Everyone Knows It's Windy, 8/9
Title: Everyone Knows It's Windy, chapter eight
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,976
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Summary: At the hospital. The song is not mine!
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Eight
Elliott sat in the chair beside Scott's hospital bed, watching his friend's quiet, normal breathing. The illness had been steadily dissipating, leaving no traces of the flu or pneumonia. According to the doctors, the fever had been brought on as much or more by stress than by the physical trauma. And as for that bump . . . well, it had left Scott with a concussion---thankfully a mild one.
"I'm glad you're sleeping well," Elliott said softly. "You more than deserve it, after what you've been through."
It had been a shock, when Search-and-Rescuenet agents had suddenly entered through the upstairs doors in the house and called out asking whether anyone was there. Sean had run to the stairs, calling back that there were eight people in the basement and some of them were hurt.
More like all of them were hurt . . . except Elliott. Physically he had been spared, though emotionally he had gone through the wringer just like all the rest of them. But in some way he felt guilty, to be the only uninjured one among his friends. Still, they had been trying to protect him. Of course they were grateful that he had made it out without serious injury. And of course he was immeasurably thankful to them. But Scott and Sean had both been hurt directly because of trying to help save him. It made his heart rend.
The door opened as Sean sauntered inside, his arms stitched and bandaged. "How is he?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice low.
Elliott smiled. "Just sleeping," he said. "Not unconscious."
"Good deal." Sean sank into the other chair with a sigh. "What a day, huh?" he said.
"And what a night," Elliott said. He swallowed hard, looking to Scott again. "Where's Barry?"
"He's getting that cut stitched up," Sean said. "He should be coming soon."
Elliott nodded. "And Brittany?"
"Amanda's staying with her until her dad comes." Sean rubbed his eyes. "They finally got in touch with him at the middle school. He's okay and he's coming right out, courtesy of ACME." He shook his head. "They're still working on her mother. She lost a lot of blood. Right now it doesn't look too good."
That was not what Elliott wanted to hear. ". . . We still don't know about Jeff, either. . . ." he said.
Sean averted his gaze. "He's just a kid. He doesn't deserve to die."
Elliott clenched a fist. "How many people died who didn't deserve it?" he said quietly. "We were spared, but there were lots of people just as good as us who weren't." He looked back to Scott's sleeping form. "I heard nurses talking in the hall . . . talking about all the casualties. . . ."
Sean looked down. "Barry and I heard it too," he admitted. "It really does make you wonder." He looked up. "Why us?"
Elliott shook his head. "I have no idea. If we really are being looked out for . . . maybe there's something important for us to do."
"Sure, make certain V.I.L.E. doesn't take over the world," Sean snarked.
"Who knows." Elliott crossed his arms on the metal railing.
Scott turned his head to the side, murmuring in his sleep. Whatever he was saying, it was not agonized. Elliott smiled a bit.
There were scars for all of them. But his own were healing just watching Scott. From Sean's expression, he felt much the same.
****
The doctor gave a quiet sigh as he tied and cut the thread that he had used to sew the wound closed. "You and your friends have been very lucky," he said. "So many haven't been."
Barry grunted in agreement. The physician looked exhausted. How many more patients would he have to see before he could rest? Barry certainly did not envy him, especially after the night they had experienced. He doubted he could ever be a doctor.
"I don't want to trouble you any more," he said as he pulled his shirt back on, "but have you heard anything about search-and-rescue teams being dispatched to the bank? There were . . . friends of ours in there."
The doctor blinked in surprise. "I did hear something about that," he said. "A colleague of mine is helping treat the people they brought in."
Barry stiffened, looking to him in shock. Was it possible? Could Jeff and Mr. Gordon have survived?
"Brought in?" he repeated. "They were alive?"
"Yes, quite," the physician nodded. He frowned. "From what I heard, the older man has some serious internal injuries. He's in surgery right now. The other one, the kid . . . he took a really hard knock to the head. It's uncertain if he'll wake up."
Barry's eyes narrowed. "I want to see him," he said.
The doctor shook his head. "He needs peace and quiet," he said. "For people in his condition, we have a No-Visitors policy unless they're family members."
Barry fixed him with a cold stare. Would he, the strong, silent one, ever not be quiet?
"His only family member in this area is in surgery," he retorted. "I wouldn't stay long. If friends are not acceptable, I'll go as an ACME agent."
The doctor blinked. "Is he in some kind of trouble with the law?"
Barry's eyes darkened. "He's one of the most upright people I know," he said. "And he's a minor. While his uncle is out of commission, I'm responsible for him." Which was not exactly true, of course, but Barry felt responsible.
At last the physician sighed. "Alright. I'll let you visit. But not for long." He gave Barry the room number, whereupon the big man took his leave.
Despite the crowded hallways, he soon found the correct location. Quietly he opened the door, slipping inside as he let it click shut behind him.
Jeff was laying in the only occupied bed, his eyes closed. The machines around him beeped, displaying the steady beating of his heart and his brain activity. A scratch, already beginning to scab, went halfway down his left cheek.
Barry gave a quiet sigh as he walked over, standing by the bedside. ". . . Jeff, I'm sorry," he said low. "It shouldn't be you laying in that bed. If anything, it should be me."
Jeff had wanted to be the one to protect his uncle. He had wanted to be there in case something went wrong. But now something had gone wrong. Both he and Mr. Gordon could die.
Barry sank into the chair beside the bed. Leaning forward, he ran his hands over his eyes.
Jeff had to live. He had barely lived at all yet. There was so much ahead of him.
So many who were Jeff's age or younger had died, not necessarily in this calamity, but throughout countless tragedies. A lot of them had been good, upright people like he was. What guarantee was there that he would be spared any more than they?
On the other hand . . . it was a miracle that he was still alive at all. Maybe he still had a few surprises in store for the doctors. Mr. Gordon, too. They were hanging on, determined to live. If they had anything to say about it, they both would make it.
"Now you've got the right idea, Barry. We're both gonna pull through!"
Barry started. Had Jeff spoken?
He looked to the bed. The boy was still laying so quiet and still. He had not moved, let alone talked!
