Disclaimers in part 01
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"Overland
the winds of change consume the land,
...
Omen-signs
in the shapes of things to come."
~~Dead Can Dance -- Severance~~
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MONDAY, JUNE 26, 2000
GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
8:30 AM
LANGLY:
Finally, Deb's buddy Barbara comes back and says she's in a room, I can go see her now. I've been waiting for this, so why the hell am I so scared?
"She's going to have a breathing tube, a chest tube, and a catheter. Basically, if there's an orifice, it's got a tube, and in the case of the chest tube, we made our own hole." Barbara sounds way too cheerful, but she always does. Deb swears she's never in a bad mood, or if she is, nobody knows about it. "I'm just going to run in and see how she's doing, but I've got another surgery I need to start in half an hour, so I'm not staying."
I follow her like a duckling, and Frohike, Byers and Sari all stay behind me. At least they're not asking me if I'm okay. If they haven't figured that one out by now, they're a lot denser than I ever guessed.
Good thing Barbara warned me about how she'd look; I still almost faint. I barely recognize my Deb buried under all that shit. She's totally wired for sound. Her mouth's all covered up with the tape that's securing the tube she's breathing through.
Oh God, I can't believe how white she is. She's always kinda pale; she's real light like me, but this is like all the blood got sucked out of her. Well, according to her boss, I guess it did. It makes sense, but it doesn't make me feel any better. In fact, I'm not feeling too good at all right now. I wish they'd all leave so I could lose it in peace, but I can't. I need to be here for Deb, gotta let her know everything's okay.
"Can she hear me?" I ask Barbara. God, I've developed this pathetic little kid voice today.
"Sure, but she probably won't remember anything for a while. She'll have a sense that you're here and everything's safe, though." Barbara pats my arm. "Listen, I need to bail. Ask the nurses if you're concerned about something; they'll be in here a lot for a while."
I tiptoe over to where Deb is. I wanna touch her so bad, but I'm afraid to, like she'll break or something. That scares me, 'cause Deb's a tough girl. Something in me counts on that. Oh man, this is so not cool. "Uh, guys? Like, can I be alone with her a minute?" I'm not trying to be a bastard, I'm just trying to save myself from additional abject public humiliation.
"Sure," Frohike shrugs.
"We'll be in the hall if you need us," Byers says real soft.
"Oh, and Ringo? She'll want this when they take the tape off her mouth." Sari tosses me a small container. Lip balm with beeswax. I laugh.
"What's so funny?" Frohike demands.
"You didn't know? Deb's a member of Lip Balm Addicts Anonymous."
"There's a webpage for that?" Byers looks amazed.
"Why not? They've even got webpages Frohike can enjoy."
"Some of us have taste," Frohike retorts back.
"I'm not even going there," Sari shakes her head.
"Hey Sari. Sorry I went off on you earlier." I feel like such a dick.
"Don't worry about it, Ringo. It's been a long day already."
I creep back into Deb's room. Not like I'm going to wake her up or anything. She looks pretty out of it.
"Hey Deb," I whisper to her. "It's me."
Her eyelids flicker a bit. She mumbles something.
"Sorry babe. Can't hear you." Duh. That's cause her mouth's got this tube stuck in it.
She's sort of groping around by me. I take her hand, and even though she's like totally out of it, she holds mine and squeezes it real hard. Girl hasn't lost her grip, even if I'm losing mine.
"Uh... like... I'm real sorry I got you into this mess. You shouldn't have a jerk like me in your life."
Her eyes open a little more this time. I think she's glaring at me. She holds my hand harder. Like, she'll cut off my circulation type hard.
"Y'know, like... oh, fuck it Deb. I love you. I need you."
This time she doesn't glare at me. She just shuts her eyes and drifts back out. The joys of Demerol. Don't they have emotional Demerol? I wouldn't mind being numbed out at this point, not thinking about anything.
Fuck it, it should be me in her place. And not because of the Demerol. She doesn't deserve this. She didn't do anything wrong. I made her think everything was cool despite what we do.
I'm such a fucking loser. If she's smart, when she's conscious again, she'll tell me to get the hell away from her, preferably someplace like Mars.
And I haven't even told her about the car yet.
I lay my head down next to hers, listening to her try and breathe. She's all gurgly. Guess you would be if you took two hits in the lungs.
I'm not sure how long it is, but some nurses come in and tell her to wake up and take a deep breath, and they pull the tape off her mouth. They yank the tube out, all this horrible crap comes out. Used to be, that'd be surefire gag for me. Instead, I just hold her while they do it. They stick oxygen in her nose instead.
