Hank Lawson Fan Fiction - After the Rain

Chapter Seventeen

Erik got up to put another log on the fire, and my breath caught in my throat as he knelt in front of me. With firelight outlining his face in profile and making a halo of his hair, the resemblance between the man who held my heart and his older brother was so strong that I had to stop myself from reaching out to touch him.

"Does everyone in the Lausenstrom family look as much alike as you, Hank, and Zach do?" I asked shakily.

"We're all tall and blue-eyed--and some shade of blond--but Hans and I are the only ones who looked enough alike to have ever been mistaken for each other." He shrugged.

"With only two years difference in your ages, I would imagine that the two of you were close as children." My gaze was involuntarily drawn to his muscular arms, exposed to the elbow by rolled-up sleeves as he prodded the burning embers with a poker.

"As soon as he could walk, Hans was toddling after me everywhere I went." His voice softened as he recalled old memories, still squatting on his haunches before the fire, his palms held toward the warmth of the blaze. "At first I was always trying to give him the slip--afraid of being teased by the older boys because I had my kid brother tagging along at my heels--but we ended up becoming best friends and stayed that way for years. He was the best rider and the best shot of all six boys, and he had a real knack for cards and dancing and catching the eye of the prettiest girls." Turning his head, he smiled at me. "Apparently, he still does."

We were silent, our eyes holding for a moment too long. The tension in the room was almost palpable as he rested his hand on top of mine, lightly stroking it with his thumb, his gaze never wavering.

Suddenly a clap of thunder shook the walls of the cabin, followed by the din of a driving rain. Zach pushed the door open and stumbled inside, bringing with him a gust of wind that blew out the flame on the lamp.

Relieved at the interruption--and strangely unsettled by Erik's touch--I put a cup of coffee into Zach's hands, then draped the quilt around him. "You're soaked to the skin," I fretted, using a corner of the fabric to absorb some of the water from his hair.

"The creek out back is already two foot outta banks, and with the way the rain's comin' down water's gonna be up to the house in no time." He stood in front of the fire, his teeth chattering with cold. "We gotta get outta here."

"It's too dangerous to risk riding out of here right now." Erik frowned as a bolt of lightning struck a tree, causing a heavy limb to split off and come crashing to the ground.

"We don't have a choice."

"The cabin's on high ground. All we need to do is sit tight and wait out the storm."

"Better go out and take a look," Zach suggested tersely. "This time o' year we can get flash floods...seven or eight years ago we lost all of the outbuildings 'cept for the barn. "

"What do you think?" Erik turned to me, torn between staying and possibly having the foundation washed out from beneath the cabin by the rising water or facing the storm's fury.

"Zach has lived in Colorado all of his life--I haven't. If he says that we ought to leave, I'm inclined to say let's go."

"I'll take care of the fire." Erik began to break up the burning logs.

"One of Hank's old shirts is hanging on the back of the door, if you want to change." I noticed that Zach was still shivering.

"Wouldn't do any good." He shook his head. "You'll both be wet as me the minute you step outside that door."

Ten minutes later I realized the truth of his words as I struggled toward the barn against the wind, deep mud sucking at my boots and rain stinging my face. Storm shied when I tried to put a foot into the stirrup, making it clear that she was unwilling to venture away from the comfort of a dry stall.

Once in the saddle I tugged my hat as low as I could over my eyes, then nudged her sharply with my heels, forcing the recalcitrant mare to move out into the biting wind and rain. She snorted and tossed her head as a blinding streak of lightning flashed, followed immediately by a loud crack of thunder, but I held her in check, afraid to let her quicken her pace. The ground was saturated, standing water hiding obstacles from view, and no matter how much care that we used in making our way through the mire, one of our mounts could easily stumble into an unseen gopher hole and break a leg.

