Winslow rushed up the stairs of the 27th Precinct, running a hand nervously through his thick blonde hair.  ‘God!  I hope she already knows!’  His partner, Toni Brigatti, was one who would definitely shoot the bearer of bad news!  He scanned the squad room as he entered, hoping she had already heard and was on her way to the hospital.  All teasing aside, Winslow knew she had, at the very least, a deep regard for the man, and a load of regrets over certain incidents.  Whoops!  So much for the power of prayer.  Brigatti stood over by the copier, talking to Armstrong.  Wonderful!  Armstrong also had a history with the poor guy.  He could kill two birds with one stone.  Or be stoned.  Gathering his rapidly failing courage, Winslow strode briskly over to his fellow officers.

“Toni!  Paul!  I thought you two would be over at County General,” he commented in his best casual/puzzled tone.

Toni turned a suspicious eye on her partner.  “And what would we be doing at County General?”

Putting on a ‘surprised’ face, the blonde detective plunged on.  “You don’t . . . you haven’t heard?” he asked, all innocence.

Brigatti was having none of it.  “Spill it, Ken,” she ordered.  “Who’s at County we’d be interested in?”

Winslow turned a ‘confused’ gaze on Armstrong.  “You really don’t know?”

“No,” the big cop replied icily.  “We don’t. Suppose you tell us?”

“It’s Hobson,” he finally admitted, serious now.  “I saw him being wheeled into intensive care about an hour and a half ago.  He’d taken a header down some stairs, they said.  Lay there for hours before anyone found him.  Toni, he’s in pretty bad shape.   A broken leg, head injury, maybe even some spinal damage.  And, he lost a lot of blood.  So much that . . . he died.   I’m serious, guys!  I heard a coupla nurses talkin’ about how eerie it was.  They’d called the time and everything!  But, he came back while his folks were . . . were saying their . . . I’m tellin’ you, it sent chills up my spine just hearing about it!  That reporter, Miguel Diaz was there, trying to get an interview with that Clark woman and Zeke Crumb.  They were the ones that first found him.  Just before his folks came rushing in.  They knew, Toni!  They knew he was hurt before he was even found!  Mrs. Hobson said that she’d dreamed about it!”

“That explains a lot,” Armstrong muttered as he grabbed his coat.

“Explains what?”  Winslow asked, truly puzzled this time.

“About Hobson,” Brigatti explained, as she too, headed for the door.  “Weirdness must run in the family.”

*******************

Marissa slid carefully into the chair that Lois Hobson had so reluctantly abandoned.  She heard Zeke Crumb pull up a chair next to her.  Except for the gentle, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the room was silent.  She reached a hand through the railing and felt around until she held the same hand that was still moist with a mother’s tears.

‘Come back to me, Gary,’ she prayed in the silence of her heart. ‘A friendship like ours is too rare and wonderful to end like this!  Where else will I find someone who won’t laugh or scold me when I take foolish chances?  Who’ll help me try to make sense of things that seem to have no meaning?  Who won’t treat me like less of a person, just because I can’t see as they do?  You loved and protected me.  Yet you gave me the space I needed to be me.  Where do I find another man like you, Gary Hobson, who feels that love is more than just a physical act?  You’re my best friend, Gary!  Please don’t leave me!’

The silence was suddenly shattered by the explosive sound of a throat being cleared.  Marissa smiled as she pictured Crumb’s discomfort.

“You, ah, you two have known each other a long time, haven’t you,” he commented.

“Since he first walked into the door of Strauss and Associates,” Marissa confirmed, in a sad voice.

“That’s right. He was a stockbroker. What was he like, then?  First startin’ out like that?”

“Nervous,” Marissa recalled fondly.  “Bless his heart, he was so nervous coming in to apply for a job straight out of college, and a newlywed on top of that.  I could hear him constantly tugging at that tie like it was about to strangle him!  Anyone could tell that he really didn’t want to be there.  Later, once we’d gotten to know each other better, he confided that he had only taken the job to put his new wife through law school.  He was so much in love with her; he would have done anything she asked of him.  And, outwardly, it seemed like she loved him, too.  Anyway, that first day, he was so jittery.  Stuttering so bad I was afraid he might choke.”

“Yeah,” Crumb chuckled. “He gets really tongue-tied when he’s nervous.”

“And he was scared to death!”  Marissa smiled at the memory.  “You could tell that he hadn’t had much experience with blind people.  He wasn’t sure what to say or do, how much help I might need or what I would find offensive.  He walked on eggshells around me for weeks!  Finally, he asked me out to dinner.  I was a little surprised at first.  After all he was supposed to be a happily married man!  Still, you know, why not?  So I agreed, and he took me out to this really nice restaurant.  Not elegant, but nice.  We had a lovely dinner, polite conversation, then, over desert, he finally got to the point.  He said, ‘Marissa, you’re a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman.  And I think you and I could be real good friends, b-but I don’t know the rules here.  And I’m tired of trying to treat you with kid gloves when you obviously don’t want that.  I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . h-how ‘equal’ is ‘equal’?  How should I behave a-around you so as not to offend you, yet not give the idea that I ‘want’ something from you?  If-if you, um, know what I mean.’ And I could actually feel him blush!  Gary’s the only one that has ever happened with. “

Crumb couldn‘t suppress a chuckle.  He could almost see it!  “So, what did you say?”

“Well, at first, I took it exactly the way he was afraid I would take it,” she said with a giggle. “I was indignant, and accused him of trying to proposition me. And you should have heard him!  I had thought he was nervous before, but, I could practically hear the blood drain from his face!  Talk about stuttering!  He was almost incoherent! ‘N-no!  God, no! N-nothing . . .Oh, man.  I knew I’d screw this up!’ I could hear his hands raking through his hair.  He does that a lot when he’s nervous, too. ‘I just . . . I love Marcia very much.  But sometimes . . . sometimes I just need to get a different slant on wh-what might be going on with her.  A second opinion, sorta.  I mean, Chuck is a great guy, but he’s a guy!  I’m not talking about . . .no!  God, not even if she was . . . which she isn’t!  I’m sorry.  This was a bad idea.  Just let me get the check and I’ll take you home . . .’  By that time, I finally understood what he had been getting at.  He didn’t want a lover.  He was an only child, and he wanted a sister!  Someone whom he could come to with his troubles, share secrets with and give him the female perspective.  He couldn’t get that from Marcia.  He had tried.  He told me that she listened to him talk, but not always to what he had to say.  Suddenly, I felt . . . honored.  This . . . young, healthy man saw me as something other than a blind woman.  He saw me as more than just a woman.  He wanted to be my friend in the truest sense of the word.  I told him to sit back down and we would talk about it. We were there until they kicked us out.  Just . . . talking.  We’ve been the best of friends ever since.”

“You got off to a better start with ‘im than I did,” Crumb laughed.  “I arrested him!  And he was the hostage!”

“A willing hostage, don’t forget,” Marissa reminded him. “He didn’t have to run into that elevator behind the gunman.”

“Does he still get letters from that guy?”

“No,” she sighed.  “Frank got a new job not long after that.  Not having a bank robbery charge on his record helped.  Gary still gets Christmas cards from him and his family, though.”  They sat in silence for a moment.  “What do you think he meant?  When he was . . . when he said he had ‘stopped Marley’?  Was he just . . .delirious?”

“Who knows with Hobson,” the big detective growled.  “Something strange is always goin’ on around him.  It always bugged me, though the way they hushed it up, and threatened the kid to keep his mouth shut.  He deserved some recognition for his part in saving the President’s life!  After we’d chased him all over the city, thinkin’ he’d killed Harry Hawkes.  I still can’t believe I let that smooth talkin’ creep pull the wool over my eyes like that.  Hobson could'a been killed!  Then, when it’s all over, the department gets a pat on the back, and he gets a slap in the kisser.  They didn’t even offer to let him shake the hand of the man who’s life he’d helped save!  Bugged the crap outta me for months.  Then Hobson tells me he preferred it that way.  That he was only doing what needed to be done.  If I live to see the next millennium, I’ll never understand him.”

“What‘s to understand?” Marissa shrugged.  “He’s a good man who’s just trying to do the right thing.”

“Yeah, but that ‘right thing’ always seems to land him up to his ears in trouble,” the ex-cop said with a snorting laugh.  “Like when he found out the DA was out to blackmail my own partner into framing me.  Or when that Rose, or Lilly, broad got under his skin.  First it almost cost him a bundle of cash, then it almost cost him his life when Rose’s old boyfriend showed up.  He’s always landing feet first in stuff like that.  And let’s not forget that Hernandez/Stone business.  Almost got his head blown off.  And the time he came barging in and saved me from that falling light fixture.  The time we did that Shakespeare thing.  Still, I have to admit he did great in that play.”

“You all did,” Marissa reminded him with a warm smile.  “You got a standing ovation, remember?”

They sat in companionable silence for a time.  Occasionally, they were sure they had heard a moaning sound, but Gary never stirred.

“You want to know what still haunts me about that Marley/Dobbs fiasco?” Crumb finally spoke up, unable to stand the silence any longer.

“What?”

“The look on the kid’s face,” he sighed.  “We were taking Fishman in for questioning, and who should come trotting up but the Boy Wonder, here. He called my name, Marissa!  And one of my men pulls a gun and aims it right at him.  I’ll never forget how he looked in that moment just before the car got between him and us.  He looked . . .frightened, confused . . . and betrayed.  He was coming to the police, to me, for help . . . and we almost killed him right there.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so . . . so lost in my entire life.”

********************

Half an hour later, Marissa had to give in to her own weariness.  After the exhausting day they’d had yesterday, the tragic events of early that morning, she was almost ready to drop.  Finally, Crumb convinced her to surrender her place to the next pair of visitors.  He gently took her arm and led her to the door.  She needed to stop by the bar and pick up Reilly, she reminded him.  The poor dog was probably still in his corner.

On the way out, they encountered an unexpected pair.  Detectives Toni Brigatti and Paul Armstrong were waiting right outside the door.

“Does anyone know what happened?” Armstrong asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

“Best we can figure,” Crumb sighed tiredly, “he was tryin’ to change a light bulb at the head of the stairs goin’ up to his room.  One of the legs on the stepstool he used either slipped or broke, and he ended up on top of it at the bottom of the stairs.  He may have gotten a shock from the light fixture, too.  Between the EMTs, the docs’, and us, we’ve jump-started his heart four times.”  His voice took on a sad, distracted tone.  “The last time, they . . . um, they gave up on ‘im.  Declared him dead.  Called the time, even.  4:42.  Oh!  He’s okay, now,” he hastened to add as Toni’s face went six shades of pale.  “He came back on his own.  Gave us a hell of a scare, though.  Now, we’re just waitin’ and watchin’, hoping he’ll wake up soon.”

“Can we . . .?”

“Of course,” Marissa replied with a wan smile.  “In fact, the doctor we talked to awhile ago encourages it.  He thinks that even patients in comas can hear, and are likely to come around more quickly if they have a familiar voice to guide them.”  She turned her sightless eyes directly on Toni.  “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear . . . both of you.”  With that parting comment, she allowed Crumb to guide her down the hall.

******************

Toni went immediately to Gary’s bedside.  The sight of him lying there, so pale, almost bloodless, tore at her heart.  He drove her crazy most of the time, mainly because she was never sure where she stood with him.  It was like . . . he wanted to get closer to her, but something always held him back.  Maybe this ‘secret’ that Paul was so obsessed about?

“Marissa said we should . . . talk,” Armstrong reminded her.  “Got any ideas?  Something besides ‘shop’ talk?”

