by Laura Acton
To all who were watching his eyes, they saw that the smile didn’t register in his eyes. They all knew this was a lot to deal with and the fact he was up and asking for food was good enough for them at the moment.
Jon realized Dan didn’t want to answer. Dan’s desire not to answer meant there was clearly a distinction between fine and okay in his mind. Jon needed to find out, but it could wait so he let it drop for now.
William turned and picked up the phone to order dinner for everyone.
Lexa looked to the table and scanned the available items—most of them would be difficult for Dan to eat. She grabbed a cup of chocolate pudding, a spoon, and a bottle of water from the table and walked to Dan. “This will have to do until the feast arrives,” she said with a smile as she put the items on a small table next to him.
She gave Dan a gentle hug being careful not to hurt his ribs. Then she stood and opened the water bottle and pudding cup for him—with his sprained wrist that would be difficult. Lexa’s voice was soft but firm, “Glad to see ya, just don’t scare us like that again.”
Lexa held out the spoon so Dan could grab it with his right hand, put the pudding cup on his left thigh so he could grip it with his left hand without moving it, then stepped back. She knew enough about Dan to know he’d be embarrassed if she tried to feed him—he’d want to do it himself—no matter how much his arms hurt.
Dan slowly lifted a spoonful of pudding to his mouth. It was a good thing Patch had given him pain meds a few hours ago—without them he wouldn’t be able to manage feeding himself. “Thanks, it’s perfect.” The smooth, cool pudding was a good choice—he didn’t have to chew and it didn’t sting the healing cuts inside his mouth.
As Dan continued to eat, one by one, everyone came forward to give him a hug or a gentle shoulder pat. Each of them was careful not to jostle Dan. They spent a moment or two with a variation of glad to see you and a normal quip or comment. The end result created a warm, caring, and safe environment which restored a small sense of balance for Dan.
William allowed everyone else to have a moment with his son. He waited and watched—he was cheered at the depth of care they all showed for Daniel. With Bram’s words fresh in his head, William finally approached his son.
Seeing the General approaching him, tension crept in as Dan unconsciously shifted to an erect soldier-like seated position, back straight, shoulders squared, head up, feet flat on the floor, hands palm down on his thighs.
Everyone saw the shift and tensed wondering how things would turn out. Would the General do something to cause Dan distress? They watched.
William knelt down on one knee in front of Daniel so their heads were level.
Dan was surprised. The General had always towered over him in the past, always in a power position. He cautiously waited, unsure how to react.
Connecting with his son’s eyes, William let his love, sorrow, and hope show in his eyes as he softly spoke, “Time, Daniel, we need time. We’re human and we make mistakes … I’ve made so many mistakes. I believe we can fix this … I want to fix it. I understand it won’t be easy and it won’t be quick … we have time. I’ll let you set the pace. I have hope.”
Then as if that hadn’t completely knocked Dan off kilter, he was utterly and completely shocked when the General wrapped his arms around him and gently embraced him as he said, “I love you son. Someday I hope you come to realize that I love you so very much.”
Dan couldn’t remember the last time the General hugged him or told him he loved him. His head was spinning with conflicting emotions as he received, but didn’t reciprocate the hug—his body was still tense, hands still on his thighs, and he said nothing in return.
William released Daniel after a brief hug, stood, and walked to a quiet corner of the room out of his son’s sight to give Daniel a chance to absorb the change in his approach. He sat down and his insides cried out impotently wondering if his son believed him. Dan’s automatic rigid posture affirmed that he’d driven his son too hard and too early. Behaviors William once thought would protect Daniel prevented his son from accepting a father’s comfort and love. William wished Yvonne was here—she’d get through.
Dan’s posture relaxed as the General walked away. He sat quietly catching bits and pieces of the conversations around him—not paying much attention as he stared out the window. His father had hugged him, said he loved him, wanted to mend things, and had put the ball in his court. Dan had no idea what to do or think—it was overwhelming.
Bram approached the General and quietly said, “You did good.”