Unseasonably warm weather for the time of year had melted some of the accumulation of snow and ice at higher elevations and, mixed with the recent rains, turned the once dry creek bed at the bottom of the ravine into swiftly moving whitewater. Keeping well away from the slippery banks, I led the two men alongside the churning spray, following the shortest and easiest to follow route back home with the heavy downpour making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

Even though I had been aware of wildlife scurrying away from the rapidly rising water, I never even saw the rabbit that darted out of the brush almost directly underneath Storm, startling my high-strung mount. Already nervous, she reared, fighting the bit. I had no difficulty in keeping my seat, nor did Erik have any trouble managing Blue's resulting misstep, but as I jerked the mare's head down, Cody automatically veered far to the left to avoid Storm's slashing hooves. The gelding scrambled frantically for purchase as he slid on the muddy slope, a portion of the bank crumbling beneath him even as he strained away from the frightening rush of water below. Turning, I saw that Zach was off-balance, his weight and a too-tight grip on the reins contributing to the horse's difficulty in regaining solid footing. A heartbeat later he grabbed for the pommel, and his wet fingers slipped off of the leather as Cody suddenly twisted and plunged for higher ground, beginning to panic. My breath caught in my throat, I watched helplessly as Zach took a hard fall.

I was immediately out of the saddle, kneeling in the pouring rain on the creek bank beside him, terrified by the fact that he lay so terribly, terribly still. My hands trembling with fear, I shook him gently.

"Zach? Zach, honey, wake up."

Erik dropped down into the mud next to me, his blond hair plastered wetly to his skull. "He hit his head against that rock when he fell."

"I know." My fingers delved into Zach's thick locks as I carefully searched for a swelling or break in his skin. Behind his left ear I felt a hot stickiness, and when I withdrew my hand it was covered with blood. "He's bleeding pretty badly."

"Head wounds always do." Erik allowed his eyes to travel over his nephew's unresponsive form, quickly assessing him for additional injuries.

"Please--wake up," I pleaded, cradling Zach's head against my breasts, his blood rapidly soaking my white blouse. "Please."

"We have to get him to Dr. Quinn." Erik shrugged out of his coat to remove his outer shirt, using his knife to start a tear, then ripping the cotton into long strips.

"Zach?" My breath caught on a sob as I brushed his bangs away from his forehead then pressed my lips against his clammy skin. "Com'on, love. Don't do this to me."

"Careful with that left arm. It's broken." Erik snapped a small tree limb into two pieces and tied the rigid supports in place to keep the bone in Zach's forearm from moving, then fashioned a sling with another strip of cloth. Shifting him across my lap, he turned the boy's head to expose the deep, ragged scalp laceration.

Working swiftly, he grasped tiny sections of hair on each side of the gaping cut, twisting them tightly around each other to bring the raw edges of the wound together, then tying a hard double knot. As I watched in amazement he repeated the process again and again, the bleeding slowing measureably as a result of his efforts.

"I learned how from a field doc during the War," he answered my unspoken question as he pressed a folded pad of cloth down over the injury, then tied the last long strip around his head to hold it in place. "It's no substitute for sutures, but if the hair is long enough to tie a knot and you don't have a needle and thread, it's definitely worth a try. If they hold, it cuts down on the amount of blood loss."

"Shouldn't he be waking up by now?" I reached down to stroke Zach's pale cheek, tears mingling with the raindrops on my skin.

"It could take awhile," Erik's answer was noncommittal as he looked up from a quick search for broken bones that would require splinting before we could move him. "You might want to go check on his horse. If it has to be put down, come and get me."

Although I was reluctant to leave Zach, I knew that I had to find out what had happened to Cody, so I got to my feet and hurried to do Erik's bidding. Freed of the additional weight of a rider, the gelding had managed to climb back up onto the trail, and he stood with his head down, patiently waiting. Talking to him comfortingly, I ran my hands down over his legs, relieved to find only a minor injury to the fetlock. I led him back to where Storm and Blue had been ground-tied, then retrieved the quilt that I had impulsively taken--determined that no other woman would ever share it with Hank in the same way that I had.

"Cody is favoring his left foreleg, but at least its not broken," I reported quietly.

