.
"Hi, Chris, how're you feeling?" Dunne asked.
"Tired," the blond answered.
"Rough night?" Wilmington asked, recognizing the signs on his friend's face.
"Yeah, couldn't sleep. Hate these damn beds."
"Don't we all," the ladies' man asked.
"Yeah...and don't forget about being woke up and asked if you need a sleeping pill," Dunne quipped, smiling as Larabee laughed lightly.
"Been there, done that," the blond assured him. "What time is it anyway? Shouldn't you two be at the office?"
"It's a little after ten, me and Buck took an early lunch in case you were getting out of here," the kid answered.
"It doesn't look like it. At least not today," Larabee answered tiredly.
"Yeah, that's what Doc Murphy told us. She's looking at the results of your tests now," Wilmington told him.
"Yeah, she thinks the problem is the antibiotics," the blond told him.
"Again, thought she'd straightened all that out," the rogue stated.
"I did too, but she thinks I need stronger ones."
"Damn, Chris, I wish there was something we could do."
"You are, Kid. Thanks for coming by," Larabee assured the younger man. He shifted on the bed and looked towards the door as it opened and Jane came back into the room carrying a small bag in her right hand.
"Chris, Dr. Murphy wants to start you on a different antibiotic. It's a stronger cocktail..."
"Sex on the beach?" Wilmington asked, causing JD to laugh heartedly.
"No, I'm afraid not," the nurse told him. "Just plain antibiotics right now."
"Damn, sorry, Chris, I tried," the ladies' man said.
"I did too," Larabee told him as the nurse hooked up the bag. "Asked for a Whiskey Sour. Dr. Murphy didn't agree to it."
"Maybe we can sneak you in one," Dunne smiled conspiratorially.
"You try it and I'll have you banned from the hospital," Jane said, smiling at the look on the young man's face.
"I wouldn't...besides he's taking pain medication and it wouldn't be good to mix alcohol and morphine," Dunne told her.
"That's right, it wouldn't be, and don't forget that when you go home, Chris," the nurse said as she set the rate for the antibiotics.
"I won't," Larabee said as she turned to go. "Now, boys, as I see it you've got two choices."
"We do?" the young Bostonian asked.
"That's right. You can sit here and watch me sleep, because right now that's what I'm going to do..."
"Or?" Wilmington asked.
"Go back to the office and finish your paperwork..."
"What makes you think we haven't done..."
"JD, I know you boys. If there's paperwork to be done it's the last thing you do. I'm sure there's a stack of it on your desks that you can put a dent into since I'm still stuck in here. Ask, Josiah if he'll take care of the stuff on my desk. Tell him I'd appreciate it," Larabee said, closing his eyes and pulling the blankets up over his body. He smiled as he heard JD's voice and Wilmington's answer.
"How did he know, Buck?"
"JD, think about it, Chris has been out of the office for over a week...and he knows how much we all hate paperwork."
"Yeah, guess he feels the same way."
"You got that right, Kid," Larabee said sleepily. "Turn off the lights on your way out."
"Sure, Chris. See you later," Dunne told him as he flicked off the lights and closed the door.
Chris slept through most of the day, waking only when a nurse came in to check his vitals or when they brought something for him to drink. In spite of the pain it caused he managed to take several sips from what they brought and was feeling pleased with himself when the rest of the guys showed up just after six in the evening.
"Evening, Boys."
"Evening, Chris, how are you feeling?" Jackson asked.
"Better...I think.," Larabee answered. "Even better if the paperwork is completed."
"Well, let's see," Sanchez said rubbing the stubble on his chin. "My desk is clear. Vin?"
"Yep, and all filed away. Buck?"
"Made sure I dotted every I and crossed every T. JD?"
"Mine's done and I helped you remember, Ezra?"
"Affirmative, Mr. Dunne. I do believe there is not a scrap of paper on or near my desk. Mr. Jackson?"