“Not a clue,” Toni sighed as she unknowingly took the same chair that had held the other two women who were so important to Gary Hobson.  “Outside of work, you and I don’t exactly pal around much.”  She reached a slender hand over the rail and gently stroked the hair back from Gary’s forehead.  “At least now we know Ken wasn’t yankin’ our chains.”

For several minutes, they sat there; just watching the rise and fall of his chest under the thin hospital gown.  From what Crumb had said, it was a miracle that he was alive at all.

“So, um, how did you two meet?”  Paul asked, un-nerved more than he cared to say by the silence.

“Back when I was with the US Marshall’s Office,” Toni replied with a smile.  “He was tryin’ to date this little blonde at the time.  Anyway, he plowed his way into the steam room where the Treasury had an agent about to get his cover, and his brains, blown all over the wall.  Gary saves the guy’s life by pushing him out of the way, but now, he’s a material witness to attempted murder!  So, what does he get instead of us saying ‘Thank you, Mr. Hobson, for saving his life?  You deserve a commendation for you’re heroic act?’  We haul him downtown for questioning.  Then we threaten to charge him with obstruction of justice if he doesn’t co-operate.  Put him in protective custody.  When he refused a safe house, insisting that he had to stay at his own place, they assigned me to baby-sit him.  So, I moved in with him.  As his bodyguard, Armstrong!” she added as he failed to conceal a smirk.  “The next morning, while I’m taking a shower, he sneaks downstairs.  As soon as I realized what had happened, I ran down to the bar, in a towel, gun drawn, just in time for him to save my life when his bar was shot up.  There we were, me in nothing but a large bath towel, and him right on top of me!  Of course, that’s when Blondie walks in.  Poor guy, she let him have it with both barrels.  So did his partner.  See, he couldn’t tell anybody why I was there!   So he had to let them think whatever they wanted!   And there wasn’t a thing he could do.  Later, he talked me into letting him keep a lunch date with the blonde.”

Smiling, eyes closed, she absently stroked Gary’s bandaged hand.  She could still picture him as he had stood before her making his impassioned plea.

“How did he win you over?”

“By being honest,” she told him evenly.  “He said that he didn’t want to suddenly find himself staring at the mirror when he’s sixty-five and having to say, ‘You’ve done a great job, but you forgot one thing,’”  Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered his exact words.  In a choked voice, she continued.  “He s-said . . . ‘You forgot to get a life!’  He wanted a normal life, Paul.  I don’t think he asked for any of the strange things that keep happening to him.  He’s just a good man who can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”  She paused to wipe the tears from her eyes.  “Later,” she continued in a steadier voice, “after I’d transferred to the force, he showed up at an undercover operation I was running.  My partner was hung up in traffic and couldn‘t get to the ship in time to pose as my husband.  Then, who should show up just in the nick of time, wearing the ‘wrong‘ nametag?  Three guesses.  And the first two don‘t count.”

Paul just shook his head with a quiet chuckle.  This was sounding so familiar.

“So he had to pose as my husband, instead.  I hog-tied him into it with more threats.”  She leaned over to brush a stray lock of hair from his sweat-beaded brow.  “You know, it never even occurred to me to ask him nicely.  But, we had a jewel thief to catch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Armstrong recalled. “The ‘Iceman’ business.  I remember that case.  Weren’t you almost . . .?”

“Almost cost the department a huge chunk of change!” she confirmed with a shudder.  “If Gary hadn’t figured it out and retrieved the necklace, I’d be walking a beat until I retired.”  Wordlessly, she turned over Gary’s right hand to show a faint scar on the inside of his wrist.  “You know how he got that?”  Paul just shook his head.  “You wouldn’t.  It wasn’t in my report.  I had been making the rounds, checking out the security in the ballroom, the exits, and so on.  Eventually I ended up on the roof.  I heard a noise, and went to check it out.  This door, I dunno, maybe the latch was broken.  Anyway, it flies open and . . . I go flying over the railing.”

“Christ, Toni!” Paul exclaimed, stunned.  “You could’ve been killed!  Why wasn’t it in your report?”

“Cause he asked me not to,” she replied quietly, stroking the motionless arm.  “There I was, hanging on by my fingernails, absolutely sure this was it.  I was going to die.  Then, I hear this voice calling my name.  It was Hobson, and he sounded so . . . desperate.  I yelled to let him know where I was.   A moment later, he was climbing over the railing, onto a ledge that was only a few inches wide.  And . . . he pulled me up.  That sounds a lot easier than it was, believe me.  While we caught our breathe, still on that tiny ledge, I asked him what he was doing up there.  Not that I wasn’t thrilled to see him.  He just said, ‘Well, the view’s nice.’”  Toni gave a tiny laugh, shaking her head.  “The view’s nice!  His partner told me later that heights make him nervous.  Can you imagine the courage it took for him to climb out on that ledge?”

Or to crawl across from one roof top to another on a narrow ladder, Armstrong mused.  That put a lot of things in a whole new perspective for him.

“That was when I noticed the cut on his wrist,” the tiny detective continued.  “I took him back to the suite to clean it up.  We talked, and . . . he finally agreed to pose as my husband for the ball that night.”  She certainly was not going to tell him what else almost happened.  “He’s really a very good dancer.”  She smiled wickedly as another image surfaced.  “We had to switch partners so I could talk with the guy we had pegged as the ‘Iceman.’  Hobson had to dance with that Amber chick, or look stupid just standing there.  A few minutes later, I’m looking over and he gives this huge . . .kinda . . .gulp!  She’d grabbed his butt!  Then she smiled and said something like, ‘nice glutes.’  I thought Hobson was gonna die!  I didn’t know whether to laugh or barge over and tell the hussy to get her mitts off ‘my husband’!”

“And Hobson was the only one to figure her for the ‘Iceman’?” Paul asked, barely suppressing a grin at the image Brigatti had painted.  God!  He would have paid to see that!

“The only one,” she agreed.  “She had that ‘dumb bimbo’ routine down to a tee.  She had everyone dazzled with her good looks and wide-eyed innocence.  Everyone but him.  He told me later that she just seemed too . . . predatory was the term he used.  That she came across, to him, as not being as dumb as she looked.  And he was right.  When he showed up later with the Lermontov diamond, they almost threw the book at him!  But, I was able to convince the chief to back off until we’d fingerprinted the necklace.   They found my prints, Gary’s, and a third print that had been found at the scene of more than a dozen thefts across the country.  Add that to the fact that Gary was nowhere near any of the other cities in the last three years, at least, and they had to believe him.”

“Did you ever catch up with ‘Amber’?”

“Sure,” she shrugged.  “Didn’t you know? She got a presidential pardon for some work she did for the State Department, don’t ask me what, and married his best friend.”

“What?”

“Her name is now Jade Fishman,” Brigatti continued in an off hand tone.  “She’s happily married and living in LA.  That’s a whole ‘nother story I don’t want to go into right now.”  She sat back and leveled a challenging stare at him.  “Your turn.  Where did you first run into our ‘Man Of Mystery’?”

Armstrong sat back with a sigh.  This was not going to be pretty.  “There was an apartment fire.  Hobson turned in the alarm five minutes before the fire actually started.  He goes around, pounding on doors, getting everyone out.  Then, when everyone is clear, the witnesses said he got this funny, panicked look, and rushed back in.  It turns out there was a homeless man sleeping on the roof.  Hobson said later than he had ’heard a noise’ and decided to check it out.  He tried to get the man to cross over to the next roof with him by crawling on this narrow ladder.”  He nodded at Toni’s pained look.  “Yeah.  Heights again.  For someone who doesn’t like heights, he sure seems to spend a lot of time in them.  Anyway, the old man slipped.  Hobson grabbed him and tried to hold on.  Or so he said.  Just looking at it from both sides, Brigatti!  Keep that gun holstered!  The man slipped from Hobson’s grip and fell.  Died instantly.  To tell the truth, I never believed he was at fault.  God!  If you had been there to see his face!  The man was in shock.  Just totally . . .numb.  When I questioned him later at his place, he was still sort of . . . distant.  Like he was just going through the motions of being alive.  It stirred my suspicions, and at the same time it . . . sent a chill up my spine.  It was like talking to a dead man.  The next day, he almost was.  He had chased these two kids out of an abandoned carpet store.  They got out, but the stairs collapsed under him.  The kids started to go back to help, but he told them to leave while they could.  So they did.  Just before the building started caving in.”

“Well, obviously he survived.”  Brigatti remarked with a visible shudder.

“It was hours before we knew that for sure,” the tall detective sighed.  “His partner, Marissa Clark, and that blonde you were talking about earlier, kept insisting that he was alive.  Finally, after the rescue squad was ready to pack it up and send for the body retrieval team, they heard him calling for help.  He must have been unconscious up until then.  I was surprised to see him walk out on his own.  And he didn’t look so . . . numb as he had the last time I’d seen him.  Tired, yes.  But, like he had found a renewed purpose in life.  It was weird.”

He paused to study the subject of their conversation.  He could have sworn he’d seen an eyelid flicker.

 “The next time was right here, in the emergency room.  He wasn’t hurt,” he hastened to add.  “He had just rescued Meredith, my wife, from drowning.  She’d passed out in the pool at her health club.  That was when we first learned she was expecting our little girl.  First thing I did was thank him . . . then I started grilling him.  I wanted to know what he was doing at a women’s health club.  So he tells me he was checking it out for his girlfriend.  My wife insists on meeting her, so he’s trapped into bringing her over for dinner.  She was the same blonde from the carpet store incident.  If she was really his girlfriend, it was just before they broke up.  You could tell things were really strained between them.  He was nervous as a cat; barely touched his dinner.  A day later, I see him and he still looks edgy.  Asks me what I know about bombs, then says he saw something under this TV news reporter’s car while looking for a contact lens.  Sure enough, there was a bomb.  But . . . I don’t know . . . something just didn’t ring true with Hobson.  He was too evasive.  Besides, he has 20/20 vision.  Then, the next day, he’s calling me up, saying that someone has planted a bomb at the ’Sun-Times’.  I ask him how he knows, but he again avoids having to answer.  Later, after we find the bomb, and give chase to the terrorists who planted it, we end up on the EL train.  Meredith was also on that train.  To make a long story short, Hobson saved the day again.  Only, in doing so, he wasn’t able to get to the train station in time to stop his girlfriend and her son from boarding the next train out of town.”

“And, after all that,” Brigatti remarked acidly, “you still believed he was capable of killing Scanlon in cold blood.  Or, what was it you said?  Delusional?  A menace to himself and everyone around him?  What does the guy have to do to get your trust, Paul?  Die for you?”

“Nothing that drastic,” Armstrong sighed.  “Just tell me the truth.”

*******************

Dee-dee-dee!

Armstrong looked down at his pager, cursing as he recognized Winslow’s cell phone number.

“They probably want us back at the station,” he sighed.  “Time to alert the next shift.”

Brigatti was on her feet first, gesturing for him to keep his seat.  “I’ll check in,” she told him.  “You watch over Sleeping Beauty for a few more minutes.”

Her hand was inches from the door when she heard a hesitant knock.  Perhaps the next shift was getting impatient.  She pulled open the door to see a man in a dark uniform.  A slender, dark haired woman stood at his side, holding the hand of a pretty little girl of about nine or ten.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.  “We don’t mean to intrude, but is this Gary Hobson’s room?”

“Yes it is,” Brigatti assured them.  “Are you friends of his?”

The man and woman exchanged uneasy glances.  “Not exactly,” she replied.  “But, my daughter claims she knows him.  She recognized his picture on the news this morning.”  The woman shifted uncomfortably as she continued.  “It’s not the first time.  Not long ago, when the police were hunting that man who was accused of murdering that reporter, Frank Scanlon, she was positive he was the same man who saved her life when she was six.”

