General Hospital Fan Fiction Message Board

Once again, I apologize for taking ages to get this out but I thank you all for your patience (and hounding). Extra thanks to my editors Kel and Monika - you know I love you!

Surprisingly enough, I think the previous chapter is still hanging out on in the archives if you‘re interested. But if not, here’s a broad recap of where we left off:

Inside Faison’s Italian estate, Robin was getting impatient (imagine that) and Dimitri was worrying about where Alex vanished to. Fresh from his battle with (former) WSB agent Andrew Mitchell, Frisco came along just as Robin was about to go off on her own to find her mother. And after wasting a good chunk of valuable time arguing, Frisco, Robin and Interpol Agent Viviana Grimaldi headed out to meet up with the gang outside. Speaking of outside…

Out in the cold and snow, Robert, Sean and Alex continued making their way toward Faison and Anna. Faison was playing games with Anna - a ballsy move since she had a gun on him. She fired (twice) but missed (twice) but her Energizer Bunny batteries were finally (and rapidly) running down. (Bad timing for her, eh?)

Anyway, Robert finally arrived and realized just how bad things were for Anna and while he and Faison got into a pissing contest, Anna wound up fighting a battle on another front.

That last section is included here.

Feedback is always appreciated and can be posted here or you can email me at: anniern91@msn.com

Enjoy!

~ A

*****

Crouched down on her heels, Alex feels time slow to a crawl as the metal under Sean’s feet groans again. Knowingly or not, Robert had done a good job of distracting Faison, in effect covering the initial creak a moment ago. But this one is louder. She’s certain Faison has to have heard it.

Sure enough, she notices that not only has his back stiffened, but he’s fallen silent in his argument with Robert, making no attempt to interrupt him as he speaks to Anna.

Just as she realizes that, she sees him start to turn away from Anna and Robert to glance over his shoulder.

In that same moment, before she knows what she’s doing, she’s rising to her feet, gun in hand.

*****

“I don’t love you…”

Tired, angry, worried. Beard growing on his face. The man she sees now looks so much the same to her that Anna can’t let herself believe he‘s real.

“Robert?”

The words leave her lips on a confused whisper but then she sees his face transform into relief. It makes her heart leap and makes her want to sob at the same time.

“I don’t want you here…”

Fresh tears rise in her already wet eyes. Eyes that will not leave his for fear that he‘s a mirage, an apparition. Though she sees his lips move, whatever he says to her at this moment gets lost in the noise in her head, the voices from long-ago only growing louder.

“I don’t love you…”

“I’m sor-,” she begins to say, only to stop as a bolt of lightening spears through her head.

Squeezing her eyes shut against it, she fights another wave of dizziness. Instantly, the images from the boat begin to storm across the darkness of her lids until the vision of her wedding band flying through the air surfaces on them.

“Take it back! Take it and leave!”

She presses her palm against her eyes, trying to shove the image away as she waits for the dizziness to pass.

In her next breath, she recognizes her own voice reverberating strangely in her ears.

Her voice.

And yet not her voice.

“Cesar Faison!”

Pulling her hand from her eyes, Anna massages the side of her head, the ache within it agonizing. She struggles to focus on Robert again, her vision not only blurring but dimming, that soothing, inviting darkness still loitering at the edges of her consciousness, its edges pressing further into her awareness.

“I don’t love you…”

“Drop the gun!”

On her most conscious level, she begins to comprehend now that the voice doesn’t belong to her.

“Alex?” she asks him, reaching the only conclusion she can. But her soft voice is drowned out by his.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hears him demand, “Get out of here!”

She turns her head to follow Robert‘s gaze, instantly regretting it as a wave of dizziness nearly overpowers her.

“Do it, Faison! Now!”

“I don’t want you here…”

Sharp twinges stab beneath her skull again and she nearly doubles over from the intensity.

“I don’t love you…”

Clenching her eyes shut, she grabs her head with both hands now, the cold metal of the gun pressing against her temple as she waits for the pain to pass.

“I never did!”

This time, however, the pain doesn’t ease, doesn’t ebb. Instead, it amplifies with a violence excruciating enough that it threatens to send her spiraling into unconsciousness.

“What is this, Scorpio…?”

“Go! Please!”

She groans, trying to breathe through the pain even as each breath drives small currents of electricity into her chest.

“…Some kind of trick?”

“Shut up, Faison!”

“Let her go!”

She can feel Faison’s arm curling around her waist, his firm grip tightening, drawing her closer to him.

“Let me go!”

“Robert, get her out of here!”

“Robert, you have to go!”

The voices around and within clash and assault her, their arguing relentless, unremitting. Faison, Robert, Alex - or is it herself? She can’t tell anymore.

She can feel the weight of Faison’s hand on her arm now, tugging her backward, pulling her into the past.

“You have to go, now!”

“Stop!” she pleads in desperation, squeezing her skull between her hands, “Please... Stop!”

Half-acquiescing to her appeal, the commotion around her suddenly dissolves into silence, but only to allow the chaos of a decade ago to take over completely.

“I don’t love you Robert!”

Back on the boat and helpless to stop it, she sees it - feels it - all play out again. The panic in her gut expands exponentially.

“I never did!”