"Didn't have much to do anyway. Now if only we could get that slack boss of ours to take care of the mountain of shit on his desk."
"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Jackson. What would Mr. Travis say if he compared Mr. Larabee's desk to ours. Not a very good impression you're making Mr. Larabee."
Chris had lain back against his pillow, smiling as his men continued to talk, before finally opening his mouth to speak. "Well now it seems to me I've picked up the slack quite a lot with you boys so it's about time you made up for my absence."
"Well, I guess we could help out," Dunne began. "Josiah, you have any matches?"
"JD, you do that and I'll make sure your pay check ends up in the furnace," Larabee said as the door opened and a nurse entered the room.
"My, my, I do believe I've struck pay dirt. I don't think I've ever seen such a handsome group since...well since I was a young woman and my mother told me about Chippendales. Tell me when the show is boys and I'll be front and center."
"Hi, Molly, these are the men I told you about," Larabee smiled at the older woman and saw a sparkle in her eyes as she looked at each man.
"The ones that work with you/"
"Yes," the sick man answered as she wrapped a BP cuff around his arm.
"Well, damn, but maybe you boys should think about getting an audition. I know a lot of women who'd pay to see a little...or a lot of skin," Molly Summerton explained and smiled as the younger man blushed.
"Well, Molly, I'll make you a deal," Sanchez said.
"What kind of deal?" the nurse asked.
"You try out for the ladies equivalent of Chippendales and we'll...."
"Well now, I don't believe any man would pay to see my skin, unless I iron it out first," the nurse laughed as she finished taking Larabee's readings. "Now, Chris, I'll be going home shortly, but if there's anything you need before then just press the button. Okay?"
"Okay," Larabee said as the silver haired woman walked towards the door. "Molly."
"Yes, Chris?"
"Don't put yourself down...you're still beautiful," the blond told her and was pleased when she smiled before leaving the room.
"Nice, Chris," Wilmington said.
"Okay, boys, so what's happening at the office? Anything I should know about?"
"The St. Charles case is just about wrapped up," Tanner told him.
"Did you find out where he hid the diamonds?" the blond asked.
"Sure did," Wilmington said.
"Where?" Larabee asked.
"Seems like Mr. St. Charles had a fetish no one knew about," Standish explained.
"St. Charles? Mr. by the book himself." Larabee looked from one man to the other before Vin spoke.
"He had a thing for women's padded bras!"
"What kind of thing?"
"Seems he had a small closet with them pinned to the wall inside a hidden compartment of his office closet. It was a regular zoo in there."
"What are you talking about, Vin?" Larabee asked, but the story was picked up by JD who couldn't quite stop laughing.
"He had three black striped bras pinned to the wall in the shape of a letter and a small index card with the word Z-BRA written on it.'
"You're kidding?" Larabee laughed and winced as the movement hurt his throat.
"No, and you'll never guess what the ah..."
"Nipples, JD," Wilmington finished as the younger man blushed.
"Yeah, nipples were?" Dunne asked.
"Don't tell me...the diamonds!"
"Yep, nice as you please they were set in the center of the black and white Z-BRA," Wilmington told him.
"We also found several Rubies from the same hoist," Sanchez said.
"Yes, and it's simply amazing that Mr. St. Charles has such a vivid imagination," Standish explained.
"I take it he's in custody?" Larabee asked.
"Yes, he is and we can close the book on that one thank God," Jackson answered.
"Ah, come on, Nate, it was nice to work on a case where the worst thing that came at you was a bra," Wilmington said, smiling lewdly at the medic.
"Anything else I should know about?" Larabee asked as he shifted to find a more comfortable position.
"Not really," Sanchez said.
"Not really?" the sick man asked tiredly.
"Nothing's changed with the McCloud case. The woman still insists she shot her husband in self-defence. He still says she was out to kill him, but I'm not so sure of that anymore," Jackson explained.
"Why?"
"It seems Ron McCloud was having an affair and on the nights he was supposed to be out of town on business he was really at his mistress's home."
