by Faye, Amy
She was, however, a little more surprised when she turned to see Dan stumble back a step, one hand buried in his abdomen, and a furious expression on his face. Something metal clattered to the ground, and then her husband growled and whatever decorum was left in him evaporated.
26
Dan's entire body burned in an instant. There was something unique about knives, something that bothered the hell out of him. They left a clean enough wound, all told, most of the time. But they were a dirty weapon in a gentleman's world.
It was fine, when someone was worried that they were going to have trouble sprung on them. Guns work better, of course, but in an area this crowded? A knife would work better still. Less dangerous, less trouble for the entire room. Roughly equivalent amounts of trouble within arm's reach.
The burning pain turned into anger without any steps in between, just a cold fury that turned rapidly to hate. Then Dan turned every bit of that anger towards something he knew well. He threw his weight forward, caught the kid around the waist, and smacked him into the ground, hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to hurt bad.
With a little bit of luck, his head would hit the tile floor, but the way that Cole kept fighting back told him that it hadn't worked out that way. Oh, well, that wasn't the expectation.
He dropped his hips and with them his weight, and slammed a big, boulder-sized fist into the kid's head. He stopped fighting for an instant, caught in a daze.
"You fucking idiot," Dan shouted. He hit him again. "You fucking idiot, kid, you don't know what you've got coming to you."
He hit him a third time. Cole Greer's nose was as misshapen as any that Dan had ever seen, and blood spilled out in long, thick spurts. Dan pulled back for another blow. The boy's head lolled, clearly unable to stay upright, and Dan forced himself to still.
"I ought to knock you into next fucking year," he growled. The strength that rage brought him started to ebb and he slipped forward. Somewhere, Sarah's voice started talking, in a shaky tone.
"My husband's just been stabbed. Yes. I didn't see the stabbing, no, but I saw who did it. We're at a restaurant, some long Mexican-sounding name, starts with an 'X'. I'm sorry I don't know!"
There was a crowd gathering by that point, a mixture of employees trying to pull him off Cole and people who just wanted to get a look at the commotion that had started up around them. His chest hurt with the effort of throwing all those punches around.
Dan let them pull him off the kid. He was bleeding pretty bad, but then again, a broken nose will do that. As far as Dan was concerned, he got off light just for what he already knew; the stabbing had opened up a whole new world of hurt that Dan hadn't even given him a glimpse of.
"I'm fine," he lied. His stomach hurt so bad that he couldn't see straight. "I'll be fine, just... yeah, I guess maybe I ought to go see a doctor."
Their waitress was a portly woman, and she'd been terribly polite when she was there ordering. Now she looked like she'd seen a ghost. As white as a sheet, and terrified. "I'm sorry about all the trouble. We'll, uh. I guess we ought to go."
He fished a card out of his pocket with the hand that hadn't gotten too much blood on it, and held it out unsteadily. "You can reach me at this number, just, uh... I think we should go."
He stood up on shaky legs; his arm supported the majority of his weight, since his legs wouldn't take more than half of it, and that would be a good run for them.
"Babe? We ought to go."
"No," she said, firmly. "There's an ambulance on the way, and we're going to get you to a hospital."
He let out a long sigh; it hurt his stomach to breathe at all, but once he'd started he couldn't bring himself to stop. "Alright."
Dan fell, more than he lowered himself into, a nearby chair that someone had fetched for him. A few people leaned in to get a look at him. He felt like holy hell. A stab in the gut was trouble. Even a little prick of his stomach or his intestines, and germs would be spreading through his body so fast that nobody in the world would be able to get them all. An infection from hell, one that would most-likely kill him.
He took in another long, painful breath and let it out. He was tired. It had been a good day so far. A real good day. There had been one little, tiny fight. One that he'd almost forgotten about.
Then this had happened. Fuck.
Sarah was among the people standing over him. She rubbed his knee, stared into his eyes nervously. He made a weak smile.