“We tried to tell her that wasn’t possible,” the uniformed man added.  “That a man capable of such an act wouldn’t take the time to . . . to help a stranger, even a child.  But, she was insistent.  Then, when he was cleared, we thought, what if she’s right?  See, the man who rushed her to the hospital disappeared right after we got there, and we never got to thank him for taking care of our little girl.  All anyone could tell us about him was that he’d said his name was Gary.”

“Amanda said he never left her for more than a few minutes,” the woman continued.  “Even held her hand while she was in surgery.  The doctor told us that, if not for that man’s tenacity, they might have overlooked a serious head injury that . . .that would’ve killed our baby.”

“Mo-om!” the little girl pouted.  “I’m not a baby!  Can I go look at him?  Please?  I’ll know him if you just let me get a better look!”

Brigatti and Armstrong exchanged puzzled looks, then Toni shrugged as if to say: ‘They came this far.  Why not?’

“Sure,” Paul replied with a smile.  “Just try not to bump anything.  They have him wired.”

The little girl had already mastered the ‘duh!’ glare.  Which she turned on the big detective as she walked past.  She circled around the bed until she had a clear view of the unconscious man’s face.  He looked older than she remembered, and his hair was all mussed up.  But, it was him.  The one she had once described as ‘an angel’ in a black jacket.  Tentatively, she reached over the rail to stroke his cheek.

“You need to wake up now,” she murmured.  “How can you hear me if you won’t wake up?”

“He can hear you,” Toni commented softly.  “Just tell him what you want him to know.”

“I want him to know I was here!” she replied tearfully.  “Like he was for me!  I want him to know that I remember what he did, and how he took care of me when no one else wanted to.  They were all too busy!  I-I want him to know th-that Amanda Bailey remembers Gary H-Hobson!”

Mr. Bailey walked around the bed and gathered the weeping child into his arms.  Tenderly, he picked her up and carried her towards the door.  “I guess that answers our question,” he commented with a strained smile.  He shifted the little girl’s weight to one side and dug into his jacket pocket with his free hand.  The card he handed Brigatti had his work and home numbers in fine print below the logo of a national airline.  “Please let us know when he’s able to talk,” he requested.  “We have a lot to thank him for.  And a lot of questions.”  Turning to his wife, he said quietly, “Let’s go, honey.”

As the Bailey family made their exit, Toni Brigatti turned to her partner, her jaw clenched as she fought to keep her own emotions under control.

“Kinda puts a new perspective on the man, doesn’t it,” she said in a tight voice.  “Makes you wonder if his ‘secret’ is all that big a deal.  Maybe he’s just a man who cares . . . so . . . much, that he can’t just stand by and let bad things happen if he can stop them.  Does that make him crazy, Paul, or just compassionate?”

“You still don’t get it, Toni,” Paul sighed wearily.  “It’s not what he knows or does that’s got me on his case.  It’s how does he know?”

**********************

Bernie Hobson rubbed at his tired eyes, giving vent to a cavernous yawn.   He and Lois had been camped out in Gary’s room since just after supper the night before.  The nurse had tried to get them to go home several times, but Lois had been adamant.  She was not leaving Gary’s side.  Even the offer of a room just down the hall had not swayed her.  She was not leaving this room again until their son woke up.  And Bernie was not about to leave her alone.

He reached over and pulled the wrap back up where it had slid off one shoulder.  Lois had finally given in to her exhaustion a couple of hours ago, laying her head on the mattress, her cheek resting on Gary’s right arm.  His hand rested loosely on top of hers.  It was a scene that tore at Bernie’s heart.  If Gary didn’t wake up soon, he was going to be a basket case.

He leaned over and brushed a lock of hair back from Lois’ ear.  “Sweetheart, I’m gonna go find some coffee,” he whispered.  “You want some?”

“Um hmm,” was her drowsy response.  “Sounds good.”

“Be right back,” he promised.  A moment later, there was the quiet whoosh of the door swinging shut.

“Um, hmm,” Lois mumbled.  She started to pull her hand out from under Gary’s to rub the sleep out of her own eyes, thinking that maybe she should have taken them up on the offer of a bed.  Her hand wouldn’t move.  Puzzled, she raised her head, prying open her sleep-glazed eyes.  At the same moment, she felt a slight increase in the pressure on her hand as Gary’s fingers curled around hers.  Suddenly, Lois wasn’t sleepy at all.  Heart racing with renewed hope, she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze.  With an agonizing slowness, his hand closed around hers.  “Gary?” she asked in a hopeful whisper.  “Sweetie, can you hear me?  If you can hear, Gary, open your eyes.  I need you to open your eyes, baby.  Please!”

“M’m?  Wh-where . . .?”

“You’re in the hospital, Gary,” she told him gently, hitting the call button at the same time.  “Do you remember what happened?”

“I-I fell?” he stammered drowsily, his voice barely above a whisper.  “Th-the stool . . . stool slipped, I think.  Hurts.”

“Where, Honey?  Where does it hurt?  Do you need something for pain?”

Gary slowly shook his head, wincing at the pain which that ill-advised motion elicited.  His eyelids fluttered as he tried rouse himself.  “Jus’ sore,” he mumbled.  “Headache.  Ribs . . . sore.”  His brow wrinkled as he tried to think.  “My leg.  I . . . I broke . . . broke my leg.  I f-felt it break!  Why can’t . . .?  M’m, why . . . why can’t I feel it n-now?”

“Sshhh.”  Lois smoothed the hair from his too pale forehead.  “The doctors said you might not be able to feel anything right away.  You go back to sleep now.  I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“N-no.”  Gary turned dark, pleading eyes to meet her anguished blue ones. “T-tell me, Mom.  The t-truth.  I know . . . know my b-back . . . How b-bad?”

“We don’t know, sweetie,” she told him, her voice cracking.  “We just don’t know.”

********************

Bernie and Lois sat in the waiting room of the radiology department.  Or, at least, Bernie sat.  Lois was wearing a track in the carpet.  After Gary had finally drifted back to sleep, she had decided to find him some answers.  Finally, his doctor had arranged for them to talk with the consulting neurologist.  For about the fourth time in as many minutes, Lois glanced at her watch.
“You‘re just gonna wear yourself out, Lois,” Bernie  sighed.  “The man will be here as soon as he can.  Gary may not be his only patient.”

“That’s not helping, Bernie,” Lois grumbled.  “Gary may not be his only patient, but he’s the one I’m concerned about right now.”  Her face twisted in misery as she finally took a seat next to her husband.  “You didn’t see his eyes, Bernie.  He knew.  He knew that his back was injured, and . . . I think he’s afraid he’ll . . . he’ll never . . .”  She took Bernie’s hand in both of hers and leaned her head on his shoulder as she fought back another up-welling of tears.  “It’s just not fair for him to suffer like this!  He’s done everything that blasted . . . paper . . . has asked of him.  He’s gone way beyond anything Lucius Snow had to do.  I’ve had Crumb check.  Snow never had a police record.  He was never hunted like an animal!  But, Gary . . . he’s had to run for his life twice!  No, three times!  And been held hostage, shot at, beaten, almost blown up . . .  Why him?  Why does he have to suffer so much to help others?  Why . . . Why couldn’t ‘they’ let him delegate a little?  Just to lighten the load.”

“We don’t know that the paper had anything to do with this, Honey,” Bernie reminded her.  “He was just changing a light bulb!  Could'a happened to anyone.” He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.  “Anyone.”

“Bernie Hobson,” she said, “if you believe that, I have a bridge we need to talk about.  In Brooklyn.  Small deposit, easy payments, and no closing costs.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Hobson?”

They looked up to see a slender, balding man of about average height, wearing a white lab coat.  He had a wide mouth that looked as if he smiled a lot.  He wasn’t smiling, now, however.  In one hand, he held a chart that he was studying with a concerned frown.  Lois just knew it had to be Gary’s.  She suddenly felt a chill, as if a cold hand had wrapped itself around her heart.

*********************

“Gary, talk to me.” Marissa pleaded.  “I know you’re awake and can hear me.  You have to at least tell me to go away or I’ll sit here until you do.”

Gary gave no reply.  Truthfully, he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet.  His emotions were still all over the place.  He was overjoyed to be alive.  Especially after being told how close he had come to dying.  Yet, that lack of sensation below his hips . . . He knew his left leg was broken, could remember very clearly the pain as it had twisted under him on the stairs.  He could still hear the crack of the bone.  Over the past couple of hours, everything had come back to him.  Which his doctor had been quick to point to as a good sign that he had suffered very little damage from his head injury.  Still, the mind usually blocked out such memories.  It was like . . . like he was hanging on to something he would never have again.  And, if he had any doubts, there the damned thing was, immobilized by a splint, elevated in a sling, a drainage tube leading from the surgical dressings to a receptacle hanging from the bed frame.

“Please, Gary.  At least let me know how you‘re feeling!”

“Numb,”  he told her in a raspy monotone.  “I’m feeling . . . numb.  How am I supposed to feel?” he asked, his voice rising in pitch, but not volume.  “My legs . . . How can I help others, if I can’t help myself?  How do I stop a bomb or . . . or a fire from a wheelchair?  How . . . how do I stop someone else from . . . from taking their own life if I want to die so bad it hurts?”

“You’ll do whatever it takes, Gary,” Marissa told him sternly.  “You’ve never been a quitter.  Somehow, you always manage to find an answer to every problem that’s been thrown at you since   . . .this . . . business began.  Remember when you couldn’t see?  You were given a glimpse into a world I’ve lived in since I was a child.  It happened for a reason, Gary.  Everything that happens to you is for a reason.  We just don’t know what it is yet.  Don’t ask me why, but I think that, as soon as you’ve accomplished some . . .task, you will walk again.”

“Yeah?” Gary grunted.  “And what was my task then?  To save Nate from burning to death?  I could’ve done that a lot easier if I was able to see!”

“I don’t think so,” she replied.  “I think it was so you could be saved by Cameron.  Don’t you remember how different he was later?  You brought out a side of him he didn’t know existed.  By him saving you, you saved his soul.  That’s a rare and wonderful thing, Gary.  But, it’s something you’ve done many times.  And you learned something about yourself as well.  You were able to put your trust in a stranger.  More than that, he was one of the same people who had caused you to be blinded in the first place.  That took more than faith.  You had to forgive him before you could trust him.”

Gary turned his head to stare out the window in silence.  He didn’t want to hear this.  Not right now, anyway.  The memory of that time was still sharp and clear in his mind.  If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the heat of the flames, feel the acrid smoke eating at his lungs, taste the bitterness of it as it filled his mouth and nostrils.  But, he couldn’t see the flames.  And, now he felt that same feeling of helplessness, of having to depend on others for his very well-being.  It ate away at the very core of his soul.  Would he be depending on the welfare of others for the rest of his life?

“Well, this is a cheery sight!”

Slowly, Gary turned back toward the door.  More memories came rushing back.  A dark night on a lonely bridge, a speeding car.  Pain!  Without conscious thought, he brought his free hand up to gingerly massage the back of his head.  “Doc Zimmerman?”

“Ah, you remember me!  Good, saves time,” the genial physician smile.  Lois and Bernie just a few steps behind, wearing carefully neutral faces.  “Now, what’s this I hear of you trying to fly down some stairs?  Last I recall, you hadn’t sprouted wings . . . yet.” he held up Gary’s chart as he crossed the room.  “Good afternoon, Miss Clark.  Well, Mr. Hobson, the results of your tests are promising,” he told his patient.  “But, I still need a little ‘hands on’ before I draw any conclusions.”  He pulled a little rubber hammer from his pocket. “Actually, I’d have preferred to do this prior to your tests, but it’s hard to do this to someone who’s unconscious. Look at the ceiling and tell me what you feel.”