William whispered back, “Thank you for the words. I’ll keep in mind what you told me and I’ll be patient. Not patient by nature, but I will try. I do love my son. I’ll do whatever it takes so he will eventually see I love him. I have so much to atone for—this is important—Daniel is important and I’ll do what is necessary in hopes he’ll forgive me one day.”
Bram nodded with a smile and thought, They just need time. Almost twenty years of history couldn’t be undone in a day. From what he knew about Dan, Bram had hope Dan and the General would mend their father-son relationship.
Winds overheard the General. His conflict was still roaring. Hearing this though, had him thinking that the loving father was the true version of the General. He hoped for Blondie’s sake they would reconcile. Blondie had the capacity to forgive—even though it might take some time.
Thirty minutes later, Dan was seated at the large dining table in the room, Jon and Blaze had helped him make it to the table on unsteady and aching legs. Every muscle in his body revolted at movements. As he surveyed all the food, Dan realized that Lexa wasn’t kidding, feast was an accurate description. He noticed the large selection of his favorite soft foods and Lexa filled a plate for him with them. He smiled at her and got a smile back.
Dinner conversation was light and touched on fun and mundane topics. A playful argument broke out between Winds and Jon over which hockey team was the best. Dan appreciated the lengths everyone went to make the dinner seem normal in a completely abnormal setting.
Near the end of dinner, Loki asked Blaze, “So who won the bet?”
Everyone cringed.
Dan noticed the unease and asked, “What bet?”
Loki realized his error and quickly made something up. “How much food would be left over. The General here thinks he’s feeding an entire army, so many leftovers you’d think this was an Italian’s home.”
It was totally lame and everyone, including Dan, knew it. But Dan let it drop. He probably didn’t want to know what the bet was actually about, especially with the ‘daggers’ glare Lexa had given Loki.
Dan had eaten enough to slake his hunger. He was feeling wrung out but grimy and wanted a shower. He glanced at Patch. “Any way you would approve me taking a shower? I could really use one before hitting the sack.”
Dan knew that Patch would likely say no with the stitches he was sporting in his face and arm. But a shower would help him not only cleanse his body, but also wash away many negative thoughts. He could let them flow out and down the drain.
Patch gave Blondie an assessing look and registered the unspoken need. Knowing he should probably say no because of the stitches, Patch replied, “Yeah, as long as it’s short. I’ll redress your wounds when you’re done. Let’s go, buddy.” He helped Blondie rise and make his way to the bedroom.
Blaze grinned. Blondie’s desire for a shower was a very good sign. It meant Blondie was coming closer to normalcy. He called out to Blondie, “Nick and Lexa went by your place, brought your personal kit and clean clothes. If you need any help, just holler—my hands can be your hands if need be.”
Dan stopped, turned, and looked at Blaze. His words brought Mason to mind. He was afraid to ask, yet did any way, “Does Mason hate me?”
Blaze was out of his chair and to Blondie in a flash. He hugged him gently as he answered, “Mason could never hate you. You’re his little brother. I can’t wait to contact him. He’s fin
ally going to forgive me for losing you.”
Dan looked at Blaze and then at Winds who had come up to them.
Winds grinned, “Aw damn, Blondie. How could you ever think that Mason could hate you? I swear—I was as colorful as you when he found out how badly we failed you after Brody died.”
Patch nodded and at Blondie’s questioning look. “I’ll tell you all about it while you get cleaned up.”
As the two moved into Dan’s room, Jon asked, “Who is Mason?”
Blaze grinned as he looked from Jon to Bram. “Mason is Blondie’s protective big brother—and I mean big, big, big brother. He makes Bram look like a munchkin. He’s one man you never want to cross. Blondie sometimes called him a highland heathen.” As Blaze absently rubbed his jaw where Mason had belted him, he said, “His fists are deadly. I swear he could probably knock down a house with them if he wanted to.”
Jon glanced at Bram—someone bigger than Bram? Now that would be impressive.
