Home » The Archives » Chapter 9 » Regrouping and Recouperation
| Re: Regrouping and Recouperation [message #242 is a reply to message #241] |
Mon, 23 July 2012 15:33   |
artisticrainey
Messages: 1228
Registered: July 2012
Location: Northern Ireland
Karma:
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Field Commander
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Jeff climbed out of the medical cabin, backing up to see the whole thing as he reached the floor. Then his eyes turned toward the cockpit standing a few meters away, uncoupled from the larger section. The open doorway, framed by the wavy remainders of the door itself, looked like the portal to another place or time. He shivered despite himself, then squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and climbed in.
The air was tinged with an odor both slightly sour and metallic. Jeff untangled one from the other, recognizing them as being the remaining scents of blood and vomit. There were only a couple of work lights in the cockpit, but both were turned off. Might as well see what I'm doing, he thought as he reached over to turn on the nearest one. He turned his head away from the sudden brightness, his eyes closing tight for a moment. They slowly adjusted... and he stopped in his tracks.
"Damn."
He stepped forward haltingly toward the pilot's seat. He took in the crumpled front end, the cracked and broken windshield, the splintered control panels, the dark stains on the ceiling, and the steering yoke, pushed far into the cabin, still too close to the reclined chair. He tried for a moment to imagine what it looked like that day; there was a brief, vivid flash, then his mind refused to go any farther. His hand caressed the back of the chair, feeling not just the slight pebbling of the faux leather surface, but spots of something crusty that turned to powder beneath his touch. He drew his fingers up to see the brownish-red dust; the metallic smell got stronger as he examined the stuff... and it hit him like a sledgehammer.
"Oh, God!" He wiped his hands frantically on his slacks as he backpedaled, stumbling into the cooler, one elbow slamming into a locker door with a loud clang! He stared, wide-eyed, at the pilot's seat for a long moment, then he took in a deep, shuddery breath, letting it out slowly as he regained control.
The bang alerted Drew, who had walked slowly around the medical cabin much like Jeff had done. He moved over to the cockpit, but hesitated, deciding to listen before climbing inside.
Jeff rubbed his tingling elbow and grimaced. "Damn funny bone," he muttered. "Nothing funny about it." He turned to examine the lockers; tall, thin metal containers that looked like they'd be more at home in a high school hallway than a high-tech ambulance. The lockers were marked with name plates, plain metal rectangles carrying the names of the operatives. Jeff saw that Dom's was still marked as "Dak", and had already made a mental note to change it when he realized that it would probably be months before these were used again... If they ever are. He took a key card from his pocket; a master one that he always carried when at home, and slid it into the lock on the door marked "Doc".
A familiar fragrance wafted out, faint but still detectable by a nose that found it irresistible. Jeff reached in, pulling out first the parts of Dianne's uniform. Jacket, vest, deep crimson shirt, pants... he felt all the pockets before draping each piece over the back of the nearby copilot's chair. He reached in again; this time his hand encountered something soft and silky, light as gossamer. He drew it out, then held it to his nose, closing his eyes and sniffing deeply.
He sighed, murmuring, "I wonder if she'll ever want to wear this again," as he added her nightgown to the pile. One more foray into the locker, and her favorite dressing gown - the dark green one with the embroidered peacock that swept across the back, from shoulder to hem - came out in his hands. He stared at it, tracing the delicate, satiny stitching with a light fingertip. His eyes burned and he closed them tight, then wiped his fingers across them, removing the moisture. Carefully draping her prized possession over the other clothes, he leaned down to take out her slippers, which lay haphazardly on her boots, crammed into the bottom of the narrow locker. He tipped each boot up with a hand, the other cupped to catch anything that might fall out. But both were empty.
He glanced up at the locker's top shelf. Two blue, vacuum-packed bundles were piled there; clean scrubs, ready to wear at a moment's notice. Perched on them was her uniform hat, the deep red reminding him of blood now more than ever. He pulled out the hat... and scrambled to catch the velvet jeweler's box that fell from the shelf. It was the one he'd brought to her that evening in Paris, when he'd gotten down on one knee to ask her to marry him. Now as then, his hands shook when he opened the box, and he sighed audibly to find the rings inside, intact. He gazed at the rings; a large, Ascher-cut diamond, two sides of its octagonal outline flanked by emerald baguettes, set in platinum... and the plain platinum band that Dianne had insisted on. He traced the outline of the wedding band, then closed the box gently. One hand tightened convulsively on it, and he felt his throat constrict. His eyes burned again; he squeezed them shut, heaving in ragged gulps of air. The anger, the unfairness of it all, swelled up and he gritted his teeth, his breath hissing through them.
"Damn it all to hell!" he shouted, smashing his empty hand on the closed lockers, denting Nikki's slightly, then with a swipe of the same hand, slamming the door to Dianne's locker to. It didn't catch and sprang back open; he pushed it shut with a hard, savage shove, and kicked it for good measure. The tears he'd been trying to ignore began coursing down his cheeks. He angrily brushed them away with the back of his hand, then banged his hand against the lockers once more before leaning to put his forehead on the cold metal. "How the hell could I let this happen?"