"Did Mrs. McCloud know about this?" Larabee asked.
"Now that's where things get a little twisted. Mrs. McCloud swears she had no idea this was going on and the night she shot her husband he was supposed to be in New York on business. She says she forgot to set the alarm and when she heard a noise downstairs she went to investigate and grabbed her husband's gun from his dresser. Fool could've stopped this if he'd only locked the weapon away," Sanchez explained.
"He shouldn't have been allowed a weapon in the first place," Dunne said.
"JD, most people who have weapons shouldn't have been given a license for one, but that's not the problem in this case. We need to find out whether Mrs. McCloud really did shoot him on purpose," Wilmington told him.
"Have you uncovered anything that suggests she did?" Larabee asked.
"Not really, but she seems genuinely sorry in spite of the fact that he's been having several affairs behind her back. She's also got another problem to contend with," Jackson told them. "He's been having unprotected sex for years and now she has to go through the screening process for AIDS."
"Damn," Larabee silently cursed.
"Exactly," the medic said.
"I still think she's innocent," Wilmington said.
"I hope so...she's been through enough," Larabee said and wished there was something more they could do. He didn't realize he'd drifted toward sleep until whispered words reached his ears and he forced his eyes open once more. "Sorry, Boys."
"No need to apologize, Mr. Larabee. Perhaps we should depart and let you get your rest," Standish suggested.
"I'm okay," the blond assured them, but yawned in spite of his best efforts.
"It's okay, Chris, go ahead and sleep. I'll be back in the morning to pick you up," Tanner said as the men got ready to leave.
"If they let him go," Jackson corrected.
"Not if, Nate, I'm getting out of here tomorrow. Sick and..."
"Sick is right, Chris, and it's time you realized that. Remember what the doctor told you about infections and how dangerous they are. Right now your immune system has been on overdrive and even the antibiotics are not doing what they're supposed to. These setbacks are not helping either," Jackson said and silently cursed as he saw the look of guilt cross JD's face.
"It wasn't your fault, JD," Larabee assured the youngest member of his team, but knew Dunne did not believe him. "JD, remember Hoover!"
"Yeah, I will," Dunne said, but the lightness wasn't in his voice.
"JD, you were trying to help..."
"Didn't help much..."
"This probably would have happened anyway," Larabee said and hoped he was getting through to JD. "Dr. Murphy said it was bound to happen since I'm so stubborn..."
"Bull headed..."
"Obstinate..."
"Pigheaded..."
"All right...I think JD gets the point," Larabee said, smiling sheepishly at the men he called 'brothers'.
"Yes, I do, and Chris, I wouldn't want you to be any other way," Dunne said as he looked into the blond's eyes.
"Thanks, Kid, now get out of here before the nurses kick you out!" Larabee said and watched his friends leave. As soon as they were gone he slid his legs over the edge of the bed and made his way to the washroom. He quickly took care of his needs and leaned heavily on the pole as he made his way back to the bed. His throat ached each time he swallowed and the dull pounding in his skull had picked up its tempo as his vision blurred. He was halfway to the bed when he felt his body sway and grabbed for something to steady himself against. He didn't hear the door open, but was grateful when a steadying hand fell on his arm.
"Easy, Chris, let's get you back to bed."
"T...thanks...got dizzy."
"I see, why don't we get you settled and I'll check your vitals?"
"Okay," the blond agreed as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Lie back," the nurse ordered.
"Hmm."
"Head hurting?"
"Exploding."
"How's the throat feeling?"
"Hurts...guess I should've stuck to my three words a day."
"Sounds like it. As soon as I get your vitals I'll bring you something for pain and nausea."
"Thanks...sorry for being such a pain."
"Chris, you're my patient and I have never once called one of my patients a pain and I don't intend to start now. From what I've seen on your chart you've been sick for a while now."
"Feels like forever," Larabee muttered tiredly.