"Hey, kid."
"Dan, I need you to listen to me, okay? Help's on the way, there's nothing to worry about. You're going to be fine."
"Of course I am," he said. He smiled wider, in spite of the pain that shot through him when he took another breath. "I've got a plan, remember? I don't think I remember putting down that I get killed partway through. This is just the beginning, you'll see."
She smiled, but he could see the tension in her eyebrows. The worry. "You promise?"
"I may be an old man, to you, but I'm pretty good at this. Cole Greer won't even have me in bed for a day or two, you'll see."
He wished that he believed all that. Every breath he took hurt, and though his fist was jammed into the wound as hard as he could press it, there was still blood draining out between his fingers. Blood that would need to be replaced, and soon, and preferably with new blood that wasn't full of every bit of bacteria from his intestine.
One of the girls was crying; Sarah turned to go grab her and immediately put her head down, smiling at the girl and shushing her softly. He could see the glistening of tears that were just beginning to form in her eyes, but she tried her best to hide them, and he tried his best to pretend he hadn't noticed that they were there.
"Can I see her?"
Sarah nodded and held the girl out. He smiled down at her. He'd only been with the girls for five weeks, now. Five very, very short weeks. Too short. They were twins, identical in every way except that one fussed half the time, and the other fussed the other half. Which one was she?
"Allison?"
Sarah nodded.
"Good girl, Allison. You're so sweet, like your Mama. Which is good," he said, a cough catching in his stomach, "Because your Daddy's a real asshole."
The wail of sirens was louder now. The doors opened and people started filing through as fast as it could be done. Men in various uniforms. The ones with guns on their hips dealt with Cole; the ones without dealt with him.
They fit him onto a stretcher, even though he could walk. He let them. There wasn't much use in fighting it; he couldn't have stopped them even if he wanted to, and the truth was that he didn't have the energy to want to, either.
They started listing off medical facts over his head, mostly jargon that he couldn't understand. There was 'stab wound.' He understood that one. 'Left abdominal wall' made some sense. The rest was a blur. Maybe it all would have made sense to him; some of it was so muddy and indistinguishable that he was sure he just couldn't hear it.
They left Sarah behind, her eyes filled with tears for a man that she barely knew, and bundled him up into the back of an ambulance. They could have driven to the hospital, he thought. They'd have made it just fine. But now he was in the ambulance either way, and there wasn't going to be much in the way of changing it now.
He let out a long breath, closed his eyes, and let them do their work. He could worry about dying when he was dead.
27
Sarah's head refused to stay upright, no matter how hard she tried. So she let it loll back, held the girls in her arms, and shifted them in her lap to a new position.
Beside her, the machines beeped out a soft, steady rhythm that threatened to put her to sleep. But she couldn't afford to sleep, not before the nurse told figured out what they were going to do about Dan's situation and the fact that he had two twin girls who needed to eat and a mom that could barely keep her eyes open.
He laid there with his eyes closed, sleeping. She hoped it was sleep, but the truth was that she had no way of knowing either way. He wo
uld wake up or he wouldn't, and the world would keep turning either way. She would figure out a way to move on, because there was no other choice, and if she didn't, then she still would. The words 'no other choice' repeated in her head. There was nothing to be done, so she would do what she had to do, because she had to do it.
Sarah lifted her head, kept it up as long as she could. Long enough to look out and make sure that there was nobody standing right outside the door, ready and waiting to step inside, or watching them from the other side of the room. There wasn't, which was what she'd seen the last time she looked a moment before.
Then she lifted her shirt up, pulled the front-clasp on her bra apart, and held the twins up to her breasts. Allison looked at her mother's nipple like it was an unfamiliar sight, like she'd never seen it before in her short life. Chelsea, on the other hand, sweet and perfect Chelsea who was committed to making Mama's life easier, latched on and happily started drinking away.
