by Alex Ander
Hardy arched his eyebrows. His stomach muscles contracted. Bad news.
“I was able to stitch up the kidney, but I’m concerned about an infection. The entry wound had a lot of debris in it.”
Hardy and Draper looked at each other. They had worked on Cruz at the safe house, trying to get her bleeding under control. Did they cause the infection?
“Now, I understand that whoever stopped the flow of blood did so with whatever materials available.” He pumped his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, if that wound had been left alone, she could have died before even making it here. That was a good field dressing; however, at this point, there is a risk of infection. I have started her on some antibiotics and she’s heavily medicated to help her body fight. Rest is the best thing for her right now.”
Hardy stood. “Can I see her?”
Raj shook his head. “I’m afraid not, son. She won’t open her eyes for at least twelve to eighteen hours. As I said, she’s on some strong medications.” He stood and eyed Hardy. “The only thing we can do is wait.” He took another glance at the others, especially their attire. “I presume your friend is a soldier?”
Hardy’s mind was a million miles away. “What?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Yes, she’s FBI…an FBI agent.”
“Good. That fighting spirit can only serve to help her get better.” The doctor opened the door. “If you have any questions, I’ll be around. Just tell one of the nurses.”
Everyone thanked the doctor before he left.
Hardy stared at the open doorway. The room was quiet, except for the usual hospital noise at the nearby nurse’s station. He ran his fingers through his short hair and vigorously scratched the top of his head. Glancing at the members of AR-1, he waved a hand. “You don’t have to stay here. Go get a hot shower and some rest. You heard the doctor. There’s nothing we can do for the next eighteen hours.” He took a couple steps toward the door. “I appreciate—” Draper grabbed his elbow. He glanced at the hand before making eye contact.
“We’re not leaving you, Hardy.” She tilted her head toward Henderson and Tyler. “That’s not how we do things.”
“We don’t,” said Tyler, “leave a man—or in this case, a woman—behind.”
Hardy cranked his head toward the voice.
Henderson locked eyes with Hardy. “Damn straight we don’t.”
Hardy pursed his lips and nodded. “Thanks.” He shuffled through the doorway. “I need some air.”
Chapter 17: Penland
Hardy roamed the hospital hallways for the next half an hour. Lost in thought, he passed by nurses, doctors and people visiting family members and friends. He glanced inside rooms and saw patients lying in beds. Loved ones were gathered around the bed. Some were crying. He kept walking, not wanting to contemplate a similar scene with him and Special Agent Cruz.
He turned a corner, his mind replaying the images of her being taken away for surgery. He had no idea how long he had been walking, but when he stopped and looked up, he was standing at the door to Penland Chapel. He stared at the door for a full minute, breaking away to glance up and down the hallway. What the hell. Opening the door, his heart beat faster and his body temperature went up. Mustering the courage to take the first step, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. As soon as the latch caught, he seemed shut off from the rest of the world.
For a few moments, he stood by the door, unsure if he was scrutinizing the chapel, or the chapel was scrutinizing him. He chose a chair in the back corner, crossed his legs and leaned back. A split-second later, he put both feet on the floor and sat erect, not knowing if his posture was disrespectful. He folded his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead. Maybe this was a mistake. Places like these made him feel awkward. They were tolerable with others around, but being alone was nerve-racking. The silence seemed to shine a spotlight on his soul, his closely guarded inner thoughts.