"Good." He wrapped Zach in the quilt, then slid one arm beneath his knees and the other under his back. "Mount up. You can't lift him up to me, so you're going to have to hold him. I don't want to lay him facedown and increase the blood flow to that head wound."

No longer even aware of the lightning and thunder raging all around us, I sprang up into the saddle, and Erik settled the unconscious boy between the pommel and my thighs. "You probably don't weigh more than l00 pounds, soaking wet, and he feels like he's around l75, but I won't allow either one of you fall," he reassured me gently. "I'll be right beside you--no more than an arm's length away."

Praying silently, I tapped Storm with my heels, urging her toward town, with Erik leading the gray and keeping his own horse close in to my mare so that he could move quickly if Zach's weight shifted out of balance. The rain was still coming down in torrents, chilling me to the bone, but I was oblivious to everything except the need to get Zach to the clinic as quickly as possible.

When we were directly in front of the building I saw light through the window and sighed with relief. Because it was Sunday, I had been afraid that someone would have to ride to the Sully homestead, but the door was unlocked, meaning that the doctor was somewhere close by. Erik carried Zach inside and laid him gently on the examining table while I ran upstairs, shouting frantically for Michaela.

"Caitlyn?" She stuck her head out of a recovery room, apparently hearing the urgency in my voice. "I'm in here."

"Zach had an accident while we were out riding." I met her gaze. "Please, please, hurry!"

"Get out of those wet, muddy clothes," she ordered, following me down the steps as quickly as her rapidly swelling abdomen would allow.

Ignoring her advice, I bent over Zach's prone form, satisfying myself that even though his breathing was shallow it remained steady. Taking his limp hand into mine I squeezed it, biting my lip with anxiety as I watched Mike's face.

"How long has he been unconscious?" She lifted each eyelid to study the pupil.

"Approximately half an hour," Erik offered grimly.

"And he's been completely unresponsive from the time that it happened?" Checking his left ear, then repeating the process on the right, she absently noted to herself that there was no sign of drainage.

"There's been no change at all."

"I'll need your help in getting him undressed." She ran her fingers over the curve of Zach's skull, searching for fractures.

While she continued her examination Erik efficiently stripped off Zach's coat and shirts, careful not to disturb the broken arm, then his socks and boots. He had begun to unfasten the buttons of his trousers when he hesitated, glancing over at me. "Perhaps you could see that Dr. Quinn has plenty of hot water available?"

Suddenly reminded of the fact that Zach was a young man, not a child, I nodded, blushing as I went to fill the kettle. By the time I returned he was covered from the waist down with a blanket, his sodden clothing hanging over a wooden chair.

Erik had dropped his own wet jacket onto the same chair and pushed up the sleeves of his henley, and he began to scrub his hands and arms while Mike examined the swollen area beneath the gash on Zach's scalp. After washing her own hands, she snipped the knotted hair away above the wound, dislodging the clot that had formed, and Erik automatically sponged the blood that welled up, clearing the field so that she could clean and stitch the gash.

"You've done this before." She looked at him with new interest as he consistently anticipated what she needed before she asked, the two of them working like a well-practiced team. "More than a few times."

"There were never enough surgeons during the war--there was never enough of anything. And I had difficulty doing nothing in the aftermath of a battle, with men bleeding and dying all around me as they waited their turn. So I learned what I could from watching the docs. Everything that they were willing to teach me. I would go out, shoot and kill as many men as possible, then come back and try to help save lives." His voice was filled with self-mockery. "As if the value of one man was somehow greater than that of another."

"You would have made an excellent physician."

"By the time that it was all over, I had seen enough blood to last a lifetime," he admitted flatly.

"My husband was a sharpshooter. Now he won't even carry a gun." She raised her head and nodded slightly in understanding.

"Zach will be all right--won't he?" I held onto the back of a chair, feeling slightly queasy as the curved needle pierced his scalp again and again.

