71 – This Gift, This Curse

 

 

A few hours later Will was transferred from the ICU to a private room.

 

"With luck and no complications," his doctor told him, "we can release you within the next twenty-four hours."

 

Will hoped it would happen. He didn't do well with hospitals and enforced inaction. Kevin had visited him in the ICU two more times before the transfer. They hadn't really talked much. Will suspected, with a bit of amusement, that Kevin was following orders not to upset him, so what conversations they had had revolved around Kevin's classes and Sue and Charlie.

 

His first visitor, once he was in his new room, was Mira. Apparently she had no qualms about telling him how she felt about what had happened, now that he was off the 'don't upset him' regime.

 

First, of course, she thanked him for saving Kevin, again. Then she lit into him.

 

"How could you have been so stupid? Going in there unarmed, not calling for backup, trying to take on a man half your age with… with nothing but your bare hands?"

 

Will cocked an eyebrow. "I was armed. I was just too damned out of practice to think about it at the time. Too damned worried about what was happening in there. As for backup? Hate to point this out, but I wasn't there on 'official' business."

 

"Exactly! You should have let Captain Newsome know what you were planning and gotten his help. Damn it, Will, you could have been killed if that… that bastard had a weapon. Both you and Kev could have been. What the hell were you thinking, using a bunch of kids instead of, instead of…?"

 

"I wanted to keep Kev safe and they volunteered to be part of it." He shrugged. "Was I stupid? Maybe. But it worked."

 

"Yeah, I can see how well it worked." She looked him over, shaking her head. Then a tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away, only to have it followed by another—and another.

 

Will reached out to wipe those away too, saying softly, "I'm not worth crying over."

 

She sniffled, trying to regain her composure. "Who says I'm crying? Which I'm not."

 

"Just allergic to hospital rooms?" he asked with a small smile.

 

"Just…" She sighed deeply. "When the police called me to tell me what happened, all I could think of was you might die before I could get here. That scared the hell out of me."

 

"Hey now. I've lived this long, I'm not about to die from a blow to the head. I'm"—he chuckled—"too hard-headed."

 

"That's what I told Kev," she said, sniffling again.

 

"And mother is always right."

 

She smiled weakly. "Not always. Sometimes mothers make big mistakes, like keeping things from their children."