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Through the Smoke
by Maryilee

Part 1

"Come on! Hurry up!"  Gary said urgently, glancing at his watch.

"Aaaahhhaaaow." Chuck yawned then rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up.  "I'm going as fast as I can, but there are other cars on the road ya know."  Chuck replied finally, annoyed.  "If you were in such a hurry, you could've taken a cab." He turned a corner, mumbling as he did.  "It's not like I would've had my feelings hurt.  I really wouldn't have minded staying in my nice warm bed, snuggled up to Christine, ya know," he said.
 
Gary rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah.  I know.  If you didn't want to help, why didn't ya say so?"

"Oh, like I really have a choice in it?"  Chuck answered sarcastically.
 
Gary opened his mouth to retort back, but realized that the house that he was looking for was coming up.  He scanned the article in the paper to make sure.  The headline read  "Family of Five Dies in Early Morning Fire"
 
"Wait, here it is, Chuck." Their disagreement forgotten as the job he came to do was at hand.
 
"Okay, here you go," Chuck said, pulling over to the curb.
 
Gary looked at him incredulously.  "You're not gonna help me?"
 
"Naw, you don't need my help.  Just go up and ring the doorbell. You know, wake 'em up.  The paper said that the fire wasn't reported for another five minutes, that should give you plenty of time to tell them to get out of the house,"  Chuck answered casually as he tilted his seat back and closed his eyes.
 
Gary glared at Chuck, then stormed out of the car slamming the door.  He marched up to the house and rang the bell.  With his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather coat, and his foot tapping impatiently, he waited for someone to answer.
 
"Damn!"  He swore softly.  He tried the bell again, leaning forward to listen.  Just his luck, Gary fumed.  The bell didn't work. He opened the screen door and pounded on the door.
 
Still no answer.  Suddenly, he could smell smoke.  "Oh no! The fire must have already started,"  he muttered to himself, pounding on the door again.  Not waiting for an answer, he leaped off the porch, and tore around to the back of the house.  There he found a window slightly ajar and was able to open it enough to climb in.

Immediately, Gary was surrounded in a thick black smoke, unable to see where he was going.  He dropped to his hands and knees, and crawled towards some stairs he could just make out in the early dawn light.

"Hey!  Your house is on fire!  Wake up!" Gary shouted as loud as he could, punctuating his warning with a fit of coughing. He heard some movement ahead of him, and was nearly run over by panic-stricken feet.

"Hey mister!  What about your kids?"  Gary shouted, unable to believe the man had left without saving them.

Gary entered a room on the right side of the hallway.  Shutting the door behind him, he was able to stand up, as the smoke wasn't quite so thick in here. He heard weak coughing, and made out the form of a woman lying next to a bed.

Gary rushed over and shaking her gently, he tried to wake her.  She opened her eyes briefly, coughed and pointed to the bed.  Gary looked where she was pointing, and saw a small child of about five or six years old sleeping.  He grabbed the child, and scooped to pick the woman up, draping her over one shoulder, the child under his arm. He turned and raced out of the room, trying to hold his breath as much as possible.

      **************************************************
 
Chuck lay with his eyes closed, feeling guilty about his outburst, but hey, he was tired of all this business with the paper.  He felt like he had lost a friend.  Gary was always too busy rescuing people to hang out with Chuck much anymore.  Every day, he wondered what predicament Gary would get into next.  Knowing that one day, Gary's luck would run out and he might not come back from one of his missions.

Thinking of missions, Chuck leaned forward to see how this one was progressing.  He squinted, unable to see Gary anywhere.  He slowly got out of the car, still searching.  Suddenly, the front door flew open, and a man clad only in his boxers came running out, panic evident in every feature.

Chuck rushed to the man, now really worried about Gary.  *Where the hell was he?*

"Hey buddy, it's all right."  He said, as he grabbed the man's shoulders to prevent him from running any more.

"Just sit down and take it easy."  Chuck said, as he gently pushed the man down.  He pulled out his cell phone, and called 911 to report the fire, cursing that he hadn't thought to do it earlier.

"Oh my God!"  The man suddenly shouted, his eyes wild.  "My family!  The kids! Oh God no!  Donna!"  The man moaned, as he tried to get up, but was held firmly by Chuck.

"I've called for help.  Stay here.  Someone went in to get your kids, okay?"  Chuck informed the man, knowing that Gary was in the house somewhere.

In just the few minutes that Chuck had been talking to the man, the fire had spread rapidly, now it was visible in the first floor windows.

Chuck leaped up, racing to the door shouting "Gary!"