"I bet it does. Hopefully this is the right antibiotic cocktail and it'll start to work for you. I'll be right back with your meds," the nurse explained.
"Thanks, Jenny," the blond whispered and closed his eyes once more. The pain in his head continued to escalate and he had no idea how much time passed before the nurse came back into the room. He forced his eyes open and watched as she placed a syringe into the juncture of his IV.
"That should help. Your call button is right here and don't hesitate to use it if you need anything. Okay?"
"O...okay, thanks."
"Good night, Chris."
"Good night," Larabee said as the blankets were tucked around him. The lights were closed and the door left partially open as Chris felt the meds begin to take effect. It wasn't long before he was sleeping and a thin smile was born on his lips as he thought of his son and the time he'd had his tonsils removed. The child was in and out on the same day, nothing like what his father was going through right now.
Chris awoke to a thin stream of sunlight across his face. He turned away and kept his eyes closed for a few moments longer, but the sounds of early morning hospital routine reminded him where he was. Shifting slightly he pressed the button and raised the head of the bed as a lab technician entered the room.
"Mr. Larabee, I need to get a few precious drops of blood from you."
Chris smiled at the young woman and held his arms out straight. "Which one do you want?"
"The left," the tech said and wrapped a piece of rubber tubing around his arm. She quickly found a vein and in less than a minute had two vials of blood and thanked him before leaving. Next came the day shift nurse and she checked his IV, set up a new bag of antibiotics and took his vitals.
"Breakfast should be here in a few minutes, Mr. Larabee," Marilyn Turner assured him before leaving him alone once more. The third person through the door was someone he greeted with a smile in spite of the exhaustion he felt.
"Hi, Vin."
"Morning, Chris, has Dr. Murphy been in yet?"
"No, she should be here anytime."
"Had breakfast?"
"Not yet," Larabee answered. "Not hungry anyway."
"Chris..."
"Yeah, I know, Vin and believe me I've been trying."
"I know, Cowboy, and that's all we ask."
"Good morning, Chris," Carolyn Murphy smiled as she entered Larabee's room and saw that he already had company.
"Morning, Doc, tell me I'm getting out of here this morning."
"Well, I had a look at your latest blood work and things are looking up. Your WBC count is down a little and so is your temperature. Let me take a look at your throat and see how it's doing, okay?"
"Sounds good," Larabee said as the Texan moved out of the way.
"Open your mouth," Murphy ordered and placed a tongue depressor in his mouth and shone a light inside. She was quiet for a few seconds and finally removed the depressor and disposed of it as she put away the light.
"Well?" Larabee asked.
"Well, I'd like to keep you..."
"Doc!"
"But I know how anxious you are to go home and I'm sure your friends will make sure you do everything you're supposed to."
"You have no idea," Larabee said and saw the smile on Tanner's face.
"Well, in that case I'll sign the discharge papers and you can leave as soon as the nurse removes your IV..."
"Thank God!"
"And puts in a heplock!"
"Damn..."
"Nice try, Cowboy," Tanner said.
"Yes, well, Chris, I want to continue these antibiotics for at least another four days..."
"Four days!"
"That's right and I expect to see you in my office in one week and we'll discuss whether you should go back to work or not. Now then if you'll excuse me I'll see about getting you out of here by lunch."
"Thanks, Doc," Larabee said and slid his legs over the side. "Vin, get my clothes!"
"Slow down, Pard, might as well wait until the nurse takes the IV out and see what they're bringing you for breakfast."
"I can still get dressed while I'm waiting."
"A little anxious, Cowboy?"
"More than a little. Come on, Vin, you can't say you'd want to sit here when escape is so close?"
"Hell, Chris, I'd'a been out that door in my skivvies if'n it was me!"
"Then hand me my damn clothes," Larabee grinned as the Texan moved to the small closet and opened the door.
Chris smiled as he sat in the wheelchair and was pushed out of the room. Several nurses came to say goodbye and told him to be careful when vacuuming and smiled as they watched the anxious man sit forward in the chair.
