Room 621
Womack Army Medical Center
2817 Reilly Road
Fort Bragg
North Carolina, United States of America
18 December, 1989, Monday
1100 Hours

Cromwell, Heather, Sergeant, US Army - Active

The room was quiet, just the sounds of the medical equipment hooked up to Tony. They'd shaved his head, and now it was wrapped in bandages. His right arm had been relocated and was in an immobilizer across his stomach. His left leg was in traction and in an elastic and velcro immobilizer. They'd covered his left eye with a medical pad and tape, since every time it was uncovered he started moving around, twice sitting up and trying to get out of bed. The staff here at Womack didn't believe me and Stokes and had left the eye uncovered. The tears from it had loosened the medical tape that had been holding the lid closed enough for it to come off during surgery. The first warning that the surgical staff had that the eye was open and active was when Tony had rolled over, grabbed at the scalpels on the tray, and they'd have to fight him to get him back down.

Now they kept his eye covered.

Yeah, how about next time you listen to a soldier's primary care provider, you idiots.

I sighed, made myself more comfortable, and went back to reading my book. I'd grabbed it out of the box down in the waiting area and it wasn't too bad. It was a romance novel, so it wasn't great, and the female protagonist frustrated me with her indecision and weakness, but hey, she was a civilian woman I guess?

I was more the Zula from Conan the Destroyed type: Grab him. Take him.

Well, I would be. If. Well, you know. Never mind. Just drop it, OK?

Stillwater shifted in his sleep, mumbling something. That got my attention and I set my book aside to pay attention to him. He was mumbling something, his hands opening and closing, and he started grinding his teeth in his sleep. I looked at his monitors. Blood O2 at 99%, temperature 100.5 F. Blood pressure 130/90. Heart-rate 125 beats per minute.

He needed his medication adjusted again. His body was responding to his pain by probably having his subconscious put him in a combat. His body was trying to burn through the pain meds, upping his temperature.

I sighed, and hit the button to summon the nurse, leaning back and watching him.

Blood pressure 135/93, heart rate 130. His hands opened and closed again. He tried to move his arm despite the immobilizer.

I heard him growl low in his throat and he shifted in the bed, his immobilized leg jerking.

He was going to wake up. Not that it was a bad thing, he hadn't regained consciousness.

Getting up, I pushed my sunglasses back up on the bridge of my nose, walked over, picked up the call stick, and I thumbed the button again.

Tony's hands kept opening and closing and I was reminded of every horror movie ever, where the last girl alive is watching the killer's hands move but just stand there and stare while the killer regains consciousness.

I know I shouldn't feel that way about him. In Tony's defense, he's a great guy.

As long as he's under fire.

Get the reference? No? Nevermind.

Where the hell was the nurse?

Tony shifted again and his hands relaxed.

His heart rate and blood pressure lowered.

I could hear the squeak of boots on the polished tile of the hospital hallway and sighed. Figures, right? The nurse came in, dressed in BDU's, and looked at him.

"Did he hit the button?" She asked. Her tone was snotty and she glared at me like I was somehow intruding on her personal time or Stillwater had somehow offended her.

"He's restless and in pain," I tried. His heartrate was down into the 90's, his BP was at 115/75.

She looked at Tony, then at me, then sighed.

"Ma'am, I'm sure he's fine," She told me, then without even bothering to check his chart she turned around and walked out of the room.

I just sighed again.

I went back to reading. Nope, nothing in the book had changed during our little discussion. She was still waffling between the evil guy and the good but flawed guy. Another sigh. Just pick one and get plowed or something. I don't know, marry the evil guy and have him do whatever.

I looked up and his heartrate and blood pressure were back up. He was reaching up with his left hand and was pawing at the patch covering his left eye.

"Tony, no," I said, standing up. He paused for a moment, and as I got there he reached up and pulled the gauze pad off his eye. I cupped my hand and put it over his eye right as it looked at me. With my other hand I reached down to take the gauze out of his hand. I swapped hands real quick, putting the pad over his eye.

Of course, that's when Nurse Helpful came back in.

"Ma'am, what are you doing?" She snapped, her tone curt and authoritarian.

I reflexively stepped back, leaving the pad just laying over Tony's eye. "He took the patch off his eye," I blurted out.

Oh God, even I could hear the "I wasn't doing anything" tone in my voice.

"Ma'am," She stepped forward as I moved back, her voice harsh and chiding. She lifted the pad off of Tony's eye and looked down.

That red eye stared at her for a second, flicked to look around the room, stopped on my for a second, then snapped back to the nurse.

"Oh, you're awake," She said, her voice suddenly bright and chipper. Tony's eye locked on her and I saw his left hand flex open and closed. She turned and picked up his chart. While her back was turned Tony looked at me, then at her again.

That eye was blood red, with the fixed and open pupil, but I swear, I could see something dark and ancient staring at me.

The nurse turned back around, flipping through the chart. "Well, Sergeant, it's good to see you're awake."

"He isn't awake," I said, pushing my sunglasses up again. Last thing I wanted was questions about my eyes.

She turned and looked at me and flat out gave me the brushoff, turning back to Tony. "Sergeant Stillwater, you suffered a serious fall. What do you remember?"

Stillwater didn't answer, that red eye just stared at her.

"Sergeant, you've suffered serious head trauma, I need to ask you some basic questions," the nurse said.

The eye looked at me for a moment. The nurse turned and looked at me too, then back at Tony, who was clenching his fists and grinding his teeth.

"Ma'am, I need you to step out. You're agitating him," she said.

I shook my head, "No way," I told her. "Trust me, you want me to be here."

She looked at Tony, who was trying to sit up, but the restraint across his chest was keeping him from getting up.  "You're agitating him."

