"You know how to call," Brenna said.
Ryan quickly pressed the button and put the device to his ear, his face lighting up by degrees as the phone rang. "Hi, Mom!" he said brightly when the call was connected. His face contorted into a frown. "Are you feeling okay, Mommy?" There was a pause, and Brenna wished she could hear the reply. "Oh. Okay. So you've been sleeping?" He nodded, obviously echoing his mother's affirmative reply. "I made Miss Lanigan lunch again." He smiled. "Yes, she always likes it."
Brenna rolled her eyes as she held out her hand. "Ryan, may I talk to your mother?"
Ryan looked from Brenna's face to her outstretched hand, then informed his mother, "I'm giving you to Miss Lanigan now."
Brenna smiled at his grown up tone. "Thank you," she said graciously. Ryan cocked his head, as if to listen. She shook her head and he dashed off. She waited until he had grabbed a bucket of toys off of a shelf. "Cass?" As she spoke into the phone, her voice softened with concern. "Rough day?"
"Therapy is a bitch," the woman on the other end admitted, her voice sounding sharp and breathy. While Cassidy Hyland might tell her son everything was fine, she and Brenna had been through too much, learned too much about one another, to ever be able to cover up personal pain for long. "But they're letting me check out today."
"Do you want me to cut out of here now?" Brenna asked. It was atypical of her work ethic to leave the set early for anything other than a catastrophe, but Brenna's priorities had been significantly reordered since the near fatal attack on Cassidy. She would definitely leave early if Cassidy needed her. There was a moment of silence and Brenna recognized it as Cassidy weighing the pros and cons. "I can settle you at home and come back later," she added as an inducement.
"You can't afford the time away from the set. I've upset the schedule enough." Cassidy exhaled. "What time do you think you'll be done?"
Brenna shook her head. "I can be done now."
"I'm not in any shape now...just took a Percocet."
In the background, Brenna heard the sounds of Cassidy adjusting her position in the bed. Brenna felt a sharp desire to be there to adjust her pillows, anything she needed. Then the television began to buzz in the background.
"Don't depress yourself with the news," Brenna said.
"Look at that," Cassidy remarked at the television. "At least we're no longer the top story every day."
"Maybe midnight is a better check out time. Less press," Brenna pointed out.
"I still can barely walk," Cassidy grumbled.
"I know. We'll work together on that," Brenna said gently.
"Brenna, I shouldn't go home with you."
"Why not?"
"You've taken so much on with Ryan. I should just get a home nurse."
"It's no bother, Cass."
"But you're doing so much. It's not fair."
"I want to do this."
"But-"
"Cass, please. It's all right. You're not going to impose. I'll enjoy having you at home."
"What about the press?"
"Damn the press. Your health comes first."
"All right."
Despite her agreement, Cassidy sounded frustrated.
Brenna could also hear the washed out quality that signaled Cassidy falling under the influence of the strong pain medication. She called Ryan to the phone. "Ryan, time to say bye."
He yelped a cheerful, "See you tonight, Mommy," into the phone and handed it back.
Brenna's smile filtered into her voice as she offered her own sign-off. "Having you home will be wonderful. You'll see. You'll get well much more quickly with me taking care of you than you would with some impersonal home health person. I'll see you tonight. I love you."
"I love you, too." Cassidy's murmur faded and then there was only the click of the connection closing and Brenna pressed the end button on the cellular.
"Is Mommy ever going to get better?"
"Yes, she is," Brenna replied firmly. "We just have to help her a lot."
"Should I stay at home and take care of her?" he asked. "I could. I don't have to come here."
"Darling, you do. As much as your mommy needs help, you can't take care of her."
"I want to help," he declared stubbornly.
Brenna smiled at his endearing expression, so much like his mother's.
"You do. Just by loving her as much as you do." J can speed things along just a little. I can make sure the afternoon filming session goes damn efficiently. "Will you be ready to go when I come at dinner time?" He nodded emphatically. "All right. I'll see you then."
She looked at the wall clock and realized the call would come down soon to report back to the set. "I have to go."