"Take care, Chris," Molly called from the desk.
"Thanks, Molly, hope I don't see you for a long time...least not as a patient."
"Amen to that. Remember what Dr. Murphy said and keep trying different foods."
"I will, Molly, bye," Larabee said as the orderly pushed his chair into the elevator. The short ride down seemed longer than normal, but Chris understood why he felt that way. He knew he was overacting, but he didn't want to spend another minute in the hospital.
"I'll bring the car around."
"Forget it, Vin. Take the bag and lets walk. I need the fresh air," Larabee ordered and stood up. He thanked the orderly and hurried towards the parking lot. Within a couple of minutes he was seated in Tanner's Jeep wrangler and let his head rest back against the seat. Closing his eyes he smiled as the Texan climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.
"Tired?"
"Exhausted, but it's good to be out of there."
"I bet. Why don't you just relax and we'll be home in no time."
"Sounds like a plan to me, Vin," Larabee said and smiled as the sun warmed his face.
"Hey, Cowboy, we're here," Tanner said and touched Larabee's shoulder, but still received no answer. He'd stopped by Delvecchio's deli and picked up a couple of bowls of Mama Delvecchio's chicken noodle soup. It was one of Larabee's favorites and he hoped the blond would be able to keep it down. "Chris, it's time ta wake up."
"Leave me be," Larabee grumbled, but sat up as he remembered where he was. He rubbed his eyes and winced as the light stabbed at his skull. "Damn."
"Headache?"
"No thanks, already got one."
"Come on, Larabee. You'll feel better once you're in your own bed," the Texan assured his friend as they exited the jeep and walked toward the house.
"Wait a minute...thought you were taking me to my place?"
"Figured it'd be easier fer me ta keep an eye on ya here. Nate'll be out in an hour ta start your antibiotics."
"Shit, thought maybe I'd dreamed that part," Larabee stated as the Texan opened the door.
"Nope, come on, Larabee, yer bed awaits," Tanner aid and held the door for his friend. It was a testament to how lousy the blond was feeling when Chris headed straight for the spare bedroom. A room that he used whenever he spent the night at Tanner's ranch. He had several changes of clothes hanging in the closet and extra toiletries were in the small bathroom.
Chris walked straight to the room he'd be sleeping in and looked longingly at the bed before making a beeline for the bathroom. Fresh towels were hung on the rack and he quickly discarded his clothes and stepped into the shower stall. He adjusted the water to the right temperature before stepping under the hot spray. Sighing contentedly he let the steam and heat massage his weary body for several long minutes before reaching for the bottle of shampoo. He massaged the shampoo into his hair and once more stood under the hot spray. The water made his skin tingle as he took a cloth and reached for the body wash. It didn't take long to lather his body and once more rinse the soap off. He stood under the spray longer than necessary, luxuriating in the feel of the water soothing away the aches and pains of being confined to a bed for so long.
Chris reluctantly turned off the water and stepped onto the blue mat on the bathroom floor. He reached for the thick white bath sheet and dried the glistening droplets of water from his face and chest. By the time he'd completed his bathroom rituals he was exhausted and realized he'd forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the room. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Chris walked out of the bathroom and over to the dresser where he kept his clothes.
"Feel better?" Tanner asked. He'd listened for any sign that the blond was in trouble and was relieved when he heard the water shut off. Chris Larabee looked tired and Vin knew there was still a lot of healing to do, but there was no doubt in his mind that the blond was stubborn enough to beat whatever infections this illness through at him.
"Yeah, just tired." Larabee said, pulling on the CK boxers before reaching for his jeans.
"Why don't you get under the covers and I'll bring ya some lunch?"
"Lunch? What time is it?"
"Nearly twelve."
"Damn, forget lunch, Vin. Think I'm just..."
"No way, Cowboy. I'm not gonna be the one ta tell Mrs. Delvecchio that ya didn't eat her soup after she made it 'specially fer ya!"
