Brothers by Bond (2 page)

After crying like a baby, for he didn't know how long, he came back to himself to the sounds of Mrs. B. whispering soothing words and running her small hands through his hair. When Mike unwound his arms from around her tiny waist and looked up at her, she wiped the tears from his cheeks once more.

"You need to go home, Mikey." Mrs. B. looked him dead in the eye. "Or at least come to the house. You need rest."

Mike was already shaking his head before she finished talking. He had to be here in case Johnny woke up. He had to be the first face his best friend saw because he refused to be only the last.

"Mikey," Mrs. B. began again. "You won't be any good to Johnny if you don't get some rest and do you really want him to wake and see you like this?"

Mike knew that she wasn't referring to his tear stained face but instead to his disheveled uniform and unwashed body. Mike was not vain but Johnny always gave him hell when he looked like shit.

"He wouldn't care," Mike mumbled.

"Oh, now we both know that is not true," Mrs. B. gave him a sad smile. "Get some rest, Michael. If not for yourself, do it for Johnny."

Mike watched her turn and walk to the side of the hospital bed. She reached out a hand and brushed a stray lock of Johnny's blonde hair off his forehead.

"I will call if there is any change. I promise." Mrs. B. didn't turn to look back at him as he stood and stretched. "Andy is in the visitor's lounge waiting to take you home."

Mike walked to the door of ICU 4 and looked back at Johnny and his mother. Once more he silently prayed,
please don't let this be the last time I see him
, before he turned and walked down the hall to the lounge.

Mr. B. was waiting for him just as Mrs. B. promised but he wasn't alone. The visitor's lounge looked like a precinct with all the uniforms that were packed in the small space. All heads turned to him when he entered and all he could do was shake his head at their unasked question.

Andy stood and stepped up to Mike, placing a fatherly hand on his shoulder before he spoke. "Come on son, let's get you home and cleaned up a bit." Mr. B. guided him out of the lounge and it was only then that he realized what he must look like. His pants were encrusted from the thigh down with Johnnie's blood and even though his uniform was black there was no hiding the fact. He still wore his Kevlar vest but it hung loosely over his shoulders and he could not remember when he ripped the velcro loose. Now, he attached it back in place so that it was once more fitting securely and not hanging loosely off his large frame. Mike felt stiff patches of Johnny's dried blood on other parts of his uniform, as well, but he tried not to think about it. All he wanted to do was go back and sit by Johnny's side but he knew by the look on Mr. B.'s face that he was on a mission. A mission that Mrs. B. had sent him on to get Mike home.

Once in the car, Mr. B. asked, "to the house?"

They always referred to the Baxter's place as 'the house' and Mike never gave much thought to why. It was strange that he even wondered about it now.

"My place," Mike replied flatly.

"Son," Mr. B. began. He always referred to Mike as 'son' even before the Baxter's adopted him. They had always been his family, legal or not, and he knew how lucky he was to have them.  Knew how lucky he was to have been rescued from the hell hole that was his childhood.
No, don't go there,
Mike's mind warned him.

"You should come to the house," Mr. B. continued. "You know Sophie will worry about you if you don't."

Mike didn't want to add any additional worry he to Mrs. B. but he knew he would totally break down the moment he stepped into the bedroom he had shared with Johnny for so many years as they grew up.

"My place, Mr. B. Please," Mike said and was glad that Mr. B did not argue any further.

"All right, son."

Mr. B. stopped at the curb in front of the house that Mike had been renovating for the last two years. It wasn't much to look at but it was his.

"Want me to stay a spell?" Mr. B. asked.

"Thanks, Mr. B. but I'm good," Mike said as he opened the car door. "Just going to shower and hit the sack."

Mr. B. looked like he wanted to say something but instead changed his mind before saying, "get some rest, son. We'll call if there's a change."

Mike nodded and closed the car door. Mr. B. waited at the curb until Mike was inside the house, like he was a boy, but Mike did notice.

Mike made his way to his bedroom, removing his Kevlar vest as he went. He dropped the vest in his corner chair before taking his gun from its holster and placing it in his night table. The utility belt, that held his other equipment, joined the vest on the chair as he sat heavily and unzipped his military style boots. By the time he peeled off his socks, the true state of his exhaustion kicked in. It took everything he had to drag his ass off the bed and into the bathroom.

Mike turned on the shower before stripping out of his clothes and he tried to ignore his blood encrusted pants as he kicked his uniform into the corner. Mike thought his emotions could not be more wrung out than they already were but he was wrong. Standing under the hot spray from the shower his tears once more overwhelmed him when he saw the pink tinged water swirling down the drain.

Chapter 2

Off in the distance the phone was ringing and Mike cursed the asshole who wasn't answering. The annoying noise would not go away and instead, insisted on becoming louder. His anger at being woken up on his day off grew until he was finally awake enough to realize that he was the asshole who wasn't answering the annoying phone.

Everything came back to him in a rush, the events of the last forty-eight hour slamming him into wakefulness.
Shit, Johnny
! Mike reached for his cell phone on his night table as a wave of nausea swirled through his gut.
Please don't be a death call,
he prayed as he answered without checking the caller I.D.

"Morgan," he barely got out of his suddenly dry throat.

"There have been no changes, son," Mr. B.'s steady voice came over the line. "I didn't want you to panic so I covered that first."