"Let it happen?"
The voice startled Jeff and his head snapped up and around to find Drew sitting calmly in the other co-pilot's seat. "Andy?" Jeff asked, frowning deeply, his voice ragged. "What in God's name are you doing here?"
"Dianne sent me; she seemed to think you'd need mah help." Drew's slight drawl became noticeable, and he shrugged a little. He took a minute to glance around. "Sure is an awful mess, isn't it?" He nodded toward the center seat. "Ah was sittin' right heah and Dianne was sittin' theyah with her back t' me that day in Samoa." He shook his head and snorted air through his nose. "Little did Ah know what Ah was gettin' into."
"Well, thanks for coming down, but I'm fine," Jeff said as he tucked the box in his pocket and began to pick up Dianne's clothes, draping them over an arm.
"Not so fast, Jeff," Drew said, rising from his seat. "Dianne was right; you do need some help." When Jeff didn't respond, he continued, "Ah know what you're goin' through..."
"Do you?" Jeff said, turning to Drew, his eyes flashing and his voice low and rough. "I nearly lost my wife because of this... this..." he waved his free hand at the cockpit, "this dream of mine." He looked away now, opening the locker again to see if there was anything he'd missed. "And she's not the only one. All of my boys have been hurt, and some nearly killed for this. Even Brains and Tin-Tin. Now the new recruits, too." His hand dropped and he sighed. "I felt... I feel so helpless. And angry that I can't do anything about it."
"Ah know, Ah've been theyah." Drew's drawl got a little stronger. "Felt pretty helpless watchin' mah sistuh suffah while she was married t' that piece o' crap, Garrett. Felt pretty helpless when he beat on Dianne, an' latuh, when Rick died." His voice dropped and became softer. "Felt really helpless when Maggie discovered that lump in her breast..."
Jeff glanced back up at Drew, his face troubled. "Cancer?"
"Yep." A small, rueful smile appeared on Drew's face. "Here Ah was, a great and renowned surgeon, but unable t' keep mah wife from gettin' ill. Unable t' deal with the thought o' losin' her. Mah life came to a crashing halt, and suddenly, Ah was angry an' frustrated an' helpless as a baby. And too damn stubborn to admit it." He shook his head. "Got myself an ulcer, and began to drink." He chuckled. "You should have seen Lisa when she came out t' help aftuh Maggie's surgery. She snatched that glass out o' mah hand, poured the liquor down the drain, an' told me in no uncertain terms that she wasn't gonna let me go down that road."
Drew approached and put a hand on Jeff's shoulder. Jeff stiffened a little. "Lisa made me get help, so I could vent my feelings and not destroy myself or my family. I didn't want to admit I needed it; I was supposed to be the rock, the support, the strong anchor. But for my family's sake -- for Maggie's sake -- I did. It made all the difference in the world." He dropped his hand. "We didn't know each other when Lucille died, but I'm sure you learned a few things... perhaps made some mistakes you'd rather not repeat..."
Jeff nodded slightly. "I did. I made a lot of mistakes. But the situation is different... no one has died."
"Somewhat different, yes," Drew admitted. "But you still have a lot of emotional trauma from this near miss. And the coping strategy is the same: don't bottle it up. It's okay to feel the way you do, and it's okay to express it."
"But I have to be strong... especially for Tyler."
"He'll learn more about how to deal with his own feelings if he sees you admitting to yours, and dealing with them appropriately," Drew said bluntly. He smiled a little. "And you're fortunate to have help close to hand."
Jeff made a face. "Mrs. Hanson?"
"Yes. Mrs. Hanson."
"I don't know, Andy," Jeff said, shaking his head. "I don't know if I can talk to a stranger."
Drew rolled his eyes. "Then talk to me, talk to Kyrano, talk to your mother... hell, talk to Lisa -- but in her case, be prepared to hear her dig up some things you didn't know she knew and you'd wish stayed buried!" He paused, and gave Jeff a very serious look. "And for the record..."
"Yes?"
"You didn't 'let' that tornado do what it did, any more than I 'let' Maggie have breast cancer. There wasn't a blessed thing either of us could have done to stop it."
"I could have stopped Dianne from going out on rescues in the first place."
Drew folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "You really think so? Listen, bud, I've known your wife a lot longer than you have, and when she gets an idea in her head, she's nigh on impossible to stop." He paused, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Come to think of it, that's gotten her into a heap of trouble on occasion."
Jeff chuckled a little, and Drew smiled wryly. "Did you find the rings?"
"Yes. I did." Jeff pulled the velvet box from his trouser pocket and showed Drew.
"Then let's get out of here," Drew said, motioning with his head toward the doorway. "The womenfolk will be wondering and worrying and you do want to have dinner with your wife in the dining room, don't you?"
"Yeah," Jeff said with a sigh. He glanced around the cockpit once more. "I think this will have to be totally redesigned and rebuilt."
"And when you rebuild it, you will be adding airbags," Drew said firmly as he followed Jeff out.
Post by Tikatu on 1/19/2007
  
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