He took Gary’s right foot in one hand and, pressing the metal handle of the hammer deeply into the tender flesh, he drew it slowly upwards.  Inwardly, he was pleased to feel a slight . . .twitch as the toes tried to curl.  Keeping his face neutral, he looked to his patient.  “Well?  Anything?”

Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Gary frowned in concentration.  “It almost . . .no,” he sighed.  “It was almost like I felt something for a moment, but it could’ve been just wishful thinking”

Zimmerman switched his attention to the other foot.  He again placed his hand on top of the foot, and brought the instrument up to the instep.  This time, however, he only went through the motions without actually touching metal to flesh.

Gary shook his head dejectedly.  “Nothing.”

The doctor quickly jabbed the metal handle into his instep and raked it upwards.  Again the toes twitched.

Gary’s forehead creased in puzzlement.  There had been . . . something.  Just a distant, fleeting . . . impression of sensation.  But, nothing he could pin down as true feeling.

“Did you do something just then?” he asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

“I did, indeed,” Zimmerman smiled.  “What did you feel?”

“I-it was kinda like . . .”  Painfully Gary wracked his brain for a way to describe what he had . . . felt.  “It was a tickle . . . kinda.  Only real . . . distant.  Like there was this thick layer of something in the way.  O-or like it was happening to someone else.  Does that . . . ?  I mean . . . could I . . .?”

Zimmerman pulled a stool close to Gary’s bed, his face arranged in a carefully neutral smile.  “It means that we are not without hope,” he told his patient.  “The MRI shows some swelling just below the area where the spinal cord branches out into the nerve bundles that serve the lower extremities. Your legs.  So long as the swelling persists, your sensory and motor functions will be impaired.  But, once the swelling subsides, you should start getting some feeling back.  If it doesn’t persist too long.”

“And . . .and because I can feel a little . . .?” Gary asked, all too aware that everyone in the room was waiting breathlessly for the answer.

“It’s a little too early to say just yet,” the doctor hesitated, “but . . . the swelling may be starting to ease up a bit.  I’d like to wait a few weeks and repeat the MRI.  That should give us an idea of how fast it’s subsiding, and what kind of time frame we may be looking at.”

“Time frame,” Lois Hobson repeated.  “What sort of ‘time frame’ are we looking for?”

“As to how long before we can get him back on his feet,” was the welcome reply.  “Now, don’t break out the champagne just yet,” he cautioned.  “We could be looking at weeks, months, or even years.  It depends on more than just the spinal damage.  There’s also the broken femur to deal with.  Not to mention the electrocution, and the fact that you tried to check out on us a few times.  Plus, they tell me you’re still a few pints low.  The most important factor, however, is you, Mr. Hobson.  How determined you are to walk again, and how much co-operation you’re willing to give.”

Gary stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts in turmoil, his heart racing.  He could walk again?  That was great, wonderful!  But, what about . . .?   No, he couldn’t think about that now.  Whatever ‘task’ Marissa felt might be in store, he would deal with as soon as it presented itself.  It was all connected somehow, he believed.  He had to believe.  Otherwise, none of this made any sense.  He suddenly realized that the doctor had said something.

“I’m sorry,”  he murmured.  “What . . .?”

“I said,” Zimmerman repeated, “that you could be upgraded from ‘critical’ to ‘guarded’ condition by this time tomorrow if everything remains stable.  And if you continue to co-operate with the nurses.  Your doctor tells me that you’ve been a little . . . difficult.”

Gary’s pale features took on a pinkish glow as the doctor’s meaning sank in.  He held up his bandaged hands.

“I can understand the need to . . . the personal hygiene, and such,” he replied.  “And I’m not exactly . . . I mean . . . it’s kinda hard to . . . with these.”  He shot an uncomfortable glance towards his parents and Marissa.

“Perhaps we should wait outside,” Marissa suggested, rising from her seat.  She tried hard to suppress a tiny smile, but it slipped through.  Poor Gary!  He embarrassed so easily!  She herded his parents out the door ahead of her.

“Just a second, Doc,” Bernie quickly spoke up.  “I’d like to know if he can still . . .”

Marissa and Lois each grabbed an arm and dragged a loudly protesting Bernie out the door.

“Wait! I wanna ask if he’s gonna be able to . . .”  Bernie protested.

“This is hard enough on him as it is,” Lois hissed to her husband.  “Let’s not make it any worse!”

“Thank God,” Gary sighed as soon as the door closed.  “I was sort of afraid Dad was gonna ask about . . . He’s almost as fixated on grandkids as Mom is.  Only he gets a little bit more . . . graphic.”

“Ah, I see.”  Zimmerman nodded in understanding, a quick grin flickering across his generous mouth.  “He would be the one to ask if you could still . . .”

“Exactly,” Gary interjected hurriedly.  “Anyway, um, I pretty much have to lay here and let them do what . . .whatever they want to me.  How am I being difficult?”

“You refused your medication this morning.”

“I didn’t refuse,” Gary protested.  “I wanted to know what they were about to give me, that’s all.  And what it was for.  The nurse just smiled and started to give me the damned shot anyway.  I . . .told her . . . told her I knew my rights and didn’t have to take any drugs if I chose not to.  Then I said for her not to bring anymore needles around me until she could tell me what was in them.  I still have that right, don’t I, Doc?”

The doctor sat back, as he comprehended Gary’s situation.  He needed at least some . . . control over what was being done to him.

“The medication was a mild painkiller,” he informed his patient.  “I don’t know if you were told, but you received some pretty deep second-degree burns on your hands, plus some cracked ribs.  They can be extremely painful.  Your doctor probably wants to spare you that.”

“I’ve been burned before, Doc,”  Gary responded evenly.  “I’ve had worse than cracks, too.  I already know how bad it can get.  And, I can’t feel my legs at all.  So, could you please ask them not to bring any more painkillers?  I need . . . I need to feel . . .something.  You know what I mean?  I need to . . . to feel!”

He could see how important this was to his patient.  The pleading, desperate look Gary turned his way spoke more loudly than his tone.  And this was possibly the only ounce of real control he had over his situation.

“I’ll talk with your doctor,” he conceded.  “But, on only one condition.  If the pain interferes with your recovery . . .”

“If I need it, I’ll ask for it,” Hobson quickly agreed, relief filling his voice.  “Thanks.  So, um, you heard from Dr. Marks, lately?  Doing well in her new job?”

“Doing quite well,”  Zimmerman smiled.  “She asked about you recently.  Wanted to know if you were still having those ‘premonitions.’  Are you?”  At Gary’s uncomfortable silence, he nodded.  “I see.  Still having to make some really tough decisions, I’ll bet.  So why didn’t you know about . . .this?”

Gary chewed on his lower lip as he considered how to answer.  He trusted Dr. Zimmerman, to a certain extent.  More than anyone else outside his family and a tight circle of friends.  The neurologist had been very sympathetic to his situation the last time they had met.  He had offered to listen to whatever Gary was willing, or needed, to talk about.

“It’s . . . it’s kinda complicated, Doc,” he stammered.  “Sometimes things . . . they have to happen so I can be someplace I need to be.  Like . . . like with Rachel.  I needed to meet her.  To stop that first surgery, I think.  And to . . . I don’t know how to explain any of this so it makes sense,” he sighed, frustrated.  “And I don’t know why this had to happen,” he added, waving a hand at his legs.  “I just have to keep believing that there is a reason.  Otherwise, I’ll end up just as crazy as everyone thinks I am.  When . . .no, if that happens, if I start seriously doubting myself . . . I won’t have any hope left at all.”

********************

It was snowing.  Big, fluffy, lazy drifts of whiteness.  It was a magical time when anything could happen.  Even miracles.  Gary was a child again, running and laughing as the snow fell in feathery softness all around him.  The silence rang with his joyful exuberance.  In the distance, he heard a voice calling his name.  ’Mom?’  He ran in great leaps and bounds towards the voice.

Suddenly, the snow wasn’t just drifting anymore, and he was no longer a child.  A strong wind began to blow, pushing him back the way he had come.  The familiar voice began to recede, growing fainter and fainter with each struggling step.  He could no longer tell which direction the voice was coming from!  Gary fought hard, pushing himself against the almost solid wall of freezing white, only to have it dance around him in a dizzying swirl!  The wind blew faster and harder, the once fluffy softness now a stinging, biting force!  It was getting harder to move.  His legs had become mired in a deep drift of icy crystals.  Stubbornly, he tried to claw his way out, but the snow just kept piling higher and higher!

“Gary?  Gary, wake up, sweetie.  You’re having a bad dream, sweetheart.”

Gary snapped awake with a violent shudder.  For a moment, all he could do was lay there, his eyes wide and fearful, as he stared, unseeing, at the white ceiling!  His breath came in ragged, panting gasps, forcing air into tortured lungs! Gradually, though, his racing heart slowed to a less frantic pace, his pulse no longer pounding like fierce jungle drums in an old Tarzan movie.  It was just a dream.  He wasn’t being buried alive in a frozen wasteland.

Memory came back in a rush.  The light, the stairs, falling . . . The rest came back in a horrifying wave.  Waking up, lying on his own grave.  Dad.  The ghost of himself as a child.  The hospital, and Mom . . . The wild, frantic ride back to . . . to his grave. And . . . the rest.

Trembling, Gary squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of images.  It was no use.  It had all been too real to ignore or dismiss.  He knew he could never explain it to anyone else.  There was no way he could even hope, let alone expect, anyone to believe what he knew to be true, when he had such a hard time believing it himself.  All he knew was, during the hour or two he had been laying there, bleeding to death on his own stairway, he had once again been sent on a sojourn back in time.  A journey that, for him, had lasted several days.  All the pain, physical and emotional, all the bitter frustration, desperation and despair hit him like a physical blow.  Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes as his body shook in a silent reaction to the turmoil in his mind.

Something soft touched his face, wiping away the moisture that flowed so freely from his eyes.  With a shuddering sigh, Gary finally pried them open to see his mother and Nurse Corso leaning over him.  His Mom still had a tissue in her hand, and a look of concern on her tired face.  Next to her stood a little girl, whose heart-shaped face mirrored her concern.  Something about her tugged at Gary’s memory, but, his mind was too full of frustration and terror to grasp who she was.  Then it hit him.  Another time when he faced seeming impossibilities.  A choice between one life . . . and almost two hundred.

“’Manda?” he murmured.  The child’s face split into a huge smile when he said her name. “Amanda  B-Bailey?”

“You do remember!” she almost crowed with delight.  Amanda turned to look over Gary to someone just beyond his sight.  “I told you it was him!”

Slowly, Gary turned his head to see a man and woman standing by the door.  At their daughter’s  joyous announcement, they approached the bed.  He remembered  them, also.  The woman had asked directions to Recovery, and the man had come rushing in less than a minute later, an airline pilot’s cap in one hand.

Assured that her patient wasn’t having a heart attack, Nurse Corso smiled at the little girl and turned to go.  “Let me know when you’re ready for your next shot,” she told Gary.

“Hunh?  Oh, sure.“  He turned back to the couple by the door.  “C-captain Bailey?” Gary stammered, still caught halfway between dream and memory.   He closed his eyes again as a violent shudder coursed through his body.  God!  He was so cold!  “S-sorry,” he said, giving them a weak smile of apology.  He reached for the bed controls, only to be reminded of his injured hands.

“What do you need , Hon,” his mom asked.

“To get these . . .bandages off,” he grumbled, casting a sheepish look Amanda’s way.  “But, I’ll settle for being able to sit up a little.”  Fighting the urge to grin at his embarrassment, Lois worked the controls until Gary indicated he was comfortable. “Thanks, Mom.  How ya been, Amanda?”

