Thursday morning
November 25 – 5:39 a.m. MST
Denver, CO
John stood just outside of the entrance to the emergency department at Denver Health. Over the last few years, this emergency department had become a kind of home away from home. In this ED, he was a well-liked, capable surgeon. He usually zipped in, did his work, and went home to his life.
This morning was different.
This morning, the people he loved most were in surgery.
This morning, his best friend Max was in the middle of emergency open heart surgery. The man he’d come to love like a brother, Arthur Rasmussen, was being evaluated for surgery to relieve the pressure on his swelling brain. Samantha was in surgery for her broken chin and jaw. Wyatt was in surgery for his shattered wrist and arm. The ever-mysterious Steve Pershing had torn his deep stitches and was in surgery getting it repaired. His running mate and friend Troy had suffered an allergic reaction to whatever Neev had given him, and was fighting for his life in the ICU.
And his Alex.
He couldn’t bear to think on it. He’d told himself that Alex was stabbed; she was fortunate to have been stabbed on her right side; and she was lucky to have been given the coagulant by the ever unflappable Hector James. This morning, she was in surgery to clean out pieces of body armor, shards of the knife blade, and find the bleeding vessels.
This might be the morning that she didn’t recover.
They’d told him not to get his hopes up. She’d already been through the ten pints of whole blood they kept stored for her. They couldn’t find the leaking vessel.
“It would take a surgeon of your skill to find it,” the ED doctor had told him over the phone. “Know anyone like that?”
“I could . . . ,” he’d tried.
“We don’t dare. Insurance liability and all that. Why don’t you go to the waiting area? We’ll let you know as soon as we know anything.”
He rubbed his face with his hands.
What if Alex and Max died?
He’d never survive. He took a step toward the ED and stopped.
What was he going to do?
A man walked into him. He hit John so hard that John stumbled forward.
“Get out of the way,” the man said in a stiff London accent.
Walking fast, the man turned to look at him. The man was his MI-6 shadow. He raised an eyebrow at John and disappeared into the hospital.
The left pocket of John’s white doctor’s coat felt heavier. John put his hand into the pocket. His fingers wrapped around a cell phone. Dazed, he held the phone up to his ear.
“Listen and don’t talk,” James Kelly, his brother and MI-6 operative, said. “The knife was covered with microspheres of the anticoagulant, heparin. This particular wound, although more effective on the left side, is designed to be unsurvivable because the wound itself pushes the microspheres further into the body, where they release the heparin. Standard coagulant seals the heparin inside the body and proper surgical procedure hastens the spread of the heparin.”
“It’s our understanding that there’s been excessive bleeding,” James said. “They’re calling for another surgeon.”
Not wanting to respond, John nodded. That’s what he’d do if he was the surgeon in charge.
“We caught a gal on the way into Max’s party,” James said. “We believe her when she says that someone asked her to bring a coagulant, but you know, that would kill him. We’ve adjusted his surgical team.”
Horrified, John took a swift breath.
“Exactly,” James said. “Here’s our question: can you save her?”
John nodded.
“Johnny, can you save our girl?” James repeated. “Why aren’t you answering?”
“You told me not to talk!”
“You were always so literal,” James chuckled. “Thanks. That’s the first laugh I’ve had all day. Can you save her?”
“Of course,” John said.
“Are you good enough, Johnny?” James said. “No ego or tough guy here. The hospital says you’ve done it before.”
“A half-dozen times,” John said. “Car accident on the way home from a hip-replacement, cardiac patient meets his radial saw – that sort of thing. I have a team that works on this type of case quite effectively.”
“Fine,” James said. John heard James breathe.
“You okay?”
“Just . . . well, you know,” James said. “We’re not willing to lose Pershing or the Fey or her twin or Rasmussen.”
“What about Troy?” John asked.
“Fuck’s sake, Johnny, you know what I mean!”
“I do,” John said.
“Are you willing to risk everything?”
“Yes.” John answered without hesitation. He was ready to do anything to save them.
“You’ll need to check in on Pershing and Max,” James said. “Rasmussen and, hell, all of them. Any funny business and you rotate in.”
“Of course,” John said.
“Do exactly as I tell you,” James said. “Go through the doors.”
John walked into the hospital.
“Turn right and then make an immediate left into the surgeons’ locker room,” James said.
“I’m going in right now,” John said.
“There should be a man standing right in front of you,” James said. “You will take his identification and use the names through the surgery. You won’t be paid, but what do you care?”
The man held out an identification tag and card key. John took the identification from this stranger and the man left the locker area.
“Any news on Neev?” John asked.
“They’re moving her from the Denver Police out to the FBI as we speak,” James said. “Some people are coming to speak with her.”
“What has she said?” John asked.
“Nothing,” James said. “Keep the phone. I’ll be in touch.”
James clicked off the phone. John turned in place when he heard someone come in the room. His MI-6 shadow stood in front of him.
The man didn’t say anything.
He never did.
He simply held out his hand.
John’s original gold wedding ring lay in his hand. John picked up the ring. The man gave a slight nod and left the room.