The wedding band flies through the air, landing on the deck of the boat. Just in front of Robert.

“Here! This is yours!”

She looks over at him, his confusion and anguish intensifying the ache already consuming her chest.

“Take it back! Take it and leave!”

“Please…” the plea isn’t much more than a whisper and the pain surges in her head.

“Leave! Go now!”

She glimpses the anger on his face as he begins to reach toward the deck beneath his feet.

“Please, Robert!”

A sudden jolt travels through her body now, compounding her discomfort, making her gasp for air.

“Anna!”

“Please!”

“Anna!”

Teetering on the edge of a chasm, she hears someone shout her name. She isn’t sure who it is or if it came from her present or her past but it momentarily draws her back.

As she opens her eyes and emerges back into the blurry, cold and snowy scene, she finds herself on her knees, the discomfort in her head still with her.

Something - a voice, a movement, she’s not sure - draws her gaze upward and she looks across at Faison. A fraction of a second after her eyes find his face and she sees that his attention is diverted, she senses someone lurching toward her from the left.

But before she can draw another breath, she sees the flash of Faison’s weapon as he fires.

She senses rather than sees Robert fall just before another shot pierces the air.

But Anna doesn’t hear it.

Because in that same instant, the air around her shifts again, becoming blazingly bright as the deafening blast of an explosion from a lifetime ago fills her consciousness.

And this time, as a final, blistering pain tears through her skull and steals the breath from her lungs, she embraces the dark abyss as it swallows her.

Reunion XX:
Wake
Part I

*****

*Too late…*

In the back seat of a police car, Robert stares through the snowy darkness, his eyes on the back of the ambulance in front of him.

*You were too late.*

The words pass through his mind again a few moments later, admonishing and accusing him. They have, in fact, been a nearly constant companion since Anna’s collapse.

In an attempt to shove the concept away, he tries to focus on something else. But as hard as he tries to let the sights and sound lull him, his brain seems to have other plans.

He listens to the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers only to find it nearly drowned out by the sirens beyond the car. He watches the snow fall beyond the window next to him, but can’t ignore how the flashing lights of the ambulance ahead illuminate and color the fluffy flakes.

It isn’t long before, in his mind’s eye, Faison is leveling his gun at Anna.

Sean had warned him to bring it to an end. And he had tried, but… It had all gone so bad so quickly.

No matter what he’d said to him, Faison’s aim had been unwavering. He had known what the snake was doing. He was using Anna as insurance. It was his way of keeping him in check; his way of protecting himself. And though initially there was a part of him that felt relatively confident Faison wouldn’t shoot her, there came a point when that confidence was smothered by the understanding that Faison held his own freedom well above her safety.

The instant he saw Anna drop to her knees, her face crumpled in pain, it hit him that there was only one way to draw Faison’s weapon away from her and take that advantage from him. And so he began running toward her, hoping to draw Faison’s aim; hoping a moving target would decrease the man’s accuracy; hoping he could get his own shot off before Faison could fire or that Sean could take Faison down while Alex got to Anna.

Faison, however, had been quick to pull the trigger; his aim, just precise enough. The force of the bullet striking his side drove him to the ground, taking away his chance to return fire.

And then, on the heels of the first shot, he’d heard a second shot fired.

Even before he could catch his breath, he’d looked over at Anna to find her in a heap on the ground and, oblivious to the pain, he struggled to his feet and raced toward her.

*Too late…* The charge fed his anxiety as he called her name and slid through the last few feet of snow to reach her.

Dropping to the ground next to her, he lifted her to cradle her upper body against him. Her skin was cool and colorless, the shadows under her eyes prominent. So still and limp had she been in his arms, he’d had to focus on her chest, looking for a rise and fall in it just to be sure she was still breathing.

An ominous feeling made his chest tighten.

His attention had been diverted when the second shot was fired so he didn’t know who fired it or whether it found its target. Anna had been on her knees the last he saw her and he feared that Faison had managed to swing his aim around toward her.

He quickly searched her for some sort of wound. Though her dark, wet clothes made it difficult to tell for certain, he hadn’t seen any blood; nor had he felt anything warm enough to be blood soaking the fabric; nor had he found any rips or tears.

He’d talked to her then, urging her to open her eyes, assuring her - and himself - that she was all right, that she was safe. But there had been no reply and, other than her unnervingly shallow breaths, no movement.

Yet in the next moment, he heard her say his name.

With her eyes still closed and her lips unmoving, he knew he imagined it. But then he felt a hand cover one of his. Looking up from Anna‘s quiet visage, he found Alex kneeling across from him.

Only then did the activity around him begin to intrude on his attention. He sensed physical movement nearby and voices - both those around him and via his earpiece - sounded in his ear.

Instinctively knowing she’d done more than call his name, he looked at Alex with a question on his face.

“I asked if you’re all right,” she explained, “You’re grimacing.”

He hadn’t understood at first but then she looked up from Anna long enough to arch her brows and nod toward his chest, or more specifically, the rip in the side of his parka.

It was then that the pain in the side of his chest began to register and by the mere feel of it, he was certain that a deep and ugly bruise was forming under the bullet lodged in his vest. But that hadn’t mattered to him and he hadn’t answered her.