“I’m fine,” she replied.  “Why’d you go away so fast?  I wanted you to meet my Mom and Dad, to tell ‘em what you did, but you’d already gone.  Where’d you go?  And why didn’t you come visit me?  I was in that place a long time!”

Gary had to pause before answering to swallow the ice chips his mom had shoveled into his mouth the moment he had opened it.  Not that he didn’t appreciate the relief to his dry, raspy throat, but a little warning would’ve been nice!

“Sowwy,” he mumbled around a second mouthful, shooting Lois a reproachful look.  “Shanks, Mom,” he repeated.  He swallowed before continuing.  “That’s plenty.”   Gary waved a bandaged hand towards her.  “Have you guys met, yet?”

“We’ve spent the last half-hour getting to know each other, Dear,” Lois told her son.  “Captain and Mrs. Bailey have been telling me all you did for Amanda.  Why didn’t you ever mention it?”  Her voice held a slight edge that said, ‘Secrets?  Again?’

Gary squirmed uncomfortably under the four penetrating gazes.  Why did he always have to undergo a third degree, just for doing the right thing?

“I, um, I did visit, Amanda,” he finally replied to her second question.  “But, you were either asleep or had a lot of other . . . I didn’t want to intrude on you and your friends, since they could only stay a short time.”

“But, why did you disappear?” Mrs. Bailey asked.  “Amanda and that surgeon told us all that you did for her, even after they threw you out and threatened to call the police.  About how you shamed him into looking at her as a person, instead of just notes on a chart.  My baby almost died, Mr. Hobson,” she added in a voice choked with emotion.  “She would have died if not for you.  And we never got to thank you!”

“Until today,” Captain Bailey added, putting a supporting arm around his wife‘s shoulders.  “I don’t know how you knew what to look for.  Or, for that matter, that I’m a captain.”  He glanced down at his civilian attire.  “And I really don’t care.  You saved something very precious to me.  There aren’t enough words . . .”

“It was my pleasure,” Gary told them, giving Amanda a quick, shy smile.  “Just glad everything turned out okay.”

Captain Bailey looked at his watch.  “We’ve got to go,” he said.  “I’ve just enough time to change before my next flight.”  He held out one hand to his daughter.

“But, he just woke up!” she pleaded.  “Can’t I stay?  Just a little longer?  Please?”

“No, Amanda,” her mom replied firmly.  “I’ll bring you back after school tomorrow.  Now, say goodbye and let’s go.”

Pouting, Amanda turned towards Gary.  Then, her eyes took on a mischievous gleam and a slow grin spread across her face.  She threw her arms around Gary’s neck and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.  “I won‘t tell them,” she whispered.

Surprised, Gary whispered back, “Tell ‘em what?”

“That you’re an angel.”   Then she just as quickly let go and scooted around the bed to her parents.  With a last wave and a smile, she was gone.

Gary stared at the empty doorway in puzzlement.  “Did you hear what she said?” he asked his mom.  “She thinks I’m an angel!”

“Well, aren’t you?”

******************

Gary found himself sleeping a lot.  There just wasn’t that much else to do.  Amanda was able to come around only after school.  Daytime TV pretty much left him cold, except for some of the talk shows.   Plus, he was finding it difficult to even channel surf.  The bandages on his hands made it hard to hold the remote.  And, until his hands were healed enough to take the abuse, he could not start rehab.

Rehab.  Just the sound of the word set his teeth on edge.  It just wasn’t the same as ‘therapy.’  Therapy, to him, was someone helping him keep up his muscle tone through massage and exercises. Rehab was . . .giving up.  It was learning how to deal with what could still turn out to be a permanent condition.  Still, he was determined to give it his best shot.  It didn’t matter, really, if it was only for a few months, a few years or, God forbid, the rest of his life.  He would have to know his strengths as well as his limitations if he was to continue to receive the Paper.  So far, his parents had dealt with it admirably.  Ultimately, however, he knew it was still his responsibility.  No matter what.

 “Gar!  I can’t believe this!  Go away for a coupla months and what happens?”

Startled out of his reverie, Gary looked up at the, oh, so familiar voice. “Chuck?  When . . . How?  I mean . . .”

“A light bulb, Gar?” his best friend asked with a pained look.  “You yank people from in front of moving cars everyday.  Walk out on ledges to stop suicides about once a week.  And hang off the sides of speeding trucks like one of those stupid dolls with the suction cups on their feet.  Then you get laid up changing a light bulb?”

Gary had to fight down a sheepish grin.  It did sound a little absurd when put in those terms.  “I was out-numbered,” he tried to excuse himself.  “There were three of them.  The light, the stairs, and the stool was in on it, too.”

“And the stairs just reached up and grabbed you?”

“Exactly!”  Gary exclaimed, waving his hands in emphasis.  “Swatted me like a fly!”

Chuck reached out and took one of the bandaged appendages, giving a sideways look at the injured leg.  His usually jovial face was creased with concern.

“Crumb said you . . .that they couldn’t . . .”  he swallowed convulsively, his voice suddenly low and solemn.  “What was it like?  I mean . . .what did you see?”

Gary looked up at the ceiling as he tried to find words to describe the experience.  “I don’t remember much,”  he finally said.  “It was like . . . floating.  Like I was somewhere near the ceiling looking down on . . .on myself.  I could see everything that was going on.  Hear the doctors and nurses calling out for one thing or another. It was like . . . like I was there . . . and not there, if you know what I mean.  I could hear Mom and Marissa.  They were crying, and calling my name.  Then . . .there was . . . There was this light, a brightness sorta.  And . . .then I was back in my body and someone, Mom, I think, was screaming for the doctor.  The rest is kinda hazy.   I don’t remember much about the next coupla days.  I could hear . . . I could hear people talking about me, sometimes.  Like they were remembering stuff.  I guess they weren’t sure I was gonna make it.  But . . . mostly I just had this . . . feeling.  Like . . . like a warm blanket being spread over me.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe, or so . . . loved in my life.

“No angels offering ya a lift in a cosmic caddy?” Chuck asked in a disappointed voice.  “Cheez, what a rip off!  If anyone rated an escort, I’d think it’d be you.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Gary chuckled.  “For some reason, I got the impression that I was being sent back, that I still had a lot of work to do.”

“You were rejected?”

“No, just postponed,” Gary explained with a wry grin.  “It seems the Paper doesn’t choose just anybody to do its dirty work.  I was chosen twenty-four years ago.  And my replacement is only ten.  So I have to stick around at least ‘til she’s out of high school.”

“That sucks.  Don’t get me wrong, Gar,” Chuck hastily added when Gary gave him a pained look.  “I just mean, that Sam guy from New York was able to retire and pass on his Paper.  It would be nice if you could look forward to a few years to kick back and relax in your old age.”

“Seems like Chicago plays by a different set of rules,”  Gary sighed wistfully.

“Well, that leg won’t be broke forever,” Chuck tried to console his friend.  “And you’ll need to kick back and chill for a while ‘til you’re back up to snuff.  Why don’t you come out to the Coast, stay with Jade and me for a few weeks.?  We can show you the sights, laze on the beach, go water skiing, surfing.  All the things we always wanted to do and never got to.  Horseback riding.  Remember how much you used to love to ride?  Stables everywhere.  I can set you up with this guy who trains Arabians for show!”

“Chuck.”

“Or we could go to the mountains, do some hiking,” Chuck went on, not catching the change in his friend’s tone.  “Or rock climbing.  Jade’s big on rock climbing for some reason.  Must’ve come in handy in her old line of work.”

“Chuck!”

“Mountain bikes!  Get us a couple of those dirt bikes and hit the back trails!  That’ll be great!  Go fishing on one of those little lakes you can’t reach by road!”

“Chuck!  I can’t!” Gary finally shouted.  “I can’t  walk, Chuck!” he continued in a quieter voice.  “I can’t . . .feel my-my legs.  Not much anyway.”  Seeing his best friend’s stunned expression, he asked, “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“No” Chuck replied in a near whisper.  “We . . . Jade and I, we just came straight here from the airport.  She stopped to talk with . . . Your mom didn’t have a chance . . .God, Gar, I’m so sorry!  I never . . . I mean . . . this is terrible!  How could this . . . to you of all people!  It’s just . . . No way this can be happening!”

Gary made little hushing gestures with one hand while he awkwardly raised the head of the bed with the other. Chuck either didn’t see them or chose to ignore the attempt to calm his rambling speech.  Gary tried to get the distraught little man to stop pacing, and look at him, but Chuck was on a roll.

“This isn’t fair,” he was saying as he frantically paced the length of the room.  “No way this can be happening to you!  Not over a stupid light bulb!  I mean, when you got hit by that car, I could see it happening then.  Worried the hell out of me ‘til you woke up.  Or when you fell off that scaffolding and broke your leg.   Coulda happened then.  But it didn’t!  No, you had to go and change a freakin’ light bulb!”

“Chuck!” Gary snapped, exasperated. “Would you please shut up and come here?  You’re making me dizzy with all that . . . Could you at least stand in one place?  Thank you!  Now, before you go off on another rant . . .”

“I wasn’t ranting!” Chuck protested, his back to Gary.

“Yes you were, now shut up.  It’s my turn to talk,” he replied.  “Where was  . . . Oh, yeah.  It’s not hopeless.   But, it may be . . . it may be a long time before I’m back on my feet.   A long time.  Months, at least.  M-maybe years.  We just won’t know until . . .until it happens.  In the meantime . . .”

“In the meantime, what happens with the Paper?”  Chuck asked in a choked voice.  “Are your folks gonna have to take over for the duration?”

“No,” Gary assured him.  “I’ll have to learn to navigate on wheels for a while.  But, there’s still plenty I can do.  I might even get around faster.”

“How do you figure that?” Chuck sniffled, wiping his eyes.  Was he crying? Gary wondered.

“Well, I can park in the handicapped zones,” he offered.  “And, for the short haul, at least, wheels are faster than feet.  I’ve seen one guy get up to sixty, and I swear he takes corners at fifty-five.”  Yep, there came the handkerchief.  “Could you at least look at me, Chuck?  I didn’t turn into a wart faced troll, did I?  Does . . . does this . . . ch-change things between us?  Do . . . do you think I’m . . . I’m less of . . . less of a man . . . be-because of . . . of this?”

That got his attention!  Chuck spun around to face his friend at last, to reveal tears streaming down his startled face.

“Gar!  How could you even think . . .?”  He rushed over to sit on the edge of Gary’s bed, pulling his friend into a tight embrace.  “God, no!” he sniffed.  “I never. . .You’re the best friend a guy like me could ever hope to have!  And more man, in or out of a chair, than Chuck Norris and Arnold Schwarzenegger put together.  If you say you can do this, then God help whoever tries to stand in your way!”

Gary awkwardly wrapped his arms around his quietly sobbing friend, gently patting him on the back and making soothing ‘there there’ noises as he finally released his own tears.

That was the way Bernie and Lois found them, just moments later, as they escorted Jade into the room.  Then it was Gary’s turn for a surprise when he got a good look at the ex-jewel thief.

“Wow, Jade!” he exclaimed, letting go of Chuck and wiping the moisture from his reddened eyes.  “Congratulations!   Both of you!  Chuck, why didn’t you tell me you’re about to be a dad?  When’s the baby due?”

“Any day now,” Jade sighed as she carefully lowered herself into a chair.  “And not a moment too soon.”  She placed one hand on her swollen abdomen.  “These two take turns pummeling my kidneys.”