"There's no obvious depression near the laceration, but I can't rule out the possibility of a linear fracture of the skull." She methodically tied another suture. "For the moment, all that I can be sure of is that he has a broken arm and a concussion. It's too early to know for certain whether or not there are internal injuries--I was unable to detect any blood in the abdominal cavity when I examined him, but it could easily be starting to collect there."

"What should we tell Hank?" For the first time Erik used his brother's chosen name.

"That I think that he should be here--assuming that Daniel will permit him to come." Mike met his gaze.

"Michaela?" My voice broke. "Is he..."

"I don't know," she said quietly, aware that I couldn't bring myself to finish the question. "In cases like his, it can go either way."

"There must be something that you can do..." I shook my head, refusing to accept the possibility that Zach might die.

"After I set his arm all that we can do is wait--watch--and pray that he regains consciousness soon."

"Our horses are still out in the rain, tied to the rail... I'll tend to them, then go over and talk to Hank." I swallowed hard.

"As soon as we're finished here, I'll take care of it," Erik protested flatly. "You don't need to go out into that again."

"I have to do something--or I'm going to fall apart," I confessed.

I left the clinic and led the three horses through muddy streets to the livery, where Robert E had just finished feeding and watering the other animals in his care. His eyes widened slightly in surprise when I entered the stable, and he came over to meet me.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"Cody lost his footing and slipped in the mud. It feels to me like his left fetlock joint is slightly hot and swollen," I explained dully. "Would you examine him for me?"

"This ain't no kinda weather for you to be out in." He squatted to run skillful hands down the gelding's pastern. "You're gonna catch yer death of cold. Where're yer menfolks?"

"Zach was thrown." My mare's patience at an end, she nudged me in the back and snorted, causing me to turn and automatically begin unbuckling the girth straps. "Erik is at the clinic with him, helping Michaela."

"Is he hurt bad?" he asked gently.

Tears choking me, I was unable to answer, and Robert E straightened up, coming over to lift the saddle off of Storm. "I'll take care of these horses. You get on back to that boy."

Nodding my thanks, I went back out into the pouring rain, as the storm continued to spill its fury. My skirt was heavy with caked mud from kneeling on the ground next to Zach, my bodice soaked with his blood, and wet curls that had come loose from my braid clung to my face and back--my hat long lost--but I was unconcerned about my appearance as I staggered toward the jail, dreading the thought of telling Hank about his son.

The wind was so strong that it blew the door out of my hands, sending it crashing back against the wall, and Daniel blinked, looking at me in consternation. Taking in my bedraggled appearance, he got to his feet and came around the desk to lean his weight against the door and close it.

"I have to see Hank," I gasped for breath, my soggy garments and the dropping temperature outside making me shiver with a sudden chill. Pushing past Daniel, I went to stand in front of the cell, water dripping from the hem of my skirt and forming a puddle on the floor.

Hank sat up slowly, his eyes locked on my blood-stained shirtwaist. Then he was at the bars, his gaze flickering from the mud smearing my face and hands to my filthy riding skirt. "What happened?"

"Zach's hurt," I admitted quietly. "We got caught out by the storm and a rabbit spooked our horses. He took a tumble from Cody. We know that he broke his arm and has a concussion. It's been an hour now since it happened, and he's still unconscious. Michaela won't know how serious it is for awhile yet--or whether or not he has internal injuries."

"What're you sayin'?" he demanded hoarsely.

"Mike thinks that you ought to come."

"Is he gonna die?" His voice was raw with pain.

"We don't know."

"Simon, let me outta here! NOW!" Hank bellowed, grabbing the cell door and shaking it furiously.

"What's all the fuss about?" The sheriff frowned, walking over to stand next to me.

"My son's at the clinic--maybe dyin'." Hank picked up his jacket, his face gone pale with fear. "Get yer damned keys and open the door. I gotta go."

"You're not goin' anywhere."

"Zach needs me," he said levelly, his eyes flickering dangerously over Daniel's face. "And if you don't let me outta this cell, I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands, first chance I get."