Instead, he shifted the woman in his arms long enough to remove his parka and start to cover her with it. Even as he did so, he had asked Alex what was wrong with Anna.

This time it was her turn not to reply and he watched as she squeezed Anna’s hand and called her name. Once. Then again. Getting no response, she checked Anna’s pupils and moved on from there, examining her sister.

With every passing moment, the tightness that had been occupying his chest began to work itself into his stomach.

Waiting for Alex to finish, he smoothed a few stray locks of wet hair off of Anna’s face. He talked to her, watching as the flakes of snow melted into her dark strands and further chilled her already cool skin. As he held her, he began to notice that she wasn’t so still after all. Instead, there was a fine, barely noticeable tremor traveling through her.

For a brief moment, he thought she was shivering from the cold; but on a deeper level, he understood it was different and his sudden awareness of it reminded him of a part of Anna’s history he’d learned about only hours ago.

Just as he was going to ask the question, he glanced at the woman across from him and got the sense that whatever was wrong wasn’t that simple.

“You think it’s worse than a seizure, don’t you,” he’d said finally.

“I don’t know yet, Robert,” Alex replied with a shake of her head, “I just… don’t know.” She’d run a hand through her hair and met his eyes, the worry there so much deeper than in her expression or what he‘d just heard in her calm and steady voice. “But I don’t like this.”

Her declaration made his heart sink and triggered the indictment to return.

*Too late…*

Once the ambulance finally made it up the hill, he’d been forced to stand just far enough away to allow the paramedic to do his job - which only underscored his inability to help the woman on the ground. Still, he stayed close enough to listen to Alex explain to the paramedic what details she found when she had examined Anna.

Only as she mentioned Anna’s bounding pulse did he realize that the tremor he felt in her was not shaking from the cold. At least not entirely. She had been trembling - pulsating, really - with a brisk regularity corresponding to her pounding heart.

He stood there in the snowy, rapidly encroaching darkness, the voices in his ear annoying him like a mosquito and prompting him to remove his earpiece. As he did he heard Sean call to Grimaldi, who had arrived at a point he cannot determine, even now.

“Anna goes first, Grimaldi! Tell them... Anna first!”

Glancing in the direction of his friend’s voice, he’d been surprised - not only to see Sean standing over Faison but also to find the other paramedic from the ambulance working on the bastard’s seemingly unconscious form. But while it struck him that he wasn‘t sure how that situation came about, he also didn‘t particularly care.

He turned back to the small cluster of people around Anna, his impatience and worry finally getting the better of him.

“Look, can someone tell me what’s going on here?” he demanded.

Rather than hear Alex or Grimaldi answer, it was Robin’s voice he heard next and he spent the following few minutes trying to answer her anxious, rapid-fire questions as best he could. Somehow, her presence managed to calm him, helped him focus. But the tight, heavy feeling in his gut had remained. Remains with him still.

It wasn’t long after that that he felt Sean’s hand on his shoulder and heard him ask how Anna was.

“I don’t think they know,” he answered and again felt a burst of frustration laced with fear. “What the hell just happened, Sean?” he had growled, “What happened to her?”

But Sean had no answers for him either and they stood there together. Watching. Waiting. Worrying.

At one point, he heard a familiar voice from somewhere behind him. Commanding and authoritative. Raised in frustration.

“I said you’re both staying put, Witherspoon! Argue with me and I’ll come in there and shoot you myself!”

He glanced toward the helicopter to see that Frisco had taken Sean’s place standing guard over a still unconscious Faison.

“What’s his issue?” he muttered at last, his eyes on Faison, the sirens of another ambulance cutting through the wintry air.

Sean glanced at him, surprised. “He’s been shot, Robert.”

Robert looked again but didn’t see any obvious blood seeping into the snow. Not that that meant anything.

“Still breathing?” he asked finally.

“Still breathing. But out cold.”

He’d exhaled at that, the disappointment washing over him. “You?” he asked, the source of the second shot still an unanswered question, “Or was it Alex?”

Arching his brows, Sean shook his head and glanced down at the gun still resting in the snow near Anna.

“You think Anna shot him?” Robert asked doubtfully, “Sean. You saw what she was like as well as I did. She could barely -”

“Well it wasn’t me and it wasn’t you,” Sean countered, leaning down to pick up Anna‘s gun, “And I’ve checked Alexandra’s weapon. She didn‘t get off a shot, either.”

Robert looked down at Anna then. Eyes still shut. Features unmoving.

Even as he sits here in the police car he‘s unable to help wondering how she would’ve been able to fire a gun, much less aim well enough to actually hit her target.

Soon afterward, the small group accompanied Anna and the paramedic to the ambulance. It wasn’t until they were sliding her into it that the paramedic explained that only two of them could ride to the hospital with her.

Which posed a problem.

He and Robin wanted - needed, really - to be with Anna. But Alex was needed as Anna’s doctor. And Grimaldi was needed to translate. In the end, it was decided that Alex and Grimaldi would go with Anna while he and Robin would follow in a police car as soon as it could be arranged.

*Too late.* The accusation had returned to mock him as he watched the ambulance pull away.