"Wait!" he said suddenly, running to the counter and picking up a small, semi-round lump off of a paper towel. "You forgot your cookie."
She took it and kissed his cheek. "Pack up the rest, and we'll give them to your mommy for dessert tonight. I bet they will be the perfect medicine."
Ryan beamed, and Brenna steeled herself for the afternoon's work ahead. As she left the child's haven, she tried to set aside her personal life for her professional one.
Brenna sat waiting for the stagehands to reset the stage after the explosives experts had done their job. There were still two more takes, just for camera angles. It was well after six. It would very quickly be after eight if they didn't get everything on the first try. While she could not always count on others to not miss a cue, or to take it in their heads to initiate a harmless prank, she usually could count on herself to get it right. Two of the first four retakes had been necessary because she missed her blocking, stepping toward the wrong follow-up speaker or turning to look upstage when she should have looked downstage.
It was just too damn hard to concentrate. She heard Cassidy's tired voice over and over in her mind, and her heart and body screamed to be with her lover, soothing away the pain, rather than on set. Besides, she felt Cassidy was still uneasy about staying in Brenna's home for the rest of her recovery.
"Brenna? Bren?"
A voice penetrated the fog.
Uncurling her fist from under her chin and looking up dourly, she met the inquisitive gaze of Terry Brown. She saw her reflection in his dark-as-night eyes and picked up her chin. "Are they ready?"
"Are you?"
She started to push to her feet, but he restrained her with a light push against her shoulder. "What?" she asked.
"Do you want to rehearse the scene again?"
"I know it cold," she said wearily.
"But-"
"Terry, I want to get this done."
"Maybe you shouldn't have come back yet. It has only been two weeks since—"
Brenna whirled on him and growled, "Don't."
Terry's expression grew somber, silently expressing his thoughts.
She spun toward the set. "Let's get this over with."
A reporter stepped up to them. "Do you have a minute?" he asked.
Brenna took in his appearance with a quick top-to-bottom sweep of her eyes. Pen behind his ear, Dockers pants, and a brown polo shirt were fairly typical of the rag reporters, who tried to look like nothing so much as an underpaid stagehand. She tried hard to push a smile onto her lips. "We're due on the set," she said.
"I just wanted to ask Mr. Brown a question. Have you been pleased that the production schedule has spread the work out more evenly amongst the whole ensemble since Cassidy Hyland's injury?"
"More work?"
"Yeah, there were complaints when she first got here that a lot of the screen time was taken away from folks like you and," he nodded toward where Will Chapman and Sean Durham stood, arms crossed, also waiting for the set to be reset, "and those guys."
"We are all a team," Brenna said uneasily, though she suspected where he was going with his question.
"You didn't think so a year ago."
He was looking for a quote, and sniffing hard. "Things change," she said without elaboration.
"Yeah, a starlet g
etting beaten by her ex doesn't happen every day."
Terry stepped forward abruptly, grasping Brenna's arm which she had almost swung at the reporter. Unobtrusively, she released her fist slowly. "No, it doesn't." God, this man is an idiot.
"Work will be waiting for Miss Hyland when she is able to return. Now," Terry said, "we have to get back to filming." Gently laying a hand on Brenna's arm, he steered her toward Sean and Will, who had stiffened when the reporter broached Brenna and Terry.
The reporter called after them, "Would you take a swing at Mitch Hyland in open court, Ms. Lanigan?"
Yes, I would take a pickaxe to Mitch Hyland if I could. Terry's reassuring squeeze on her elbow encouraged her to clamp her jaw tightly shut.
"What's up?" Sean asked Terry when the two joined them.
"They want me to say something about Cassidy," Brenna said. "All week, if it isn't about the show, it's about whether or not, as her lover, I knew her ex-husband was after her. I wish they'd cut us a break. She's only getting out of the hospital tonight."
"That's good news."
"Yeah, maybe. She's not real happy about it. Her therapy's still going well, but mostly I get the feeling she doesn't want to come home to my place."
"Why not?"
"She has her own."