John’s hand closed around the ring. They’d used their old rings for their ceremony in Scotland. When he was finally a genuine, well-paid, non-mooching vascular surgeon, he’d asked Alex for a new ring. They’d gone together and bought the ring he now wore every day. It had a row of small black diamonds set in the center of a brushed platinum band. It was stunning. It reminded him that all the darkness that had been his life was now surrounded by shining light. The ring reminded him of Alex.
John opened his locker. He pulled off his new ring and set it on the bottom of the locker. He slipped on his old ring and smiled. His old ring felt like home. He changed quickly.
“Doctor?” said his surgical nurse, Trish, in a tense voice. “Are you here to work on the Hargreaves case?”
When she realized it was John, she smiled.
“Doctor . . . ,” She leaned forward to look at the identification tag. “Kelly.”
John looked down at the tag. Sure enough, Jimmy had changed him name from John Kelly Drayson to Shane John Kelly. John gave a rueful shake of his head. Shane was the Irish rendition of John. His brother had changed his name to his baby name – John-John.
“Trish, she’s been given a high dose of heparin,” John said. “On the knife. Some kind of microspheres full of the stuff sealed in by the coagulant.”
“Followed by coagulant?” Trish’s eyebrows shot up with concern.
“Yes,” John said. “Do you remember . . . ?”
“Yes, doctor, I believe Dr. Drayson has done quite few of those surgeries,” Trish smiled. “He’s truly an expert, as is his team. Should I call in his team?”
“Please do,” John smiled.
“I’ll get what we need,” Trish nodded. “I will also round up our team. You may scrub. We’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.”
“Thank you,” John said.
“But you’re coming?” Trish asked.
“I’m on my way,” John followed her out the door.
FFFFFF
Thursday afternoon
November 25 – 3:51 p.m. MST
Denver, CO
Alex woke in a Colorado high mountain meadow filled with wildflowers. A tiny bright-red bugler penstemon tickled her nose. Leaning her hand on a patch of baby blue eyes, she sat up to look around. Her cricket was waiting for her among the evergreen trees that edged the meadow. He waved to her with his red umbrella, and she waved back. Looking across the meadow, she saw another indentation in the flowers.
Max.
She pushed herself onto her hands and knees. She had to rest for a moment to catch her breath, before finally getting to her feet.
She took a step and stumbled. She felt oddly weak. Her entire body screamed with pain.
Something moved. She turned to see Jesse.
“Jesse!” Alex waved.
When he was close, she tried to hug his solid body, but her right arm wouldn’t move. Her left arm caught his neck. She slumped against him. She hung on for a while.
“I’m so weak,” Alex said.
“Yes,” Jesse said. “Let me help.”
Jesse put his arm around her and helped carry her. A brilliant-white snowy owl took off from a tall lodgepole pine on the edge of the meadow. The owl circled the meadow, before landing a few feet from them. The owl transformed.
“Hey look! It’s Yvonne!” Alex said. “Y!”
Alex wasn’t sure if she could hug her, but Yvonne held out her arms. Jesse helped her stay upright, and Alex held her dear friend close.
Alex weaved.
“Let me help,” Yvonne said.
Yvonne took Alex’s other side. Together, they staggered across the flowers and rich earth. Her cold bare feet felt the green tendrils of sage bend against her weight. Her foot caught on a small purple aster and they almost fell. Jesse kept them upright.
“Pick up your feet,” Jesse said.
A cold wind blew up her back. The green grass tickled her toes. She tripped forward.
Nothing was going to stop her from reaching Max. They continued their weaving, stumbling journey across the meadow.
A few feet away, Alex saw him.
She tried to run, but pitched forward onto the ground. She crawled on her hands and knees to Max’s body.
“Still warm,” she whispered.
Alex curled up around her twin’s body. She put her chin on his shoulder and her nose right next to his neck.
Max sighed.
The weight of his body pressed into hers and they seemed to merge.
She felt a sense of deep relief. She was exactly where she should be, where she belonged.
“Alex?” Max whispered.
“I’m here,” Alex said.
“Good,” he said.
They fell into a sound sleep.
FFFFFF
Thursday afternoon
November 25 – 4:11 p.m. MST
Denver, CO
“Doctor . . . uh . . . Kelly, sir,” Trish ran into the private room where John, Alex’s family and team were waiting. John looked up from his conversation with Patrick and Mrs. Harris. “You need to come now.”
John followed Trish into the ICU where he heard the sound of a loud argument coming from the area near Max’s bed. John’s heart squeezed with anxiety. He ran faster.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” the head of the ICU said.
“We did not do this,” John’s favorite ICU nurse, Eloisa, said. A sixty-four-year-old Vietnam War nurse veteran, Eloisa suffered no fools and no arrogant doctors.
“You expect me to believe that she floated over here? By what? Magic?”
John skid to a halt near Max’s bed. Alex was lying with her wounded side up and her body around Max’s body. Trish rushed to Alex and began assessing her condition.
“I ordered them to be together.” Used to being in charge, Patrick had no problem stepping in front of John. “They cannot survive without each other.”