"You're agitating him. Put that patch back on his eye," I snapped at her.

"Ma'am, if you don't leave, I'll summon security," She threatened. She frowned. "Are you family?"

"No," I told her simply.

Her face got a triumphant expression. "Then I need you to leave. Visiting hours are eighteen-hundred to twenty-two hundred hours, you can come back then."

"I'm his," I started.

"Girlfriends don't count. Leave. Now. You're agitating my patient," She said, full of authority.

I knew where this would go. She'd summon security, security would throw me out, then it would get cleared up with administration, I'd get an apology.

"I warned you," I told her, standing up. I grabbed my jacket while the nurse stared at me. "Whatever happens, remember, I warned you."

"Whatever you want, Ma'am," She said. She watched me, and so did Stillwater's red ruined eye.

I left the room, heading for the stairs. I wasn't going to bother registering a complaint. I'd just take a taxi back to the Stillwater house, tell the Sergeant Major and Tony's Momma, and let them handle it.

In the elevator I thought about it. That eye seemed to be able to see even when Stillwater was unconscious or asleep. It made me wonder that worked. Was it the eye trying to compensate for brain damage and it wired into the R-Complex or something more metaphysical.

When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor I was surprised. I figured that it would stop before then, since it was a busy hospital, but nobody really stopped me as I walked out to the help desk.

A quick phone call and the taxi service promised they'd be there in about a half an hour. I walked out into the afternoon air, lighting a cigarette. I walked across the parking lot, just ambling along with my hands in the pockets of my Levi jacket, not really hurrying to the newspaper stands at the side of the road. It was cold outside, and I enjoyed the fact that it felt normal. I knew that people were giving me weird looks because I had my jacket open despite the fact that it was nearly freezing out, but I didn't care.

Waiting there, I'd just put out my cigarette when the clouds in the sky finally decided to start drizzling on me. Inwardly I cursed, knowing that my hair was going to get wet and I'd be spending two hours letting it dry or a half hour with a blow drier or an hour with a towel and a warm room. Waiting, I lit another cigarette, putting my hands back in my pockets.

When the taxi got there, I dropped the cherry on the ground, toed it out, and shoved the half-smoked cigarette in my jacket pocket before getting inside the cab.

It was warm, and smelled faintly of wet dog, and the driver was scrawny white guy with bad acne and greasy curly black hair.

"Where too, lady?" He asked me. I told him the address and he grinned. "Ritzy area."

I just smiled and leaned back in the seat. The guy pulled out and I saw two MP cars go by, their lights flashing, as we turned the corner and accelerated.

The guy kept chatting the whole time, despite the fact I was trying to give out my best 'I just want a ride, buddy' aura. Still, I picked up which pizza place was the best, which dance club was the hottest, and the quality of weed at Fort Bragg.

It was still a forty-five minute ride, with having to stop at practically every light. Still, once we got to the Sergeant Major's house I just gave him a fin and two sawbucks, told him to keep the change, and got out.

"Thanks, lady!" He shouted as he pulled out. I stood there, looking at the Sergeant Major's house.

Bomber and Foster were outside, helping the Sergeant Major put up lights on the windows above the porch, standing on the roof of the porch. Two of the little girls, Amy and Lisa I think, were watching them out the bedroom window. Tabitha and Stokes were hanging lights on the porch rim, a plate of cookies with two glasses and a pitcher of steaming cider on the platter.

"Hey, Cromwell," Bomber waved the staple gun in his hand at me.

"Pay attention, boy, I don't want you falling," the Sergeant Major said.

"Yes, Sergeant Major," Bomber said, turning back to stapling the light string. I waved back anyway and headed up to the porch.

"How's Tony?" Stokes asked me.

I shrugged. "I don't know. The nurse threatened to throw me out if I didn't leave, so I left," I told them. I sat down in one of the wicker chairs and lit a cigarette, grabbing the ashtray and sighing as I relaxed.

"So he's there with nobody watching over him?" Stokes asked, turning to look at me.

I just shrugged. "She was going to get security. We both know that she'd have called security, they would have thrown me out, and I might have gotten an apology tomorrow. I just left rather than having a screaming match with her and agitating Stillwater any further than he was."

Stokes shook her head, going back to stringing the lights.

"You gonna help us or not, Heather?" Tabitha asked.

"Not," I grinned, blowing smoke.

She just glared at me and went back to hanging the lights.

"Tiernan!" Momma Stillwater called out.

"Coming," Sergeant Major said. I heard him open a window and go into the house.

"Almost done," Stokes said, stepping back. "Want to finish, Tabitha?"

"No," Tabitha said, standing on her tiptoes with the staplegun and the last three feet of the light string.

Stokes shook her head, smiling at me, and sat down in the chair, reaching into her pocket and digging in her pocket for her cigarettes.

Captain Dawson chose that exact moment to pull open the door and charge out the screen door, stopping on the front porch and looking around as the screen door shut behind her. She stared at me, her face pale.

"I thought you were at the hospital with Tony," She said, her voice accusatory.

"I was. The nurse threatened to call security and kicked me out," I told her.

I could see Momma Stillwater was standing in the doorway, looking concern.

Dawson just stared at me. "You were supposed to be with him. He isn't supposed to be left alone."

"Calm down, Captain," Stokes said. She exhaled smoke and smiled. "He'll be all right."

Momma Stillwater moved aside and the Sergeant Major stepped out, catching the screen door so it didn't slam.

Alarm bells started ringing in my head as the Sergeant Major looked around.

"Tony's missing," the Sergeant Major said, jingling his keys. "The hospital just called."

"Well shit," Stokes said, putting her cigarette out.

Well shit indeed.