"Obviously that's still bothering you," Sean ventured. "You need to work it out. Go to the hospital early. Talk. Leave the work behind and tend to your heart's needs for a change."
Brenna shook her head. "I have to finish this first." Squaring her shoulders, she turned and preceded the group to the set.
The scene being taped had as its focus the ensemble's absent member played by Cassidy Hyland, Lieutenant Christine Hanssen. At first, the schedule had been juggled, rotating episodes focusing on other cast members so that they were shot earlier in the schedule. Eventually, the studio had to acknowledge the absence of the team's regular crew member. They were also beginning the arc of episodes leading to the end of the series.
As she tried to be the stalwart Commander Susan Jakes, it was not helping Brenna's concentration to think about why Cassidy was absent, and would remain absent for at least another three to four weeks. Her blood still boiled at the least reference to the incident where Cassidy had been beaten nearly to death by her ex-husband Mitch Hyland. She was losing her customary control.
She was walking a simple corridor scene with Will Chapman playing Lieutenant Raycreek, her second in command. This was the third take. The first two times her mind had drifted and she had missed cues. On the surface, their exchange was just a discussion of a terrorist conflict which had caused Lieutenant Chris Hanssen to be ordered back to her original fighter squadron. But Brenna could not help but play it deeper, as deeply as her emotions ran, for herself and for Susan Jakes who had been smoothing over her relationship with Christine Hanssen, the rebellious young officer now missing in the disputed territory.
"What does Command say?" Jakes asked.
"Nothing good." Raycreek shook his head. "Neither side is allowing any teams into the area to verify anything."
"What is the latest estimate of casualties?"
"The terrorists detonated a multi-ton device. The tectonic Shockwave registered as far as the Gobi. Deaths already number in the hundreds of thousands."
Without looking at Raycreek, she asked, "Were you able to reach Hanssen's wing command about her last known coordinates?" As she waited for potentially bad news, lakes swallowed hard and stared at her fingers spread against the wall, holding her up.
Raycreek's hand started for her shoulder, but her expression narrowed as she looked over at him, and he abandoned the gesture meant to reassure. "Yes," he admitted.
She spun away from him, as much to distance herself from the fatalistic word as to bark her next command. She hit the communication panel on the nearby wall. "Creighton, this is Commander lakes. Inform HQ that we're planning a mission in aid."
"Yes, Commander," came the voiceover reply from Terry Brown, off-stage as the tactical officer, Lieutenant Creighton.
"Sue," Raycreek started.
Jakes cut him off with a silent glare then turned to the communication console again. "I want every document concerning every ship and troop movement for the last two weeks. We're going to plan this down to the last microsecond." Her chin came up, daring Raycreek to challenge her decision. He didn't.
"I'll alert you when we have the data," he said. As she strode away, he turned to watch her go.
Off camera, Terry Brown and Sean Durham did the same. Brenna went off-camera at the other end of the set with her back to the camera. As she shed her portrayal going around a corner, they could see the instant the sturdy lines of Commander Jakes shattered into the softer lines of Brenna Lanigan.
"Cut and print that!" Mike Landau, the episode's director, yelled from behind Camera two, which had been tracking down the corridor after Jakes.
"Oh, thank God!"
Brenna's exclamation made everyone chuckle.
"Collect Ryan before you go," Will teased.
She turned and waved her thanks, restraining herself from running away from the set. She would be with Cassidy in less than thirty minutes. And they would be going home together.
Chapter 22
Cassidy watched with detachment as the nurse checked her vital signs. For the moment she felt relatively pain free. The brace she now wore offered support to her while she sat up in the bed. Her left arm, held in the nurse's hand as she timed her pulse, was only a little chilled. Early in her recovery her fever had fluctuated so often that she wasn't sure she would ever be consistently at normal temperature again. She felt weaker than she wanted, dependent on too many people to do things for her.
She wanted to go home, but at the same time knew that going home required her to be able to handle so much more than simply her own healing: being Ryan's mother, being Brenna's lover, trying to deal with Thomas and James for longer than a few hours. She wondered where she would find the energy for it all.