He got up to leave, but stopped and sat again. Where am I going to go? He had nothing to do, but wait. Being a man of action, Hardy hated to wait. Waiting made him feel powerless, unable to achieve results. Minutes later, he held his head in his hand. His body shook and his broad shoulders rocked up and down, matching his labored breaths. He wiped his face and rubbed his hands together. “Get it together, Hardy,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
“God, you know I’m not a religious man.” Hardy shook his head. What am I doing? I’ve got no right…he paused…Where am I going to go? “God, you know the things I’ve done. I have no right to ask you for anything.” Washing his hands down his face, he sniffed. “Still, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. I’m at the end of my rope.” Hardy thought of his teammates, killed in the explosion two months earlier. “I don’t know if I can take another loss. Please help Cruz pull through. Please, don’t punish her for what I’ve done.” His head slumped and he closed his eyes. Thoughts and images rushed through his mind. He could not process them or control their coming and going. Fatigue made it difficult to concentrate. Several moments passed. All he could do was let his thoughts take him wherever they wanted him to go. In the midst of the mental chaos, he prayed repeatedly, “Please, God, save her.” Time seemed to stand still and the mental confusion subsided. He slouched in the seat, his body perspiring.
Ten minutes later, the door opened.
“Hardy,” said Draper, “we’ve been looking all over for you. Cruz woke up ten minutes ago.”
“What,” he said, standing?
“Yeah, she just opened her eyes and said your name. A nurse was with her at the time. She—”
“She woke up ten minutes ago and you’re only now telling me.” He charged out of the chapel.
“Well, excuse me.” Draper held up her hands and glanced around. “This isn’t exactly the first place I’d expect to find you.” She followed him out of the chapel.
Chapter 18: Peace
A nurse held up her hands. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in there.”
Hardy reached for the doorknob. “Is she awake? I want to see her.”
She intercepted his hand. “I have strict orders. No one is to go in there without the doctor’s permission.”
“Okay. Get the doctor’s permission.” He eased her to the side. “I’ll be in here when he comes.”
Pushing past Henderson, who stood next to the nurse, Doctor Raj forced his body between Hardy and the nurse. “What’s going on here?”
“I was told she asked for me.” Hardy pointed at the door with his forehead and his voice grew louder. “Now, I want to see her.”
Hearing the commotion, two nurses cranked their heads around and stared at the group. One picked up a phone and dialed security.
“I understand how you feel, but I must re-iterate how important it is for her to get her rest. This is not about you, sir. It’s about the well-being of the patient, my patient.” He grabbed Hardy’s hand, which was still on the doorknob. “Now, please—”
“For crying out loud, Doc,” Henderson jutted his chin toward the door and the woman on the other side, “She asked for him.” He made the ‘peace’ sign. “Just give him two minutes in there. Two minutes isn’t going to hurt her.”
Doctor Raj studied Hardy for a few seconds before holding up his index finger. “You’ve got one minute.” He stepped back and motioned toward the nurse, who set the phone back in the cradle.
Not giving the doctor the opportunity to change his mind, Hardy sneaked into the room and slowly closed the door. He tiptoed to her bed, picking up a chair on the way. Careful not to make a sound, he sat and stuck his arm between the slots on the bed’s handrail. Holding Cruz’s hand, he stroked her hair and pushed the locks away from her face. She tightened her grip on him. Her eyes fluttered before opening. He folded his hands around hers, careful not to dislodge the IV. “Hey there,” he said, smiling. “I’m here.”
Even though she had been given a strong dose of medication, Cruz recognized him. She returned a feeb
le smile. There was an intubation tube down her throat and two plastic oxygen tubes in her nose. She tried to speak, but her throat was sore and it hurt to talk. She coughed and let out a groan.
“Shhh, that’s all right. Don’t speak.” He patted her arm. “Charity is safe. You accomplished your mission. The doctor said the surgery went well.” He omitted the part about the possible risk of infection. She did not need that on her mind. She only needed to focus on getting better. He leaned closer. She seemed relaxed, almost at peace. He assumed it was the medication. “Everything is going to be all right. You just need to take it easy.” She closed her eyes, but her grip remained strong.
The doctor had given him one minute and he had stolen another four. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Combing her matted hair, he felt her hand go limp. He held on. His thoughts turned to his prayer—his words—in the chapel and the timing. Ten minutes after asking…God…for help, Draper entered the chapel and told him Cruz had opened her eyes and called his name ten minutes earlier. Hardy lowered his head. Is it possible that… He was still holding her hand, contemplating the connection when someone, the nurse placed her hands on his shoulders. His head shot upward.