He sighs and tilts his head back to rest against the seat of the car, shifting his gaze back to the rear of the ambulance - the ambulance carrying Cesar Faison. Sean’s profile is visible in the lit interior now but the image he sees, the image stuck in his head, is that of Anna falling to her knees.

He exhales, tension, worry and guilt coursing through him.

He should’ve tried harder to end it. He should’ve drawn Faison’s fire sooner. He should’ve…

Feeling Robin’s hand envelop and squeeze his, he glances at his daughter to see his own anxiety reflected in her eyes.

“She’s going to be fine,” he says quietly, returning the squeeze, offering her the most reassuring smile he can muster. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

But even he knows he’s not very convincing.

And as he spots the lights of the hospital in the distance…

*Too late…*

…the thought condemns him.

*****

“Dottoressa Marick?”

The soft, accented voice pulls Alex out of her thoughts and she turns toward it to find Viviana Grimaldi lingering near the curtain separating the cubicle from the rest of the emergency room. Just beyond the Interpol agent, she spots the petite, gray-haired nurse who’d left them only moments ago.

“They are ready to take her now.”

It takes a moment for Alex to remember what Grimaldi is talking about, but the answer comes to her before the woman can speak again.

The CT scan.

With a nod, Alex looks back at Anna on the gurney next to her, hoping for the hundredth time since seeing her collapse that she’ll find her conscious. For the hundredth time, she is disappointed.

“I’d like to go with her,” she says quietly, looking to the nurse.

She waits for Grimaldi to translate and for the nurse to respond, but she knows the answer before Grimaldi turns back to her.

“I am sorry,” the agent says, not unkindly, “but she says that is not possible.” As if sensing Alex’s reluctance to leave Anna’s side, she adds, “She says it will not take long.”

Exhaling, Alex removes the parka she’d placed over Anna a short time ago - the same parka Robert had wrapped her in while they waited for the ambulance to arrive - and lays it on the chair behind her. She brushes Anna’s wet hair back off her forehead and reaches for one of her hands, tenderly taking it in both of her own.

“I’ll be right here when you get back,” she says, giving her sister’s cool hand a final squeeze before gently tucking the hospital blanket tightly around her.

As the nurse unhooks Anna from the monitors and wheels her out of the cubicle, Alex follows. She watches as they proceed down the hall, waiting until they turn a corner, praying that the CT results don‘t show what she fears they might.

Once Anna is out of her sight, she turns and steps back into the cubicle. A cool draft kisses her skin as she enters, sending a shiver through her and reminding her that her own clothes and hair are still wet. Grabbing Robert’s parka, she uses it to cover herself before dropping back down onto the hard plastic chair. Finally, she draws a deep and weary breath, holding it for a beat before slowly releasing it with the hope that some of the tension in her body might leave with it.

It doesn’t.

If time felt like it had slowed when Sean climbed into the helicopter, then it felt like it nearly stopped when Anna collapsed. In fact, time has felt as if its been in an odd state of flux since the moment she came upon Sean inside Faison’s house.

Tilting her head back to rest against the wall behind her, she stares up at the ceiling, almost able to see it all unfold again in the old and stained tiles above her.

Somehow, Robert had reached Anna first. But she had only been a few steps behind and the image of them as she approached remains indelible in her mind. Anna, unconscious on the snow-covered ground, her eyes closed; her skin pallid and wet. Robert, kneeling next to her, his face filled with anxiety and alarm as he tried - and failed - to rouse her.

Her attempts had yielded the same results and the frustration immediately set in. Years of education and training under her belt and there had still been so infuriatingly little she could do without the tools she needed.

It felt like an eternity before an ambulance found a way up the hill. When it finally did, time seemed to accelerate, as if intent on catching up with itself.

Within seconds of the ambulance’s arrival, a paramedic was across from her, squeezing in next to Robert. At once, the language barrier became evident but just as quickly, Grimaldi appeared at her side to translate, allowing her to effectively take charge.

With her medical autopilot engaged, she helped the paramedic assess Anna and eventually helped get her onto a backboard and onto the stretcher. At some point during all of that, Robin arrived.

She frowns, recalling how, between her niece and Robert and Sean, she learned her sister had been drugged - though with what and by whom seemed to be under some debate. Regardless, it only emphasized the need to get her to a hospital.

Though it seemed like hours, the winding drive had taken less than thirty minutes in the snow. Throughout those thirty minutes Anna had remained still, her eyes closed.

Time began speeding along again the moment they entered the ER.

While the other staff moved Anna to a hospital gurney, Alex spoke with the ER physician, an olive-skinned, dark-haired man named Dr. Preselli. Relying to an extent on Grimaldi‘s assistance, she filled him in as best she could - not only about the circumstances surrounding Anna’s collapse but also about what medical history she’s aware of.

Before she knew it, monitors were hooked up and vital signs taken. Labs were drawn. Examinations performed. Tests ordered.

And then the waiting began. The merciless, seemingly interminable waiting that has allowed her brain to do nothing but work to add to her anxiety.

The differential diagnoses she knows they must be considering aren’t helping either.

Her frown deepens, the undercurrent of nervous fear that began on the plateau continuing its flow.

