Holding Up
Sam Axe hated hospitals. The forced cheer of the nurses and the terrible food sent him back in time to childhood disasters and military mistakes. In the chill of Michael's hospital room, he could nearly feel the pull of old stitches and the ache of mending bones, of war wounds that never quite heal.
"You've been staring at the same article for ten minutes," Fiona said, sitting beside him and holding out a cup of coffee.
Sam lowered the copy of Sports Illustrated he'd been reading to his lap, and suddenly found the plain brown grain of the sofa absolutely fascinating. "The salmon runs in Alaska are really interesting," he lied.
"My arse," Fiona replied.
Sam wished, for the millionth time that say, that she was more naieve. "Did you hear from the doctor?"
"Madeline's in with him now," she said. Sam could smell gunsmoke and black powder on her, and for once it made him want to puke. Fiona took a deep breath, then rested her head on the couch, staring sightlessly into the lobby before them.
"They won't tell you anything?"
She shook her head. "I did everything I could to pull information from him. We're not his next of kin."
Sam smiled. "Even though he and Maddie fight so damn much, I knew he'd never take her off as his contact."
"They have the oddest relationship," Fiona said, her eyes closed.
"Yeah." Sam's words quietly insinuated that Fiona and Michael's relationship was odd as well. "But they love each other. That's what counts."
"You're such a romantic, Sam."
"Dunno if you'd call that romance," he said to the wall, then scrubbed a hand against his features. "I wish we knew something."
"He'll be fine. He's Michael." Sam detected a waver to Fiona's tone that he'd never before heard, but at that moment Madeline came around the corner, her own eyes clouded with tears.
Sam automatically wrapped an arm around Maddie's shoulder - she tries to fight him off for a second before relaxing into his grip. "They said it's going to be 'touch and go' until he wakes up. If he wakes up."
"If?" Fiona wondered.
"Yeah," Madeline reached into her purse and took out a cigarette and lighter.
"Maddie, you can't smoke in here," Sam said, trying to pry it from her hand. He let out an involuntary yelp when she slapped his hand away.
"My son's in surgery, and he'll probably be on life support when he gets out of it. If I don't smoke, I'll bite your head off."
"All right," Sam replied, rubbing his sore knuckles. "Lemme take you outside."
It took Maddie only a moment to acquiesce. "If anything happens, get me," she instructed Fiona, who gave Sam a sharp nod and turned to stare down the corridor, toward the operating theatre where Michael faced a life-or-death battle.
**
Sam nibbled on a thumbnail sized sliver of peanut butter cookie as he entered Michael's room. After surgery his friend looked more pale and deathly than a vampire with a hangover. He lay stiff and unmoving as Madeline sat holding his hand.
"....Remember that? I'll take you there again...Or I'll kick your ass until you..." she turned around and smiled. "Michael, Sam's here to see you." As Sam pulled up a chair, she asked, "where have you been?"
"Donated a little something for Mikey," he said. Madeline gave him a thin smile. "You need to lie down, Maddie."
"I can stand another hour." She glanced at him. "You really did that for Michael?"
Sam nodded. "We found out we have the same blood type when we flipped an ATV in Kandahar. Mikey's head hit the steering wheel - sliced his forehead. He bled a gusher 'til they stitched him up, but we were out in the middle of nowhere - he needed a transfusion when we got back to homebase."
"You're always so giving, Sam." He couldn't tell if that was a dig as Madeline got up and tugged on her pants. "I need another smoke."
"Let Fi take you," Sam said, taking Michael's limp hand.
"She's in the john," Madeline declared. "I couldn't get her to come out."
Sam rose a brow. "Fi!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, causing Madeline to grimace and cover her ears.
"I'm fine," the words came out shakily. "Just need a moment."
"She hasn't left his side for twelve hours," Madeline said, her pride evident in her voice.
Sam shrugged , Fiona's tone of voice spooking him. "Can you find somewhere else to do that?"
Madeline shrugged and headed out the door. Sam knew that if he needed her he'd find Maddie in the hallway - and even more importantly, that she could take care of herself. He turned his attentions to Michael. "Take this," Sam demanded, pulling his Beretta from his waistband and putting it in Madeline's hand.
Maddie rose a brow, staring at the gun. "A forty-four millimeter. I thought you were packing more heat than this..." She tucked it into her purse before heading outside to grab her smoke.
Sam had already turned his attention to his best friend. "Mikey?"
The man in the bed lay still, intubated, lost and separate from those who loved him in the world. Sam rested his head against the bedrailing, watching Michael's face. "I know you're in there somewhere, kid. So do me a favor - fight. Fight like a bastard to get back to Fi and Maddie and me...hell, think of Jesse if you need to. Do it for all of us, 'cause without you we won't last a day. Fi'd rip my head off in two seconds, your ma'd start taking too many pills again, and me...I'd just be some washout lying on the beach, waiting for the grim reaper to come. So get your ass back to Miami."
As Sam finished, he heard an audible sniffling noise coming from the bathroom. Getting up, he walked to the small private bath, opening the door.
The sight was so alarming that he stood frozen in the doorway.
Fiona sat on the toilet lid, blotting her eyes with a square of toilet paper, crying softly.
Sam knew acknowledging her weakness would be fatal. So he stood there, silent, until she abruptly reached out for him and gave him a hard hug.
She was surprisingly strong for someone so small.
Sam knew that it was his job to stand there and hold Fi up for awhile, so stand still and hold her up was what he did, patting her back roughly. She clung to him briefly, feeling small and vulnerable in his arms. "You okay?" he asked, after a rather long time.
Fiona finally pulled away from him, dashing her eyes against her fists like a child. "He'll be fine."
"He will," Sam reminded her.
"Because he's Michael," she declared.
"It'll take more than a couple of bullets to take him out," Sam said, patting her on the back. Then, they walked back into the room together, laying their hands on Michael, hoping he could feel their love, hoping it would be enough to bring him back from the brink.