Gary staggered under the combined weight of the woman and child, trying to decide which way to go. The smoke was becoming heavier and thicker. At the bottom of the steps, he turned left, then right; unsure which way would lead him out.  His chest felt so tight, burning from the smoke and exertion.  In the distance, he heard Chuck calling him, and headed towards the sound, finally able to see a rectangle of smoke that was slightly lighter than then the surrounding smoke.  He reeled towards the door, thankful to burst into fresh air.

Chuck met Gary on the porch, and took the woman from him, laying her on the front lawn, the movement causing her to stir.  The father claimed his child, sobbing and kissing the little boy. Catching sight of her husband, she cried out, "Where are David and Danny?"

The father paled, and turned to race back into the house, but his other son refused to let go of the tight hold he had on his dad's legs.

Gary turned at the woman's question and seeing the look of horror on the dad's face, immediately dashed back into the house.

"No Gar!  You can't go back in there!"  Chuck tried to grab Gary to stop him from going back into what was rapidly becoming an inferno.  His hands met only air, as Gary ducked under them as he dashed back into the inferno.

This time Gary knew where the steps were, and raced up them two at a time.  He passed the room where he had found the woman and child, and found another door on the right that was closed.  He carefully opened it, and tried to peer through the thick smoke.  There!  Two white cribs were in the room, one opposite the other.  Gary hurried to one crib, his lungs on fire, crying for fresh air.  He picked up the little boy, hoping that he was only sleeping, then hurried to the other crib and snatched that child up.  Rushing back out to the hall, he discovered that the fire was rapidly devouring the steps, and that there was no way he would make it out the same way that he had come in.

He ducked back into the children's room, kicking the door shut with one foot.  His knees almost buckled as his need for oxygen increased.  The room was becoming dimmer, and he didn't know if it was due to smoke or if his vision was going.  He only knew that if he and the children didn't get out of here quickly, they never would.  He staggered to a window, and used his elbow to break the glass. Hastily grabbing a blanket from one of the cribs, Gary put over the shards on the windowsill.  Leaning out the window, he called for help, his voice hoarse and weak.

"Hey Gar!  I'm right here!" Chuck replied.  He held up his arms and yelled, "Drop them one at a time, I'll catch 'em!"
 
Gary's vision was swimming, and he had to blink, squinting hard, just barely making out Chuck's form below him. Holding one of the children out as far as he could, he dropped the little boy, praying that Chuck would catch him. He repeated the process with the second boy.

Coughing uncontrollably now, Gary attempted to climb out the window himself, but the window was small, and he was having a difficult time trying to fit his six foot one body through it.  He felt glass digging into his back from the top of the window frame as he tried to squeeze out.  The room was getting incredibly hot, and Gary glanced at the door, terror shooting through him as he saw flames licking at the base and frame of the door.  He renewed his efforts to escape, coughing and choking on the thick, black smoke.

The relatively fresh air in the room caused a backdraft into the room, and the door gave way in a violent explosion. Gary's head slammed into the window frame and he felt a surge of pain. He gasped, attempting to hang on to the last vestiges of consciousness.  It was a losing battle. He slumped over, his body half in, half out of the window. The explosion had weakened the window frame, which broke, and sent Gary  tumbling out of the house. He landed with a muffled thump on his back in the grass.

At the explosion, Chuck had turned and ducked out of instinct.  Turning back, he saw Gary's still form lying in the window, and watched in horror as it slowly toppled out.  He rushed in vain to try and break Gary's fall, but all he could do was watch as Gary landed at his feet.

"Gar!" Chuck shouted, rushing to his friend's aid.  Putting an ear to his chest, he could hear Gary struggling to breathe. Chuck looked around.  *Where the hell was the fire department?* he wondered in panic.  It seemed like an eternity had passed since he had made the 911 call.

The fire department finally arrived, and paramedics rushed over to Gary, slapping an oxygen mask on his face, and placing a C-collar around his neck.

"Gar, come on buddy, wake up!" Chuck pleaded; anxiously watching the paramedics examine Gary.  One EMT cut through Gary's jacket, peeling it off carefully to look for injuries.  The other flashed a light in Gary's eyes and peered in his ears.  Through all this, Gary lay utterly still.  A heart monitor was applied, and the steady beep of Gary's heart allayed Chuck's fears only slightly.

"How is he?" Chuck finally ventured to ask.

The EMT shrugged, and said, "It's hard to tell so soon.  He definitely has smoke inhalation, and he has a lump on his head, but his pupils are responsive, though a bit sluggish.  He needs to be thoroughly examined by a doctor before I would even guess what other injuries he might have."