Barry leaned back. After all the other incredible things that had happened to them, he would not question it. It had not been his imagination.
****
He was wandering through a dense fog in a darkened netherland. How far had he come? More to the point, how much farther did he have to go before he could get out? His calls for other people went unheeded or unheard. If anything, the more he called, the more alone he felt.
Was this the inside of a tornado? No . . . nothing was whirling around. Everything was so eerie and silent. It was some kind of plain that stretched indefinitely.
"Where is everyone?!" he cried. "You were here! All of you were here! El?! Sean?! Barry?!"
He was about to call for Jeff when he remembered---Jeff was dead. He swallowed hard, closing his mouth. Poor Jeff . . . so undeserving of such a horrible death. . . . It could have been his own, killed by not only a heavy beam, but the entire roof caving in on top of him. . . . But he had been saved. Why couldn't they both have survived?
"Hey! Hey, Scott!"
He started, freezing at the familiar, youthful voice. ". . . Jeff?!" he exclaimed, his voice sounding almost strangled. How could he be hearing Jeff? Did that mean . . . he was dead too? He had thought he was going to get well!
The apprentice P.I. ran out from amid the fog. "It's me!" he grinned. "Wow, it's great to see you looking better."
Scott could only keep staring. "What is this place?!" he burst out. "Jeff, we . . . we've thought you died. . . ." He looked around. "But this isn't the kind of afterlife I was hoping we'd get. . . ."
"Me? Die?" Jeff grinned mischievously. "I officially hate tornadoes! I'm not letting one take me out! Unc's not gonna keel over, either."
Scott's mouth dropped open. "You . . . you're alive?!" he gasped.
"Sure we are," Jeff said. "So are you. Just go ahead and wake up and let the others know."
"'Wake up'?" Scott repeated with a blink. "I'm dreaming?"
"How else do you think I showed up?" Jeff smirked. "Well, see you around. I'm off to keep Unc company. They're still operating on him."
"Still . . ." Scott rocked back in surprise. Jeff was already vanishing into the fog. ". . . Well, goodbye then," Scott said to the mists.
He frowned to himself. "I'm asleep," he mused, "so how do I wake up?"
Maybe if he just concentrated hard enough? He closed his eyes. He would imagine himself awakening at . . . wherever he was. Elliott would be there, keeping vigil over him. Sean and Barry would be there, too.
The ground opened, sending him falling through with a shocked scream.
He started, the mattress moving under him as his eyes flew open. To his side, Elliott jumped.
"Scott?!" He peered down at his best friend. "Are you okay?!"
Slowly the blond calmed his breathing, looking up at the worried brunet. "Hi, El. . . ." He smiled.
Elliott brightened. "Hi yourself," he said. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that. . . ."
Sean grasped the railing on the other side of the bed as he leaned over. "You've been delirious and feverish and everything else!" he declared.
Scott winced. He remembered feeling so ill. He had lost track of what was going on sometime during the ride in the car, yet he had known that he had gotten to where Elliott and Sean were. He remembered being there with them.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I've worried all of you. . . ."
"'Worry' is a mild word for it," Sean said. "But you couldn't help it."
Elliott nodded. "I . . . I tried to grab you, when the first tornado came. . . ." He shook his head. "But I just couldn't. . . ." His shoulders slumped. "I'm so sorry, Scott. . . ."
Scott stared at Elliott in alarm, immediately placing his hand over the older man's. "You couldn't help it, either," he said firmly. "You did everything you could to save me. Just like I tried to do for you."
"I know. . . ." Elliott sighed. "I've been trying not to blame myself, but . . . it's hard. . . ." He managed a smile. "Let's not talk about my problems. You're the one who's really had it bad. I didn't even get hurt."
Scott frowned. "Yeah, you did," he said. "Right here." He laid his hand over Elliott's heart.
Sean nodded agreement. "You've had it really rough, El."
Elliott averted his gaze, laying his hand over Scott's. But then he clutched it. It was warm now, and dry, not cold and clammy.
Scott smiled, squeezing Elliott's hand.
Then he stiffened, his eyes widening as he remembered his dream. It had been more than a dream . . . hadn't it? At least . . . it had seemed so real. . . . He needed to tell them.
"Guys . . ." He looked from Elliott to Sean, then frowned. "Hey, where's Barry?" he realized.
Sean frowned too. "He was just getting that cut from the first tornado sewn up," he said. "He should've been back ages ago." He studied Scott. "But what is it? You look like you have big news."
"I do," Scott admitted. "But I don't know. . . . I think we should wait for Barry."
"Maybe I'll go find him," Sean decided, standing up to head for the door.
But just then it opened. Barry came in, looking at peace for the first time in hours. The others stared.
"What's up, Barry?" Sean demanded. "I was just going to go look for you! Scott woke up!"
Barry looked to their blond friend, a smile coming to his lips. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I feel great," Scott said honestly. "Exhausted, but great!"
"That's good to hear." Barry walked over to the bed. "And I found out something else." He looked from Scott to Sean to Elliott. "Jeff is alive! So is Mr. Gordon."
All three of them stared at him, stunned---but for different reasons. Scott slumped further into the pillows. "No way . . ." he murmured. Louder he asked, "Is Mr. Gordon in surgery?"
Barry nodded. "But they think he's going to pull through. Jeff's prognosis is looking better too."
Sean looked to Scott, curiosity in his eyes. "What was it you wanted to tell us, Scott?" he queried.
"And how did you know Mr. Gordon was in surgery?" Elliott blinked.
Scott slowly shook his head. "That was my news," he said. "That they're both alive. Jeff showed up in my dream and told me. Then he said he was going to keep his uncle company during the operation." Overwhelmed, he stared up at the ceiling. Now he knew it had not just been a dream.
". . . Wow," he heard Sean say.
Elliott leaned back, still processing this turn of events.
Barry just crossed his arms, looking thoughtful.
****
The rest of the night passed by slowly. Scott slipped back into a peaceful slumber. Elliott, at last overcome by everything, fell asleep in the chair next to Scott's bed. Barry dozed in another chair. And finally Sean lay down on the other, vacant bed in the room. He had been awake through everything so far. Now his body had stood for the long hours as much as it was going to. He had to sleep.