“Twins?”  Gary’s face split into a broad grin.  “Chuck!  You dog!  That’ . . . that’s incredible! Do you know what they are yet?  Boys, girls, one of each?”

“One of each,” Chuck told his friend, drying his own face.  It was just like Gary to shift focus away from himself as soon as possible.  The man could not bear to be the center of attention.  It gave him hives, or something.  “And, no, I will not be in the delivery room!  I love Jade very much, and I intend to be the best father I can be, but I have to draw the line at the door on this one.”

“Chuck’s got this thing about . . . body fluids,” Gary told his parents with a chuckle.  “Freaked him out big time to be stuck in an elevator with a woman who, coincidentally, was also expecting twins!”

“Freaked out!  I passed out!” his friend reminded him.  “If Gar hadn’t showed up when he did, that lady would’ve had to deliver those kids herself!”  ‘There!’ Chuck thought.  ‘Get out of that one!’

“You delivered twins?” Bernie exclaimed.  “Way to go, son!  Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“All I did was catch ‘em as they came out,” Gary mumbled self-consciously, ducking his head to hide the color he felt burning in his cheeks.  “And tie off the, um, you know.  Anyway, it was Chuck’s big moment.  I just pinch-hit for him.”

“Don’t worry, Gary,” Jade said with a laugh.  “I’m not going to put you in that position,” she promised.  “Gary and Alexandria will be born in a hospital with a qualified doctor in attendance.”

“Wh-what did you call them?” Gary asked, uncertain he had heard right.

“My daughter is Alexandria,” Chuck told him, “because Jade likes names that are also precious stones.  And, somehow, I just can’t get my teeth into ‘Ruby’ or ‘Pearl Fishman’.”

“B-but the boy?”

“After you of course,” Jade smiled.  “Who’d you think we’d name our first-born after?  After all, we need someone to look after our children if something should happen to us!  Feel up to the job?”

Gary was speechless.  Godfather.  Chuck and Jade wanted him to be like a godfather or an ‘uncle’ to their twins.  Suddenly his heart felt so full, it could burst at any moment!  Choking back a fresh flow of tears, Gary tried to change the subject.

“You, um, you plan to . . . to have ‘em here?  In Chicago, I mean,” he stammered.   “W-will you be in town that long?”

“Probably,” Jade told him.  “We intend to be here until you’re able to go home.”

“That long?” he said with a grimace.  He shook his head sadly, holding up his burned hands.  “It’ll be a few more days before these are uncovered.  And another month at least before this leg is healed enough for anything but massage therapy.  But, I can start . . . can start rehab as soon as they put the cast, or splint, or whatever on in a coupla days.”

“What kinda . . . well, ‘social’ life will you have?”

“Chuck!”  Lois exclaimed, her face scarlet. “What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one,” Bernie spoke up.  “I’m wondering the same thing.”

A voice from the door asked, “Wondering what?”

‘Saved!’  Gary sent a heartfelt ‘thank you!’ heavenward, as he turned to face this new distraction. “Chuck,” he squeaked. “Um, Chuck, you remember Dr. Zimmerman.”

“The guy who unscrambled Gar’s brain a coupla years ago,” Chuck explained to his wife.  “How’s it been, doc?”

“Reasonably well,” the doctor smiled. He eyed Jade’s condition with an air of concern.  “Obstetrics is up one floor,” he commented dryly.  He turned to Chuck.  “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Fishman.  Now, what were you wanting to know?”

“If Gary can . . . you know.”

“C’mon, Chuck!” Gary pleaded.  “Have a heart!  Ignore ‘im, doc.  He’s . . .”

“I wanna know, too,” Bernie insisted.  “Your mother and I have a right to know if . . .”

“Please!  Mom, make him stop!”

“Don’t you want to know, Gary?” Jade asked with a mischievous grin.

“No!” Gary practically shouted.  “I don’t want to know!”

“If he’s still able to ‘get lucky’,” Chuck blurted.

Zimmerman never batted an eye.  “Depends,” he replied.

“On what?” Lois asked, as Gary slid the blanket over his head.  ‘No!’ he thought.  ‘She had to ask!’

“Was he ‘lucky’ before?”

*****************

“You can come out now, Gary,” Zimmerman told him, perching on the side of the bed.  “Everyone’s gone. I promise.”

“No,” Gary said in a small, petulant voice.

“It’s alright to be embarrassed,” the doctor tried again.  “It is, after all, a very personal question.  And, I’m sorry I made light of it.  But, it was still one that needed to be asked.  Don’t you want to know?”

“Not anymore,” Gary grumbled from under the covers.  “Go away.  Please.”  The covers shifted as if he were trying to get comfortable.

“The issue can’t be put off forever,” Zimmerman tried to reason with him.

“Oh, yes it can.”

“Why?”

Frustrated, Gary flung the covers down.  “Because . . . because it’s something that should only matter to me and . . . and one other person,” he explained angrily.  “The m . . . m-mother of my children.  I’ve never just . . . It’s got to mean something besides . . . If I . . . we  . . . the two of us, aren’t . . . then we have no business . . . God!  Why am I even talking about this?” He jerked the covers over his head once again and flopped back in the bed.  “Just tell everyone I’m fine and to please . . . go . . . home.”

“There’s a simple, easy way to find out,” Zimmerman offered.  He was rewarded with a pair of dark eyes peering cautiously over the covers.

“There is?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure!  With a little visual aid from the sperm bank . . .”  The eyes vanished.

“Go . . . away!”

*******************

Dr. Zimmerman emerged from Gary’s room, his expression grim.  He strolled over to the small group standing a few feet away.  Lois and Bernie Hobson were arguing heatedly in whispers.  Chuck stood next to the chair he had found for Jade.  The pregnant woman just sat with her head leaning against the wall, her eyes closed.

“That is a scene that I think we should avoid in the future,” he told them.  “Right now, his self esteem is extremely fragile.  It would be very easy for him to slip into depression.  We . . . meaning all of us, need to avoid that.  Before, if a subject became too embarrassing for him, he could leave the room.  At this time, he has no option but to stay.  What the five of us just did to him was cruel.  We didn’t mean for it to be, but it was.  In the future, I suggest that we give a little more consideration to Gary’s sensibilities.  For his sake.”

Lois looked up at her husband.  “We should go back in there and apologize,” she told him.

“No.  You shouldn’t,” the physician advised.  “Let it drop.  Give him time to get his feelings sorted out.  All of you, just go home, out to dinner, whatever.  Let Gary have a little space.  For the next several months, he’s going to be moody, frustrated, angry.  It’s going to take time for him to sort out his feelings.  He’s also going to be pushing the limits of what he can, and cannot do.  You’ll find him trying things you’re afraid to let him do.  Unless it’s something almost suicidal, don’t get in his way.  He needs to have some control over his life.  Especially now.”

Chuck and Bernie exchanged glances, both trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“C-control,” Chuck repeated in a strangled voice.  “Gary’s whole life has been out of control for the last four years!”

“Well, you’d better find some way to help him get a grip on things,” Zimmerman told them grimly.  “His life could depend on it.”

**************

It was several days before Gary would speak in more than grunts and monosyllables to either of his parents.  Chuck and Jade he wouldn’t even look at.  He ducked under the covers every time they came to visit, at first.  Then he graduated to just sitting with his arms crossed and staring miserably out the window.  Finally, he relented and forgave everyone.  The forbidden subject, however, was never brought up again.

Eventually, the bandages on his hands were replaced by soft cotton gloves and he was able to start rehab.

Amanda came in one day to find Gary with a bright yellow tennis ball in each hand.  She watched him squeeze and release them over and over again for several minutes.

“Whacha doin’?”

“Building up my arm muscles,” Gary told her with a tiny smile.  “It’s part of what I have to do before they can teach me how to handle a . . . a wheelchair.  They start me on this, then I move up to heavier stuff.  I’ve been in this bed so long, I’m getting flabby.”

“That’s not what I heard the nurses say,” Amanda told him in a sing-song voice.  She wore an evil little grin.

Gary stopped what he was doing and gave her a suspicious look.  “What did you hear?” he asked, not really sure he wanted to know.  “You haven’t been eavesdropping again, have you?”

“Just a little,” she confessed with a giggle.  “The nurses all think you’re cute.  What’s a ‘stud’?”

Gary’s face went bright red as he tried to formulate an answer that would not come back to bite him later.  “Um, shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked in a strangled voice, stalling for time.

“Nope,” she replied as she scooted onto the bed.  “Summer vacation isn‘t over for another eight weeks.  You didn‘t answer my question.  Why did the nurses say you were a stud?”

“Th-that’s one of those things you’d better ask your mother,” he finally told her.  God!  How could he ever face any of the nurses with a straight face after that?

“Wise answer,” observed a voice from the door.   Dr. Zimmerman came in, followed by Diane, the therapist overseeing his rehab.  “I’ve just been looking at your latest x-rays,” the doctor told him.  “Your leg is healing at a remarkable rate.  Diane and I think we can start the more aggressive part of your rehab next week.”

“Does that mean he gets a wheelchair of his own?”  the little girl asked guilelessly.

Zimmerman was watching Gary, so he was unable to miss the effect her innocent question had on his patient.  “Yes,” he replied levelly.  “That’s exactly what it means, Amanda.  Gary, you need to look on this as a step up, so to speak.   At least, you’ll finally be out of this bed.”

“Sure,” Gary agreed, his voice as flat and wooden as his expression.  “I’m thrilled.”  He seemed suddenly fascinated by the bright yellow ball in his right hand.  “Um, how . . . how long before we can work on getting me out of it, Doc?”

“I still don’t have an answer for you, Gary,” the doctor told him honestly.  “If your back were healing as fast as your leg, I’d say a few months.  But, it’s not.  And, I have no explanation for either.  You are a living, breathing enigma, Gary.”

Gary had his own theories about that, and they all centered around a newspaper and a certain orange tabby.  Evidently, he had yet to find his ‘task.’

“We need to go over what you can expect to be doing in rehab, Gary,” Diane told him.  “You’ve already been started on the upper body exercises, and doing quite well, so far.  We start you on free weights tomorrow.  If you can maintain your present rate of progress, you’ll be ready for the parallel bars by the time that splint comes off next week.”

Gary’s head snapped up to meet her gaze.  “Next week?  Hang on, I thought bones took at least six weeks to get strong enough to bear weight.  It’s only been . . . three since the accident!”

“As I said,” the doctor reminded him, “your leg is almost completely healed.  Both the bone and the exit wound.  Also, your leg won’t be required to bear weight until feeling returns.  Now, let Diane finish.”

“Thank you,” the therapist smiled. “Once I’m satisfied with your performance on the parallel bars, we’ll teach you how to get in and out of your chair under various conditions and circumstances.  Also how to maneuver in and out of various types of vehicles, whether equipped for the handicapped or not.  Getting in and out of a shower or tub.  Various tools to make life a little easier.  Even various recreational activities you can participate in to keep fit.  We can even teach you to drive with special manual controls.”

“Cool!” Amanda exclaimed. “Can I watch?”

“No, Sweetie,” Gary replied automatically.  His mind was careening like a ‘Tilt-a-Whirl.’  “Um, would you mind if I talk with the doc and Diane alone, Hon?  I’ve got some . . . some kinda embarrassing questions to ask.”

“Those are the best kind!” the little girl pouted as she slid off the bed, heading for the door.  “I have to go anyway.  Mom is taking me to see Gram and Gramps for the weekend.  Can I come back next week?”

“Sure, Amanda.  But, don’t I get a kiss before you go?” Gary asked, giving her a sad smile. “You know I can’t sleep without my goodnight kiss.”