Lexa asked Winds, “What did you mean you were as colorful as Dan? Do you bruise as badly?”
Winds chuckled and shook his head. Then he shared what happened after Mason arrived at the base five minutes after Blondie’s plane took off. He told them about the brawl and the aftermath. He concluded with, “That’s how I was busted down to Private. I had a problem keeping my mouth shut around Major Puffy. When I found out no charges were being filed against Murphy, I let loose on him. I’ve been busted down so many times it ain’t funny.”
Loki asked, “Aren’t you a Corporal now?”
Winds laughed. “Yeah, for the fifth time. Earned it back over the past year. When Plouffe’s gone, I just might make it back to Master Warrant Officer – that’s if his replacement isn’t a total jerk and I can keep my mouth shut.”
General Broderick had listened intently. When Winds finished, he said, “So that’s what precipitated the brawl. Everyone was closedmouthed. I dressed down the Major for having a lack of control over his men. I was so upset at the number of injuries and the damage done, I dressed him down in public rather than privately.”
He looked at Winds and stated, “I will look into your service record and at the demotions you have received. I’ll do what I can to restore you to your rightful rank and pay. Plouffe has befouled the uniform and it looks as though there may be many transgressions against a fair number of soldiers.”
Winds was stunned. A little more of his conflict ebbed away. Blaze was right—the General was an honorable man.
Conversation in the main suite returned to activities around the investigation. Progress had been slow today because everyone had been distracted. Seeing that Dan would be okay reenergized them and they started back into their tasks with zeal.
Jon went to check with Hal and the rest of Blaze’s unit. After the first security plan had been shot to hell, they had decided the four unit guys would split into two teams and rotate on twelve hour shifts in the hall. With the rest of them in them in the same room as Dan, it was sufficient.
Chapter Fifty-Five
July 18
Grand Citadel Hotel – Dan’s Room – 7:10 p.m.
The hot shower had helped in many ways. Releasing some the tension from his muscles was the best part, though. He was so stiff and sore that every movement hurt. As he stood naked in front of the sink, slowly brushing his teeth, he took stock of his physical state in the large mirror. He was a mess.
Dan thought he looked like a Zombie with stitches over his right eye, a myriad of small cuts and abrasions, and dark purple, blue, and red bruising all over his face. With each small movement, his right arm burned where he’d been shot, but at least he was able to use it. His left wrist, hand, and knuckles were extremely swollen. Examining the abraded skin on his knuckles, Dan thought, Damned good thing I didn’t bust them on Basto’s rock solid jaw.
He tried to flex the fingers of his left hand and grimaced. Nope, using his dominant hand was out of the question right now. He was glad it was only a sprain and not a break. Dan recalled when it bent weird as Basto fell on him. At the time, he’d thought for sure it had broken. He hoped there were no tendon or muscle tears that would slow his return to work.
Bending over slightly to spit out the toothpaste, Dan let out a soft groan and hiss of pain—damn that hurt. It also hurt to take deep breaths and he knew that several ribs were cracked. As he slowly straightened up, Dan looked at his left shoulder—the bruising was such a deep purple it almost looked black. It still hurt a lot and he wondered if it was fractured. He hated slings, but he might ask Patch for one—mostly so the throbbing of his wrist would stop.
Dan rinsed his mouth then smiled at the mirror, examining his teeth. On the plus side, no teeth were knocked out. He dangled his boxers with his right hand, stepped into them, and managed pull them up with tons of effort. Exhausted, Dan realized there was no way he’d get his pants on by himself.
Leaning back against the wall, waiting to regain some energy, Dan inspected the bruising all over his body. It was still vivid and he noted the color change was older than a day. Crap, how long have I been out? What is today?
He grabbed his sweatpants and returned to the bedroom. Patch would help him get these on after he attended to his injuries. Dan was glad Patch was here—he felt comfortable asking for Patch’s help.
Patch watched Blondie slowly make his way to the bed carrying the sweats in hand right hand. He was surprised that Blondie had managed to get the boxers on by himself. Patch had expected Blondie to call for help with that.