But instead he placed his bandaged arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The four of them were back together again, all on the mend as they should be. The latest word on Mr. Gordon was that the surgery had been successful and the doctors had hope that he would live. And Jeff had shown signs of awakening.
They were still not sure about Brittany's mother. She and her father had been waiting for news on Candace's condition for hours. Sean had gone to check on them a while ago.
"If there's anything I can do, just let me know," he had told them, though he had not known what he could possibly do.
But Brittany had given a weak smile to him from where she had been snuggled against her father's side. And he had looked up at Sean, his eyes displaying the same exhaustion and worry that Sean had borne throughout the night. There had been something else there too---gratitude.
"Thank you," he had replied. "You and your friends have already done plenty. My wife and Brittany . . ." And he had trailed off, shaking his head as emotions had risen to the surface. "They might not be here at all if not for what you've done."
"All in a day's work for an ACME agent," Sean had smiled.
Then he had turned to head back to Scott's room, lost in thought.
But before he had been able to leave the waiting room, an uncomfortable-looking woman with straight auburn hair had stepped into his path.
"Excuse me," she said. "I'm here to make sure some of my friends are going to be alright, and I couldn't help but overhear you saying that you're an ACME agent. Do you have a friend with curly blond hair?"
Sean blinked in surprise. "Scott, yeah," he said. "You know him?"
"I met him today," she said. "He was so determined to save his friends. . . . He went out in the storm to look, even though he could have easily gone into the cellar at the church and been safe. . . ." She sighed. "He reminded me of my brother. I've . . . been concerned about what happened to him."
Sean's hands went to his hips. "You're Brenda," he realized.
Her eyes widened in shock. But before she could speak, Sean continued, "Scott mentioned you."
". . . Then he's alive?" she asked.
"Yeah, he is, actually," Sean said. "He's been really sick, but he's going to pull through." He looked over his shoulder, nodding towards Brittany and her father. "See those people? His wife---her mother---is here due in part to Scott risking his health to help take her to the car before the bank collapsed. She was in it."
Brenda glanced at them, then averted her gaze. "I see."
Sean crossed his arms. "Scott's the salt of the earth," he said. "So're the others in our group. If you want to come back tomorrow, he'll probably be awake. He'll be glad to know you're safe."
But she shook her head. "I don't think I'll come back," she said, and paused. "Will you give him a message?"
Sean shrugged. "Probably."
"Tell him I'm sorry," she requested. "I've had time to think. I shouldn't have said some of what I did . . . even though it was honestly how I felt."
Sean nodded. "I'll tell him," he promised.
She nodded as well. "Thank you," she said. "My brother's death has been hard on me. We were very close. . . ." She looked away. "But I am proud of him. And I'm proud of others like him." With that she turned to leave.
Sean watched her. ". . . What are you going to do now?" he asked.
Again she hesitated. "I'm leaving," she said. "I'm going to help my friends get a fresh start, but then I'm moving out West. I think it's time for me to find a new home, someplace where tornadoes aren't so prevalent."
Sean allowed a slight smirk. "Good luck," he said.
"I'll probably need it," she said in a wry tone as she walked away.
Sean rolled onto his side, staring off at the window. She was going off to find another location to call home. Well, he hoped she would find it. This would not be his first choice of a place to live, that was for sure.
But even so, as he glanced around the impersonal hospital room at his friends, all of them alive and soon to be well, it felt like home. They had searched for somewhere to belong, and when they had found each other, they had found that somewhere.
"Where is my home," he muttered under his breath. Maybe he had the beginnings of a new song.
He would plan it out later. For the first time all night, he felt like he could sleep.
He burrowed into the pillow, relaxing at last.
****
The sun was shining through the window when Scott opened his eyes. A beam of light had settled on his right hand, while another stretched across the quilt. A yawn came to his lips, unbidden, as he looked from the sunlight on the bed to the view out the window.
After the catastrophic weather yesterday, it seemed amazing that the sun had risen again at all. And for some people, the new day would only bring sorrow and grief. Storms would linger over their hearts in spite of the bright day outside.
Scott swallowed hard, grateful that he and the others were safe.
He turned, looking to Elliott. Poor El, slumped back in the chair, his eyes wearily closed. He did not look comfortable at all, but he was sleeping. He sure needed it.
Scott shifted position to look around the other parts of the room. Barry was asleep too, in another chair. But when Scott looked to the other bed, he blinked in surprise. Sean was awake, scribbling in a notebook.
"Sean . . . ?" he asked. He winced at how raspy his voice sounded.
Sean looked up with a grin. "Scott! How are you feeling?" he greeted.
"Good," Scott smiled. "What are you doing awake?"
"I'll show you later," Sean said.
"I hope you haven't been up all night," Scott said.
"I just woke up a few minutes ago," Sean told him. "I wanted to get this idea down before I forget how it's coming to me."
Scott nodded, leaning back into the pillow. "Any news about Jeff and Mr. Gordon?" he wanted to know.
"Not that I've heard," Sean said.
Scott fell silent, not wanting to awaken Elliott and Barry. He lay in the soft bed, closing his eyes as he listened to Sean's quiet writing.
It must have lulled him back into a doze, because suddenly he was opening his eyes again to find Barry gone and Elliott awake. Elliott grinned down at him from the chair.
"Morning," he greeted.
Scott smiled at his best friend. "How did you sleep?" he wondered.
"Good," Elliott said. "Once I knew you were going to be okay, I could finally relax."
"That chair doesn't look very relaxing," Scott said.
"It's alright," Elliott said, struggling to bite back a yawn.
Scott chuckled, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Where's Barry?" he asked.
"Went to check on Jeff and Mr. Gordon," Sean said. "He just left a minute ago."
"Oh." Scott nodded. "I hope he'll bring good news. . . ."
"You and me both," Sean said.
"Me too," Elliott said quietly.
****
Barry was hoping likewise. He had stopped to find out about Brittany's mother first, and the news was only so-so. He was not sure what he was expecting to hear about Mr. Gordon and Jeff. But as he pushed open the door to the room, he stopped in surprise.