"This ain't no hotel you can check in and out of."

"Daniel, please," I interceded. "Surely to God you can't believe that he would try to run with his son lying there unconscious?"

"You got my word on it." Hank met his gaze.

"I'm not sure how much your word's worth, Hank."

"More'n yers, you sorry excuse for a man!" he growled, whirling to punch the wall with his fist. "When will you get it through yer thick head that I ain't killed nobody? That you got me rottin' in jail for no reason? I'm goin' to Zach--if I hafta tear you and this cell apart to do it!"

"Trial will be coming up a couple of weeks from now--if you get off, then you can go anywhere you want to."

"My boy could be dead by then!" Hank shouted.

"So could you." Daniel returned his hard stare.

My nerves too frayed to tolerate the battle of wills raging between Hank and Daniel, I turned and abruptly left the jail, hurrying back across the street to Zach. There was nothing that I could do to help Hank, but I could and I would stay beside his injured son for as long as he needed me.

When I entered the clinic my eyes were immediately drawn to the empty examining table with its blood-stained sheets, then to the back of the chair where a pair of familiar trousers still dripped water onto the floor. The only sound that I could hear was the wind and rain that howled through the deserted street outside, and I was filled with an overpowering sense of dread as I slowly climbed the stairs to search for Michaela.

I opened the first door on the right, drawing back with an involuntary cry of pain when I saw the sheet-shrouded form on the bed. "No," I whimpered, my hand going to my mouth to choke back a scream. "Dear God, please--no."

"Cait!" Sully came hurrying down the hall toward me, firmly clasping me in his arms. "Caitlyn. That's not Zach."

"Not Zach?" I repeated dully, my legs feeling as if they would no longer support my weight.

"Everett Malone died a couple hours ago. Jake won't be able to come for his body 'til after the rain slacks off."

"When they weren't...downstairs..." I swayed, the world swirling around me, out of focus.

"Don't talk," he ordered. "Hang onto me and take slow, deep breaths."

Leaning into Sully, I struggled hard not to faint, focusing my attention on getting my too-rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing back under control. "I'm filthy--covered in mud."

"This shirt'll wash." He shrugged, unperturbed by the dirt that was being smeared onto his clothing as he held me.

"Is Zach awake?"

"Not yet."

"I don't know--how much more--that I can take," I admitted, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. "I feel like I'm--barely holding on. With the bank robbery--Hank getting shot. Him being on the run accused of murder...then beaten and arrested. Now this with Zach."

"You got that kinda woman-strength in you that bends but never breaks," he reassured me softly, removing a blanket from a shelf and draping it around my shoulders. "Look deep enough, you'll find what you need, when you need it most."

"Hank should be here." I clutched the heavy wool closer to my throat. "I tried to convince Daniel to let him come... but he won't budge."

"I'll talk to Daniel. Can't promise to change his mind, but I'll try."

"Thank you."

"If it was one of mine layin' in that bed, nothing could keep me away," he confessed, opening the door to Zach's room.

His face so pale as to appear almost bloodless, the boy lay still and quiet beneath the pile of quilts that Mike had used to cover him. I stopped, momentarily frozen with fear until I saw the slight rise and fall of his chest as he took a breath and exhaled.

"How is he?" I asked quietly when Michaela got up from the rocker and joined me next to the bed.

"There's been no change."

"Why is it taking so long? Why hasn't he come out of this?"

"It might take hours--or days--or Zach could die without ever regaining consciousness," she admitted grimly. "I wish that I could offer you some type of reassurance, but there simply is no way to accurately predict the outcome of this."

"Where's Erik?" I shivered despite the blanket.

"After he carried Zach upstairs I sent him over to the Gold Nugget to have a warm bath and change into clean clothes--which is what you're about to do. Sully already has the tub ready and waiting, and I keep a change of clothes here for when I have to stay over unexpectedly. Go and wash the mud off, then put on something dry."

"I need to stay with Zach." I shook my head.