Anna’s blood pressure had already been elevated when she’d checked it back in Washington. She can only imagine the stress Anna must’ve been feeling then and she’s certain that it had only amplified since. Had it all been enough to drive her pressure even higher? And if so, was it enough to compromise her cerebrovascularly?

She might, if the circumstances were different, say no. But the presence of the drug circulating in Anna’s system presents its own set of complications - complications that do nothing to alleviate her fears.

Especially if it’s the same drug that Charlotte’s people had used on Robert.

Ketamine had been only one component of the drug he’d been given and he’d received a substantial dose. He’d tolerated it better than he should have but from her own background and what she learned about it after his encounter with it, she knows that if given in large enough doses and when combined with other drugs, Ketamine can cause brain hemorrhaging.

She isn’t certain how much her sister might have been given but she is certain that if it was Charlotte who‘d done the giving…

Exhaling, she closes her eyes, her jaw tight. For all she knows being drugged by Cesar Faison could be worse. And regardless of who administered it, the fact of the matter is that it may well be playing a role in whatever is happening with Anna right now.

A significant role.

She’s worked through what results and data she has available to her. She’s seen the EKG. The vital signs. She’d been at Anna’s side when Preselli had done his own cursory neuro exam as well as a more extensive follow-up one. She’s sifted through the symptoms she’s aware of, the things she‘d seen in Anna in those moments before she went down.

Confusion. Apparent loss of strength and balance. What she can only guess was a severe headache - one clearly more excruciating than the one she witnessed at the WSB Headquarters. Had there been other signs? Vision problems? Possibly, given her reactions - or lack thereof - on that plateau. Dizziness? She can’t be sure. But all of that along with the incredible stress and the presence of the drug…

“Dottoressa?”

Startled, Alex opens her eyes and glances toward the familiar feminine voice to find Grimaldi standing a few steps away with two cups of hot coffee in her hands. Taking the one extended toward her, she offers the woman a small smile of gratitude and takes a sip of the hot liquid.

“God,” she breathes, briefly closing her eyes, “You’re a savior.”

She takes a larger sip and feels its warmth begin to spread through her. Her smile warms as well and she looks back at the other woman. “Thank you. For this,” she says, nodding at the coffee before settling back into the chair, “and for all your help.”

At that, the other woman offers a quiet “Prego,” and retreats back out into the hall.

Alone once more, Alex pushes her damp hair off of her face and tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling tiles again, trying not to let the worry consume her.

She’s uncertain just how much time passes before Anna returns, but when she does, Alex stands just outside the cubicle, waiting while the nurse hooks her back up to the monitors and begins taking a fresh set of vital signs.

She lets her eyes skim over her sister.

Eyes still closed. Face still ashen. Chest rising regularly, if a little more shallow than she‘d like.

She glances up at the monitor hanging on a wall just off to Anna’s side, waiting for it to display her vitals. A moment later, the numbers appear on the screen.

Blood pressure, still high. Pulse, slower than it was the first time she checked it on the plateau, but still faster than it should be. Oxygen levels adequate on the two liters of oxygen that they had placed her on while en route to the hospital.

Finally completing her tasks, the nurse steps by her on her way out of the cubicle. But just as Alex is about to go back in, a new flurry of activity pulls her attention away. She glances beyond Grimaldi’s shoulder to see another patient being wheeled through the ambulance bay doors.

Her expression darkens as she gets a better look at the figure on the stretcher.

Cesar Faison.

Emotions colliding within her, she watches the paramedics rush him into a cubicle across and a few curtains down from her. She catches sight of Sean following close behind but before she can call out to him, Robert, Robin and two uniformed police officers burst through the emergency room doors.

*****

Fifteen minutes later…

Feeling the dawn of a nervousness he can’t explain, Robert slides the cubicle’s curtain open. He follows a nurse into the cubicle and for the first time in nearly a decade finds himself in the same room as the woman who - in one fashion or another, whether in person or in thoughts or dreams - has been a presence in his life for nearly as long as he can recall.

He stops just two steps in, waiting for the nurse to do whatever it is she needs to do, his eyes fixed on the unconscious form on the stretcher. His heartbeat quickens in his chest as he takes in the picture of her.

Eyes closed. Skin too pale. Dark hair tangled and damp. Head turned slightly to the side. Arms resting along her sides.

She looks to him as though she may merely be sleeping, but he knows that’s not really the case.

He, Robin and Sean had begun assailing Alex with questions the moment they spotted her but before they could get any answers, the doctor taking care of Anna had approached. They‘d turned their questions on him only to be frustrated by the few answers he had for them.

No, the CT results weren’t back yet, the man had explained through Grimaldi. No, the toxicology screens weren’t back, either. Yes, Alex had told them about the drug and they were working to positively identify it. A few of her other labs were taking longer than expected, but he did have a few of the preliminary results - some of which indicated, among other things, dehydration and an electrolyte imbalance. Yes, they were going to work to correct that. No, so far, there was nothing in the results that would explain why Anna collapsed nor why she remains unconscious. Yes, there were other tests they would perform, but they needed to wait for the remainder of the initial tests to come back before proceeding.