"Thanks, Mr. B." Mike replied numbly as he turned to look at the clock in shock. He had slept for fourteen hours. Never before had he slept more than six and it used to drive Johnny crazy. Mike was always the early riser when all Johnny wanted to do was sleep the day away.

"... pick you up and we can take care of that," Mr. B. was talking and pulled Mike's attention from the memories that were surfacing. "Son? Are you still there?"

"Yeah," Mike replied and scrubbed his free hand over his face.

"So, I'll see you in an hour?" Mr. B. asked.

"I can be ready in twenty," Mike told his adoptive father.

"Alright. See you then," Mr. B. said and hung up.

Mike sat in the middle of his queen size bed and did nothing but let his guilt consume him for several moments. He knew he should have just come clean with Johnny but he couldn't risk losing his best friend. That would kill him as surely as a bullet to the head. Johnny knew every secret that Mike ever had and never betrayed him. But this was one secret he would just have to keep to himself. Somehow he would deal with it and make sure things got back to normal between them.

Thinking of Johnny, reminded him of where he needed to be and spurred him into getting his ass out of bed. Ten minutes later, Mike was showered, shaved, and dressed. He could thank the Army for teaching him that.

His foot had just stepped off the bottom stair when a knock landed on his front door.
Mr. B., Punctual as ever.
Mike opened the door and was greeted by Mr. B. holding two extra large cups from Dunkin' Donuts.

"Figured you could use these," Mr. B. said as he handed over one of the cups. "I would've brought donuts to go along with but Sophie would smell them from a mile away."

"Thanks," Mike accepted coffee and appreciated Mr. B.'s reference to Mrs. B. She had raised him and Johnny to eat healthy and the only sweet treats they indulged in were during the holidays. It was a habit that both he and his brother had brought into adulthood.

"I think you boys must be the only cops who don't fit the stereotype." Mr. B. continued to try and draw him out of his silence, as if nothing was wrong.

Mike knew it was just his way of dealing with the situation. He had seen Mr. B. act the same way when his parents died. Chatting about the mundane was his shield. Once in the car, Mike broke their mutual silence when he noticed they were not driving in the direction of the hospital.

"Where are we going?" Mike practically growled as his anger spiked when he realized Mr. B. wasn't taking him directly to Johnny.

"The precinct. They want your statement and then we will head to the hospital."

"Fuck the precinct and fuck the statement. It can wait." Mike huffed and for once didn't care about his coarse language. "I need to be with Johnny."

"I know, son, but the sooner you get this out of the way the better." Mr. B. tried to be the voice of reason. "You have any vacation time saved up?"

Mike hadn't even thought that far ahead and realized that Mr. B. was right. After he gave his statement he would put in for his vacation or take a personal leave. How much PTO had he accrued? He had no idea and really didn't care. All he cared about was being by Johnny's side when he woke up because he refused to believe his best friend would remain in a coma forever.

Silence settled over them again as they drove to the station. Once there, Mike made a beeline for the lieutenant's office. He vaguely heard Mr. B. updating the guys on Johnny's condition as he closed the lieutenant's door behind him.

"You look like shit, Morgan, but I've been there myself." Lieutenant Collins opened his desk drawer to remove the paperwork as Mike sat down. "This won't take long and I won't keep you. I'm sure you want to get to the hospital to see Baxter."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Mike said as he took the pile of paperwork. The Lieutenant was a good guy as far as Mike was concerned. Hell, anyone who would allow brothers, even by adoption, to partner together had to be a good guy. Mike flipped through the standard paperwork before he started to fill it out. It was his habit and when he came to a leave request, with his PTO accrued attached to a Post-it, it just reaffirmed his opinion of the Lieutenant.

Two hours later, which felt like a million years, Mike was back in Mr. B.'s car. Thirty minutes after that and he was standing in the doorway to ICU – 4.

"The hip looks good but I am concerned how he will do with it. Usually, hip replacement patients are on their feet with assistance within the first twelve hours of surgery," the doctor who was speaking to Mrs. B. told her. "I will order a physical therapist to come in and make sure the replacement stays flexible. This will need to be approached slowly so we can give the graft to his femoral artery a chance to heal." The doctor paused before continuing, "As for the coma he is currently in, we are not sure what is causing it. All of the scans came back normal but we don't want you to be concerned. Sometimes when there has been trauma, such as Johnny's, the body goes comatose to heal itself. Do you have any questions Mrs. Baxter?"

"Is he in any pain?" Mrs. B.'s voice was steady but her concern was evident.

"I won't lie to you. It's very hard to tell what comatose patients can feel. We are giving him the prescribed dosages of pain medication for his hip replacement."

"I just don't want him to be in pain," Mrs. B. said quietly and turned back to her son.

"When will he wake up?" Mike asked from the door and both the doctor and Mrs. B. turned to him. "He
will
wake up right?"

The doctor turned back to Mrs. B. as if to ask permission to answer. Mrs. B. nodded to the doctor before introducing them.

"Doctor Bernstein, this is my other son, Michael. He is also Johnny's partner on the force."

The doctor shook hands with Mike as he spoke, "I am so sorry to meet you under these circumstances. I'm sure this is a difficult time for you."

Mike thought the doctor held his hand a little longer than was necessary but brushed the thought aside. "Yes, to say the least," Mike replied. "But you didn't answer my question." Mike knew he sounded harsh and was being rude to the man who was caring for his brother but he couldn't stand the sympathy that gazed out of the doctor's chocolate brown eyes.