by Lara Lacombe
Avery nodded, as if he’d confirmed her suspicions. Her fingers stilled on the bottle, and she took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology.”
Grant simply stared at her, refusing to believe his ears. She was apologizing to him? It was so outside the realm of what he had expected her to say that for a moment he couldn’t respond. Given the circumstances surrounding their breakup and the nature of her parting words to him, he’d assumed she would be angry with him forever. Never in a million years had he thought she would be able to see the situation from his side, much less recognize that she had hurt him deeply.
“I was hurting, and I lashed out at you without stopping to think. I shouldn’t have.”
Her voice jarred him out of his thoughts, and Grant leaned forward. “Avery,” he breathed. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I can only imagine how much pain you were in, both physically and emotionally.”
A shadow crossed her face, and for a split second he was back in her apartment, watching the woman he loved suffer while he stood there, helpless. She shook her head, shattering the illusion.
“Be that as it may, I overreacted. I was running on emotion, pure and simple.”
Grant stood and rounded the desk to kneel next to her. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, staring up into her face. “Please believe me, I didn’t mean what I said about the baby. I was sick, and I said the first thing that popped into my head without stopping to think how it sounded.”
She smiled faintly. “I know that now,” she said softly. “Seeing you again has reminded me of what a good man you truly are. I know you would never wish for me to lose the baby, or that you would dismiss the miscarriage so easily. But at the time, I wasn’t capable of thinking rationally. I just reacted.”
Relief flooded him, making him feel suddenly light-headed. He had felt the weight of her condemnation for so long it had become a part of him, like an arm or a leg. Over the years, he’d questioned whether she might be right about him after all—what kind of man felt a shadow of relief upon learning the love of his life was losing their baby? It had taken time, but he’d gradually come to forgive himself for his knee-jerk reaction, viewing it as a moment of weakness brought on by youth and the aftereffects of his illness-induced fatigue. He had moved on, but part of him had always ached to think that Avery would never know just how badly he wanted to take back his thoughtless words.
It looked like today was his chance to tell her.
Avery’s forgiveness was a balm for his soul, an absolution he had hoped for but never thought to receive. But he had wronged her, too. He had left her alone in the darkest moments of her life, walking away when she’d needed him the most, despite what she had said. Mere words would never be enough to tell her how sorry he was.
But he had to try.
He reached out and placed his hand on her arm, needing to touch her while he spoke. But her skin felt wrong; it was much too hot, and had the strange, almost waxlike quality of illness.
“Avery,” he said, alarm creeping into his voice. “You’re burning up.” He slid his hand up her arm to her neck, her forehead, then her back, searching in vain for a sign to prove him wrong. But her body gave off heat like a furnace, and he now recognized her glassy eyes were due to fever, not fatigue.
“I’m just still warm from the suit,” she protested, trying to wave off his grasp.
“No, you’re not.” He put his fingers on her wrist, feeling for a pulse. Nice and steady; that was good. Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he reached back to grab his stethoscope off the desk.
“Grant,” she protested. “Really, I’m fine. Nothing a little sleep won’t fix.”
He ignored her and focused on the sound of her breathing, searching for any signs of fluid in her lungs. They sounded clear, thank God.
For now.
“I want to get you started on the antiflu drugs,” he pronounced, rising to his feet. Fear began to bubble up in his chest as he considered possible diagnoses. Avery could just have a case of the base crud—it was still circulating, and she had been talking to a lot of people during her investigation. It was a logical and likely explanation. But Grant couldn’t shake the sense that this was something more.
When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. It was an old adage from medical school, meant to encourage young, excitable clinicians from excluding a basic, common diagnosis in favor of something flashy but rare. Grant knew he was taking a leap to assume Avery was suffering from something more than a seasonal illness. But given the events on the base over the past few weeks, he wasn’t so quick to dismiss his instincts. Especially not where she was concerned.
If, heaven forbid, she did have a case of this new flu, it seemed he was catching it early. Her only symptom so far was the fever; that meant her lungs weren’t damaged yet. If he could get her started on the drugs now, hopefully he could stave off the worst of the illness and she’d make a full recovery.
He tuned in to realize she was talking to him. “I really think you’re overreacting,” she said. “Why don’t I just take some aspirin and see if that helps? Save the drugs for the patients who need them most right now.”
“Avery—”
She lifted her hand, cutting him off. “I’m going to head back to my room now and catch a nap. I’ll check in with you later.” She stood—or rather, she tried to. As soon as she made it to her feet, her face drained of what little color it had, turning a bone white that sent a nasty shiver down his spine. Avery lifted a hand to her forehead and swayed, letting out a soft “oof!” of surprise. Grant lunged forward and caught her just before she fell, maneuvering her back into the chair so she didn’t hit the floor.
“I don’t think so,” he muttered. But it was clear Avery hadn’t heard him. Her head lolled on her neck, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach as he realized she’d passed out.