The blond's eyes brightened slightly and he smiled at the thought of the older woman who acted like a mother hen coddling her chicks. "Chicken noodle?"
"Yep, she even put in some of her special noodles."
"Sounds good, Vin," Larabee said, reaching for his robe.
"Why don't ya stay put and I'll bring it in here?"
Chris reluctantly put his robe back on the chair and nodded his head. Truth was if he tried to stand he'd probably end up flat on his face. He watched the Texan leave before letting the exhaustion and pain show on his face. Reaching behind him he grabbed several pillows and piled them on top of each other before climbing under the blankets. Almost immediately he felt his mind drifting toward sleep, but forced his eyelids open when he heard the tracker return.
"Jesus, Cowboy, gotta stay awake long enough ta eat this."
"Sorry, just don't have much energy," Larabee said and smiled as Tanner placed the tray across his legs. The soup smelled delicious and for once Chris' stomach didn't rebel at the idea of drinking it. He lifted the cup and sipped the flavorful broth before nodding appreciatively.
"It's good?"
"Better believe it. Mrs. Delvecchio could bottle this and sell it to the hospitals."
"Yeah, she could, but I kinda like the idea that she makes it specially fer us," the Texan said.
"Where's yours?"
"Ate it while ya were in the shower. Someone's comin'."
"How the hell do you do that?" Larabee asked when several minutes later they heard a knock at the door.
"Instincts," Tanner said and hurried toward the door. He opened it and smiled as the medic stepped inside.
"How's he doing, Vin?"
"Tired...smells better though."
"I heard that," Larabee said, smiling inwardly as the two men entered the bedroom.
"Well, Chris, he's right. You were beginning to smell rather ripe," Jackson said and looked into the cup Larabee was sipping from. "Mrs. D's?"
"Yep, picked it up on the way home. Figured maybe it'd tempt the stubborn cuss," Tanner said with a grin.
"Chris, I need to hook up the antibiotics. Do you need anything for nausea?"
"No, this is going down real good," the blond answered and finished the last of the soup.
"All right." Jackson moved the supplies he brought with him to the dresser and quickly set up the antibiotics and had it running into Larabee's arm.
Chris lay back against the pillow and frowned as Nathan added something to the IV juncture. "What the hell is that?"
"Just the medication Dr. Murphy ordered. It'll probably help you sleep too," Jackson told him.
"Ya need it, Chris. I saw yer face when ya were drinkin' the soup. Throat's still hurtin', right?"
"A bit, but I could have done without the medication."
"I tell you what I'll do, Chris. You let the medication help you this time and from now on I'll ask," Jackson told him.
"Damn sneaky," Larabee grumbled, closing his eyes and letting the medication ease the torment in his throat. He felt Jackson take his arm and soon felt the BP cuff attached, but was drifting deeper into sleep by the time Tanner removed the extra pillows from behind his head.
"Vin, he'll probably sleep the rest of the day. Travis gave me the rest of the day off, so I'm going to stick around."
"Thanks, Nate. Ya know that was pretty sneaky with the pain meds?"
"I know, and thanks for letting me know he was hiding how lousy he felt."
"How long do you think it'll be before he's feeling better?"
"Hell if I know right now. The antibiotics are amongst the strongest available, so we should be seeing some improvement before long." Jackson checked the IV and was satisfied that it was running fine.
"I'm going to take a ride over ta Chris' place and take Pony out fer a run. Help yerself ta anything ya want."
"Thanks, Vin, I will," Jackson said. He eased the covers up over the sleeping blond and followed the Texan into the living room.
Things were finally beginning to look up for Chris Larabee and he smiled as Carolyn Murphy entered the examination room. She held his chart in her hands and placed it on the table next to the bed.
"Well, Chris, I must say you look a lot better than the last time I saw you."
"Feel better too, Doc, much better."
"What about eating?"
"Well, I haven't tried anything solid yet, but pastas and soups are going down easy."