“Who let you in here?” the ICU doctor asked. “Where the hell is security?”
Two steely-eyed Marines stepped out from behind the bed. They gave the doctor a level stare.
“Did you do this?” the doctor asked.
The Marines did not respond. John joined Trish at Alex’s side. She had disconnected her IV but not torn it out.
“You have no authority over them,” Patrick said.
“Ask them,” the doctor commanded.
“Report,” Patrick gave the strong, one-word command.
“The Lieutenant Colonel crawled in here on her own volition, General,” one Marine said.
“I told you,” Patrick said.
“You expect me to believe that after major surgery and blood loss that could only be remedied with cord blood, the Lieutenant Colonel walked over here and got into this bed?” the ICU doctor said. “I’m not a fool.”
“Then stop acting like one,” Eloisa looked him up and down and went to the bed.
“We are not responsible for what you believe or do not believe, sir,” the second Marine said. “We are reporting what happened.”
“We are only responsible for the protection of Lieutenant Colonel Hargreaves and Maxwell Hargreaves,” the first Marine said.
“They cannot be together,” the ICU doctor said. “Maxwell Hargreaves is too weak.”
“He’s not now,” Eloisa said.
The doctors, nurses, and Patrick turned to look at Max’s heart rate and metabolic monitor. Max’s heart was beating stronger, and his blood pressure was near normal.
“Lieutenant Colonel Hargreaves is my patient,” John said. “She appears to need a new bandage and a new . . .”
Another ICU nurse wheeled a monitor over to them. John stepped out of the way to let her work.
“She cannot be here,” the ICU doctor said.
“They’re identical twins,” Patrick said. “They cannot survive without each other. Trust me, I’ve tried it all their lives.”
“There’s no such thing as male-female identical twins,” the ICU doctor sniffed.
“Single zygotic,” John said over his shoulder.
“They look like twins to me,” Eloisa said. “These are not the first twins we’ve had in here. Now get out of the way so we can do our jobs.”
“You want me to believe that these two are . . . ,” the ICU doctor started.
Trece stepped in front of the doctor. Towering over the man, Trece’s sheer bulk caused the man to step back. Trece pulled the curtain between them.
“He can’t do that!” the ICU doctor said.
“Actually, that man can do almost anything he wants,” Patrick said. “You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who could stop him.”
John’s nurse Trish came out from behind the curtain.
“Dr. Kelly has ordered another bed,” Trish said.
“Good thinking,” Patrick said.
“If this goes south . . . ,” the ICU doctor started.
“We won’t blame you,” Patrick said.
“You’d better not,” the ICU doctor said.
“Doctor, would you mind taking a look . . . ,” a nurse came up to the ICU doctor.
She smiled at Patrick and pulled the doctor away from the beds. An orderly wheeled a bed next to Max’s bed. John, Trish, the ICU nurse, and the orderly moved Alex onto her back and into her own bed. John took Alex’s left hand and placed it next to Max’s right. Max’s fingers stretched for her fingers.
John smiled when they held hands.
“How . . . ?” Eloisa looked up at Patrick. “They are about as unconscious as a person can be.”
“I don’t ask,” Patrick said.
“I think they are one soul in two bodies,” John stepped out from behind the curtain.
“That’s what they say,” Trece said. He opened the curtain to let the nurses out and give them some room.
For a moment, Patrick and John stood back to watch.
“He’s doing a lot better,” Patrick said.
“So is she,” John said. “And Samantha?”
“She’s in a room upstairs,” Patrick said. “Wyatt’s in with her. They’re still out, but their doctors think they will both be fine. Steve’s here somewhere.”
John pointed through to the bed next to Max.
“He has a new nose and more stitches,” Patrick said.
“We were lucky to find the leaking vessel,” John said.
“Where is Josh?” Patrick asked.
John looked up to see Eloisa moving Raz’s bed. She settled it next to Alex’s bed.
“May as well keep them all together,” Eloisa said. “That way, those soldiers don’t need to be all over everywhere.”
“Captain Olivas?” John asked.
“Give me a minute,” Eloisa smiled.
White Boy helped an orderly move Troy’s bed over to the rest of them. White Boy nodded to Patrick. Trece talked with the Marines. They started moving the beds into a circle. With Alex and Max at the bottom, Steve’s bed was moved to the left of Max, with his feet near Max’s head. Leaving a space in between, they moved Raz to the opposite position, to the right of Alex’s bed. Troy’s bed took the top position in the star.
Trece, White Boy, and the Marines stood with their backs to each other in the center.
John looked from bed to bed. Blue lights bounced up and down on each monitor.
“Let’s get some rest and something to eat,” Patrick said. “Rebecca and Erin are upstairs with Sami and Wyatt. They’ll want to see these guys. We can get something to eat and be back before they want us.”
John looked at him for a moment. With a nod, he turned to go. He was almost out of sight when he turned back. For the briefest second, he could have sworn he saw the light of the Blue Fairy floating above the soldiers in the center of the circle. Her glorious blue light shone down on the ones he loved.
When he blinked, everything was back to normal. He smiled and followed Patrick out of the ICU.
F