The little girl practically flew across the room and climbed onto Gary’s bed.  She planted several wet kisses on each cheek before giving him an enthusiastic hug.  “There! That’s until I get back.  I want you to get lots of rest so you can get better.”

“Thanks, Amanda,” Gary smiled.  “I feel better already.”  He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and let her go.  As soon as she was out the door, he turned to his other two visitors, his face grim.

“You talk as if I’m never gonna walk again,” he said.  “Like I should be happy just to get out of this damned bed.  That’s not good enough.  I want to walk again.  I want to be ready to walk again!  What kind of therapy will . . .can I receive towards that goal?”

“Until you actually have feeling and movement in both legs there’s not much we can do,” Diane replied truthfully.  “There are exercises we can perform to keep the muscles from atrophy, but little that you can do on your own.  Sorry.”

“Then teach me what you can.”

*****************

Gary was half asleep when Chuck and Jade came by that afternoon.  They were still a little unsure of their welcome.  On their last visit Gary had spoken very little, an then only in clipped, sullen tones.  So they were pleasantly surprised when he greeted them with a drowsy little grin.

“Still expecting, I see.”

“They’re going to induce labor tomorrow,” Jade sighed wearily.  “And it’s a good thing we’ll have one of each, because I will never go through this again!”  She eased down into the chair with a groan.

“You okay, Gar?” Chuck asked.  “You seem a little . . . out of it.”

“Hmm?  Yeah, ‘m okay,” Gary mumbled.  “Got a little sick a while ago.  They, um, they gave me somethin’ an’ it’s . . . got a kick to it.  Gonna be a dad tomorrow, huh?  Wish I could be there.”  He closed his eyes for a moment.

“So do we, Hon,”  Jade whispered.  She loved Chuck with all her heart, but she had harbored a soft spot for Gary since the first day they had met.  He had been posing as Brigatti’s husband in a sting that had been set up to catch a jewel thief, her!  She had been on the arm of the man she was setting up to be her fall guy and Gary Hobson had been the only one to see through her ‘dumb blonde’ act.  Poor guy!  It had been so easy to embarrass him, keeping him off base.  Where did he learn to be such a boy scout?

“We’ll bring pictures by later,” Chuck promised.  “Give you a good look at your godchildren.”

“Preciate that,” Gary murmured around a cavernous yawn.  “Sorry, guys.  Not much company right now.  Rainch’ck?”

“Sure, Gar,” Chuck sighed.  “We’ll check in on ya later.  Get some sleep.  C’mon, Sweetheart.,” he added, holding a hand out to his wife.

“No,” Gary protested, rousing sluggishly.  “She’s tired.  You can jus . . . jus’ rest a li’l while.”  His voice faded as the medication took effect.  Less than a minute later, Gary was making soft little snoring noises.

Chuck bent down to give his wife a tender kiss on the cheek.   “You stay here, love,” he said.  “I need to go talk to the nurse.”  Jade just nodded wearily.  The twins were taking a lot out of her.

A moment later, Chuck was at the nurses station, talking with Nurse Corso.  He wanted to know what had happened to make Gary so sick.

“I’m afraid it’s my fault,” she confessed.  “I was giving him his sponge bath, and he got his first good look at his leg.  He’s lucky.  It looks a lot better today than it has been.  I think . . . I think his mind filled in too many blanks, if you know what I mean.  Dr. Zimmerman has arranged a consult with the cosmetic surgeon to see what can be done to reduce the scarring.”

“That bad?”

“Mr. Fishman, your friend had six inches of his femur sticking out through a very ragged hole,” she told him grimly.  “What do you think?”

“I think I’m gonna need some of whatever you gave him,” Chuck replied in a very small voice.

**************

Lois and Bernie sat anxiously by as the doctor examined the latest set of x-rays.  “Normally,” he was saying, “the orthopedic surgeon would have used a metal plate to stabilize the fracture.  Due to Gary’s special circumstances, however, I was able to persuade him to go with a biodegradable alternative.  Something that would allow him to withstand an MRI.  Looks like it worked beautifully.  We’ll be taking the splint off in the morning, and he should be able to get out of bed almost immediately.”

“Out of bed,” Bernie repeated.  “But, not on his feet.”

With a resigned sigh, the doctor turned to face his patient’s family.  “No,” he told them honestly.  “Your son has presented me with a number of medical puzzles, Mr. Hobson.  Not the least of which is why he is still alive in the first place.  He should have bled to death from a torn femoral artery long before any of you found him.  Then to come back after almost ten minutes without vital signs . . . And with full brain function . . . Your son would be considered by some to be a living, breathing miracle.  As to why his leg is healing so fast, and his spinal cord so slowly . . . I have no answer for that.”  He crossed the room and sat behind his desk, facing them.  “Your son told me something soon after he woke from his coma.  He said that, sometimes, things had to happen to him so that he would be where he needed to be.  Now, I know that he has unusual . . . insight into . . . things that I won’t even pretend to understand, and he seems sure that he will, indeed, walk again.  We’ll do everything we can to help him achieve that goal.  But, we also have to face the possibility that he has simply . . . run out of miracles.”

“Not Gary,” Lois told him flatly.  “If he says he’ll walk, then he will walk.  He may have to go through Hell in a handcart first, but he will walk.  I won’t pretend to understand any of this.  Even Gary doesn’t understand.  He stopped trying a long time ago.  About the second time he found himself being hunted like an animal throughout the tri-state area.  All he can do is the best he can to ride it out and accomplish whatever it is he’s being called upon to do.”

“Then we’ll do what we can to make the ride as smooth as possible,” Zimmerman promised.

***************

With obvious effort Gary pulled himself onto the parallel bars.  Shifting his weight from side to side, he managed to slide his hands, and his body, a few inches forward before his strength gave out and he hit the floor.  Frustrated, he slammed his fist against the mat with a muffled curse.

“It’s okay, Gary,” Diane said by way of encouragement.  “This is the first time you’ve been on the bars in years, I’ll bet.”

“You’d win that bet,” Gary grumbled as he pushed himself erect.  “I don’t remember it being this hard, though.”

“You’ve also been stuck flat on your back for the past month,” she reminded him.  “Cut yourself a little slack.  Now, let’s get you back in the chair and try this again.”

“And how do I get back in that thing from here?” he sighed.

“Slide your body around until you have your back against the seat of the chair,” she directed him.  She waited until he had done as she instructed.  “All the way back, until you’re as upright as possible.  That’s good.  Now, we’ll help you this time, but, eventually you’ll be doing this on your own.  We’re going to lift on your belt while you push up with your arms.  That’s good!  Now slide your hips back.  Excellent!  As you get more strength in your arms, shoulders, and upper back, you’ll find this gets much easier.  Now, let’s try this again.”

****************

Gary ‘walked’ the length of the bars and back in less time than it had taken him to move a few feet just two weeks before.  He repeated the journey one more time before settling back in the chair with a sigh. The rings were next, he recalled.  Thirty reps, then a session on the free weights.  It was a routine that was becoming old in a hurry.  Whatever it was he had to do, whatever ‘task’ he had to complete, it wasn’t here.   To find it, he had to get out of this place.  To do that he had to prove he could handle himself, and his situation.

He was just finishing up when Diane re-appeared pushing a different wheelchair than the one he had been using.  It was a little more low slung than the regular hospital variety, with lower, detachable arm rests and wheels that flared outward at the bottom.  Just looking at it gave Gary a chill. This chair was built for the streets.  It was meant for one person to use on an hourly . . . daily basis.  It was meant for him.

Gary sat up, toweling the sweat off his face and shoulders as he eyed the contraption.  He had mixed feelings at the sight of it.  On the one hand, it represented a step up, freedom of a sort.  On the other . . . Just looking at it tied Gary’s stomach in a knot.  ‘How long will I be stuck in the damned thing?’ he wondered.  If he had been able, he would have run from the room screaming.  But then, if he were able to run, he wouldn’t need the blasted thing.

“That’s it, huh?  My new . . . my new wheels?”  It was all he could do not to choke on the question.  “Looks . . looks okay.”

Watching his face, Diane could almost read his mind.  Her heart went out to this man who tried so hard to keep his hopes up, only to be reminded at every turn just what he faced.  She could see the pain in his eyes that he refused to let show on his face as he stared at the chair in morbid fascination.

“It’s the deluxe sports model,” she quipped in an effort to lighten his mood.  She was rewarded with the barest flicker of a smile. “The wider wheel base gives it more stability for tighter turns at high speed.  The detachable arms and lower height make it easier to get into from various positions.”

“Such as the floor,” Gary returned.  “I’ve seen guys play basketball in these.  Pretty impressive.”  He tore his eyes away with a shuddering sigh.  “Well, let’s try this baby on for size.”  He draped the towel around his neck as Diane locked the wheels and moved the pedals out of the way.  Gary gripped the arms and pulled himself up, just as on the parallel bars.  Then, he switched hands as he turned, lowering himself into his new ride.  He took a moment to get himself adjusted, then lifted his legs one at a time onto the pedals.  Once he was situated, he unlocked the wheels and backed it away from the bench.  He executed a few tight turns, then stopped in the middle of the room.   He sat there, absolutely still, staring at nothing, his jaw clenching and unclenching as various emotions played across his features.  Finally he turned to face her once more.

Diane watched as Gary tried to put on a brave face, giving her a quick, encouraging smile, mouth trembling at the corners.  Then, his handsome, boyish features twisted with the pain and anger he could no longer hide, a single tear sliding down his cheek, his arms clutching his abdomen as if to forcibly hold in the heart-breaking sobs that refused to stay silent anymore.  He was doubling over as if in physical, rather than spiritual pain.  Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around his shuddering frame, pushing his head down onto her shoulder as he finally let flow tears of grief, anger, bitterness, and despair.  He returned the embrace, clinging to her like a drowning man to a life preserver.

“It’s okay,” she told him gently.  “It hits everyone like this, sooner or later.  Usually sooner.  You’ve handled this a lot better than most.  Just go ahead and let it out, Gary.  It’s okay.”

They sat like that for several minutes, until Gary's emotional turmoil had run it's course. Then, with a visible effort, and a loud, stuttering sigh, he pushed back from her comforting embrace.  “No,” he sniffed, speaking in a low, raspy monotone.  “It’s not okay.  Not yet.  But, it will be.”  He used the sweat soaked towel to dry his face before favoring Diane with one of his boyish grins, although he found it difficult to look her in the eye.  “Now, um, show me . . . show me how to drive this and dribble at the same time.  I don’t want to get called for traveling the first time I play.”

*****************

Gary was alone in the therapy room when Crumb finally found him.  The younger man was practicing a lay-up one of the other patients, a veteran wheelchair jockey, had shown him.   Although only a couple of weeks had passed since he had received the chair, Crumb was impressed with how well Hobson was handling it.  He executed turns so tight, he courted whiplash, dribbled the ball the length of the room and back.  Even popped a few wheelies when the ball threatened to get away from him.  Then he spied Crumb standing by the double doors.  Gary bounced the ball into a box near the back wall, and propelled his chair to meet his visitor.

“Hey, Zeke!” he greeted him enthusiastically.  “Where ya been?  It’s been . . . what . . . three weeks since your last visit?”

“Been up to my eyeballs in divorce cases,” the ex-cop grumbled.  “You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff people fight over.  How ya been, Hobson?”

“Okay, I guess,”  Gary shrugged.  “They say I might be able to go home next week.  Maybe.  Possibly.”  His earlier good mood slipped as he remembered his last conversation with the doctor.  “So! You seen the twins, yet?  They brought ‘em to see me yesterday.  ‘Course, they couldn’t bring ‘em past the first floor lobby, but I got to . . . to hold ‘em and all.  That . . . that little Gary, isn’t he . . . isn’t he the spitting image of . . .”  Gary’s voice trailed off as he realized he was babbling.  “So, um, h-how’ve you been?”