"Hey! What's taking so long?"  Chuck asked, flagging down a busy nurse in the hallway of the bustling emergency room.
 
"Excuse me?" the nurse inquired, puzzled.

"My buddy.  They brought him here about thirty minutes ago, and nobody's told me anything yet."
 
The nurse still looked perplexed, and glanced around. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't know who you're talking about." She was just about to direct him to go to the ward clerk with his question, when Chuck interrupted her.
 
"His name is Gary Hobson.  He was in a fire this morning." Chuck said, his patience wearing thin.
 
"Oh, the smoke inhalation!  He's in room three.  He's being x-rayed right now, but in a few minutes you can go in, okay?"
 
Chuck thanked her, wondering how hospitals always reduced a person to their ailment.  It was never 'the man with the broken arm in room two', but always referred to as 'the arm in two'.

Chuck purchased a cup of coffee from a vending machine in the waiting room, and took a seat on one of the uncomfortable chairs.  He glanced at his watch; he would never make it to work today, he thought.  He smelled like a campfire gone out of control, and by the time he saw Gary, went home, showered, changed
and went to work, the day would be more than half gone.  Oh well, he shrugged, it wouldn't be the first time he had been forced to call in due to the paper.
 
When the paper had first starting coming to Gary, Chuck remembered thinking it was a lark.  Go help Gary save a few people, attempt to sneak peeks at the financial section, and occasionally, have some  excitement.  It kind of made him feel like Alfred, Batman's butler; sharing in the big secret, but not actually have to carry any responsibility for the hard stuff.  Gary did all the really difficult tasks.  But lately, Chuck thought, the paper had demanded too much of Gary.  Too much time, too much risk, too much effort.  And for what?  He thought angrily. No one ever bothered to thank Gary. Hell, half the time the people who were saved treated Gary like he was nuts.  Gary would usually just take it in stride.  It never seemed to bother him that people didn't appreciate his efforts.
 
The last six months or so, Chuck had had to watch his best friend get hit by a car, find him buried in rubble, and search for him when he was kidnapped. Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose wearily.  He was tired of watching Gary take all the risks that he did.  He had hoped that after Gary had been kidnapped, that he would take some time off, and rest, but it was not to be.  Chuck had barely pulled out of the hospital parking lot after Gary had been released, when Gary insisted that Chuck swing by a mini-mart. He wanted to prevent a child who had been left alone in the car, from accidentally putting the car in drive, and rolling into a busy intersection.
 
Gary had been going non-stop since then. Putting his life on the line on numerous occasions.  Chuck thought back to all the times that Gary had risked his own life to save someone.  There were too many to remember, and those were just the incidents that Chuck was aware of.  Often, Gary would do his rescuing alone, and never mention anything to anyone.  God only knew what else he had done, Chuck thought, his anger building.
 
He tried to shake off the anger, after all, Gary was lying in the ER unconscious, but the it had been a long time building, and wouldn't go away that easily.  He was angry at never getting to hang out at ball games with Gary anymore. Never having time for a personal life, because Gary was always calling and asking for help, but the biggest reason he was angry, was that he was afraid one day Gary wouldn't make it out of the burning building, or wake up after getting hit by a car.  Gary was his best friend, had been since they were kids, and he didn't want to lose him.
 
Glancing at his watch, Chuck was surprised that he had been waiting for over thirty minutes.  His concern for Gary out-weighed his anger for the moment, and he headed back towards the ER and room three.
 
Chuck paused outside the cubicle.  The curtains had been opened, and Gary was visible, lying on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over his face.  His eyes were closed, his face still streaked with soot, though it appeared that someone had tried to clean him up a bit.
 
Chuck walked hesitantly towards the stretcher, and approached a nurse who was taking Gary's blood pressure.
 
"Excuse me...uh...how is he?" Chuck asked.
 
The nurse turned around, and shrugged.  "He hasn't come around yet.  His vital signs are good, though." She jotted down the blood pressure, and hurried away.  A few minutes later, another hospital worker entered the cubicle.
 
Looking at Chuck, she smiled and said "Hi, I'm from respiratory therapy, and I'm just going to draw some blood."
 
Chuck winced, and asked "Do you want me to leave?"
 
"No, you can stay, it'll only take a moment." she said.  She then proceeded put on gloves, and took Gary's wrist in her hand, feeling around with her finger. Apparently satisfied with what she found, she inserted a syringe into the inside of Gary's wrist, eliciting a groan of protest from Gary, as well as an attempt to retract his arm from the therapist's firm grip.
 