"Ringo." Her voice sounds like it went through a meat grinder.
"Whatcha need, babe?"
"Lip... balm."
"You're in luck. Thank Sari for this one." I smear some on her lips. I get a smile.
She takes my hand again. "Don't... go."
"Hell, I'm not going anywhere." Although at some point I might have to take a leak. There's been an awful lot of coffee going down this morning. 'Til then, though, I'm here.
She keeps going in and out, but she holds on to my hand. I wonder if she thinks I'm the one keeping her safe right now. Oh God, how wrong she'd be.
And how hard I'm trying to be the man she expects me to be.
GWU MEDICAL CENTER
11:22 AM
FROHIKE:
I don't know why, but for some reason I get all the glamour jobs. They frequently consist of dealing with unfriendly people, taking nasty falls, dangling from wires, tweaking tetchy circuits, and in some cases, all of the above. Once in a while, just for kicks, I get to take on something that could potentially kill me. Considering that, I shouldn't be bitching.
This time, I'm just in charge of manning the phones. I say 'phones' plural because the office phones ring on my mobile line for the moment, ensuring that we will never miss a call, and be permanently chained by our electronic leash. Whoever said that technology would free us wasn't even close.
I left Byers to watch Deborah, and now I need to contact Moose and Squirrel. We want them to know because they're our friends, but on a more selfish note, they might also be able to help provide protection for Langly's chickadee. I've talked to hospital security; they said that when something like this happens -- it scares the crap out of me knowing they actually need a protocol for this -- the hospital posts guards at the patient's door. I've seen hospital guards: walked right past them, in fact, toting obviously illegal devices. They miss way too much.
One thing we have to be careful about is hanging out here. If someone's after our asses -- and I'm sure they are, if for no other reason than my highly developed sense of paranoia -- then we're vulnerable here. Langly should consider this if he's planning to take up residence. Thank God Sari dragged his ass out for lunch, at least.
I try Mulder's cell next. All I get is the opening bars of 'Shaft' followed by him doing a bad imitation of Isaac Hayes.
I hate leaving voice mail. For one thing, I have no idea why this occurred or who was involved, and let's face it, if someone wants to listen to voice mail messages, they can. I should know; I've been in Mulder's. How do you think I learned about Tiffany and Bambi and God knows how many other phone sex operators? I suspect that Mulder's proclivities are well known to the Bureau and shared by others inside as well, thus, they're ignored. There are plenty of other things they can pick on Mulder about anyway. He just begs for it. I tell him to call me as soon as he can get his dick out of whatever it's stuck in this time.
My next attempt is the luscious Agent Scully. She picks up on the second ring, her bell-clear, authoritative "Scully" making a fiber optic field trip to my ear.
"It's Frohike. Got a situation."
"Frohike, I'm sorry, it's going to have to wait. I'll talk to you later." That's another thing that's not making me feel all warm and fuzzy. Scully won't cut you off unless the situation's bad. Now I get to worry about her, too.
What if our shooter has them in the crosshairs as well? Shit. Shit shit shit.
Who to call now? Well, there's the Big Man himself, Walter S. Skinner. Not that I call him for every little thing, but somehow I suspect he won't consider Langly's squeeze taking a bullet 'every little thing.' Reluctantly, I dial his office, actually hoping to get his voice mail, but instead, I get a gruff, almost unfriendly "Skinner."
"Got a problem," I tell him. That's one of the things I like about Skinner; small talk isn't necessary. "Langly's chickadee went and got shot this morning over at GWU. She's finally out of surgery, and a real mess."
"Frohike, can't you just call and invite me over for poker sometime like normal people do? Oh, wait. I said 'normal people.'"
"You don't wanna come over for poker again. Byers ate you alive last time, and he can't play for shit."
"I'll let that pass. But I will get my revenge. Now why the hell are you bothering me again?"
"Langly's girlfriend took a bullet this morning. A few, in fact. And her car was shot at while Langly was driving it."
"She lets Langly drive her car? I gave the girl more credit than that."
"Listen, we need your help."
He's silent for a moment. "And this is a Bureau matter because?"
"I don't know if it is or not. I honestly don't know what to make of it."
"With most people, I'd ask if there's anyone you pissed off recently, but with you guys, I'd be better off asking if there's anyone you haven't," he groans. "So what do you want me to do?"
"A little help in the security department. I've seen the guards here and--"
"Frohike, I can't just pull agents to do guard detail--"
"I'm not asking for that, but maybe you have some... friends you could call?"