“Please, sir, it’s time for you to go and let her sleep.” She kept her hands on his shoulders, until he rose from the chair and slid his hand through the bed’s railing. He wanted to stay, but he understood it was best for her if he left.
Turning around, he had a strange feeling of calmness wash over him. He looked back at Cruz. He did not know how, but at the very depth of his being, he knew she was going to be all right. A smile crossed his lips and he left the room, his mind and heart at peace.
Chapter 19: Surprise
September 20th, 7:37 a.m.; Baylor University Medical Center, Dallas, Texas
“She’s still kind of out of it from all the medication, but the doctors say she’s steadily improving.” Hardy strolled down the hallway at the hospital.
“That’s good news.” Draper and the rest of AR-1 had stayed with Hardy, until he had received news from the doctor that Special Agent Cruz’s risk of infection was extremely low; she was recovering quicker than expected. The team left to finish their training in Little Rock. Since leaving the hospital, Draper had called Hardy every morning at 7:30 to check on Cruz’s condition. “Give it time. She’s going in the right direction. From what you’ve told me about her, she’s tough and will beat this.”
“Thanks Drape.” Hardy stopped in the hallway. “Listen, I want to thank you again for what you did for Cruz…treating her at the safe house, staying behind to be with her. I know you wanted to be a part of that mission in Mexico, but I needed to know that someone was going to be here for her.”
“You’re welcome. I’d do it all over again…for you and for Cruz.” Draper paused. “Maybe someday we can all get together for dinner and have a proper introduction—your treat.”
Hardy laughed. “I’d like that.” The smile faded. He knew as long as Cruz was not privy to what he did for a living, he could never introduce her to AR-1.
“Take care, Hardy. I’ll talk to you, soon.”
“Thanks, again, Draper.” He disconnected the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. Approaching the nurse’s station, he smiled at a middle-aged woman with short blonde hair. She stood and came around the desk.
“Good morning, Aaron.” Janet sidestepped him and headed down the hall. “Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
Hardy had practically lived at the hospital for the past three days. Most of the nurses had gotten to know him on a first-name basis. Last night, Janet had arranged for him to sleep in an empty room down the hall, so long as he did not make too much of a mess. Hardy had gladly accepted the offer. It was the first time he had been able to get some quality sleep. This morning, he felt refreshed and full of energy.
He fell in step behind her. “Yes, ma’am, I did. Thank you again for getting me that room. I promise I left it exactly the way it was.”
“You’re in for quite a surprise, I think.” She knocked on Cruz’s door before opening it slowly and poking her head inside. “Knock, knock.” She walked around to the far side of the bed.
Entering, Hardy’s eyebrows arched. Cruz’s mechanical bed formed the letter ‘L’ and she was sitting. The intubation and oxygen tubes were gone, but the IV remained. Her long dark hair, which had been greasy and plastered to her head was clean and brushed, falling to the sides of her shoulders and stopping below her elbows. Coming closer to the bed, he noticed she was not only awake, but also alert; her eyes were sharp and focused. Even though he had spent the past three days with her, she had been sleeping most of the time. When she was awake, the medication had made her groggy. At those times, Hardy had wondered if she even knew he was there.
“How are you feeling?” Janet asked, swiping her badge across a computer keyboard.
“A little tired,” said Cruz before turning toward Hardy and the bouquet of flowers in his hand. “I’m hungry, too. Is there any chance I can get something to eat?”
Janet smiled. “Absolutely,” she said. “That’s a good sign, dear.” She went back to the screen, punched a few more keys and clicked the computer mouse several times. “First, we need to get you up and moving. I was just getting ready to take you for a walk.” She looked at Hardy. “I think I found someone who might want to take my place, however.”
Cruz cocked her head and gestured at the flowers. “What do you have there?”