"You're chilled to the bone--soaking wet, muddy, and covered in blood." She took my elbow and steered me out of the room, leaving Sully behind. "You will be of no use to me whatsoever in helping to care for Zach, if you end up sick yourself."

Aware that she was right, I reluctantly allowed her to lead me to the room where a tub of steaming hot water waited. While she found an outfit and underthings for me to wear, I stripped off my ruined clothing and slipped into the welcome warmth of the bath. Anxious to return to Zach, I quickly washed and rinsed my hair, then scrubbed the dirt and blood from my skin, and by the time Michaela returned I was already toweling myself dry and ready to dress.

Sitting down on the bed, I reached out and lightly stroked Zach's cheek. "Sweetheart, please--wake up," I whispered. "I need you. And your Pa needs you..."

"He can't hear you," Michaela offered doubtfully, watching.

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Nothing in the literature suggests that unconscious patients have any awareness..."

"Nothing in the literature suggested that willow bark tea was effective against fevers until your article was published."

"Caitlyn, you have to face the fact that the more time that passes the less likely--"

"You should lie down and take a nap," I interrupted, holding my palm up toward her to stop her from saying more. "You're worn out. You look as if you haven't slept more than a few hours in days."

"She was up and down all night long with Mr. Malone," Sully confirmed my suspicion.

"Go and get some rest," I urged, curling myself protectively around Zach. "It's time that you started taking better care of yourself and that baby you're carrying."

"Cait, I don't think..."

"Healin' comes from more'n medicine." Sully gently took her arm and guided her toward the hallway.

"But..."

The closing door shut off the rest of her protest, and I returned my attention to Zach. Draping my arm over his chest so that he could feel the heat of my body, I continued to talk to him quietly. With my head resting next to his on the pillow, I finally succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep, waking abruptly when I felt the mattress dip beneath the weight of someone sitting down beside me.

"Any news?" Erik's eyes met mine.

"Nothing."

"I was hoping that Hans would have gotten here by now," he admitted. "Did Sheriff Simon say how long it might be before he brought him over?"

"He won't be bringing him at all, unless someone can persuade Daniel to change his mind."

"I can go to the Court in Denver--but if we have to use the legal process, it could easily take a week or more to get an answer back."

"Hank won't be willing to wait that long," I opined quietly. "He will find a way out of that jail, even if it means risking his own life."

"Do you really think that he would try to escape?"

"He won't simply try--he'll do it." I remembered his explanation that 'anything can be locked can be unlocked' when he had entered my house that night. "Hank is convinced that he's going to hang--what does he have to lose?"

"I'll try my luck with Simon." He sighed.

"I should never have bought Cody--he's too much horse for a beginning rider to handle," I whispered, reaching out to touch Zach's cheek.

"You saw what happened, the same as I did--Zach fell because of his inexperience. Because he hasn't been riding long enough to have learned to respond instinctively with the animal in a situation like that," Erik objected. "It wasn't the horse. If anything, we have that gelding to thank for keeping them both out of the ravine."

"I wish that we had stayed at the cabin and waited out the storm. You tried to tell us..."

"It was a gamble either way, whether we stayed or left, and Zach is the one who made the decision that we should go," he reminded me firmly. "At the rate that floodwater was rising, it was probably the right choice. If that cabin is washed off of the pilings, it could easily break apart on those rocks down below."

"Hank will never forgive me for this...for letting Zach get hurt." I wiped away tears. "He told me that it wasn't safe to ride along the creek-bed after a heavy rain. Why didn't I remember that until now?"

"What happened was an accident. No one is to blame."

"I love Zach more than I ever imagined that I could love someone else's child," I cried brokenly. "God help me, it feels like he's my own... I've already lost Hank, and if I lose both of them, I don't think that I can stand it."

"Cait," Erik protested softly, pulling me up into his arms. "Caitlyn, don't."

I clung to him, soaking the front of his shirt with my tears as he held me against the comfort of his broad chest. When my sobs finally quieted he lowered his head, one hand lightly cupping my jaw as his lips gently tasted mine.

