A Fighting Man (12 page)

You didn’t cross Raquel Cassidy.

Not ever.

I stayed by Slater’s bedside day in and day out. The few times I had walked the halls, I’d run into Slater’s battle buddy, Ramos. He had lost his right leg below the kneecap, but he was stubborn and refused to buckle. I’d spent some time with him over the last three weeks. Only four of Slater’s team members had gotten out alive, and no one wanted to be the bearer of bad news to Slater.

I was just elated that Slater had survived.

I parked by the entrance and got out. As I made my way inside, I saw Ramos being wheeled down the hall.

“Hey, Ramos. I thought they were going to fit you for a prosthetic?”

“Yep, want to come watch?” Ramos waggled his eyebrows. “I can’t wear it any time soon, so I’ve been shaking my meat at the ladies.”

I cracked up. I couldn’t help it.

“I will, after I see Slater,” I promised.

“Smack him in the nuts for me.”

I laughed and headed down the hall. Raquel was talking to Slater’s doctor as I came up on them.

“He’s awake again. I think this time it’s for good,” she said.

Slater had woken up once or twice after he’d been brought out of the coma, but had fallen right back into deep sleep soon after. My heart raced at being able to talk to him and have him answer me back for once. I was giddy at the prospect.

“Can I go in?” I asked.

“Of course you can.” Raquel kissed my cheek. “Thank you for being here, Casper.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

I opened the door to find Slater sitting up in bed somewhat, and Quinlan sitting on the chair next to the bed. Slater’s eyes met mine and I smiled.

“Hey there, sexy,” I said, sitting down on the other side of him. “It’s so good to see you awake.”

“They won’t tell me what happened, Casper. They won’t give me a mirror and no one wants to tell me what happened!” Slater yelled.

“Son, do not yell at Casper. He’s been here from the moment we got back from Germany.”

“Germany?” Slater asked. God, his memory was like a sieve.

“Yes. Casper had to wait since he didn’t have a passport. As soon as you got here, he came and he’s been here ever since.”

“I’m going to stay here and help you recuperate,” I said, touching his arm softly.

“You should be at work. You have a job and a life —”

“You are my life, Slater,” I said quietly. “Don’t you know that?”

“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Quinlan said, standing up.

I waited for him to leave the room before sitting on the edge of the bed. I couldn’t believe Slater was awake and I could talk to him. I had missed his voice, his touch, his everything. I palmed his face and Slater looked away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me. God knows when I’ll be fully functional again.”

I searched Slater’s face carefully. He was slurring his words again, which was a sure sign he was tired. I took his hand and kissed it.

“I know you’ve been sleeping a long time, so this is going to sound funny—but get some rest, okay?” I kissed his temple.

“Not tired,” Slater yawned.

“Uh huh, okay.”

I waited until Slater had fallen out again before heading down to the physical therapy room. I entered and sat off to the side. Ramos was working on his upper body strength and trying to strengthen his left leg. He was sweating profusely. The man had drive and was stubborn as all hell. As I sat there, I couldn’t help but look at all the water bottles and energy drinks on the tables.

I walked over to one of the tables and picked up one of the energy drinks. I couldn’t believe the amount of sugar in it.

“Don’t drink that. It will give you anal leakage.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Ramos grinning. I waved the can at him. “Do you drink this stuff?”

“No, have you seen the crap in that?”

“I just did.” I narrowed my eyes at the can, and then looked back over at Ramos. Even sweaty, he was gorgeous. Right at that moment, a light bulb went off in my head.

“Hey, Ramos? What would you think about modeling?”

“Underwear?”

“No, just like Slater did for the energy drink, except I want to go in a new direction with it.”

“I tasted that stuff. It’s pretty good and it’s all natural.”

“Would you mind if I took a picture of you?”

Ramos cocked his head to the side and gave me a grin. “Click away. What are you thinking?”

“I’ve just got this idea running through my head about using wounded warriors for this drink. A hot guy is nice and all, but to have it truly stand for something would be better. And I’d still have a hot guy,” I smiled.

