1322 North Folk Road
Sherman Housing Area
Fort Bragg
North Carolina, United States of America
17 December, 1989, Sunday
1930 Hours

Stillwater, Anthony, Sergeant, US Army Active

The front room was cozy. More Christmas decorations than when we'd shown up, Aine & Foster's kids playing with my brothers and sisters, watching Nancy play with the babies. It was kind of irritating, the way she would stare at her wedding ring, then go and play with the babies. I knew she was probably considering having a baby with Jerry when she got back to Alfenwehr. She worked at a cold site now, so it wasn't any big deal. She already was living in on-post housing, since Colonel Henry (NR) had insisted that all members of 2/19th moved on-post after the KGB hit-list came down with our names on it again. One thing that was irritating me was whenever someone tried to hand me Baby Kavon she was right there with "I don't Tony to get tired out" or "Kavon needs his diaper changed" or "I don't want Kavon to try to stand up on Tony's leg" or whatever excuse she could think of.

I was tired, already, and in pain.  Her excuses made me angry, dammit, I just wanted to hold the baby, not listen to her bullshit excuses on why I shouldn't.

Kovan toddled toward me, holding his arms out, and I smiled and bent forward.

Two more steps and Nancy scooped Kovan up, lifting him up and holding him close.

"You got something to say, Nagle?" I suddenly growled.

The entire frontroom went silent except for Lisa and Amy chatting with Aine's two children, who were both less than 3 years old and looked five.

"Um, what?" Nagle asked.

I stared up at her. "I asked if you have something to say. You seem to think I'm dangerous to that baby or something. You got something you want to get off your chest?" I snarled.

She shook her head, her face getting a look like she was trapped.

"Yeah, I'm going to bed," I snapped, standing up.

My knee gave up and I went face first down onto the floor, catching myself barely. I gritted my teeth against the pain as my knee slammed into the floor.

"Tony," Tabitha said, standing up.

"I'm fine!" I snapped, pushing myself up. Everyone was staring at me as I struggled to my feet. "I said, I'm fine."

I headed for the steps, knowing I was staggering slightly as my knee refused to work right. I heard Tabitha call my name but I ignored her, moving over to the stairs and starting down them.

My knee gave out.

I grabbed at the banister with my right hand, snatching at it, trying to grab it to keep myself upright.

And I missed.

My shoulder popped, the joint locked, and prevented me from reaching correctly.

I took a header down the stairs, tumbling. I tried to get my hand out again, but I rolled onto my right shoulder and felt the edge of the stair slam it out of the socket. I didn't scream, gritting my teeth together out of pure stubbornness.

Which didn't help when my face slammed into the floor at the base of the stairs.

And everything went black.

Cromwell, Heather, Sergeant, US Army - Active

I was standing in the kitchen when Anthony stomped by me, obviously angry at Nagle. I wanted to tell him why, what was going on, but it wasn't my place to get involved in that situation. He was angry, I could tell, and I watched him head to the stairs leading down to the basement.

I knew he was chafing under not being able to get up often. He usually had help coming upstairs, not allowed to lower his leg down at all. For that reason, he hadn't been wearing his brace upstairs.

When he suddenly fell, I should have seen it. Should have helped him down the stairs, instead I was leaning against the sink watching him walk down the stairs.

When he fell I immediately looked at the clock. Nineteen-fourty-two hours. I was moving before he was even all the way down and I hurried down the stairs after him. He was laying at the bottom of the stairs, blood pooling around his head. His lower body was still on the stairs, and I could tell he'd managed to get one arm out to stop himself from flipping ass over teakettle when he hit the bottom.

Instead, he managed to stop himself with his face.

Goddamn it, Stillwater.

He was unconscious. "NINETEEN-FOURTY-TWO TIME!" I yelled out.

People were gathered up at the top of the stairs.

"Don't. Give her room to work," The Sergeant Major said, "Miss Stokes, go down and help him."

"Daddy," Tabitha said. I could practically hear the girl's pain in wanting to come down and help me with Tony.

"Let Tabitha come down too, I might need her help," I said, my hands gently touching the back of his neck. Run my finger down his spine. No vertebrae out of place, good. Lightly run my hands over his body. He was breathing, I could see the bubbles in the blood around his face.

Stokes moved down, jumping over him, to crouch down on the floor and look down at him.

"What do you have?" She asked me.

"Dislocated shoulder, dislocated knee," I snapped out, "Unconsciousness."

"What do I do?" Tabitha asked, crouching down at the top of the stairs.

"We're not sure," Stokes snapped. "We've got to examine him first."

"Everyone, back in the front room," The Sergeant Major said. "Miss Dawson, you can wait with Mother in the sun-nook here in the kitchen."

I kept checking him over.

Two ribs shifting slightly. Dammit. His arm was turning purple, another not good.

"His nose is broken," Stokes said. "Maybe his jaw."

"We need an ambulance," I told her, looking at Stokes. Stokes nodded and I turned to Tabitha. "Go upstairs, tell your Father we need an ambulance," I checked my watch. "He's been unconscious for six minutes," I looked back at Stokes while Tabitha ran up the stairs. "This isn't good."

Stokes shook her head. "He should have woken up by now."

Stillwater started shivering, his right foot kicking.

"Goddamn it," Stokes said, putting her hands gently on Stillwater, keeping him from flopping around, but letting him shiver. I checked my watch. Nineteen-fourty-nine.

"HE'S HAVING A SEIZURE!" I called out. "TELL THE MEDICS!"