“I need some help in here!” he yelled. Moving quickly, he gathered her into his arms and carried her to a cot a few steps away. He needed her to lie flat to help restore blood flow to her head, and he wasn’t about to put her on the floor. As gently as he could, Grant placed her on the folding bed, then applied his fingers to her neck to find her pulse. Fast, but steady. Fair enough.
Jesse stepped into the office. “Everything okay, Doc? I thought I heard you shout...” He trailed off when he saw Avery on the bed. “What happened?” He rushed forward, his face a mask of worry.
“She’s febrile. Tried to stand and fainted. I need you to bring a gurney, please, and let’s get an IV started. Normal saline, ibuprofen. And the antiflu drugs.”
Jesse stilled, his body going tense. “Do you think she has the virus?” His voice was very quiet, as if he was afraid of being overheard.
Grant placed his hand on her forehead. She felt even hotter now, and his certainty rose another notch even as his heart sank. “I’m afraid so.”
Chapter 10
Darkness surrounded her.
She lay still, trying to assess if moving would be worth the effort. Her body felt leaden, almost as if she was buried in a vat of sand. She took a breath, fighting against the pressure on her chest. But something felt...off. She tried again, turning her focus inward in the hopes of identifying the problem. After a split second, she realized the issue: the pressure was coming from inside her chest.
Claustrophobia slammed into her, adding to the weight that kept her immobile. Panic scrabbled at the edges of her awareness, closing in on her consciousness. She tried to gasp for air, but her lungs refused to cooperate. Her heart pounded in her chest, the beat of it echoing in her ears until she felt like she was drowning in the noise.
Move, she had to move. Somehow she knew on an instinctive level that if she didn’t regain control of her body she would die. She could feel it now, a sense of slipping away, as if she were in a boat approaching a waterfall. If she didn’t do something, she would go over the edge and be lost.
Momentum built as the current of the river picked up speed, pushing her faste
r toward the drop-off point. She struggled against it, searching the banks for something to grab on to, an anchor to hold her in place. But it was no use. Every time she made contact with the edge, her grip was too tenuous to withstand the forces dragging at her. She kept slipping, at the mercy of the elements and totally helpless to change course and avoid her fate.
No! Her scream drowned out the sound of her heartbeat, and for a second she felt herself slow down. But the reprieve didn’t last. The boat picked up speed again, roaring toward the falls ahead. The whoosh of the rushing water wrapped around her, cocooning her in a sound that should have been soothing but instead was terrifying.
No, she thought again, but she was losing the will to fight. What was the point? Helplessness stole over her, and as she surrendered to the river, the weight on her body lifted.
She took one deep, unhindered breath, reveling in the sensation of her lungs opening up to the cold, crisp air. Then the boat tipped over the ledge, launching her into the sky. She hung there for one brief, thrilling moment and felt the urge to laugh from the delight of weightlessness. She settled for a smile, and dropped like a stone.
*
“Pulse rate is dropping.”
Grant bit his lip to keep from firing back a retort. He was watching the damn monitors, thank you very much. He didn’t need a verbal play-by-play of Avery’s deterioration—he was already well aware of the gravity of the situation.
“Don’t even think about it,” he muttered to her. He didn’t know if she could really hear him—in medical school, they’d said hearing was the last sense to go—but he liked to think she could feel his presence and his determination to get her through this.
She just had to fight.
It was too early for the cough to have set in, but scans had revealed fluid was already starting to accumulate in her lungs; she’d developed a little hitch in her breathing that tugged at his guts with every inhalation. Could he stop it from getting worse?
Raising his voice, he barked out a series of orders. The nurses jumped into action, bringing him medication and tools in a carefully choreographed dance borne of training and clinical experience. He moved on autopilot, adjusting this, injecting that, tweaking what variables he could to pull Avery out of the free fall and bring her back from the brink. Anyone looking at him would see a calm professional doing the job he loved.
Inside, though, he was falling apart.
He could not lose her. Not again. And not like this. They had finally—finally!—started to repair the rift between them. And even though it hurt his heart to consider it, if Avery wanted to walk away again when this was over, he would respect her choice. But he wasn’t going to let her die. If she left him again, it would be because it’s what she wanted, not because some freak infection had stolen her life.
And just what are you going to do about it? whispered the voice of doubt in his mind. Because as much as he hated to admit it, the outcome wasn’t really up to him. This virus had taken patients from him before, and it could do it again. The pathogen didn’t care that Avery was different, that she meant so much more than a random patient. If he could use the brute force of his will to keep her alive, she would be safe, but medicine didn’t work that way.
After a few tense moments, her heart rate evened out again and her vital signs stabilized. Grant stared hard at the monitors, holding his breath as he waited for any sign that the improvement was temporary. But she held steady, and after what seemed like an eternity he let himself relax.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but if she could just hold on a little longer, give the drugs time to work...
He leaned down and put his mouth next to her ear. “Hold on, Avery,” he whispered. “Just hold on.”
*
Avery jerked to a sudden, painful stop.
She cast about with her senses, trying to determine what had broken her fall. But there was nothing, save the darkness. One minute, she was falling down, down, down into the depths. The next minute she was suspended in the air, hanging over the abyss. Even though she couldn’t see it, she could feel it yawning beneath her, hungry for her body.