“What a rush man.” Ramos struck a pose.

I laughed and took a picture of him with my cell phone. I hoped Pritchard hadn’t gone too far with the ads yet. I hoped there was still time to make a change—if he even liked my idea.

* * * *

Not only did Pritchard love my idea, he wanted to run with it. I asked Blaine first before I sent anything and he was all on board. I’d slept for a few hours while Slater slept, and then sat up with him while they made him get up and walk around the room. He was still having a hard time with his equilibrium and now and then, he’d slur a word or two. We were told it was normal (whatever) and Slater would soon be able to speak and walk properly again.

He had to relearn a lot.

This morning I was helping him try and wrap his fingers around his drinking cup. Slater was fighting me the whole way.

There was a soft knock on the door and then a man walked in. He was sporting a heck of a lot of rank. I stood up and moved aside.

“Sergeant.” The man nodded at Slater and then looked at me. “Could I have a few moments with my soldier, please?”

“Certainly.” I nodded, taking Slater’s hand. “I’ll be right outside.”

I left the room and stood by the nurses’ station. The one who usually took care of Slater gave me a small smile. It was odd to be standing in the hospital in a good mood.

When Mason died, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near him. I sighed and leaned against the counter. I was just so damn happy Slater was alive. I could hear shouts and grunts and eyed Slater’s door. I didn’t know how long the guy with rank would be in there. I tapped on the desk and the nurse looked up at me.

“I’m just going to take a walk down the hall. Could you call me when—”

“Sure, no problem, Casper.” She smiled at me.

I grinned back and strolled down the hall. Rooms lined each side and I knew most of them held a soldier with injuries. I sighed as I came to the end of the hall. The physical therapy room was full this morning. Soldiers in black shorts were working out, some of them running on a treadmill.

My eyes went wide as I noticed one of them had two prosthetic legs. Another loud shout came and I inched closer to the window. I caught sight of Ramos alongside the back wall. He was trying to walk while holding on to parallel bars. Sweat dripped down his forehead and chest as his arms shook with the effort to keep the weight off his leg.

One of the physical therapists said something to him and he nodded, loosening his grip a bit. I cringed as another shout of pain left his lips and he fell. The physical therapist extended his hand and Ramos batted it away, pulling himself back up. I smiled. Ramos caught sight of me and gave me a thumbs up. I gave him two back. The guy was a fighter.

I turned and went back toward the nurses’ desk and realized Raquel and Quinlan were back. She smiled and held a hand out to me.

“Did you get some food, Casper?” she asked.

“I managed to eat earlier. What’s going on?”

Raquel’s smile faded. “They are debriefing Slater and telling him what happened.”

“Oh.” I swallowed hard.

I took a seat and reclined in the chair. Ramos had told me a little bit of what he’d heard in his own debriefing. Not about their mission, but of the men they’d lost. He was lucky to be alive and he credited Slater for a lot of it. Slater had thrown his body over him when an explosion went off. The men Slater had worked with, eaten with, joked with, were now dead. It would hurt him.

I closed my eyes. My body was tired and sore from the amount of time I’d been in the chair waiting for Slater to wake up. While he’d been in Germany, before they could safely move him to the States, Raquel had called me faithfully once a day with reports. It was so different from my experience with Mason, and I realized how lucky I was to have Slater’s parents on my side.

Something broke in Slater’s room and then all hell broke loose. Medical alarms went off and the nursing staff rushed into his room. Raquel and I stood up at the same time. Slater was screaming and removing the leads to all his monitors. The man with all the rank walked out and glanced our way.

“What the hell did you tell him?” Raquel snapped.

“What he needed to know,” he said and walked away.

“Son of a bitch!” Quinlan raced into the room just as a nurse was injecting a maniacal Slater.

“Get off of me!” Slater shouted.

“Hold him down!” the nurse shouted. “Dammit, Sergeant Cassidy, you’re opening up your wound!”

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” Slater bellowed.

I stood in the corner of the room while Slater went into a complete and utter breakdown. I wiped at my eyes as Slater’s met mine.