The door opened and the nurse said automatically, "Visiting hours are over."
Cassidy grinned as Brenna appeared around the edge of the door. "We're here to take her home."
"In the middle of the night?" the nurse objected.
"Yes, actually. I have her release papers right here." Brenna held them out blindly toward the nurse; she only had eyes for Cassidy. "Hi. We're a little early, but I couldn't wait any longer to see you."
"I'm still here," Cassidy said grumpily.
"You're sitting up and everything, though," Brenna praised. She realized the nurse was still standing by the door, and said, "That's all we need, thanks."
Waiting until the nurse was gone, Cassidy admitted, "A combination of the Percocet's residual effects and the brace."
"Mommy?"
Cassidy smiled at him hugging Brenna's leg. "Hi, sweetheart."
Ryan started to leap on the bed, but Brenna caught him before he could move the mattress with his intense forty-five pound body. "We're taking Mommy home. You can do that later," Brenna assured him.
Cassidy nodded her thanks.
"I haven't packed anything yet."
Brenna shook her head. "Don't worry about that. I've got it." She started by fetching the overnight bag from the closet. "What do you want to wear?"
"No belts, ties, heels..." Cassidy shook her head, "but I desperately want out of this backless number." She plucked at the hospital gown.
Brenna chuckled. "All right. How about these?" She held up a pair of Cassidy's sweatpants, trim fit but with a drawstring waist. When Cassidy nodded, Brenna added, "Doesn't really match, but I brought a button up shirt. Thought maybe we could get it on you without aggravating your chest too badly."
The thoughtfulness made Cassidy regret her earlier carping. "I just don't want to impose on you."
"I do understand your wanting to be on your own, but this isn't...it can be temporary. Though I'd really love it if you...stayed."
"Promise me you'll let me pul
l my own weight?" Cassidy inched her legs over the side of the bed; her knee still ached but at least her legs mostly worked. She stretched against the strain in her lower back and tried to adjust her position. Her weakened arms and a whirling dizziness made her close her eyes, stemming a seemingly unstoppable tide of tears.
Brenna moved forward, resting her hands on Cassidy's quivering thighs. "When you can lift something more than your own feet without help, we'll talk. All right?"
She slid an arm around Cassidy, who slowly lifted her uninjured right arm and managed to return the embrace. Cassidy's immobilized left arm, with the custom brace around her wrist and hand, was secured with Velcro straps to the front of the body brace. The heavy material was lined with hardened plastic ribbing, thwarting her aching need for closeness and comfort.
Awkwardly she rested her cheek against Brenna's shoulder and let the tears fall. Brenna stroked her hair and placed soft kisses against her brow and temple. "I'm sorry for being grumpy. You've done so much for me."
Brenna placed her palm under Cassidy's chin and gently tilted her head upward. "I love you. Nothing, but nothing will ever change that."
As Brenna pushed Cassidy along the corridor in the wheelchair, Ryan walked alongside, holding his mother's hand and talking nonstop. Cassidy tried to shush him a few times, then gave up trying. She frequently reached up over her shoulder to caress Brenna's hand on the handlebar. They said little to one another since they were surrounded by hospital security, two of whom checked outside the door while two waited with them. "All clear," they reported.
"All right. Let's go home."
"I'm ready," Cassidy murmured. Out on the landing, she waited while Brenna pulled open the doors and buckled Ryan into the car seat in the middle of the center bench seat. When she started to push herself up onto her feet. Brenna was quickly at her side. Cassidy's intention was to push Brenna's hand away, but, muscles shaking, she grasped the strong forearms instead "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Brenna supported Cassidy as they slowly walked the few steps to the car. Grasping the frame of the door and bracing her hand on the front passenger seat, with Brenna's assistance, Cassidy boosted herself inside. Seated, she reached for the shoulder harness, stopping in only a few inches when she discovered the limits of her mobility. Brenna handed her the buckle from the harness and Cassidy gratefully pulled it across her chest and waist, closing her eyes as she pushed in and heard the buckle snap into place. The effort just to get this far had been exhausting.
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