Chuck swallowed hard. He hated needles; even ones that weren't stuck in him.  He could feel himself break out in a cold sweat and wished he had left the room before the woman had drawn the blood for now was too late and he didn't trust himself to stand up without passing out.
 
Thankfully, it was a quick procedure, and the therapist withdrew the needle, and held pressure over the site for several minutes.  While holding pressure, she glanced over her shoulder at Chuck, took in his pale face, and laughed.  "Are you okay?" she inquired.
 
Embarrassed, Chuck cleared his throat "Um...yeah, I'm fine.  I just hate the sight of needles." He admitted sheepishly.  "What's the blood for?"  He asked, hoping to draw her attention away from his shaky state.
 
"Oh, this is to measure his carbon monoxide level.  It's the second one we've done so far.  His last one showed the level really high, so we keep doing them periodically to make sure that the level is going down."
 
"What happens if it doesn't go down?"  Chuck asked.

Gary slowly blinked, wincing at the bright lights above him; the glare exacerbating the worst headache he had ever had in his life. His stomach started doing cartwheels. He was going to be sick.  Groaning, he tried to sit up, pulling the stifling oxygen mask away from face.  His one thought was to make it to the bathroom before he made a mess.  With this goal in mind, he lunged forward and tried to swing his legs off the bed, but yelped as his shin connected painfully with the side rail of the gurney.
 
"Whoa, Gar!  Where do you think you're going?"  Chuck asked as he put a hand to Gary's chest, pushing him back down. He pulled the mask back over Gary's nose and mouth.
 
"The doc says you have to keep the oxygen on for awhile. Okay?"
 
What the hell?  Gary wondered foggily, struggling to sit back up, and pulling the mask off again. He felt like he was suffocating with the mask over his face.
 
"Hey!  I need some help in here!" Chuck hollered, giving up on putting the mask back on Gary and concentrating on keeping his buddy from falling off the gurney.
 
Two nurses hurried in, one of them, recognizing the panicked look on Gary's face, grabbed an emesis basin, and shoved it under Gary's chin. She wasn't a moment too soon, as Gary vomited what little was in his stomach, gagging and retching until he was through.
 
"Aw jeez!"  Chuck exclaimed, quickly stepping away from the gurney, his nose wrinkling.
 
His energy spent, Gary sank back wearily against the raised head of the gurney, closing his eyes. He sighed gratefully as a cool cloth was pressed to his forehead.  Feeling a little better, though his head still pounded, Gary opened his eyes and surveyed the room.  An emergency room from the looks of it, he thought.  Chuck was standing in a corner, wary of standing any closer.
 
"Hey Chuck." Gary whispered hoarsely.
 
"Well it's about time!" Chuck said, as he cautiously made his way back to the side of the gurney, obviously worried that Gary might puke again at any moment.

A youngish doctor with dark brown hair, strode into the room.  Chuck retreated back to the corner to stay out of the way.

"Hi Gary, I'm Dr. Jacobs, the emergency physician here.  Can you tell me what happened?"
 
"Uh, nice to meet you, Doctor." Gary fumbled, trying to recall what had happened.  Try as he might, he was drawing a blank.
 
"Do you know what day it is?" Dr. Jacobs asked, shining a light in Gary's eyes.
 
Wincing against the bright light, Gary pulled his head away. Let's see, he remembered last night was Friday, because it was the fish fry special at McGinty's.  At least, he thought it was last night.
 
"Saturday?" Gary answered.
 
The doctor smiled, "You don't sound too sure of that."
 
"Sunday?" Gary tried again.
 
"No, you were right the first time.  It is Saturday.  You don't know what happened though?"
 
Silently, Gary shook his head.
 
"Well, that's not unexpected after the amount of carbon monoxide you had in your blood.  In fact, you still have quite a high level, though it is coming down." Dr. Jacobs put on a pair of rubber gloves, and examined Gary's head where he had bashed it on the window frame.  Gary flinched as the doctor gently probed the bump with his fingers.
 
"You'll live, but next time, why don't you let the firemen do the rescuing." The doctor advised, as he stepped back, snapping off the gloves.
 
At the doctor's mention of firemen, bits and pieces of what happened came back to Gary.  He remembered carrying two small children to a window, but not what happened after that.
 
"Hey Doc?  The babies?  Are they okay?"
 
The doctor paused as he was washing his hands.  He smiled, "Yeah, they're down the hall getting some oxygen, but they should be fine.  The parents say that you are quite the hero." The doctor added, drying his hands on a paper towel, and tossing it basketball style into the wastebasket.  Taking his pen out, he took Gary's chart off a counter, and jotted down some notes.  Finished, he rested the chart on the gurney rail, and regarded Gary.
 