It may have been innate paranoia, but Robert couldn’t help feeling there were things the man wasn’t saying. He got nothing more when he pressed him however, and so he found himself questioning Alex again after the doctor moved on. Aside from getting the same sense that she was holding something back, he got no additional answers from her, either. It fed his fear but before he could pressure her further, they were told that they could see Anna. One at a time.

His chest begins to ache as he continues to look at her and while it could merely be the bruise there, reminding him of its presence, there is something more familiar about its weight.

God, how he’s missed her. Missed the closeness they once shared. Missed so many of the big things about her that he always loved. And so many of the little things he took for granted, never realizing how integral they were to his life until it was too late. He’s missed things about her that would alternately drive him to drink in lieu of throttling her or fill him with a love and passion for her that was beyond rational explanation. He’s missed having the mere essence of her near him.

And yet…

And yet all of that, all of those feelings, remain tainted. By uncertainty. By questions and reservations.

It’s as if the conflicted heaviness that has been with him for what seems like a lifetime has resurfaced in his soul.

And he hates it.

Refusing to let himself go any further down that path, he lets his eyes drift to the various tubes and wires that complete the picture of her: the oxygen tubing in her nose and draped behind her ears; the IV fluids dripping into her right arm; the blood pressure cuff on her left; a clip on a finger monitoring her pulse and oxygen levels; Foley catheter tubing snaking out from beneath the blankets, its bag hanging from the end of the gurney.

The sight and sound of it is all too familiar and it’s enough to make his stomach queasy with his own memories and experiences. The fact that it’s happening to her just makes it all that much worse.

Shifting his gaze to the nurse, he watches impatiently as she moves to hang another bag of IV fluid as well as a smaller bag he assumes is an IV replacement of one of the low electrolytes the doctor mentioned. A moment later, she finally passes by him wearing a small, sympathetic smile.

It isn’t until she slides the curtain closed behind him that he moves, pulling the only chair in the room up to the side of the gurney.

“Hey you,” he says softly, a small, worried smile on his lips as he sits down.

Eyes closed, Anna does not answer. Does not move.

“Well…” He pauses, taking her hand in his own, finding it as disturbingly limp as it had been on the plateau. He also finds it is still icy - despite the blankets and the dry hospital gown. “It’s been a while hasn’t it.”

The coolness of her hand unsettles him and he begins gently massaging it between both of his own, attempting to transfer some of his warmth to her.

“I uh…” He arches his brows and clears his throat before dropping his gaze to their hands. This is not how he pictured his first meeting with her taking place, much less where. “Alex gave me your message.”

He stops, his eyes drifting back to her face, studying it for a moment.

Shadows, dark and deep, continue to linger under her eyes - eyes that remain closed. Eyes that, when they finally met his on that hill, had held something in them that still haunts him. It was a level of pain he can’t recall ever seeing in her before. Confusion as well, yes. But predominantly pain. Deep. And not merely of the physical sort.

“We… we have a lot to talk about, you and I.” He frowns at the understatement. There are so many questions, so many issues to work through. “So come on, what do you say you open those eyes and we get out of this place, hmm?”

He waits, squeezing her hand, but her dark eyes remain concealed behind their lids.

He notices now, as he studies her, the small, delicate creases across her forehead and lining the corners of her mouth and eyes as well as those taking root between her brows. They’d been there before, he thinks, but of course they’re a little more prominent now. Evidence of the years that have passed since he last saw her. Testaments to all the trials that have caused them to deepen. Trials he wasn’t around for.

“We’re all here waiting for you to come out of this and talk to us, luv,” he says, his voice low and quiet, almost gruff. He clears his throat again. “And you know how impatient we are. Me most of all. But… Sean, Alex, Robin…”

In spite of the situation, a small smile tugs at a corner of his mouth.

“She’s you, you know. Beautiful. Intelligent. Independent.” He pauses, raising a hand to tenderly brush a few stray tendrils of hair off her temple with the back of his hand. “Strong and resilient.”

He watches her eyes, waiting. No flutter of lashes to be seen. Not even a hint of movement underneath her eyelids.

“And apparently just as stubborn,” he sighs after a long moment.

He switches his gaze back to her hand. It seems smaller than he remembers, more delicate. He runs his thumb lightly over her knuckles. As he does, he glimpses a faint discoloration around the bones of her thin wrist. He frowns and instinctively checks her other wrist, finding a spotty bruise there as well.

His heart sinks as his mind drifts back to Charlotte’s cold metal chair with its rough leather bindings. What had Charlotte done to her?

As he slides his thumb over the bruising however, it occurs to him that her skin is intact. If it had been the leather straps, he’s certain it would’ve torn and cut at her wrists. Especially if she’d struggled against them.

But whatever relief he felt at that realization quickly recedes; because if it wasn’t Charlotte and her chair… Had it been Faison?

He tries to stop his brain from going there. Still, the air around him feels increasingly thin and lacking in oxygen and when he draws his next breath he finds it difficult to get it past the tightness in his throat.

“What happened?” he whispers to her.

Anna does not reply. In fact, the only interruption of the uncomfortably familiar hum of computers and ventilation fans is the steady beeping of the machine registering the presence and pace of her heartbeat.

“What happened back there, Anna? If you could just tell me…”

He stops.