"Hey!" Jeff greeted with a weak but enthused smile from the first bed. "Unc, we have company."
Mr. Gordon was looking over at Barry as well. "So I see," he said. "Hello." He was laying in the other bed in the room, clearly exhausted and drowsy from the painkillers, but he was far more aware than Barry had expected.
Barry nodded. "I just came to check on the both of you," he said. "I won't stay long."
"We're doing great," Jeff said. "We'll be out of here soon. Well, my uncle will need to stay for a bit, but I won't have to be a patient too long!"
Mr. Gordon frowned. "You need to rest too, after what I've heard about your injuries."
"It's just a little bump," Jeff said.
It was clear that he was glossing over his sacrifice. Barry raised an eyebrow, then looked to Mr. Gordon. Did he even know any of the truth of the matter?
Mr. Gordon was studying Barry. "Do you know what happened to him?" he asked. "No one will tell me anything around here. Including him."
Barry hesitated, then nodded. Mr. Gordon deserved to know.
"To be honest, he saved your life," he said. "He had me take all of the injured people that I could fit in my car. He insisted on staying behind with you until I could come back . . . but the second tornado struck before we'd even driven very far." He sighed. "From what I've heard, you were found underneath a good deal of the roof. You were saved because of an air pocket . . . and because Jeff threw himself over you. Otherwise, it probably would have been you getting hit on the head."
Mr. Gordon had grown very quiet. Jeff was looking away, apparently embarrassed. His uncle looked to him and then back at Barry.
". . . Thank you for telling me," he said at last.
Barry nodded. "I should be getting back now to check on Scott," he said. Mr. Gordon and Jeff needed a chance to talk alone.
Realizing what Barry was doing, Mr. Gordon nodded too. "Let us know how he is," he said. "Jeff was telling me that Scott's been ill."
"I will," Barry said, turning to leave.
Jeff turned back. "If he's awake, tell him Hi," he said.
Barry smirked. "Alright," he said as he slipped out the door.
****
It did not take long to travel back up the hall to Scott's room. And before he even opened the door, he could hear talking inside. As he pushed the door open and stepped through, the sight of his closest friends conversing met his eyes. Scott was indeed awake, talking quietly with Elliott and Sean and looking quite like his old self. Barry smiled to himself.
Hearing him enter, they all looked up. "Barry!" Sean greeted.
"How are they?" Scott asked.
"First, how are you?" Barry returned.
"Great," Scott said. "I'm even starting to get hungry."
"Best news I've heard since . . ." Sean trailed off. "Since the last good news," he finished.
Elliott chuckled. Scott outright laughed. But then he looked back to Barry.
"Well?" he prompted.
"They're alright," Barry reported. "They're both awake; I spoke to them. Jeff says Hi, Scott."
"That's great!" Scott exclaimed, the burden on his own heart released. Elliott and Sean perked up in relief and joy.
"Does Jeff remember everything?" Sean wondered. "From the sound of it, he took a really hard knock."
"He remembers," Barry said. "He was trying to play down the extent of his sacrifice, but I made sure to let Mr. Gordon know."
"Just as he should," Sean said.
"What about Brittany's mother?" Elliott wanted to know.
"It's still touch-and-go," Barry said. "There hasn't been much change since last night. But she's still alive. That says something."
Scott looked down. "I hope she makes it too," he said.
"She will," Sean said.
Elliott smiled a bit. It was good to hear Sean being more optimistic again.
Scott looked to their leader in curiosity. "Are you ready yet to tell about what you've been doing?" he asked.
Sean nodded. "Sure," he said, "but first I need to tell you something else.
"When you were delirious, you were talking about some lady named Brenda and how she said it was suicide for you to go out looking for us."
Scott blinked. ". . . I talked about that, huh?" he frowned, wondering what else he had revealed in that state.
"You also said a bunch of other stuff, like how you got that bump on your head," Sean said, as if reading his mind. "But that's beside the point.
"Last night I met Brenda. She was here, making sure some friends would be okay, she said. And she wanted me to give you the message that she's sorry about what she said. She was glad to hear that you're alive."
Scott looked to him in surprise. "I didn't even think I'd hear any more about her," he said.
"Well, you probably won't now," Sean said. "She's getting out of this place and going West. She said she wants to find a new home. Anyway . . . that got me to thinking. I came back and looked around this old room at you and El and Barry and I got a spark of an idea. This morning I woke up and it all fell into place." He stood, taking his notebook with him. While the others watched and listened, he began to sing.
Is it the sky today,
The way that the wind's pushin' the clouds?
Or is it the late-day sun,
Stretchin' the shadows over the ground
That brings on these memories
Of people and places that I've never seen?
And voices so strange and so sweet
Asking me softly,
"Where is my home?
Where is my home?"
What makes this person me?
Is it the little town where I was born?
Or maybe it's history
The faces of family that I've never known
Somewhere across the sea
Where my great-grandmother left long ago
Under a cold, cryin' moon
Looking for something
Where is my home?
Where is my home?
Where is my home?
Walls of a city
Painted with promises and words so unkind
Where is my home?
Trees of a country
Where autumn came suddenly
That I'll never find
But then there's your face, my dear,
And I know I'll never be walking alone
The love in your eyes makes it clear
Telling me softly,
"This is my home
This is my home"
Sean brought the song to a close, flipping the notebook shut.
"Or, in our case, we could sing 'my friend' in the last verse," he said. "I was just looking for a rhyme for 'clear'."
At last Scott spoke.
"Sean, I think that's one of the best things you've ever come up with," he said in all sincerity.
Elliott nodded. "It's deep," he said.
Barry nodded as well.
"I also have this image of two of us trading off verses," Sean mused, "with the others singing backup."
"You should definitely sing some of the verses," Barry said.
"And I'm thinking it would sound amazing with your high tenor voice, Scott," Elliott said.
Scott was surprised. "Me?"
Sean nodded, enthused now. "That really would sound great!" he said.
Scott smiled. "I would like to try it," he said. "And I'd be honored to sing it with you, Sean."
"Not any more honored than I'd be to sing it with you," Sean smirked. "As soon as you're feeling up to par, let's try it."
Scott agreed, still smiling. After their day and night of heartache, things were getting back to normal.