"I'm going to admit you overnight, and you'll have to keep the oxygen on for several more hours. We're going to do a few more tests and I also want to have a neurologist take a look at you. I'm a little concerned about side effects from the carbon monoxide."
 
Gary nodded, suddenly exhausted.  The doctor left the room.
 
Chuck had listened silently while the doctor had asked Gary questions, but he grew worried when the doctor had mentioned side effects.  Approaching the gurney, he tapped on a dozing Gary's shoulder.
 
"Hey friend, What's with the memory?"
 
Gary sleepily opened his eyes, "Huh?"
 
"Didn't you hear the doctor?  He was worried about side effects."
 
Gary shut his eyes again.  He was so tired.  Swallowing, he mumbled, "I'm fine Chuck.  I just need to get some sleep."
 
"Well, Gar, one of these times you won't be fine, then what?" Chuck asked angrily.
 
Almost asleep, Gary wondered what Chuck was talking about. He struggled to stay awake to ask him what he meant, but before he could form any thoughts, his body won the battle and Gary slept.

Chuck remained at the hospital for another half-hour while Gary was settled into a room.  The combination of carbon monoxide, and acetaminophen with codeine Gary had been given for his headache had him sleeping like a baby.

Chuck called Marissa from his car on the way home. He knew that she would have been worried when neither of them showed to open McGinty's.
 
"Chuck!  Where are you?  I came in, and there were suppliers waiting to unload, and no one was here to let them in."
 
"I'm in my car.  I just left County General"

"What happened? Are you okay? Is Gary with you?"

"Whoa, slow down. Yeah, I'm fine.  It's Gary. The doctor say's that he's going to be okay.  There was this house fire, and Gary--"

"Oh my God! Is he okay?" Marissa gasped over the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. He just has a bump on the head and some smoke inhalation." Chuck said, turning a corner. He found a parking space in front of his apartment building, miracle of miracles, he thought grumpily.
 
Opening the door to his apartment, he called out "Christine?" There was no answer. He tossed his keys on the coffee table, and headed for the bedroom.  It was a long shot, but maybe she was still asleep.  He stopped in the doorway of his room, and then dropped his head in dejection.  He knew it.  She had left.  He had only known her for a short while, but he had thought that maybe there would be some sort of future for them.
 
Chuck's dresser top was almost bare. Gone were the assorted make-up and perfume bottles that had started to accumulate.  He checked the bathroom, and her toothbrush and deodorant were also missing.  He sighed and tried to swallow his disappointment.
 
He quickly showered and changed his clothes. He sat on the bed to put on his shoes, and noticed a noted tucked partially under his pillow.  His hopes soared.  Maybe she just was out shopping he told himself.  He read the note, then crumpled it angrily and threw it across the room. She was gone for good.  She wrote that she was tired of playing second fiddle to whatever it was Chuck did when he went suddenly rushing off with Gary.
 
Chuck sat staring at the floor.  Thinking about Christine, and Gary and the newspaper, his anger building until he felt like he was going to explode. He wanted to hit someone. What really scared him was, that for the first time in his life, he wanted to hit Gary.  He took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.  Rising, he finished dressing, and headed to McGinty's.  What he needed was to work and get his mind on something else.
 
It was easier said than done.  No sooner had he walked in the door of McGinty's than he was set upon by a worried Marissa.
 
"How is Gary? What happened?"
 
"Jeez, Marissa, he's gonna be fine.  I told you, he went into a fire, saved a family, and he got a bump on his head. Samo, samo." Chuck ground out as he strode to the kitchen.
 
Marissa stepped back in shock.  "What's wrong Chuck?" she asked, puzzled at his behavior.
 
"Nothing," he answered shortly.
 
Marissa crossed her arms in front of her.  She knew better. "Something is wrong, Chuck.  I can tell.  Now, you can tell me now, or you can wait until I bug you to death, but either way, you're going to tell me."
 
"I said, it's nothing!"
 
Marissa was not so easily put off.  A sudden thought crossed her mind. "Is there something wrong with Gary that you're not telling me?"
 
Chuck slammed down an inventory list he had been looking at. "No! I said Gary is fine.  Why is it always Gary? It's always Gary this, Gary that.  Like no one else even matters.  He gets everything.  He gets the paper, he gets the restaurant." Chuck stopped abruptly. "Ah, hell with it," he muttered and left the room.
 
Marissa stood in stunned silence. She slowly sat down.  Something had happened.  Chuck never acted like that.  He was always the funny, goofy one cracking jokes. Picking up the phone, she called for a cab.  She was going to the hospital to check on Gary, and maybe get some answers.