*Then what?* he asks himself, *Then I can fix it?*

He shakes his head.

As many times as he‘s been able to do it in the past, he‘s suddenly and uncomfortably unsure he’s capable of fixing whatever the problem is this time.

“Come on, luv.” Elbows on the bed, he raises her hand and rests his forehead against it. He closes his eyes and exhales wearily. “Wake up for me.”

She doesn’t.

And so he sits with her, fighting to ignore a growing restlessness by running through it all again. Everything. From the moment Frisco sat down across from him and confirmed that she was alive to the moment he called to tell him she was at WSB Headquarters. From his account of her collapse in his office to the instant he saw her image materialize on Alex’s laptop. From the minute her message to him began to play to the moment she fell to her knees in the snow on that hill.

He sifts through it all, looking for anything he could’ve done differently so that rather than sitting with her in a cold, sterile emergency room, they’d be sitting in front of a warm, glowing fire finally, finally getting a chance to possibly repair - or at least resolve - things between them.

All the while, he holds her hand in his, gently massaging it, warming it, keeping the only connection with her that he can establish at the moment. Until finally, sometime later, a soft and welcome voice breaks into his thoughts.

“Dad?”

*****

Trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his shoulder, Sean shifts in his seat and glances across the waiting room to find Alexandra still on the phone at the Admissions desk.

While Robert had gone in to see Anna, he, Robin and Alexandra had spent a few minutes talking to the local police about what happened. His thoughts, however - and Robin’s and Alexandra’s as well, he’s sure - had been on everything but local law and order and it had taken every ounce of his self control not to yell at them to get lost.

Thankfully, with Grimaldi present to act as liaison, they were able to convince the locals that not only could initial statements wait for a more appropriate time, but that as soon as it could be arranged, Interpol would be sharing what information they’d gathered - including satellite video.

He slowly blows the air from his lungs.

Kidnappings and shootings. Incursions into friendly countries and private estates by outside agencies. Murder.

The WSB. Interpol. Local police.

France. Austria. Italy. The U.S.

The international legalities of everything that’s gone down in the past three or four days will take time to sort through and straighten out. It’s a process that’s only beginning. But it’s a process that, as far as he’s concerned, can wait.

Eyes still on Alexandra, he watches her expressions change as she speaks to the person on the other end of the phone and inescapably finds himself making the comparisons.

The intensity in her face right now could easily match Anna’s when she’s focused on a task. As could the set of her shoulders and spine. But where Anna’s hands would be kinetically fidgeting with the phone cord or with the pens or pencils on the desk, Alexandra’s are calm and still - one on the phone, the other in the pocket of her slacks. Where Anna might be pacing, Alexandra’s feet are firmly fixed in place as she leans back against the desk and studies her shoes.

But beyond those physicalities, he’s noted something else.

If the past two days are any indication, Alexandra shares Anna’s need to act. And in the absence of an obvious way to help in an urgent situation, Alexandra seems just as determined as her sister on working overtime to find a less apparent but just as productive approach, carrying through with it - even in the face of opposition.

It’s a quality of Anna’s that he’s found both admirable and frustrating depending on the situation. And he has no doubt that particular attribute has alternately helped Alexandra out of the occasional jam and caused her more than her fair share of problems - just as it has Anna.

Moving his elbows to his knees, he leans forward on them. His shoulder instantly cries out from the increase in pressure but he doesn‘t shift out of the position. Instead, he clasps his hands and lets his gaze fall past them to the tired linoleum beneath his feet, his thoughts switching gears again.

His plan when he’d climbed into the helicopter had been to take Faison down from behind. But as the man stepped toward Anna, he had moved too far away for him to just open the door and tackle him. Seeing what was going on in Anna’s face, he decided that he had to risk it; that if he could leap far enough, he might still be able to manage it. And if not, at least it might bring the end about a little faster.

But the end that ultimately unfolded was not the end he’d wanted nor imagined.

His hand had been on the door handle when he’d seen Robert start toward Anna and he’d taken the opportunity Robert was giving him. He pushed the door of the helicopter open just as Faison was swinging his gun toward Robert - an act he can only guess Anna somehow got a glimpse of. Though he can’t imagine how, given the state she was in, she must’ve fired at about the same time he was going for Faison.

He figures it was the last thing she did before she collapsed completely and he wonders now, if he hadn’t slammed into Faison at about the time as the bullet, if her shot would’ve killed the sonofabitch right then and there.

But it hadn’t.

The paramedics and police had offered to let Robert ride to the hospital with Faison, presumably to allow them some reassurance that Faison wasn’t going to just get up and walk away. He declined, opting instead to follow with the police in a separate car.

Sean understood. He didn’t want to be near the man, didn’t trust himself not to open the doors and shove him out of the moving ambulance or wrap the IV tubing around the man’s throat and pull the ends tight. He’d had the same thought himself: finish what Anna started.

And had the paramedic not been there as a witness…

“Well,” Alexandra’s voice draws him out of the memory and he looks up to see her approaching, “I spoke with Dr. Martin at PVH. He’s emailing copies of Anna’s records now.”

“Good,” he says as she takes a seat across from him, “You still want the ones from the WSB?”