"Go on," Sarah pleaded. "Eat."
Allison looked up at her with an unsatisfied expression and pushed away a little. Sarah held her firm, and after a moment the fussy one relented, too, and decided that she wanted to eat after all. She wasn't going to make it comfortable, of course, gumming down on the nipple hard enough to hurt, but it was better than not eating and leaving her to do both daughters separately.
Sarah did her best to relax. It had been a long day, and at this rate, it was going to be an even longer night. She'd have killed for a little coffee, but it had been so long since she'd had it that it was like a distant memory. A promise of something that could save her from the exhaustion, but forever out of reach.
After all, if she drank any coffee, then the girls would get the caffeine from her milk. Not only would it keep them up all night, the same as it would keep her up all night; not only would it mean that they achieved maximum crankiness, because their tiredness had passed the point where they could sleep; but more than either of those, it would be a health hazard, and that meant that even though Sarah wanted some God damned coffee, since Baby couldn't have it, Mama couldn't have it.
She leaned her head down and started speaking softly. The girls liked it when she talked. They liked about anything she said; at only seventeen weeks, they were a little young to understand any of it. But they liked the sound of her voice, so as tempted as she was to stay silent, she spoke out loud as she prayed.
"In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, amen. I don't know if there's anyone out there listening to me, any more. I know that I did a lot of things that I ought to regret, Father, but I just. It's done, now, and I don't have any way out of it. So I'm doing the best I can.
"I'm sorry I haven't been to church lately, and I'm sorry I got married for dubious reasons. But I have to ask, just in case. Please, don't let anything happen to Dan. I'll go to church, I'll pray every day, whatever it takes. But please, just this one."
The babies on her breasts continued suckling, the machines continued beeping, and Allison continued to gum at her nipple like she was trying to bite it off. Around her, nothing much changed. But the words themselves filled her with a feeling that she'd at least done what she could. And that was going to have to be enough, for now. Sarah closed her eyes and kept her head lowered, gently bouncing the babies in her arms.
She rose her head some time later; how much time, she couldn't say, except that it was more than a couple of moments. "Mrs. Bryant?"
She raised her eyes. A nurse was standing there, looking earnest. "I can come back, if this is a bad time, but..."
"They're going to be doing this for a while, I think," Sarah said. The words alone were hard to say. She was so tired. Just wanted to sleep. But that wasn't an option for her, regardless of how desperately she wanted it.
"I'm sorry to bother you. We've got some word, though, on your husband's test results."
"Okay."
The nurse looked over at him, out of the side of her eyes. Sarah wasn't sure if it meant something, or she was just trying to avert her gaze from Sarah's breasts, but either way didn't matter.
"The wound missed most of his vital organs, thank God. There's a pretty bad tear in his abdominal wall, which we think probably happened after the stabbing, but he should be out of the woods."
"So he's going to wake up?"
"We presume so," the nurse said. "It's just a matter of when, at this point."
Sarah pulled a tired smile. "That's good news, at least."
"Uh," the nurse cleared her throat. "I was thinking, one other thing."
"Shoot."
"You look like you could use some sleep."
"I sure could," Sarah agreed. "But I have to feed these little girls before they start getting cranky."
The nurse nodded. "Well, we were just thinking, if you wanted to let them sleep, when you're finished, we have an excellent child care facility, just down the hall. We could have them in the nursery while you get a little sleep, if that would help."
Sarah nodded vaguely. "That would be nice, but like I said."
"Okay, then. Just ring when you're ready, or come on out. I bet you wouldn't mind stretching your legs a little."
Not a bit, Sarah thought. She kept that to herself. "Thank you very much."
"Don't mention it," the woman said. She smiled, with a look in her eyes that told Sarah she was worried about something. Presumably because she looked like hell worn over.
"Thank you again. I'll come out when they've finished eating, and then..." Allison bit down again, harder. "Ow! You've got to be careful with Mama."