Before the shower, Patch had removed the IV after giving Blondie a dose of pain meds. He removed it because the course of intravenous antibiotic was done, Blondie was taking in fluids by himself, and because Blondie hated being tethered. He’d placed a call to Dr. Fraser for oral pain meds which would be sent over in the morning. The dose of pain meds he’d given Blondie before removing the IV would last through the night.
Dan lowered himself to the edge of the bed and looked at Patch. “So, you left the military. Why?”
Taking the pants from Blondie and keeping his eyes on them, Patch squatted down to help him into them. Patch quietly replied, “Several reasons.”
Knowing Patch was being evasive, Dan asked again, “Like what?” as he stood so Patch could pull the sweatpants up around his waist.
Patch turned to get the wrap and brace for Blondie’s wrist. He answered honestly, “After Brody, then you …” he trailed off as he wrapped Blondie’s wrist. He still couldn’t bring his eyes to Blondie’s. It hurt too much.
Dan noticed Patch was avoiding eye contact. He let Patch finish with his wrist before he prodded again. “Okay, so after that, what happened? What made you decide you were done?” He could tell there was something that Patch didn’t want to tell him. It hit him. “Who? Who else died?”
Sinking to his knees so he was eye level with Blondie, Patch said, “Baboon.”
Sucking in a sharp breath caused shooting pain in his chest—the pain wasn’t all related to his damage ribs—his heart ached at the loss. “How?”
Dropping his eyes to his own hands, Patch clenched and unclenched his fists. He lifted his head and there were tears welled in his eyes. “I didn’t know. I failed to see. We all failed to see he was on the edge. He requested a transfer to another unit after Brody died and you left. We thought he just needed to be away from us—away from a constant reminder of what happened. He saved you, but we couldn’t save him.”
Tears slipped out of Dan’s eyes. His voice was soft and filled with disbelief, “Baboon did it himself?”
Patch nodded.
Dan reeled inside. Nils didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that. Baboon was so strong. Sorrow filled his heart at the loss of another friend.
Anguish filled Patch as he lowered his eyes and bowed his head. “After that … I just couldn’t. It was just too personal. I’d seen so many buddies I cared about die … I couldn’t save them. I had to leave. It was too hard and if I didn’t leave I might’ve been
tempted to do what Baboon did.”
Dan saw the pain in his brother and wished he could take it away. He lifted his right hand and put it on Patch’s shoulder—it was a much as he could do at the moment to offer comfort. Patch had always been there for all of them—every single time. His brother gave of himself selflessly to keep them all alive. Dan never realized the burden that Patch truly carried.
He knew he didn’t have to effuse words of thanks. The unit had dispensed with that need years ago. Each knew exactly how much the others appreciated what they did for each other. No words were needed—usually.
Nevertheless, Dan felt it was important to say thanks right now. “I never said thank you for all you’ve done for me—all you taught me. I’m whole, strong and alive because you care. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Jim.”
Patch looked up at Blondie’s use of his first name. They were making the first small step to moving beyond the military. “No thanks are needed, Dan. You’re my brother and always will be. Can you forgive me for hurting you?”
“Nothing to forgive. We were all grieving.”
Their eyes locked and held one another for a long time. They had a deep connection born in the fires of hell. It was strong and would last a lifetime.
Patch nodded, pushed himself up, and broke the maudlin tension. “You know, you already have a reputation among the medics I work with. They say you’re close to breaking Bram’s record for getting hurt. Loki’s nickname of Wile E. Coyote fits you. I also like Dantastic. So does your pretty nurse Heather.”
Dan laughed, winced, laughed, groaned, laughed, then sighed. “Don’t make me laugh. This shit still hurts too much.”
Patch grinned. “They say laughter is the best medicine. It releases endorphins that reduce your pain. Let me bandage that hole in your arm and get a shirt on you.” When Patch was all done, he asked, “Better?”
“Much,” Dan said then looked up at Patch. “Perhaps you could get a sling for my arm?”