She nods. “If you or Frisco can get them. I’d like to compare all of the scans if I need to.” She pauses for a moment, arching her brows as she adds, “Or at least have the doctors here compare them…”

He senses she has more to say on that matter but when she doesn‘t elaborate, he lets it pass.

“I’ll have Frisco call as soon as he gets here.” He pauses, pinning her with a serious look. “In the meantime, care to tell me what happened to you staying down? I thought I told you -”

“Sean,” she says, her voice calm but with just a hint of defensiveness, “Do you honestly believe the noise you made when you climbed into that helicopter went unnoticed? Faison was about to discover you. He probably would have had I not distracted him.”

She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms, a hint of a smile creeping onto her lips. “So I’d say that’s two you owe me - you know, just in case we’re keeping track.”

“And you’re sticking to that story?” Smiling wearily, Sean shakes his head, finding whatever residual frustration he feels with her a little more diluted. “You know, you’re -”

He stops, catching sight of Robert making his way toward them. In an instant, he is on his feet.

“How is she?”

“The same,” Robert answers flatly. He looks around as he drops into the seat next to Sean. “Where’s Grimaldi?”

“Smoking a cigarette or with Faison,” Sean replies, sitting back down. “Or both. I want someone keeping an eye on him until they take him into surgery.”

“Hmmph,” is the only response he gets.

He watches as Robert starts picking at the bullet still imbedded in his vest and he takes a moment to look over his friend. His hair and jeans still wet, he looks about as exhausted as Sean feels himself. Despite the stubble on his face, the bruise at corner of his mouth - a souvenir from Fritz - catches his eye and he finds it almost hard to believe that their raid on Charlotte’s warehouse took place less than twenty-four hours ago.

But as he continues to observe him, he also picks up on something more. He seems a little on edge, almost… agitated. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Robert?” he hears Alexandra ask, “Maybe we should have them check you over as well.”

When Robert doesn’t reply immediately, Sean catches a questioning glance from Alexandra.

“Robert?” he prompts, wondering if his friend even heard the question.

He watches as Robert heaves a sigh and gives up on the bullet, evidently finding it too firmly lodged in the protective material.

“Someday I‘ll hug the guy who invented Kevlar,” Robert grumbles, gingerly undoing the straps of the vest and sliding it off.

“You and me both, old buddy,” Sean replies, lightly clapping Robert on the shoulder as he tosses the vest on the vacant seat next to him, “You and me bo-”

“What do you really think‘s going on with her?” Robert interrupts, his blue eyes suddenly locking with Alexandra’s. “I mean, you‘re a doctor. You‘re her doctor, for Christ‘s sake.”

Alexandra shakes her head. “I don’t know, Robert. I-”

“Oh come on,!” he growls and leans forward in his chair, “I know there’s something you’re not telling me!”

“Robert,” she begins cautiously, “I told you. Without knowing the results of the CT scan there’s no point specul -”

“Then tell us what you think,” Robert cuts her off.

“Robert‘s right,” Sean steps in, having had the same feeling that they’re not getting the full story, “Even without the CT scan, you must have an idea. Do you think it’s the same as what happened last time? In Washington? I mean, it‘s clear she was -”

“I don’t know Sean,” she interjects, “I wasn’t in Washington when that happened, remember? It might be the same but -”

“They think it’s some kind of stroke, don’t they, Alex,” a familiar, quiet voice interrupts. The soft declaration stops Alex mid-sentence and the small group looks up to see Robin coming up on them. “That’s what they’re looking for on the CT scan. Isn’t it.”

Sean shifts his gaze back to Alexandra and, though she doesn’t answer, her eyes tell him Robin’s question may well have hit the mark. His heart sinks and he glances at Robert to find the words having the same effect on him.

“Oh, Robin…” Alexandra exhales as the younger woman slides into the seat next to her, “I think they’re looking for anything that will explain your mother’s collapse.”

“But stroke is at the top of their list.”

Lips pressed together, Alexandra glances at Sean and Robert, hesitating.

“Alex,” Robert prompts her impatiently, “please.”

“It’s possible,” she finally concedes, “But it could be just like Sean said - just a result of exhaustion like it was last time.”

“Last time?” Robin asks, arching her brows. She looks from Alex to Sean to her father. It takes a moment for the understanding to register. When it does, the spark of anger in her eyes unmistakable.

“Or it could be shock,” Alexandra quickly goes on, realizing too late that Robin didn‘t know about that particular event and hadn‘t overheard their conversation, “Or simple syncope or -”

“Simple syncope wouldn’t have lasted this long, Alex,” Robin counters firmly, reminding her aunt that she too possesses enough medical knowledge to make some basic connections, “And shock -”

“Robin,” Alexandra interrupts with a frustrated and weary sigh, “can we just… can we please just wait for the CT results?”

Sean watches as the two women stare at each other and he senses a silent discussion taking place between them. He glances at Robert, seeing his friend’s anxiety and impatience bubbling under the surface. Just as Robert opens his mouth to speak, Robin beats him to it.

“Fine,” she says pointedly before shifting her attention to the two men across from her, pinning them with her dark eyes, “then someone start explaining what happened ‘last time.’ And while we’re at it, I want to know everything you know about this drug they gave her.”