"And staying down?"
"Yes," Larabee answered with a grin.
"That is good news. Let's have a look at your throat," Murphy ordered.
Chris opened his mouth and felt the tongue depressor inside his mouth. His throat was not quite healed, but at least speaking and swallowing didn't set off the burning pain it had up until four days ago. He winced when she pressed a little too hard and was glad when she removed it. "Well?"
"Well, I must say I'm very pleased with your recovery now that the infection seems to have cleared up," Murphy explained.
"So I can go back to work?"
"I can't see why not as long as you take it easy. You'll probably find you tire easy and that's going to happen for a while. Just make sure you rest when your body demands it."
"I will, Doc, thanks for everything."
"You're welcome. I just wish it hadn't been such an ordeal for you, but it does happen quite often with adults. That's one of the reasons we're reluctant when it comes to taking them out."
"Tell me about it. If I'd known then what I know now I would've said thanks, but no thanks," Larabee stated.
"I'm afraid with you there really wasn't any other option."
"Oh, I don't know. Could have just shot me and put me out of everyone's misery," Larabee said with a grin.
"I'll keep that in mind should they grow back!"
"Shit, Doc, don't even joke about something like that!"
"Sorry," Murphy chuckled. "Mums the word."
"Exactly." Larabee said and stood up. He shook hands with the woman and assured her he would call the office should he have any problems. With that promise Chris hurried out of the building and across to his truck. He knew the others were still at the office and would be waiting for his call, but he would simply show up there. Traffic was light at this time of the day and Chris made it to the office in less than fifteen minutes. He parked in his reserved spot and hurried into the building, nodding to several people he recognized before getting into the elevator and making his way to the tenth floor. He exited and walked along the hallway toward The Firm office and leaned against the open door.
Vin looked up at the sound of footsteps and smiled when he saw the team's leader leaning against the door. He knew by the look on Larabee's face that the news was good. "Hey, cowboy, how'd it go?"
"Doc cleared me to go back to work," the blond answered and entered the room. The others gathered round him, patting him on the back and joking about the ordeal that was finally coming to an end. Chris was back where he belonged and with the help of his friends would make a complete recovery.
10 years later
Chris looked up from the file he'd been reading and looked expectantly at Vin Tanner. They were interviewing several possible team members and so far their luck hadn't been very good. JD and Ezra had narrowed the list of names down to four possibilities and Chris could see the newcomer standing just behind the Texan.
"Are you sure you're up for this, Cowboy?"
"He's the last one, right?"
"Yep, ain't got a lot goin' fer 'im though, but I guess it's one of them don't judge the book by the cover things," Tanner said.
"Send him in, Vin, maybe he'll surprise us," Larabee said and closed the file. He studied the young man who entered his office and motioned for him to have a seat.
"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Larabee."
"You're here about the opening we need in computer graphics and technology," the blond stated.
"Yes, Sir," Jeremy Talbot answered, nervously rubbing his hands on his knees.
"Take it easy, Kid, I don't bite," Larabee said with a grin.
"No, Sir, I mean yes, Sir...I..."
"How old are you?" Larabee asked, opening the last folder on his desk.
"Twenty four, Sir, but I know what I'm doing. I know what I'm doing, Mr. Larabee."
"I'm sure you do, Jeremy...Talbot," Larabee frowned as he said the name. Something about it made his throat tighten up and swallowing soon became a painful reminder of another time and another place. "Talbot."
"Is something wrong, Mr. Larabee?"
"I'm not sure." The blond studied the young man's face and there was something familiar about his eyes. "Jeremy, by any chance do you still have your tonsils?"
"My tonsils? Why do you need to know that?"
"I don't need to, but I seem to remember meeting you before," Larabee said.
"Chris, I'm headin' out. See ya tonight!"
"Sure, Vin."
"Everything all right?"
"It's fine," Larabee said and watched the Texan leave. "Now, Jeremy, you didn't answer my question."