And it felt wonderful.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,976
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Summary: At the hospital. The song is not mine!
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Eight
Elliott sat in the chair beside Scott's hospital bed, watching his friend's quiet, normal breathing. The illness had been steadily dissipating, leaving no traces of the flu or pneumonia. According to the doctors, the fever had been brought on as much or more by stress than by the physical trauma. And as for that bump . . . well, it had left Scott with a concussion---thankfully a mild one.
"I'm glad you're sleeping well," Elliott said softly. "You more than deserve it, after what you've been through."
It had been a shock, when Search-and-Rescuenet agents had suddenly entered through the upstairs doors in the house and called out asking whether anyone was there. Sean had run to the stairs, calling back that there were eight people in the basement and some of them were hurt.
More like all of them were hurt . . . except Elliott. Physically he had been spared, though emotionally he had gone through the wringer just like all the rest of them. But in some way he felt guilty, to be the only uninjured one among his friends. Still, they had been trying to protect him. Of course they were grateful that he had made it out without serious injury. And of course he was immeasurably thankful to them. But Scott and Sean had both been hurt directly because of trying to help save him. It made his heart rend.
The door opened as Sean sauntered inside, his arms stitched and bandaged. "How is he?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice low.
Elliott smiled. "Just sleeping," he said. "Not unconscious."
"Good deal." Sean sank into the other chair with a sigh. "What a day, huh?" he said.
"And what a night," Elliott said. He swallowed hard, looking to Scott again. "Where's Barry?"
"He's getting that cut stitched up," Sean said. "He should be coming soon."
Elliott nodded. "And Brittany?"
"Amanda's staying with her until her dad comes." Sean rubbed his eyes. "They finally got in touch with him at the middle school. He's okay and he's coming right out, courtesy of ACME." He shook his head. "They're still working on her mother. She lost a lot of blood. Right now it doesn't look too good."
That was not what Elliott wanted to hear. ". . . We still don't know about Jeff, either. . . ." he said.
Sean averted his gaze. "He's just a kid. He doesn't deserve to die."
Elliott clenched a fist. "How many people died who didn't deserve it?" he said quietly. "We were spared, but there were lots of people just as good as us who weren't." He looked back to Scott's sleeping form. "I heard nurses talking in the hall . . . talking about all the casualties. . . ."
Sean looked down. "Barry and I heard it too," he admitted. "It really does make you wonder." He looked up. "Why us?"
Elliott shook his head. "I have no idea. If we really are being looked out for . . . maybe there's something important for us to do."
"Sure, make certain V.I.L.E. doesn't take over the world," Sean snarked.
"Who knows." Elliott crossed his arms on the metal railing.
Scott turned his head to the side, murmuring in his sleep. Whatever he was saying, it was not agonized. Elliott smiled a bit.
There were scars for all of them. But his own were healing just watching Scott. From Sean's expression, he felt much the same.
****
The doctor gave a quiet sigh as he tied and cut the thread that he had used to sew the wound closed. "You and your friends have been very lucky," he said. "So many haven't been."
Barry grunted in agreement. The physician looked exhausted. How many more patients would he have to see before he could rest? Barry certainly did not envy him, especially after the night they had experienced. He doubted he could ever be a doctor.
"I don't want to trouble you any more," he said as he pulled his shirt back on, "but have you heard anything about search-and-rescue teams being dispatched to the bank? There were . . . friends of ours in there."
The doctor blinked in surprise. "I did hear something about that," he said. "A colleague of mine is helping treat the people they brought in."
Barry stiffened, looking to him in shock. Was it possible? Could Jeff and Mr. Gordon have survived?
"Brought in?" he repeated. "They were alive?"
"Yes, quite," the physician nodded. He frowned. "From what I heard, the older man has some serious internal injuries. He's in surgery right now. The other one, the kid . . . he took a really hard knock to the head. It's uncertain if he'll wake up."
Barry's eyes narrowed. "I want to see him," he said.
The doctor shook his head. "He needs peace and quiet," he said. "For people in his condition, we have a No-Visitors policy unless they're family members."
Barry fixed him with a cold stare. Would he, the strong, silent one, ever not be quiet?
"His only family member in this area is in surgery," he retorted. "I wouldn't stay long. If friends are not acceptable, I'll go as an ACME agent."
The doctor blinked. "Is he in some kind of trouble with the law?"
Barry's eyes darkened. "He's one of the most upright people I know," he said. "And he's a minor. While his uncle is out of commission, I'm responsible for him." Which was not exactly true, of course, but Barry felt responsible.
At last the physician sighed. "Alright. I'll let you visit. But not for long." He gave Barry the room number, whereupon the big man took his leave.
Despite the crowded hallways, he soon found the correct location. Quietly he opened the door, slipping inside as he let it click shut behind him.
Jeff was laying in the only occupied bed, his eyes closed. The machines around him beeped, displaying the steady beating of his heart and his brain activity. A scratch, already beginning to scab, went halfway down his left cheek.
Barry gave a quiet sigh as he walked over, standing by the bedside. ". . . Jeff, I'm sorry," he said low. "It shouldn't be you laying in that bed. If anything, it should be me."
Jeff had wanted to be the one to protect his uncle. He had wanted to be there in case something went wrong. But now something had gone wrong. Both he and Mr. Gordon could die.
Barry sank into the chair beside the bed. Leaning forward, he ran his hands over his eyes.
Jeff had to live. He had barely lived at all yet. There was so much ahead of him.
So many who were Jeff's age or younger had died, not necessarily in this calamity, but throughout countless tragedies. A lot of them had been good, upright people like he was. What guarantee was there that he would be spared any more than they?
On the other hand . . . it was a miracle that he was still alive at all. Maybe he still had a few surprises in store for the doctors. Mr. Gordon, too. They were hanging on, determined to live. If they had anything to say about it, they both would make it.
"Now you've got the right idea, Barry. We're both gonna pull through!"
Barry started. Had Jeff spoken?
He looked to the bed. The boy was still laying so quiet and still. He had not moved, let alone talked!
Barry leaned back. After all the other incredible things that had happened to them, he would not question it. It had not been his imagination.