"Take yer damned hands offa my woman," Hank's distinctive drawl cut like a knife through the room's sudden stillness.

"She's not 'your' woman," Erik challenged, his arms tightening around me. "Not any more."

Despite the handcuffs that bound him to Sully, Hank took two quick strides toward his brother, his face twisted with rage. "I oughta kill ya now an' be done with it."

"You're more than welcome to try." Erik moved me behind the protection of his muscular frame, then faced off with Hank.

"Hank, no," I finally found my voice. "It's not what you think. Erik..."

"You don't owe him any explanations," Erik interrupted.

"Somebody sure as hell does!" he growled.

"You're the one who called off your engagement. Who threw away the love of a woman who you should have thanked God for every single day for the rest of your life... A woman who you in no way came close to deserving. Exactly what kind of an explanation do you think that you're entitled to?"

"Ya could maybe start with what she's doin' in yer arms!" Hank shouted.

"Even if you're too big of a fool to appreciate what you had, a lot of other men won't be, little brother. Including me. Now back off and leave her alone."

"Still got a taste for my leftovers?" Hank taunted.

Suddenly more furious than I had ever been in my life, I stepped out from behind Erik and slapped Hank as hard as I could across the face. "You insufferable bastard!" I hissed in disbelief. "Don't you EVER come near me again!"

"Exactly what is going on in here?" Michaela demanded loudly, still buttoning the top of her bodice as she entered the room.

No one answered, Erik's gaze locked with Hank's in cold, deadly anger. Mike looked at Sully, lifting one eyebrow inquiringly.

"Daniel agreed to deputize me--made me responsible for Hank, so I could bring him over here." He shrugged. "I got his word that he wouldn't try to run, but now I'm gonna need a few more promises."

"Would ya get these things offa me already?" Hank dipped his head in sullen acknowledgement.

"If you even look like there's gonna be any trouble outta you, you'll go straight back across the street to the jail," Sully warned, taking the key from his pocket and removing the handcuffs.

Hank rubbed his wrists, then walked over to the bed, dropping to his knees on the floor and taking Zach's hand between both of his. I sagged against Erik as I watched tears fill Hank's eyes, his lower lip quivering slightly as he struggled for control. "Michaela?"

"Yes, Hank?" She moved up behind him, resting one hand on his shoulder.

"Is he gonna make it?"

"I'm hopeful that he will."

"But you don't know."

"He could wake up and be fine--or there could be varying degrees of impairment--or he might never wake up," she responded quietly. "All head injuries are extremely serious, but they may or may not be life-threatening, depending on the extent of the damage. The major danger that we're facing is that the brain swells like any other injured tissue, but the bony, rigid nature of the skull limits the room that it has to expand. For now all I can do is monitor Zach's condition--and wait."

"Why can't you operate on him, same as you did on me?"

"When both you and Brian had head injuries, there was absolutely no room for doubt that you were going to die if I didn't go in and relieve the pressure. I had to perform surgery because it was your only chance to survive." Mike sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him. "With Zach, things are not at that point yet. The situation could certainly change, with very little notice, but there's no indication of an immediate need to operate. The risk that involves simply isn't justified. His pupils are equal in size and reactive to light, there's no blood or cerebrospinal fluid leaking from his nose and ears, and his respiration rate is within normal limits. It concerns me that it is taking him this long to regain consciousness, but two hours ago Zach had absolutely no response to painful stimulation--to being pricked by a pin--and now there is a reflexive attempt to move away."

"That mean he's gettin' better?"

"It indicates that he's closer to waking up. And the fact that there's movement in all of his limbs tells me that the fall caused no permanent damage to the spinal cord. That he'll still be able to walk."

"Don't let him die." His voice cracked under the strain of his emotions as he raised his head to look at her pleadingly. "He's all I got."

"Hank, I promise you--I will do everything for Zach that I possibly can."