She did not want to surrender. Not just yet.
Time stretched on. She tested the tether that kept her dangling over the void. It was thin and tenuous, too fragile to hold her for long. But as she studied it, it grew a little thicker, a little bit stronger. Curious, that.
She heard a noise in the darkness and her senses prickled. There was something about it...something familiar. She struggled to make a connection, but it was too exhausting. Better to let it wash over her instead, a low, crooning sound that was soothing to her battered soul.
Colors flashed across her vision. A vibrant blue pulsed in time with the sound. Now a dark green, a different color for a different noise. That one was higher, softer. Then a brassy yellow sunburst exploded, triggering a wave of revulsion so strong she turned away, curling inward to protect herself. The buzz echoed around her, growing louder and louder until she thought she might burn from the intensity of the color. But then the blue voice returned, chasing away the noxious feeling like a cleansing rain. She unfurled her limbs, stretching and opening to soak up the light.
The blue wrapped around her, a soft warmth that made her feel safe. Her body began to tingle as the light and sound strengthened the harness that kept her in place. Slowly, so slowly, she felt herself rise, bit by bit.
But what was pulling her up? She focused on the sensation, but fatigue slammed into her and she slipped down, snapping the cord taut. She hung there for a breathless second, hardly daring to move lest she snap the tether and be lost.
Gradually, carefully, she forced herself to relax and cleared her mind. The sound returned, bringing with it another pulse of blue light. The healing ripples washed over her, and once more, she began to rise.
*
“How’s she doing?”
Grant looked up to find Karen, one of the nurse practitioners on staff, standing on the other side of Avery’s bed. Her expression was a mix of pity and concern, and he couldn’t tell if she was more worried about Avery or his recent behavior.
He sat up, wincing a little as the stiff muscles of his back protested the movement. He’d parked himself next to Avery once she stabilized, and he hadn’t moved for the last several hours. Some of the nurses had tried to entice him to take a break with offers of food or drink, but he’d refused them all. It wasn’t just stubbornness on his part—he physically couldn’t leave Avery’s side. It made his palms sweat just thinking about her lying here alone. What if she woke up? What if she needed him? He simply couldn’t take the chance that he would let her down.
And so he’d sat, holding one of her hands between his own, keeping one eye on the monitors as he crouched forward and spoke into her ear. He kept his voice low so as not to broadcast his words to the whole team. What he had to say was for Avery’s ears only.
He’d apologized for his careless words all those years ago. He’d told her what he’d really felt that day, and in the days after—how his heart had broken and he’d worried he’d never find love again. And he told her what his life had been like without her: how he’d managed to build a life for himself, but now that he’d seen her again he realized his accomplishments paled in comparison to being with her. He bargained with her, offering her whatever she wanted if she would just open her eyes and come back to him. Then, because he didn’t want to make her too depressed, he told her funny stories of his childhood and embarrassing stories from his early years as a doctor, when he’d been the new guy the staff had pranked relentlessly.
He talked about everything and nothing, but the words really didn’t matter. He just wanted her to hear his voice. Some small, scared part of him feared that if he stopped talking to her, he would lose her for good. It wasn’t very scientific of him, but Grant liked to think Avery was trying to find her way back to him, and if he kept speaking, she could use the sound of his voice as a guide. He�
��d already done everything he could for her, medically speaking. This constant stream of chatter was the only thing he had left to offer.
“She’s holding on,” he said, casting another look at the monitors. They confirmed his statement, and he exhaled softly. So far, so good. She wasn’t showing marked signs of improvement—yet, he added silently—but she was no longer declining. It was almost as if she was in limbo, trying to decide which way to go. Hopefully, the sound of his voice would encourage her to choose the path of life.
Karen studied Avery’s face for a moment, then nodded. “She’s a fighter,” she said softly. “If anyone can make it, she will.”
Grant nodded, his throat too tight to speak. It was the truth, and he was glad to know someone else realized how special Avery was.
“Some of the men who recovered from the infection are here. They’d like to speak to you.”
Grant shook his head. “Tell them I’m busy.”
“I figured you’d say that,” Karen said. “But I thought I’d ask anyway.” She turned to walk away, but Grant held up a hand.
“Do you know what they want?”
Karen lifted one shoulder and glanced pointedly at Avery. “They want to help.”
“News travels fast, I suppose.”
“It’s a small world, Dr. Jones. And with three new patients and one man dead in his bed, there was no way this was going to stay secret for long.”
Grant dropped his head, a wave of guilt washing over him. He should have been the one to break the news to the base and answer people’s questions. But as soon as Avery got sick, his entire awareness had compressed down to her alone and he’d lost sight of his larger responsibilities.
“I’ll tell them you’re busy,” she said, taking a step back.
“No, wait.” He stood slowly, his mind whirring with possibilities. “You said the survivors are here?”
Karen nodded, eyeing him curiously. “Yes. I think everyone else is too afraid to come here. They don’t want to accidentally get exposed to the pathogen.”