“Don’t let them do this to me, Casper!”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

The doctor rushed in just as Slater collapsed from the sedative they’d injected. He lifted Slater’s arm and frowned.

“Dammit, we need to re-stitch him. Get him to an OR so I can get a better look at him.”

I stood against the wall and covered my face with my hands as they removed Slater from the room. Raquel’s arm came around me and I relaxed into her embrace.

“He’ll be all right, Casper,” she soothed me.

God, I hoped so.

* * * *

Over the next two weeks, Slater became despondent. He barely ate and he hardly said two words. When it was time for his physical therapy, he shut down. He had a hard time lifting his right hand and sometimes his words got jumbled. The doctor assured me that his brain would start to remember how to function, but walking was proving hard for Slater. His legs didn’t want to hear what his brain was saying.

I had been assured he wouldn’t have any lasting brain damage; Slater just needed to get with the program. I took him outside every day in the wheelchair so he could get fresh air. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, but I kept talking to him about mundane shit just to see if I’d get some kind of response from him. Once in a great while, he’d answer me.

I missed the life Slater had been filled with, the joy he had. Today, I was working with his physical therapist. Slater was pouting in his wheelchair. I massaged his bicep as the physical therapist moved his legs again. I was trying to help any way I could. I held up a cup and eyed Slater.

“Put your fingers around it.”

Slater shook his head no.

“Slater, I know you can,” I said, leaning in closer. “You can do this.”

“Why are you here?” Slater fixed me with a look.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Look at me—I’m a shell of who I used to be.”

“Don’t say that; you’re still the Slater I know.”

“I should have died out there with them,” he mumbled.

I jerked back and narrowed my eyes. “What did you just say?”

“I should have died that day. Instead, I ended up like this!”

“How dare you,” I whispered, enraged. “How could you even think of saying anything like that after what I’ve been through—what you’ve been through!”

I jerked the wheelchair and pushed it out of the room. Slater was trying to stop his forward movement with his left hand as I pushed him down the hall.

“Take me back to my room!” he slurred.

“No, and fuck you!” I pushed the wheelchair all the way to the physical therapy room. I pointed at the men inside. “You see them? They lost so much more than you did and yet there they are, fighting to come back from it! That’s bravery. You are a fucking coward!”

“Fuck you!” Slater shouted at me.

“No, fuck you! You really think the guys who died wanted to? Here you sit with your life in front of you wishing you had died instead? Because you have to work a little harder to move your arm? To walk on the TWO legs you still have? You’re an asshole!”

“Fuck you, Casper—get the fuck away from me!”

“I’m not leaving you, you asshole!”

“Why? I don’t fucking love you and I never will. You were a good fuck. Now get the fuck out of my face!”

All right, that hurt.

“You’re lying,” I said.

“Get away from me Casper. Just because I fucked you doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Mason got off easy.”

My throat closed up and I stepped back a bit. I put a hand to my chest as though he’d actually stabbed me in my heart. Words couldn’t seem to leave my mouth and I ran. I think I faintly heard Slater say something to me as I ran as fast as my legs could take me.

As I rounded the corner, I ran head-on into a woman carrying a stack of folders. She absorbed the blow like a champ and steadied me. I mumbled an apology and tried to move around her.

“You’re Casper, Sergeant Cassidy’s boyfriend.”

“That’s debatable,” I sniffed, swiping at my eyes.

“I’m Doctor Lamar, a psychologist assigned to several of the patients here.” She smiled gently and moved us into an empty room. “I heard the shouting and I’m headed that way to help. May I say something that I hope will help?”

I nodded briefly, just wanting to escape hospital hell.

“I don’t expect this to wipe away your hurt, but I see this all the time. We’re so happy to have loved ones back alive, we expect them just to pick up their lives. These men and women…so many of them have survivor’s guilt on top of the physical and psychological pain they have. They lash out. They say things they don’t mean because they’re angry—at the pain, at the situation, at the loss of lives and abilities.” She rubbed my upper arm sympathetically. “I’m sorry for your pain, as well.”

With a small smile she hurried down the hallway and I ran for the exit.