Holding her gaze, Hank nodded, fully entrusting his son into her care. Michaela held out her hand to him, waiting until he reached to link his long fingers with her own.

Weeping silently, unable to turn away from the sight of the humbly bowed blond head as Hank remained on his knees, I allowed Erik to wrap me comfortingly in his arms. My hair had dried into untamed ringlets, and he pushed them back over my shoulder, away from the dampness on my cheeks.

"I left our dinner downstairs," he said softly.

"I'm not hungry."

"How about coming along to keep me company?"

Giving in, I let him lead me out of the room and down to the first floor of the clinic. Sinking wearily into a chair pulled up next to a small table, I buried my face in my palms.

Erik wordlessly uncovered the tray, arranging cold chicken, salad, and bread on two plates. A bottle of wine rested on its side, and he eased out the cork, wiping stemmed glasses before pouring them half full.

"Caitlyn--there's something that I need to know." He took his glass over to the window, staring unseeingly out into the darkness. "How good is Dr. Quinn?"

"As good as they come."

"If Zach was your child, is she the physician that you would choose?"

"With no reservations whatsoever." I nodded.

"I could wire a specialist--if there is one anywhere nearby. I would be prepared to pay any amount that it might take to convince him to get on the next train to Colorado Springs to do a consult."

"I would suggest that you make the offer--then leave it up to Mike and Hank."

"I'm not accustomed to feeling so completely helpless," he confessed, plowing his fingers through his hair in agitation.

"The last person that Michaela wanted me to fall in love with was your brother." I twisted the tear-soaked handkerchief that was still clutched in my hands. "But even though the two of them fight constantly there is a friendship there that's hard to explain. Hank can make her madder than anyone else she knows--and if she does something that knocks her off of this pedestal that he has Mike on, believe me, he makes certain that she hears about it. But he would cut off his own right hand for her, if he had to...and even though I'm scared that her best--or anyone's best--might not be good enough, you could never find a doctor who will work harder to save Hank's son than she will."

"A few days ago I didn't know that Zach existed. Now my heart feels like it's being ripped to shreds." He rested his forehead against the coolness of the windowpanes.

"The more that I've come to know him, the more that I've learned to love him." I took a sip of the wine in an attempt to calm my shattered nerves. "For himself. Not because he belongs to Hank."

"Now that you've decided to return to Georgia, I intend to ask Zach to reconsider my offer--to come and live with Kristen and me," he admitted. "I'm in a position to offer him any number of things that he's never had...and I have a friend who owns a gallery in New York, who I think would be very much interested in showing his work."

"Don't try to come between the two of them," I warned softly. "Hank needs Zach--and Zach needs his father."

"From what I've seen Hans has never been much of a father." He sighed. "It amazes me that someone like him could raise a kid like that."

"They're more alike than you know... Deep down inside they both want the same exact things--love and acceptance and a place where they can feel that they truly belong. A home of their own. But Zach is still open--unafraid of his feelings--and Hank built stone walls between himself and the rest of the world a long, long time ago."

"How do I get past those walls?" he asked quietly. "He needs my help...and there is only so much that I can do if he won't allow me to argue the case."

"If I had the answer to that, I wouldn't be sitting here right now in this much pain." I swallowed the last of the wine in my glass.

"You do know that he loves you?" Erik sat down across from me. "That the last thing that he wants is to let you go?"

"What was between us is over." I shook my head in denial.

"It hasn't even started yet," he predicted lightly.

"This time he went too far. I am no one's 'left-overs'--including Hank's." I bit the words off harshly, color staining my cheeks.

"He was angry with us both--afraid that he might actually have lost you," he said quietly. "So he lashed out with words that he knew would hurt. But it was long past time for him to have to face the fact that he's as much in love with you as you are with him. What I did upstairs...I'm satisfied now that the feelings that Hans has for you are real."

"Then that kiss you gave me was for his benefit--to make Hank jealous?" I dropped my gaze in embarrassment.

"No." His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "The kiss that I stole was strictly for me."

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