He stepped forward and handed them to her. “These are for you.” He glanced at a glass vase of flowers on her tray table. “But, I see someone else got here before me.”
She took the flowers from him and smelled them. “Yes, Charity was here earlier. She wanted to see how I was doing before she went back home.” Cruz gave the flowers to Janet, who was waiting to take them. “She’s such a sweet person, isn’t she?”
Hardy’s mind formed a picture of Charity, a determined look on her face, fists up and ready to punch him for wanting to move her to a safe location. “Yeah, she’s a sweetheart all right.”
“Okay, let’s get you on your feet.” Janet slipped a pair of pink socks on Cruz’s feet and helped her stand.
Cruz looked over her shoulder and flicked her eyes downward. “Will you do the honors?”
Hardy overlapped the gown and tied the strings together, covering her bare butt.
“Now, remember,” said Janet. “Take it slow and don’t go too far. You don’t want to tear your stitches.”
Janet, with Hardy’s assistance, helped her patient get to the door. At the nurse’s station, she let him take over after another word of caution about the stitches.
Cruz curled her arm around his elbow and took small steps, careful not to overextend her gait. She still had many questions for him. What did he do for a living? What happened at the safe house? Who were those men he was talking to on the phone? The details of the incident at the safe house were foggy and she wanted answers to her questions. Right now, however, she was simply enjoying walking with him, arm-in-arm.
Fifteen minutes later, she was back in her bed, tired, but still feeling good. She placed an order for breakfast. When it arrived, she ate every morsel. Janet had put the flowers from Hardy in another vase and set the vase on the opposite side of the room.
Hardy had kept the conversation to safe topics, not wanting to broach the subject of the safe house events. She needed to heal, not dredge up memories he could not explain. There would be plenty of time to discuss that issue. Besides, she had been somewhat aloof with him and he sensed she had been thinking about the same thing. As much as he may have wanted to tell her everything, he could not defy a direct order from the President. Hardy came around to the left side of her bed and pivoted the tray table ninety degrees to give her more room. Sitting down, there was a knock at the door and Director Jameson entered. “Hello, Agent Cruz.”
Director Jameson was dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt and a red tie with black diagonal str
ipes. A gold tie bar held the tie in place. His black shoes—perfectly polished.
“Director,” said Cruz, digging her palms into the mattress and trying to push her body further up the bed.
Hardy pushed himself to his feet. “Sir.”
Jameson waved a hand at them. “Please, as you were,” he said, striding past the foot of the bed and taking a position beside her bed. Hardy remained standing. “How are you feeling?”
She did not want to get into the specifics. “Good, I’m feeling good—a little tired, but good.”
Jameson nodded his head, pleased to hear the news. He shot a glance at Hardy, but remained silent.
Hardy stared back at the man. Dallas was a long way from Washington and it was a little odd for the FBI Director to come this far to inquire about her health.
Jameson spotted the vase. “Nice flowers.”
Cruz squirmed. “Charity brought them in before she left this morning.”
“That was nice.” He grabbed a chair from the corner. Pushing the tray table further away, he placed the chair as close as he could to the bed, removed his suit coat and laid it across the chair’s back. Sitting and facing Cruz, Jameson leaned back and crossed his legs before resting his arms on the chair’s armrests.
Cruz glanced at Hardy; he was sitting. She turned her head back toward her boss.
There was more silence, as Jameson focused more of his attention on Hardy than her. Jameson picked a piece of lint from his pants and let go of it, watching it float to the floor. He lifted his head and locked eyes with her. “Cruz, I have something to tell you about Mr. Hardy. Do you feel up to hearing it?”
The muscles in Hardy’s arms and chest tightened. His eyes moved toward Cruz.
She met Hardy’s gaze before whirling her head back toward Jameson. “Of course, sir.” Even though she was feeling a bit tired, she did not want to say ‘no’ to her boss, especially since Hardy was the topic of the conversation.