“Hobson,” Crumb sighed, “aside from Fishman and family, how many visitors have you had since I was here last?”

Gary looked away, rubbing his hands on his sweat pants nervously.  “Amanda comes almost every day,” he replied defensively.  “Chuck and Jade are still adjusting to parenthood.  They’re really great kids, Zeke.  You should see ‘em.  Um, Mom and Dad have been . . . busy.  But, they check up on me when they can.  Toni had a family emergency that took her to Sicily or . . . or someplace like that.  And Paul seems . . . uncomfortable around me for some . . . some reason.  He doesn’t come unless he’s with someone.  Winslow’s been in a coupla times, but he seems . . . nervous around me, too.  Keeps asking me . . . asking what it w-was like  . . . to die.  He’s, ahm, he’s a little strange.”

“I think you mean rude and insensitive,” Crumb grumbled menacingly.  He made himself a promise to have a stern talk with the young detective.  “So you’re fine, the twins are swell, Amanda’s a peach, and your folks are too busy to bother with ya.  So what are ya leaving out?”

Gary scowled at the brusque comment about his parents, until he realized that Crumb was trying to goad him. “They keep talking like it’s not a lost cause,” he sighed, still not meeting his friend’s steady gaze.  “But . . . there hasn’t been any improvement since I . . . since I woke up.  And now . . . and now I’m supposed to get ‘adjusted’ to this thing,” he added, indicating the chair.  “I don’t know what to hope for anymore.  I mean, what’s it gonna be like?  Not just rollin’ up and down the streets, but just getting around in my own home!  It’s gonna take months of remodeling before I can get to take a bath by myself!  Or even use the . . . the blasted toilet!  When I broke my leg that time, I could at least hop on the good one.  What do I do now?  Crawl?”

“Why didn’t you mention all this to your folks months ago?”  Crumb asked.  “You could’ve had it all finished by now.”

Rubbing his hands up and down his legs, Gary confessed with a shuddering sigh. “I guess I kept hoping for a miracle,” he replied honestly.  “That something would happen, and I’d walk out of here like it was all a bad dream.”

“Speakin’ of dreams,” Crumb remarked a little too casually.  “That night, when we brought you back the first time, you mentioned something about . . . stopping Marley.  What did you mean?  And who’s Snow?”

Startled, Gary had to think for a moment before he could answer.  “I . . . it was so weird,” he finally replied.  “Lucius Snow was a guy who worked for the ‘Sun-Times’ years ago.  He died about the time I first moved into the ‘Blackstone’, after Marcia kicked me out.  He was also the same guy who saved me from getting run over when I was ten.”  At Crumb’s startled look, Gary quickly explained about the events of twenty-four years before coming back to him just before Judge Romick was murdered.  Although, he left out any mention of the paper.  “Wh-while I was unconscious . . . I guess it was all a dream.  But, and this is where it gets weird, I had to go back in time to stop Marley from framing Snow for the Kennedy assassination, so that Snow could be there to save me from that truck.  What was even weirder, I was losing the . . . the feeling in m-my legs . . . even in the dr-dream.”  Gary suddenly realized that he was still rubbing his legs as he spoke.   He stopped, laying his hands in his lap, fingers intertwined as if to forcibly stop his nervous fidgeting.  “When . . . when I . . . woke up, Mom was crying, I could f-feel her tears on my face.   Dad was praying, and you . . . you were telling me to . . . to fight.  To breathe.  And M-Marissa, I could hear her praying and . . . and pleading with me to just . . . come back.”

Crumb recalled the scene as if it had happened yesterday.  He had, indeed, been telling the kid to ‘fight’, but only in the silence of his own mind.  More as a silent prayer, than actual words.  And the others had been equally silent, putting all of their energy into just keeping the young man alive.  He had no doubts, however, that Hobson had just accurately described exactly what had been going through their minds.

“You’ve had nightmares about him before, haven’t you?”  It wasn’t really a question.

Gary ducked his head, nodding as he chewed his lower lip.  “Every night, at first,” he quietly confessed.  “Then, after a month or so, not as often.  They finally quit entirely about a year ago.   Then . . . they started up all over again.”

“Want to talk about it?” Crumb asked.  The answer he got was pretty much what he was expecting.

“I wish I could,” the younger man sighed.  “It was just a . . . a chance comment by some one I don’t even know.  Marissa thinks I should talk to someone about it, but . . .I can’t.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.  Not without the . . . the nightmares starting up again.”  He spun the chair around so that he was no longer directly facing Crumb.  “I’ll probably have one tonight.  Every time someone uses the words ‘visions’ and ‘voices’ in the same sentence, I get this . . . chill . . . crawling up my spine.  He was trying to . . .to make me doubt myself.  And he succeeded.  Almost had me convinced I was . . . delusional.  There’s another word that . . . that gets to me,” he added with a wry chuckle.  “Paul used it a lot when we first met.  And again during that . . . the Savalas/Scanlon deal.  I guess it makes people sleep better at night to be able to . . . to make me into some kinda nut case.  Well, they may not have to worry about me anymore.  There’s not a lot of trouble I can get into from here.”  He slapped the arm of the wheelchair for emphasis.

Crumb could see his young friend was fighting hard to hold back the bitterness that threatened to overwhelm him.  They had been warned that his emotions would be riding very close to the surface.  That he would have a hard time controlling them.  Maybe this had been a bad idea, after all.

“You know that I don’t know how you do . . . whatever it is you do.  And I don‘t want to,” Crumb hastened to say.  “But, I got this feeling that just being in that contraption isn’t gonna stop you for long.  As for that . . . that other thing, I still think you got a raw deal there.  You should’ve gotten a medal instead.  I’ll never understand why you let them shut you up so easy.  ‘Specially as you had such a bad time of it after.  They didn’t even offer counseling?”

“I was as eager to bury it as they were,” Gary admitted.  “Probably more so.  The quicker I could put it out of my mind, the better.  Only, it refuses to stay buried.  There’s always . . . someone, or something to remind me.  Always someone who wants to know what I’ve said, and to whom.  I never even discuss it with Chuck and Marissa, and they were there.  For most of it, anyway.  This . . . this is the most I’ve spoken of it since it happened.  And,  if I never talk of it again, it’ll be too soon.”

The big ex-cop placed a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “It’ll get better, kid,” he promised.  “So long as you keep pluggin’ away, things’ll get easier to handle.  Now, why don’t you go and get cleaned up.  Your folks said they’d be here in time for lunch.  And the Doc has signed a pass for you to get outta this place for a few hours. “  Surprisingly, Crumb found that the way the poor kid’s face lit up at that revelation was almost enough to make him want to cry himself.  Hobson had been cooped up in here way too long.

**********************

Crumb pleaded a prior commitment, mostly, Gary was sure, to give him time alone with his family.  Uninterrupted privacy was something they had sorely lacked at the hospital.  There was always someone coming in to check on him for one reason or another.  To Gary, it was a gift beyond price just to get off the hospital grounds and out into the summer sun.

His parents took him first to his favorite restaurant, where they spent a good hour just exchanging small talk.  Next, they took him to Lakeshore Park, where Gary was able to stop a mugging by simply running into the would-be assailants with his wheelchair.  He acted totally innocent, of course, apologizing as he watched the intended victim out of the corner of his eye.  As soon as she was safely out of sight, he apologized once more, then made his exit.

His parents were waiting with expectant looks on their faces.

“It felt good,” he admitted quietly, barely suppressing a grin.  “Thanks.”

“You just needed to see if you could get back into harness,” Bernie told his son.  “You did great.  The saps never knew what hit ‘em.”

“Better than that,” Lois snorted.  “They never even knew they’d been hit!  It was inspired, son, the way you used your weakness against them!  And you thought you were helpless!”

“I guess I just had to find out for myself,” Gary sighed.  “There’s still a lot I probably can’t do, but I won’t know ‘til I try.  Maybe . . . maybe I could try a few more easy ones each day?” he asked hopefully.

“It’s your paper, Gar,”  his father reminded him.  “And your responsibility.  Ultimately, all decisions are yours.  Your Mom and I have had ‘fun’ pinch-hitting,  but it’ll be a relief to hand it back over.”

“We just don’t feel as if we’re handling it as well as you did, dear,”  Lois admitted.  “You always seemed to get so . . . so personally involved with some of them.  In ways that we can’t.  There’s just something about you, Gary.  Even we can’t pin down exactly what it is.  I just don’t believe that wheelchair is going to be as big an obstacle as you think.  I mean, yes, there are some things that you just can’t do anymore.  But, there’s so much more that you still can.”

Gary chewed over their comments as he considered his options.  He was not helpless.  Not in every situation, anyway.  All he had to do was learn to work around his limitations.  He looked at his watch, realizing it was time to go back.

“Do you think you can spring me again tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.  “In time to try one or two more?”

“Count on it,” Bernie replied with a huge grin.  “You’ll be terrorizing the bad guys again before you know it, Kiddo!”

“Just so long as I can help people,” Gary told him earnestly.  “If I can’t do that,  then I’m no good to myself, or anyone else.”

*******************

Lois and Bernie were only able to get him out a few more times over the next few weeks, each time giving Gary a chance to change a few more headlines.  As the summer drew to a close, however, the younger Hobson began to fear he would never be allowed out on a permanent basis.  It had been the last week in May when he had taken that disastrous tumble.  It was mid September when Dr. Zimmerman announced that he would soon be released.

“You’ve made excellent progress,” he reported cheerfully.  “Diane tells me you’ve given her a hundred and twenty percent in therapy.   She wants to hold you up as a ‘shining example’ of what can be accomplished in a wheelchair.”

“I’d rather be a shining example of how to get out of a wheelchair,” Gary  sighed.  “So, if all my tests are coming back so great, and I’m the ‘wunderkind’ of physical therapy, why hasn’t the feeling come back?  Why am I still in this chair?”

Zimmerman lay down the latest set of MRI films with a sigh, before taking a seat facing his patient.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any answers for you there, Gary,” he replied truthfully.  He had learned to never try to sugar-coat information with this patient.  “The swelling has been down for quite some time, now.  If you were going to get full use of your legs back, it should have occurred over the last few weeks.  As of right now, there is nothing structurally wrong with your spine.  No narrowing of the disc spaces, no swelling, no displacement, not so much as a minute tear in the nerve bundle or the fascia.  According to all the tests we, or anyone else can run, you should be able to get out of that chair and start learning how to walk again. You . . . should . . . feel . . . your . . . legs!”  Frustrated, he pulled out Gary’s chart again and began to flip through it.  “Bottom line, without some kind of progress in that regard, we have no more reason to keep you here.  I don’t  look for this to happen any time soon, but there is still the possibility that you could walk again.  I just can’t tell you when.”

“Wonderful,” his patient grumbled.  “I’m in great shape, except that I can’t walk.   Ah, don’t worry, Doc,” he added at the physician’s concerned look.  “I’m not gonna do anything stupid, and I do understand everything that you’re saying.  It’s just . . . I guess I’m getting kinda . . .”

“Stir crazy?”

“Pretty much,” Gary admitted with a tiny grin as he rocked back and forth on his elbows.  “Ya’ll have been great and everything . . .”

“ ‘Ya’ll?’”  The doctor returned his grin.  “We’ve got to get you out of here!  You’re spending way to much time in x-ray!  Polly’s starting to rub off on you.”

*****************
 

Go on to Installment 3                    Return to Installment 1
Installment 4
Installment 5
Installment 6
Installment 7
Installment 8
Installment 9

Email the authors: Polgana54@cs.com
 

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