****
He was wandering through a dense fog in a darkened netherland. How far had he come? More to the point, how much farther did he have to go before he could get out? His calls for other people went unheeded or unheard. If anything, the more he called, the more alone he felt.
Was this the inside of a tornado? No . . . nothing was whirling around. Everything was so eerie and silent. It was some kind of plain that stretched indefinitely.
"Where is everyone?!" he cried. "You were here! All of you were here! El?! Sean?! Barry?!"
He was about to call for Jeff when he remembered---Jeff was dead. He swallowed hard, closing his mouth. Poor Jeff . . . so undeserving of such a horrible death. . . . It could have been his own, killed by not only a heavy beam, but the entire roof caving in on top of him. . . . But he had been saved. Why couldn't they both have survived?
"Hey! Hey, Scott!"
He started, freezing at the familiar, youthful voice. ". . . Jeff?!" he exclaimed, his voice sounding almost strangled. How could he be hearing Jeff? Did that mean . . . he was dead too? He had thought he was going to get well!
The apprentice P.I. ran out from amid the fog. "It's me!" he grinned. "Wow, it's great to see you looking better."
Scott could only keep staring. "What is this place?!" he burst out. "Jeff, we . . . we've thought you died. . . ." He looked around. "But this isn't the kind of afterlife I was hoping we'd get. . . ."
"Me? Die?" Jeff grinned mischievously. "I officially hate tornadoes! I'm not letting one take me out! Unc's not gonna keel over, either."
Scott's mouth dropped open. "You . . . you're alive?!" he gasped.
"Sure we are," Jeff said. "So are you. Just go ahead and wake up and let the others know."
"'Wake up'?" Scott repeated with a blink. "I'm dreaming?"
"How else do you think I showed up?" Jeff smirked. "Well, see you around. I'm off to keep Unc company. They're still operating on him."
"Still . . ." Scott rocked back in surprise. Jeff was already vanishing into the fog. ". . . Well, goodbye then," Scott said to the mists.
He frowned to himself. "I'm asleep," he mused, "so how do I wake up?"
Maybe if he just concentrated hard enough? He closed his eyes. He would imagine himself awakening at . . . wherever he was. Elliott would be there, keeping vigil over him. Sean and Barry would be there, too.
The ground opened, sending him falling through with a shocked scream.
He started, the mattress moving under him as his eyes flew open. To his side, Elliott jumped.
"Scott?!" He peered down at his best friend. "Are you okay?!"
Slowly the blond calmed his breathing, looking up at the worried brunet. "Hi, El. . . ." He smiled.
Elliott brightened. "Hi yourself," he said. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that. . . ."
Sean grasped the railing on the other side of the bed as he leaned over. "You've been delirious and feverish and everything else!" he declared.
Scott winced. He remembered feeling so ill. He had lost track of what was going on sometime during the ride in the car, yet he had known that he had gotten to where Elliott and Sean were. He remembered being there with them.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I've worried all of you. . . ."
"'Worry' is a mild word for it," Sean said. "But you couldn't help it."
Elliott nodded. "I . . . I tried to grab you, when the first tornado came. . . ." He shook his head. "But I just couldn't. . . ." His shoulders slumped. "I'm so sorry, Scott. . . ."
Scott stared at Elliott in alarm, immediately placing his hand over the older man's. "You couldn't help it, either," he said firmly. "You did everything you could to save me. Just like I tried to do for you."
"I know. . . ." Elliott sighed. "I've been trying not to blame myself, but . . . it's hard. . . ." He managed a smile. "Let's not talk about my problems. You're the one who's really had it bad. I didn't even get hurt."
Scott frowned. "Yeah, you did," he said. "Right here." He laid his hand over Elliott's heart.
Sean nodded agreement. "You've had it really rough, El."
Elliott averted his gaze, laying his hand over Scott's. But then he clutched it. It was warm now, and dry, not cold and clammy.
Scott smiled, squeezing Elliott's hand.
Then he stiffened, his eyes widening as he remembered his dream. It had been more than a dream . . . hadn't it? At least . . . it had seemed so real. . . . He needed to tell them.
"Guys . . ." He looked from Elliott to Sean, then frowned. "Hey, where's Barry?" he realized.
Sean frowned too. "He was just getting that cut from the first tornado sewn up," he said. "He should've been back ages ago." He studied Scott. "But what is it? You look like you have big news."
"I do," Scott admitted. "But I don't know. . . . I think we should wait for Barry."
"Maybe I'll go find him," Sean decided, standing up to head for the door.
But just then it opened. Barry came in, looking at peace for the first time in hours. The others stared.
"What's up, Barry?" Sean demanded. "I was just going to go look for you! Scott woke up!"
Barry looked to their blond friend, a smile coming to his lips. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I feel great," Scott said honestly. "Exhausted, but great!"
"That's good to hear." Barry walked over to the bed. "And I found out something else." He looked from Scott to Sean to Elliott. "Jeff is alive! So is Mr. Gordon."
All three of them stared at him, stunned---but for different reasons. Scott slumped further into the pillows. "No way . . ." he murmured. Louder he asked, "Is Mr. Gordon in surgery?"
Barry nodded. "But they think he's going to pull through. Jeff's prognosis is looking better too."
Sean looked to Scott, curiosity in his eyes. "What was it you wanted to tell us, Scott?" he queried.
"And how did you know Mr. Gordon was in surgery?" Elliott blinked.
Scott slowly shook his head. "That was my news," he said. "That they're both alive. Jeff showed up in my dream and told me. Then he said he was going to keep his uncle company during the operation." Overwhelmed, he stared up at the ceiling. Now he knew it had not just been a dream.
". . . Wow," he heard Sean say.
Elliott leaned back, still processing this turn of events.
Barry just crossed his arms, looking thoughtful.
****
The rest of the night passed by slowly. Scott slipped back into a peaceful slumber. Elliott, at last overcome by everything, fell asleep in the chair next to Scott's bed. Barry dozed in another chair. And finally Sean lay down on the other, vacant bed in the room. He had been awake through everything so far. Now his body had stood for the long hours as much as it was going to. He had to sleep.
