+18 - eps.33-35 - The shadow of an old foe leaves Gillian fighting for her life. And as the team hunts down the attacker, Brock and Gillian run out of time to come to terms with their feelings for each other. BONUS TRACK: episode 36 - the breakfast
"One shot is all you get When you want something Make it count before my dreams Start to fade away." Brandon Sammons, Break Free
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Connor had a soda with his friends at the lobby when he got Russell's text from the third floor. He still gawked down at it when one of the SUVs from the field office screeched to a sharp stop before the hospital access. Aldana, Ron and Cassidy jumped out of it, as Fred pulled away from the curb to take it to the parking lot before joining them.
"Gotta go, guys. Something's wrong with my mom," said Connor, stepping up to meet Aldana.
"No way. We're going with you," Mike replied.
So all of them got together in one of the elevators and headed to the third floor. They found Russell pacing up and down the hall. Brock stood with his back to the wall, head low, arms tightly folded across his chest.
He glanced up at them and down again, as if the tip of his shoes held the answer to all the questions of mankind.
"She was bleeding internally and they took'er back to surgery," Brock heard Russell explain.
He also heard Aldana whispering on her phone. Tanya or Hank. He didn't know and he didn't care. He was too busy fighting the dark well opening inside of him. An abyss he already knew all too well. He hated feeling like this. He would've given anything to cling to any kind of hope, no matter how small and frail. But he'd seen too many people die in too many different ways. He wouldn't give up on Gillian. Not until Cole came to tell them she was gone. And that simple, stubborn idea said enough. He was already bracing himself inside for the blow.
Time crawled like a rotten snail leaving an acid trace, corroding everybody's nerves as they waited for news from the OR. Banks and Taylor joined them, and stayed with Russell and Ron near the nurse station. Nobody traded a word for two whole hours, and Brock could sense how their hopes faltered to the brink of desperation.
A nurse took a call at the station and turned to them. Only Brock remained in his place, unaware, his eyes still nailed to the floor tiles.
"Connor Sheppard?" asked the nurse, covering the receptor against her chest.
Brock looked up and saw the boy step up, stiff and reluctant, as the others closed in behind him.
"Your mother is out of surgery," said the woman, just a routine notification for her. "They'll bring her back to her room in twenty minutes."
Everybody seemed to bend over in relief, as they allowed themselves deep breaths to get some air to their lungs and let out the stress. There were pats on shoulders and shaking heads and murmurs.
Doctor Cole showed up ten minutes later with the professional tired smile of one who'd fought a good battle. Brock joined the others to hear him.
"She's fine," the doctor said, as positive as Brock would say it after being beaten by a psychotic giant, or Gillian would have with half her body buried under a pile of concrete. The man's smile disappeared and his face was grave now. "But she needs to rest." His eyes darted from Connor to Brock with his silent reproach. "So we're keeping her sedated. She won't wake up until the morning. All of you go home and rest. We'll call you if there's any development."
Everybody nodded, as grave as him. As soon as he turned around, all their faces were neon billboards reading the same—like hell we're leaving. Before they could voice their shared mind, Cassidy sized the chance to hold the reins and remind them who was boss.
"Do as the doctor said. You go home. I'm staying," he said.
He arched his eyebrows when the others spun around to face him, the neon billboards brighter than ever.
"Coleman, take Connor home. Make sure this boy eats and sleeps."
"Boy?" growled Connor, who was two inches taller than Cassidy.
"Brockner, you go home too. Take a shower, grab a bite, get some rest."
"You're not watching over Reg the whole night." Ron's voice was an open invitation for debate. With his fists.
"The boss has a point," said Aldana, head-on in her diplomatic role to keep Cassidy in one piece. Alive, if possible. "You lads go. I'm staying too."
Ron, Fred, Connor and Brock turned to her, their faces like bleeding stab wounds in their backs.
Aldana flashed her most reasonable smile. "Don't you trust me?"
Ron snorted and rolled his eyes while Fred still stared at Cassidy. Brock assessed the situation. He didn't want the punks around all night. So he had no choice but playing along and setting the example.
"You're staying until I come back?" he asked Aldana. He faced the glares with his most serious scowl. "Gillian needs us fresh and sharp. We've got a lot to do if we wanna catch the shooters."
"You're leaving?" asked Fred, his voice reflecting he felt completely betrayed.
Brock nodded and turned to Connor. "Let's go, I'll give you the ride home."
"No need," replied Connor drily, and his thumb pointed at his friends, some steps away.
"Then you can give me the ride," said Russell, handing Brock the keys to the SUV he'd borrowed to go there.
"We're picking T up," warned Connor.
"No problem. The boss stole my girl, so I'm in no hurry."
Russell threw his arm around Connor's shoulder to get him in motion toward the elevators. Brock looked at the others, clearly intending to stand there until they followed Russell. Banks patted Ron's back and nodded at Taylor. When Fred went after them, Brock turned to Aldana.
She met his eyes with a tight smile. "I'll keep you up," she said.
He hoped she'd read the 'you better' in his scowl. Then he recalled that was Gillian, not Aldana. He swallowed a sigh and walked away toward the elevators.