"I...yes, Sir, I had my tonsils out ten years ago, Mr...Oh my God," Talbot said as realization dawned.
"You are the same Jeremy Talbot?" Larabee said, smiling in spite of the not so pleasant reminder of the past.
"Yes, Sir," Talbot said, eyes downcast as he thought about the hell he'd put this man through and how it could cost him the job he was applying for.
"Are you still into rap music?"
"No, Sir, for some reason I'd rather listen to soft rock or new country."
"Good, seems you've developed good taste over the years. You certainly have the credentials for the job," Larabee said and again read the dossier on the potential employee.
"Mr. Larabee, I promise you won't be sorry if you just give me a chance," Talbot said hopefully.
"You better, Kid, don't make me regret giving you this chance," Larabee said and closed the file.
"Does that mean..."
"You start on Monday."
"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir..."
"Easy, Jeremy, it's not an easy job and there's always a potential for dangerous situations."
"I know, but it sure beats sitting in an office typing all day."
"Yes, that it does," Larabee said when the young man stood up to leave.
"See you Monday morning, Mr. Larabee."
"Sure, Kid, oh..."
"Yes, Sir?"
"If I hear a single shizzle my nizzle it'll be the unemployment line for you! Understood?"
"Yes, Sir, Mr. Larabee."
Chris watched his new employee leave the office and leaned back in his chair. The years had been hard on them all, but the team was still together. Josiah was semi retired and yet he worked as hard as the rest of them. Nathan and Rain were married and had three year twin girls named Christine and Rain. He'd stood up for both of them and was always pleased when Rain brought them two to the ranch. JD had finally asked Casey to marry him and they had left the week before on their honeymoon. Buck and Inez had eloped a year ago and they'd been blessed with a baby boy they'd called Adam Vincent. It was a wonderful gift and he'd been proud they'd chosen Adam's name. Vin was engaged to Jackie Maynard and the duo was expecting their first child in less than a month. Ezra Standish had married Antoinette Devereux and the couple had adopted two eight year old boys who had lost their parents in a fire. They bought a house on the outskirts of Billings and Antoinette now worked as a nurse at Saint Vincents.
"Chris, are you ready to go?"
Larabee smiled and pushed his chair back, laughing as a small blond girl ran toward him. He lifted her into his arms at the same time his wife reached him. "How are my two favorite ladies?"
"I ain't a lady, Daddy! Vin says..."
"Ah, hell..."
"Chris, watch what you say," Anne Larabee warned. They'd been married in a quiet ceremony nearly four years ago and Sarah Nettie Larabee had been born exactly nine months later. The three year old was a precocious child and Nettie Wells doted on her.
"Daddy said a bad word..."
"Yes, I did, Honey, and I'm sorry."
"'Polgy 'cepted. Are we going home now?"
"Anne, is there anything we need to pick up?"
"No, Sweetheart. I think we have everything we need. I'm looking forward to a quiet weekend."
"Quiet? With everyone coming over?" Larabee asked, walking out of the office and locking up behind him.
"Sure, just one big..."
"One very big..."
"Happy fam'ly," Sarah finished. She happily grabbed her parent's hands as they walked toward the elevator. The seven families had melded into one and they'd never been closer.
Chris looked at his wife, smiling contentedly in the fact that his family was growing by leaps and bounds and that Jeremy Talbot could very well become another kid adopted by the seven.
"I love you, Chris," Anne said when they entered the elevator and he kissed her cheek.
"I love you too, Anne, with everything I am and everything I own," Chris said the words and knew they'd never been truer than they were right now. He loved Anne Larabee with every beat of his heart and he smiled when he pulled his family close. Life was good and his family was safe and as long as The Firm was in existence they would make sure it stayed that way. For seven was indeed a holy number and had been since the dawn of time.
THE END
Summary: Chris has a sore throat...
Categories: The Firm
Characters: Chris Larabee
Genres: Angst/Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Modern
Warnings: Profanity
Challenges: None