The seizure pushed him slightly down the stairs, his right foot pushing him forward on the floor. His cheek squeaked against the floor. He coughed and blood sprayed out of his mouth. I pulled my penlight out of the pocket of my flannel, clicking it on.

The seizure ended and I checked my watch. Nineteen-fifty-one. Two minute long seizure.

"THEY'RE ON THEIR WAY!" John yelled from the kitchen.

I pulled up his right eye and flashed the light in it. The pupil contracted. When I clicked off the penlight it dilated. I flipped up his eyepatch, clicking on the penlight. No change. I repeated it twice, no change.

Something dark and cold stared at me out of the eye. His right eye didn't move, but the left eye suddenly locked onto me, staring at me.

"Oh, shit," Stokes said. She'd just shifted to be able to look Anthony in the face.

That eye shifted to her and she drew back slightly.

"Jesus, that eye is creepy," She said. The stairs shook slightly as Tabitha hurried down them.

"Yeah, well," I said, sliding the eyepatch back in place. I shook my head. "Let's not mention that to anyone, yeah?"

Stokes nodded. "Yeah, let them see it for themselves."

I checked my watch. Twelve minutes, still unconscious.

"Where are they?" I snapped, looking up the stairs. "OK, support his neck, let's straighten him all the way out, get him off these stairs."

"Are you sure?" Stokes asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. He's putting a lot of pressure on two ribs that shifted when I was patting him down. I don't want that rib jabbing into his guts or slicing a lung."

She nodded at that. Tabitha looked at me and I pointed at Tony. "Lift his head, try to keep it stable, we don't want to sever his spinal cord."

She bit her lip, nodding.

We moved him, carefully, into the hallway. We laid him on his back. Stokes stripped off her shirt, leaving her in a sports bra, and rolled her shirt. Tabitha lifted his head, supporting his neck, and Stokes slid her rolled shirt under his neck.

"Where are they?" I asked, checking my watch. "Sixteen minutes."

"He's bleeding from his ear," Tabitha said.

I looked and spotted it.

Pink.

I swiped my finger across the drop, bringing it up and tasting it.

Bananas and copper.

"Crap, his brain is swelling," I said. "That's cerebral fluid."

Tabitha gasped and I grabbed her wrist. "Shh."

I heard the upstairs door open and shoes moving quickly across the frontroom.

"Tabitha, move, stay out of the way of the medics," Stokes said. Tabitha nodded, her face pale, highlighting the freckles under her eyes.

There were two EMT's, both of them in BDU's.

"Twenty-two year old male, fell down the stairs, unconscious for," I checked my watch. Twenty-Hundred Zero One, "Nineteen minutes. Suffered a two minute sustained grand-mal seizure. Cerebral fluid leaking from left ear," I snapped.

The two EMT's worked quickly, sliding Tony onto a backboard, putting him in a C-collar, and sliding him onto the gurney. They looked doubtfully at the stairs.

"We'll get it," Stokes said, pushing them to the side. She grabbed one end, I grabbed the other. She looked at me. "On three."

I nodded. She counted, and on three we lifted. I heard stitches pop, both on her shirt and mine, as we carried him up the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Tabitha, stay here," The Sergeant Major said. "Miss Dawson, you will accompany me to the hospital. We'll leave after the ambulance."

We passed into the front room, everyone staring, clutching their hands. Johnny stood, holding Pru's hand, his face grim.

The medics were reading off his vitals. Not good, his pulse was thready and unstable, his breathing was impinged.

The door banged open and Stokes and I followed the ambulance out into the windy winter night. The back door to the ambulance was open and the two medics lifted them up and in.

"I'm going," I told Stokes. She nodded. "Grab his meds, make sure Dawson has them."

She turned and rushed away. One of the EMT's went to stop me when I started to climb in.

"You have two seconds to move that hand before I tear your arm off," I snarled. "I'm his primary medical care specialist."

The guy jerked back and I pulled myself up and in. The other medic was moving Stillwater's eyepatch, shining a light into it.

"That eye is nonresponsive to light," I snapped, grabbing an IV and unwinding it. "IV needs to go in the left arm, right arm has blood flow impingement by massive shoulder trauma."

They both looked at me, frowning.

That red eye stared at both of them, first one, then the other, and I saw Stillwater's hands flex.

"Cover that eye!" I snapped.

"Why?" One asked.

"Now!" I snapped, pushing the one in front of me out of the way, pulling that eyepatch down to cover that red eye.

Stillwater's hands relaxed.

"Don't touch that eyepatch," I snarled at them, grabbing a piece of surgical tubing. "Are you going to do anything?"

They looked at each other and I sighed, exhaling explosively. I wrapped the tubing, smacked the vein on the inside of his left forearm, and quickly inserted the IV needle. I popped the tubing free and leaned back.

"Patient is known for violent reactions to injuries even when partially conscious," I told them. "For some reason, uncovering that left eye, although it is non-functional to the patient, seems to agitate him and cause him to react violently."

The one on the right, his nametag reading CARTER, frowned. "Really?"

I nodded. "Really. I've treated him for like three years. Seen him busted up."

The one next to me had unbuttoned Stillwater's shirt then used scissors to cut upwards on Stilwlater's shirt.

"Jesus," He said around the EKG leads he was holding in his mouth. The other one looked down and raised his eyebrows.

Stillwater had purple bruises on his side.

"Dammit," I said, looking around. I grabbed a stethoscope and listened, thumping on his chest, then leaning back. "His lung's OK."

The other one nodded, putting the leads into place onto Stillwater's chest.

I leaned back, watching them work as the ambulance wailed through the night.

Goddamn it, Tony.