"Gary?" Marissa said softly.  The nurse had led her to his room.  At least, Marissa hoped it was Gary's room.

"Hmmm, what?" Came a mumbled reply.

Marissa smiled.  She recognized the soft twang of Gary's voice even from just a few words.

"How are you feeling?" Marissa asked, moving closer to the sound of the voice.
 
Waking more fully, Gary shifted in bed, stifling a groan.  Every muscle in his body screamed at him in protest.  Chuck had mentioned something about him falling out the window. Gary guessed that would account for the soreness.

"Hey Marissa." Gary said, pulling of the oxygen in his nose.  "I'm fine."  Looking around, he asked, "Where's Chuck?"

"He's back at McGinty's.   That's one of the reasons that I'm here.  He seemed really upset about something.  Did you guys have a fight?"

Gary rubbed his hands over his eyes.  He vaguely recalled slamming the car door earlier, but couldn't recall exactly what had precipitated it.

"I can't remember exactly. " He stifled a groan as he struggled to sit up in bed. "I sort of remember that we were arguing in the car, but I'm not sure why."

"So...that's it?  You can't tell me anything more?" Marissa asked, clearly confused.

"That's all I can remember. Sorry." Gary hesitated, shifted uncomfortably, and said "Everything that happened this morning is still a bit fuzzy.  The doctor said that was normal." He shrugged, wincing.

"Normal?  Gary, what are you trying to keep from me?" Marissa asked suspiciously.

"Keep from you?  I'm not trying to keep anything from you." he insisted.

Marissa found a chair in the corner of the room, and sat down.  She sighed in frustration.  "Well something must have happened, because Chuck almost bit my head off when he came into McGinty's this morning.  All I did was ask what had happened and how you were."

"What'd he say?" Gary asked curiously.

"Oh, something about you always getting everything.  He sounded ..." Marissa hesitated, unsure whether she should voice her opinion.

"What?  He sounded what?" Gary prodded.

"Well, he sounded jealous of you," Marissa finished.

"What!?" Gary asked incredulously.  "Why in God's name would he be jealous of me?"  Gary felt hurt and betrayed.  Chuck was his best friend.  They had done everything together since they were kids.

"Well, look at it from his point of view.  You get the paper.  You.  Not him."  Marissa said quietly.

"Yeah, but you know what he would do with the paper if it came to him.  He'd go out and use it to get rich,"  Gary said defensively.

Marissa shrugged.  "Probably, but that's not the point.  The point is that you get the paper.  You are the owner of McGinty's, which was given to you, I might add. And however much you may want to deny it, the paper makes you special, or maybe because you're special, the paper comes to you."

Gary squirmed uncomfortably.  "Hey, I didn't ask for the paper," he said, his voice troubled.

"I know you didn't.  I don't really think that the paper is the problem," Marissa said gently.

"Then what is?" Gary asked, puzzled.

"I think you will have to figure that out for yourself."

Standing, Marissa carefully made her way to the bed.  She could smell the lingering odor of smoke from the fire clinging to Gary.  It made her realize how lucky Gary was to have escaped serious harm.  This time. Bending she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and said good-bye.  Gary mumbled a reply, lost in thought.

After Marissa left, Gary stared out the window across from the bed, thinking.  His lunch tray came, but he didn't feel much like eating.  How could Chuck blame him for the paper, he thought angrily.  After all these years and all they had been through, how could Chuck be jealous of him?

Gary slumped dejectedly in the bed.  He thought back to when they had been kids.  Chuck had always been the adventurous one.  He would do anything for a thrill.  Gary smiled when he thought of the time when they were teenagers and Chuck had gone down a dirt path on a huge steep hill in town on his bike.  In the dark.  Just for the thrill of it.  He had tried to talk Gary into going to, but Gary refused.  He wasn't about to break his neck doing some stupid stunt.

Chuck had just laughed good-naturedly, and said "Well, my friend, you are going to miss out on all the fun then."

Gary remembered waiting at the bottom of the hill for what seemed like an eternity.  He kept picturing Chuck hitting a bump and flying over the handlebars.  He had ridden his bike around in small circles, waiting. Cursing out loud at Chuck's foolishness.  Worrying.

 When Chuck had finally coasted to the bottom of the hill, his face sporting a huge grin, Gary had sighed in relief.  Then he'd lit into him.  Telling Chuck how stupid he was for pulling a stunt like that.  Gary cringed when he remembered how he had called Chuck an idiot, and then stormed off on his bike, ignoring Chuck's call for him to come back.  They hadn't talked to each other for a couple weeks after that incident.