"You say she's at GWU?"
"She works here, on staff."
He groans, more loudly this time, followed by brief silence. "I'll see what I can do. And I thought Mulder was going to be the death of me."
"It's much appreciated, sir."
"Don't say I never do anything for you." He hangs up abruptly.
Having done that, I'm ready to throw down a few shots of my pals J&B, but they don't have liquor in the vending machines here, so I settle for the mud-colored excrescence they claim is coffee. I don't make it five feet before the phone rings. Maybe it's Moose or Squirrel calling back -- no, it's a 504 area code.
"Hello." I try to sound casual, nonchalant.
"Richard?" Male voice, southern, Caucasian.
"As in Richard Langly?" I ask cautiously.
"Yes. Is he there?"
"Not at the moment. I'm his associate and friend. You are?"
"Gerard SaintJohn." Oh shit, Deborah's father. Figures Blondie would be out at lunch with Sari while I get to deal with the parents.
"Yes, Mr. SaintJohn?" Nothing like a little kissing up. "I can take a message for him."
"We have a flight coming in tomorrow morning at 11:40 a.m. on Continental, Flight number 761. He said he would meet us."
"He'll be there," I promise, as I scribble it on the back of a bar tab from God only knows when. I get a description of the parents, as well. If I have to throw Langly by his nads, he'll be there.
"And you are?"
"The name's Frohike." I almost add the traditional epithet 'punkass,' but something in his voice tells me not to fuck with him. Besides, his daughter's been critically injured. I don't need to make his life any worse than it already is. "I'm very sorry about your daughter. Deborah's a fine young lady."
He's not interested in my opinion. "Tell Richard we'll see him tomorrow morning. And not to be late." I decide I'll cut him some slack. He's had a very, very bad day.
And now, the most difficult call of all. I've debated making it at all, but I think I owe it to the lady. If this shooting was the result of our activities, then anyone in our small circle could be at risk. I've got to let her know, even at the risk of losing her, and that could happen. Mel Scarlett is a practical woman. She can take risk and be comfortable with it, but this is pushing the envelope.
Reluctantly, I dial her work number. She's not at the desk, and the clerk offers to take a message. I think this is one time where it behooves me to wait until I can speak to her myself. It's not as if I don't have the minutes. We have a little 'arrangement' with the cellular carrier. Just because they don't know about it doesn't mean it's not in effect.
Five minutes pass, then ten. Every once in a while the phone rings back to the desk and the clerk picks it up, asking if she can help me. I wish you could, lady. Believe me, if there was something you could do, I'd pay you all the money we made off FPS to do it, and feel it was money well spent.
At twelve minutes, I'm still on hold, but when I finally hear a human voice, it's Mel. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. "Rough day?" I ask her gently.
"They're all rough days."
"I hate to tell you this, but it could get a lot rougher."
"Mel, are you all right?" Her tone becomes concerned, gentle.
"I'm fine, but... Deborah's been involved in an... an incident."
"Oh my God, no. What happened? Is she all right?"
"She was shot while she was suturing a patient this morning a little after 4 a.m. She's been through surgery. Hasn't come around yet. She's critical but stable and in a private room."
She draws in a hard breath, but regains her composure. "Unfortunately, that happens in ER's. Even out here in the boonies, we've had it happen, although thankfully it's been a few years. Every once in a while, a patient goes crazy..."
"We have reason to believe this was not a patient."
She stops and there's a long silence. "Are you telling me what I think you are?" She's a perceptive woman.
"We don't know for sure. All I'm saying is, watch your back. I won't blame you if you don't want to talk to me again."
"Knock it off, Mel," she snorts. "This could be anything. Deborah may not even have been the target. Could've just been some nut mad at the world."
Yeah, well, we seem to know an awful lot of them. "I just... I don't think I could stand anything happening to you."
"Listen, I'm a tough old bird, and yes, I'll be careful, but I'm not going to run and hide just because you think you might have ticked someone off."
I don't think, my lady, I know. "I'll email you later, okay?"
"I'd like that."
"And please, be careful."
"Mel, you worry too much about what could happen. Right now, let's worry about Deborah. Call me later to let me know how she's doing."
"I will."
"Give my love to Deborah when she's awake. I'll talk to you soon." She clicks off without waiting to hear me say goodbye. I know she doesn't have time for anything more involved. I wonder if I'd feel more at ease if she just told me to get lost and never to bother her again.
End chapter 3