But instead he placed his bandaged arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The four of them were back together again, all on the mend as they should be. The latest word on Mr. Gordon was that the surgery had been successful and the doctors had hope that he would live. And Jeff had shown signs of awakening.
They were still not sure about Brittany's mother. She and her father had been waiting for news on Candace's condition for hours. Sean had gone to check on them a while ago.
"If there's anything I can do, just let me know," he had told them, though he had not known what he could possibly do.
But Brittany had given a weak smile to him from where she had been snuggled against her father's side. And he had looked up at Sean, his eyes displaying the same exhaustion and worry that Sean had borne throughout the night. There had been something else there too---gratitude.
"Thank you," he had replied. "You and your friends have already done plenty. My wife and Brittany . . ." And he had trailed off, shaking his head as emotions had risen to the surface. "They might not be here at all if not for what you've done."
"All in a day's work for an ACME agent," Sean had smiled.
Then he had turned to head back to Scott's room, lost in thought.
But before he had been able to leave the waiting room, an uncomfortable-looking woman with straight auburn hair had stepped into his path.
"Excuse me," she said. "I'm here to make sure some of my friends are going to be alright, and I couldn't help but overhear you saying that you're an ACME agent. Do you have a friend with curly blond hair?"
Sean blinked in surprise. "Scott, yeah," he said. "You know him?"
"I met him today," she said. "He was so determined to save his friends. . . . He went out in the storm to look, even though he could have easily gone into the cellar at the church and been safe. . . ." She sighed. "He reminded me of my brother. I've . . . been concerned about what happened to him."
Sean's hands went to his hips. "You're Brenda," he realized.
Her eyes widened in shock. But before she could speak, Sean continued, "Scott mentioned you."
". . . Then he's alive?" she asked.
"Yeah, he is, actually," Sean said. "He's been really sick, but he's going to pull through." He looked over his shoulder, nodding towards Brittany and her father. "See those people? His wife---her mother---is here due in part to Scott risking his health to help take her to the car before the bank collapsed. She was in it."
Brenda glanced at them, then averted her gaze. "I see."
Sean crossed his arms. "Scott's the salt of the earth," he said. "So're the others in our group. If you want to come back tomorrow, he'll probably be awake. He'll be glad to know you're safe."
But she shook her head. "I don't think I'll come back," she said, and paused. "Will you give him a message?"
Sean shrugged. "Probably."
"Tell him I'm sorry," she requested. "I've had time to think. I shouldn't have said some of what I did . . . even though it was honestly how I felt."
Sean nodded. "I'll tell him," he promised.
She nodded as well. "Thank you," she said. "My brother's death has been hard on me. We were very close. . . ." She looked away. "But I am proud of him. And I'm proud of others like him." With that she turned to leave.
Sean watched her. ". . . What are you going to do now?" he asked.
Again she hesitated. "I'm leaving," she said. "I'm going to help my friends get a fresh start, but then I'm moving out West. I think it's time for me to find a new home, someplace where tornadoes aren't so prevalent."
Sean allowed a slight smirk. "Good luck," he said.
"I'll probably need it," she said in a wry tone as she walked away.
Sean rolled onto his side, staring off at the window. She was going off to find another location to call home. Well, he hoped she would find it. This would not be his first choice of a place to live, that was for sure.
But even so, as he glanced around the impersonal hospital room at his friends, all of them alive and soon to be well, it felt like home. They had searched for somewhere to belong, and when they had found each other, they had found that somewhere.
"Where is my home," he muttered under his breath. Maybe he had the beginnings of a new song.
He would plan it out later. For the first time all night, he felt like he could sleep.
He burrowed into the pillow, relaxing at last.
****
The sun was shining through the window when Scott opened his eyes. A beam of light had settled on his right hand, while another stretched across the quilt. A yawn came to his lips, unbidden, as he looked from the sunlight on the bed to the view out the window.
After the catastrophic weather yesterday, it seemed amazing that the sun had risen again at all. And for some people, the new day would only bring sorrow and grief. Storms would linger over their hearts in spite of the bright day outside.
Scott swallowed hard, grateful that he and the others were safe.
He turned, looking to Elliott. Poor El, slumped back in the chair, his eyes wearily closed. He did not look comfortable at all, but he was sleeping. He sure needed it.
Scott shifted position to look around the other parts of the room. Barry was asleep too, in another chair. But when Scott looked to the other bed, he blinked in surprise. Sean was awake, scribbling in a notebook.
"Sean . . . ?" he asked. He winced at how raspy his voice sounded.
Sean looked up with a grin. "Scott! How are you feeling?" he greeted.
"Good," Scott smiled. "What are you doing awake?"
"I'll show you later," Sean said.
"I hope you haven't been up all night," Scott said.
"I just woke up a few minutes ago," Sean told him. "I wanted to get this idea down before I forget how it's coming to me."
Scott nodded, leaning back into the pillow. "Any news about Jeff and Mr. Gordon?" he wanted to know.
"Not that I've heard," Sean said.
Scott fell silent, not wanting to awaken Elliott and Barry. He lay in the soft bed, closing his eyes as he listened to Sean's quiet writing.
It must have lulled him back into a doze, because suddenly he was opening his eyes again to find Barry gone and Elliott awake. Elliott grinned down at him from the chair.
"Morning," he greeted.
Scott smiled at his best friend. "How did you sleep?" he wondered.
"Good," Elliott said. "Once I knew you were going to be okay, I could finally relax."
"That chair doesn't look very relaxing," Scott said.
"It's alright," Elliott said, struggling to bite back a yawn.
Scott chuckled, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Where's Barry?" he asked.
"Went to check on Jeff and Mr. Gordon," Sean said. "He just left a minute ago."
"Oh." Scott nodded. "I hope he'll bring good news. . . ."
"You and me both," Sean said.
"Me too," Elliott said quietly.
****
Barry was hoping likewise. He had stopped to find out about Brittany's mother first, and the news was only so-so. He was not sure what he was expecting to hear about Mr. Gordon and Jeff. But as he pushed open the door to the room, he stopped in surprise.
"Hey!" Jeff greeted with a weak but enthused smile from the first bed. "Unc, we have company."