The nurse took another long look at her, worry plain on her face, and then she turned and strode out like she had somewhere to be. Sarah took a deep breath and tried not to count the seconds.
The more she paid attention to the time, the longer it would be, and it was already going to be a long twenty minutes.
28
Dan stirred back to life with a start, and a pain in his stomach that pierced from his crotch all the way up to his shoulder.
"Jesus," he announced into the room, without bothering to find out who else was there with him.
Something in the corner moved. He looked over; sure enough, there was something there. Or, more accurately, there was someone.
Sarah leaned up on the bed with an expression as tired and confused as his own must have looked. Then she blinked a couple of times, still staring at him. Still confused. Then the confusion seemed to snap all at once into 'oh shit' and she started moving.
Dan watched all of this with a sort of detached confusion. The memories of what had happened were coming back drip by drip, starting from the argument with Sarah, and moving onward from there.
He'd had some kind of business thing, he knew that. It had clearly gone badly. Then more, and more, until perhaps ten seconds had passed since Sarah sprinted out of the room, and he remembered the whole thing from top to bottom.
"Jesus," he said again. The thought of Cole Greer coming after him hadn't even really occurred to Dan. The thought of him using a knife to do it was practically unthinkable. Dan had thought Robert was somewhat friendly, for a man who he'd only met once or twice.
A nurse rushed in like there was something to be worried about. For a moment, Dan thought about how he was supposed to react to that. Aside from the very literally 'stabbing' pain in his stomach, he felt fine. Hell, worse things had happened.
"Mr. Bryant? How are you feeling?"
She seemed like she was worried that he might go flying off the handle any moment, panicked and worrying and crying. So he decided to play it cool, for now.
"Good morning." Nailed it.
He looked over at the bags pumping into his IV. A big bag of saline solution, of course, mostly empty. They almost always were, except in television shows, where they someone had always just filled it a few minutes before.
"Are you feeling alright? How's your pain, on a scale of one to ten?"
She gestured vaguely at a picture explaining the pain scale. '
One' seemed to be 'having a good day,' and the guy wasn't even having a bad day until six. By that scale, pretty much everyone ought to say that they're a ten, he figured. Eight to ten, if you're in a hospital. Six is if you're in a hospital just for a checkup.
"Uh." He cut off the trail of thought and tried to figure a real answer. "Six? Seven?"
"Pretty bad, then?"
"I guess you could say that, yeah."
"We can push a little more morphine, if that..."
"Yeah, might help. But if not, you know, I'm not to the 'screaming and crying' portion of the night yet, so that's pretty good."
Sarah appeared from behind the nurse; she didn't bother to hide the worry in her face.
"Are you okay?"
He put on a smile that didn't manage to reach his eyes, in spite of his best efforts. "Hey, kid. You're not hurt, are you?"
She shook her head and chewed on her lip. She did it when she was nervous, he knew. All it made him think of was sex, though, and just the idea of it made his stomach hurt worse.
"Good."
"I'll, uh. I'll go get the doctor," the woman said, and then she cleared out. Dan laid his head back on the pillow behind him and closed his eyes again, his hand resting unconsciously over the place where someone had sheared his stomach open.
"I'm glad you're not hurt," he said again, without opening his eyes. "I would hate to imagine that... I don't know."
She rested a hand on his other arm, her thumb rubbing up and down. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"You think so?" He let out a long breath, and opened his eyes. His wife, somehow more appealing with her disheveled hair and bags under her eyes, looked down at him.
"I don't think anything. I know you're an idiot, Dan Bryant, because only an idiot would invite some stranger to dinner with his wife."
"Well, it worked out," Dan said. He held the pause a moment before he added, "After all, he was a family friend, wasn't he?"
Sarah slapped his shoulder, but her heart wasn't in it. He laughed, hearty and right from his belly, which impatiently reminded him that he was injured by letting out an unholy barrage of pain.