Gary could remember the disappointment he had felt when he kept trying to call Chuck, only to find out that he was hanging out with a different group of guys.  Finally, Gary tracked him down, and apologized for the way that he had acted.  Chuck had grinned, and slapped him on the back.

Naturally, a few days latter, all was forgotten, and Chuck would suggest some other hare-brained adventure.  Gary chuckled as he remembered some of the stupid risk-taking things Chuck had done.  Of course, at the time, he hadn't been laughing.  He had usually tried to talk Chuck out of his schemes, to no avail.  Chuck had never seemed to understand how worried Gary would be that something would happen to Chuck.  Gary was too young and embarrassed to admit that he cared about his friend.  Guys just didn't do that.

Suddenly, Gary sat up straight in bed.  It was like a light had turned on in his head.  Chuck wasn't mad about the paper, he suddenly realized. Maybe Chuck was angry with him for taking the risks that he did.  Gary thought that maybe there was more to it also. He remembered all the off-hand remarks Chuck had
been making about how they never did anything fun anymore.  Gary hadn't really paid much attention, but maybe he should have.  It occurred to him that he had been treating Chuck as though he was Gary's chauffeur the last several months.

"Jeez, no wonder he's angry," Gary muttered.  He knew he had to talk to Chuck.

Gary grabbed the phone from the bedside table, and started dialing the number to McGinty's.  He was interrupted, however, when a man in a blue lab coat came into the room.  His nametag read, 'Dr. Stewart. Neurology.'

Gary slowly set the phone down, eyeing the short older man who had entered his room.  The doctor was holding a chart in his hands--presumably Gary's-- and was leafing through it as he approached the bed.

"Hi Gary, I'm Dr. Stewart.  I'm a neurologist.  The ER doc asked me to take a look at you; see how you're doing."  Dr. Stewart said, smiling as he held out his hand.

Gary shook it, and replied, "Nice to meet you, Dr. Stewart.  I'm doing fine though, so, you know, I ...ah...hate to waste your time."

Dr.Stewart laughed.  "Let me be the judge of that." Becoming more serious, he glanced down at Gary's chart and said, "Your blood work shows a very high level of carbon monoxide when you were brought in, along with loss of consciousness, and some irregularities on your EKG.  That's nothing to fool around with." He eyed Gary with a frown. "By the way, how come you're not wearing your oxygen?"

Gary quickly pulled the oxygen mask up over his nose like an errant child caught without his hat on in the middle of winter.  "I…ah…well," he stammered, "a friend was here a little while ago, and I was talking to her.  I guess I forgot to put it back on."
 
"Well, leave it on, except to eat, until tomorrow morning."

"What!" Gary exclaimed. "I had hoped that I was gonna go home this evening."

Dr. Stewart shook his head.  "Sorry, but I don't think your CO levels will be low enough by this evening.  Also, the ER doctor said that you had some amnesia, nausea, vomiting, and a headache.  Is that correct?  How are you feeling now?"

Gary reluctantly nodded, admitting  "Yeah, that's correct.  I feel okay now, except for a headache."

"Well, let me do an examination then I let you know what's going on.  Okay?"

Gary shrugged.  "Yeah, okay."

Dr. Stewart proceeded to do a neurological exam.  He asked Gary questions, checked his reflexes, and had Gary perform some simple tasks like following the doctor's finger moving across his line of vision.  When Dr.Stewart was through, he sat in a chair in the corner of the room, jotting down his notes.  It took him quite a while, and Gary dozed off while waiting.

"Okay," Dr.Stewart began, then noticed his patient sleeping.  "Gary?" he called gently.

"Huh?"  Gary jerked awake; grimacing at the pain the sudden movement caused his head.

Dr.Stewart chuckled. "So much for feeling fine."

"Sorry, I guess I fell asleep." Gary apologized, rubbing his eyes.

"No need to apologize.  It's to be expected."  Dr.Stewart said.  He studied his notes and continued.  "You did okay on your neuro exam, though your reflexes are a little slow at the moment.  You can expect in the next few weeks that you may have some relapses consisting of headaches, nausea, dizziness, forgetfulness, and irritability.  This is all quite normal and should subside in no more than a month.

While the doctor was reciting the list of symptoms, Chuck walked into the room.

"Forgetfulness and irritability?  Sounds pretty normal for Gary,"  he quipped.

Gary grinned and in spite of the backhanded insult, was glad that Chuck had come by.