Mr. Gordon was looking over at Barry as well. "So I see," he said. "Hello." He was laying in the other bed in the room, clearly exhausted and drowsy from the painkillers, but he was far more aware than Barry had expected.
Barry nodded. "I just came to check on the both of you," he said. "I won't stay long."
"We're doing great," Jeff said. "We'll be out of here soon. Well, my uncle will need to stay for a bit, but I won't have to be a patient too long!"
Mr. Gordon frowned. "You need to rest too, after what I've heard about your injuries."
"It's just a little bump," Jeff said.
It was clear that he was glossing over his sacrifice. Barry raised an eyebrow, then looked to Mr. Gordon. Did he even know any of the truth of the matter?
Mr. Gordon was studying Barry. "Do you know what happened to him?" he asked. "No one will tell me anything around here. Including him."
Barry hesitated, then nodded. Mr. Gordon deserved to know.
"To be honest, he saved your life," he said. "He had me take all of the injured people that I could fit in my car. He insisted on staying behind with you until I could come back . . . but the second tornado struck before we'd even driven very far." He sighed. "From what I've heard, you were found underneath a good deal of the roof. You were saved because of an air pocket . . . and because Jeff threw himself over you. Otherwise, it probably would have been you getting hit on the head."
Mr. Gordon had grown very quiet. Jeff was looking away, apparently embarrassed. His uncle looked to him and then back at Barry.
". . . Thank you for telling me," he said at last.
Barry nodded. "I should be getting back now to check on Scott," he said. Mr. Gordon and Jeff needed a chance to talk alone.
Realizing what Barry was doing, Mr. Gordon nodded too. "Let us know how he is," he said. "Jeff was telling me that Scott's been ill."
"I will," Barry said, turning to leave.
Jeff turned back. "If he's awake, tell him Hi," he said.
Barry smirked. "Alright," he said as he slipped out the door.
****
It did not take long to travel back up the hall to Scott's room. And before he even opened the door, he could hear talking inside. As he pushed the door open and stepped through, the sight of his closest friends conversing met his eyes. Scott was indeed awake, talking quietly with Elliott and Sean and looking quite like his old self. Barry smiled to himself.
Hearing him enter, they all looked up. "Barry!" Sean greeted.
"How are they?" Scott asked.
"First, how are you?" Barry returned.
"Great," Scott said. "I'm even starting to get hungry."
"Best news I've heard since . . ." Sean trailed off. "Since the last good news," he finished.
Elliott chuckled. Scott outright laughed. But then he looked back to Barry.
"Well?" he prompted.
"They're alright," Barry reported. "They're both awake; I spoke to them. Jeff says Hi, Scott."
"That's great!" Scott exclaimed, the burden on his own heart released. Elliott and Sean perked up in relief and joy.
"Does Jeff remember everything?" Sean wondered. "From the sound of it, he took a really hard knock."
"He remembers," Barry said. "He was trying to play down the extent of his sacrifice, but I made sure to let Mr. Gordon know."
"Just as he should," Sean said.
"What about Brittany's mother?" Elliott wanted to know.
"It's still touch-and-go," Barry said. "There hasn't been much change since last night. But she's still alive. That says something."
Scott looked down. "I hope she makes it too," he said.
"She will," Sean said.
Elliott smiled a bit. It was good to hear Sean being more optimistic again.
Scott looked to their leader in curiosity. "Are you ready yet to tell about what you've been doing?" he asked.
Sean nodded. "Sure," he said, "but first I need to tell you something else.
"When you were delirious, you were talking about some lady named Brenda and how she said it was suicide for you to go out looking for us."
Scott blinked. ". . . I talked about that, huh?" he frowned, wondering what else he had revealed in that state.
"You also said a bunch of other stuff, like how you got that bump on your head," Sean said, as if reading his mind. "But that's beside the point.
"Last night I met Brenda. She was here, making sure some friends would be okay, she said. And she wanted me to give you the message that she's sorry about what she said. She was glad to hear that you're alive."
Scott looked to him in surprise. "I didn't even think I'd hear any more about her," he said.
"Well, you probably won't now," Sean said. "She's getting out of this place and going West. She said she wants to find a new home. Anyway . . . that got me to thinking. I came back and looked around this old room at you and El and Barry and I got a spark of an idea. This morning I woke up and it all fell into place." He stood, taking his notebook with him. While the others watched and listened, he began to sing.
Is it the sky today,
The way that the wind's pushin' the clouds?
Or is it the late-day sun,
Stretchin' the shadows over the ground
That brings on these memories
Of people and places that I've never seen?
And voices so strange and so sweet
Asking me softly,
"Where is my home?
Where is my home?"
What makes this person me?
Is it the little town where I was born?
Or maybe it's history
The faces of family that I've never known
Somewhere across the sea
Where my great-grandmother left long ago
Under a cold, cryin' moon
Looking for something
Where is my home?
Where is my home?
Where is my home?
Walls of a city
Painted with promises and words so unkind
Where is my home?
Trees of a country
Where autumn came suddenly
That I'll never find
But then there's your face, my dear,
And I know I'll never be walking alone
The love in your eyes makes it clear
Telling me softly,
"This is my home
This is my home"
Sean brought the song to a close, flipping the notebook shut.
"Or, in our case, we could sing 'my friend' in the last verse," he said. "I was just looking for a rhyme for 'clear'."
At last Scott spoke.
"Sean, I think that's one of the best things you've ever come up with," he said in all sincerity.
Elliott nodded. "It's deep," he said.
Barry nodded as well.
"I also have this image of two of us trading off verses," Sean mused, "with the others singing backup."
"You should definitely sing some of the verses," Barry said.
"And I'm thinking it would sound amazing with your high tenor voice, Scott," Elliott said.
Scott was surprised. "Me?"
Sean nodded, enthused now. "That really would sound great!" he said.
Scott smiled. "I would like to try it," he said. "And I'd be honored to sing it with you, Sean."
"Not any more honored than I'd be to sing it with you," Sean smirked. "As soon as you're feeling up to par, let's try it."
Scott agreed, still smiling. After their day and night of heartache, things were getting back to normal.
And it felt wonderful.