Dr.Stewart stood up, and Gary introduced him to Chuck.  "Nice to meet you, Chuck.  I was just telling Gary what to expect the next few weeks. I'm just about done here."  Dr. Stewart turned back to Gary.  "Tomorrow, you can go home, but I want you to take it easy for the next couple of weeks.  Don't do anything too strenuous, and if you feel like the symptoms are getting worse, or they don't get better, make an  appointment to see me at my office, okay?"

Gary nodded.  "Thank you very much, Dr.Stewart."

The doctor nodded and left.  Chuck had picked up the remote for the TV, and was idly flicking through the channels.  He plopped down in the chair that the doctor had just vacated, and pretended to be engrossed in a cartoon that was playing on the television.

"Hey Chuck, thanks for coming by," Gary began, hesitantly.

Chuck shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah, well, Marissa asked me to check on you.  I had a million things to do at the restaurant, but she wouldn't quit bugging me, so here I am." He squirmed farther into the chair, not meeting Gary's eyes.

"Oh."  Gary said, and sat back.  He could feel the tension in the air, and didn't know what to do to ease it.  He plucked at the Band-Aid on the inside of his wrist, pretending to exam the bruise that had formed where blood had been drawn.

Chuck glanced over, and commented, "I was in the room when they took that sample.  You were still pretty out of it, but I almost passed out myself." He gave Gary an embarrassed grin. "I hate needles, and lately it seems that I've seen enough of them to last a lifetime."

Gary stopped picking at the bandage, and took a quick look at Chuck.  This was it.  His chance to clear the air.

"Chuck?  I...um...I--" Gary fidgeted. "I know that I haven't been the best friend lately, what with all the stuff going on with the paper and all." He glanced at Chuck, who was still seemingly engrossed in the cartoon. "But, I just want to thank you for helping me to...ah...do my job."

Chuck finally turned his gaze to Gary, a look of anguish on his face like Gary had never seen before.  "Gar, that's just the thing.  I don't think I can help you anymore."

Gary opened his mouth to speak, but Chuck raised his hands in a stop motion.  "I mean it, Gar. I can't play Robin to your Batman any longer. I just can't.  One of these days, you're not going to be as lucky as you were today and..."  Chuck paused, stood up and walked to the window.  He shoved his hands in his
coat pocket, "I guess, I just don't want to be there when that day comes." He shrugged, started to say something, but changed his mind, and walked towards the door, muttering, "I'm sorry."

"Wait! Chuck, don't go." Gary called after him.  Chuck paused in the doorway.  "I know I've taken too many chances lately. I can understand how you feel."  Chuck turned around, a surprised look on his face.  Gary gave him a little smile. "I know it's not fair to ask you to reconsider, but I'm going to ask anyway."

Chuck sighed and shook his head.

"Before you decide, Chuck, I promise to be more careful in the future," Gary vowed.  "Like today, I should have called the fire department first."

Chuck nodded then felt guilty, because he too, could have called the fire department. He slowly walked back into the room.

"But without your help, how am I ever going to have to time to hang out and play pool?  Or go to a ballgame?" Gary implored.

"When was the last time that you hung out and played pool?"  Chuck inquired innocently.

"I know, it's been too long." Gary nodded.  "But I plan on fixing that too.  In fact, I can start in the next few weeks since the doc said to take it easy.  Right?"

Chuck grinned.  "Right."  He cocked his head to the side, a look of hope on his face.  "You're not yanking my chain, are you?"

Gary laughed.  "No, I'm not.  It's just that I'm getting tired of the hospital food, and don't plan on being back here for a long time, if ever."

"But what if something in the paper comes up?"  Chuck asked, still a bit skeptical.

"Well, I have to do what I can to help people.  I can't stop that, Chuck.  I'll just have to figure out less dangerous ways to do it."

"That's fair," Chuck agreed.

Just then, a nurse brought in Gary's dinner tray, placing it on the bedside table and left.  Chuck watched her walk out.  "On the other hand, Gar.  There are good points to being in the hospital."  He grinned lewdly.

Gary rolled his eyes, and smiled.  He lifted the cover of the dinner tray, wrinkled his nose at the well-done burger, and limp fries.  He plopped the lid back down, and lay back, suddenly exhausted.  He was feeling nauseous again.

Chuck glanced over.  "Aren't you going to eat that?"

Gary shook his head, "No, I'm not hungry."

Chuck reached over and snatched the tray off the table.  "Well," he grinned, "we can't let perfectly good food go to waste."  He took a bite out of the burger, and stuffed a fry in after it.

Gary just closed his eyes and sighed.

The End
 

Email the author: Maryilee
 
 

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