by Cindy Combs
"Why can't he live with us now?"
"He's sick right now," Jeff answered while praying he was wrong. "Remember how I stayed at the hospital with you?"
Solemnly, Sam nodded. The hospital didn't hold many good memories for him.
"Well, I'm going to have to spend a lot of time at the hospital with him for a few days. You might not see me much, but I want you to know that I still love you. I just need to be with him while he's sick."
"Can't I come too?"
"Not yet. Remember how Willie couldn't visit you until you came home from the hospital? You can meet Blair when he comes home."
Sam nodded. "Okay." Then the boy gave him a big smile. "What's he like?"
Jeff returned the smile and started telling Sam what he knew about Blair.
The next morning, Lila Memorial Hospital
The first thing Jeff did as he arrived was to peer through the observation window. Only this time, Blair was curled into a tight little ball on the bed, the bear squished against his chest. A closer look revealed the sheet around him shaking. Fear rising in his chest, Jeff immediately turned to the nurse on duty. "How long has he been like that?"
The woman shrugged. "A while, I guess. He claimed he was in pain, so I gave him the meds the doctor prescribed."
"They obviously aren't working. Why didn't you call Dr. Brannon?" Jeff demanded as he swiftly pulled on a protective suit. A glance at the name tag gave him an answer. Blair had said that nurse Witman didn't like him because he was Clarian.
"He's home. We aren't suppose to bother the doctors at home unless it's necessary."
Jeff wanted to shake the woman. Instead, he pulled the rubber gloves onto his hands. "It's necessary. Call him now." Jeff quickly connected his air and grabbed a nearby blanket. He practically ran into the sterilization chamber.
After several panic-filled moments as Jeff waited for the chamber to run its course, he finally entered the room. He was kneeling by the bed in an instant. The boy's eyes were tightly squeezed shut, tear streaks wetting his cheeks. "Blair, can you hear me?" The curly head beneath his gloved hand barely nodded. "Can you open your eyes for me?"
A hoarse wisp of voice reached his ears. "My head hurts."
"Anything else hurt?" Jeff asked, fighting to push back the panic he felt. A severe headache was the first symptom.
"No," the broken little voice replied slowly. "Cold, too."
Automatically, Jeff laid the back of his hand against the pale forehead, only to realize he couldn't tell anything with the layers of protection between him and the boy. A boy who was in pain and desperately needed comfort. A boy who could be his son.
Jeff's patience snapped. He yanked the glove off and for the first time laid his bare hand against Blair's forehead. He had barely registered the icy skin when a wave of emotions hit him. Jeff closed his own eyes against the flood of pain, cold, fear, and loneliness. He now had his answer. Only with Harry, Sam and Aubrey had he ever felt such a connection. This boy was his son.
Not that that was important now. Barely hearing the nurse's protests over the intercom, Jeff stood up and pulled off the rest of the suit. He then gathered the boy into his arms, tenderly wrapping the blanket around them. Blair's eyes were still squeezed shut as he buried his face into Jeff's shirt, the small hands tightly grasping the soft material. Damn, he was so cold. Jeff carried him over to the rocking chair left by the room's last occupant. He sat down, gently shifting his burden. Blair endeavored to squeeze himself even tighter against the warm body holding him. Jeff slowly began to rock, whispering, "Easy, son, easy. I'm here, I'm right here." He sent thoughts of love and protection as he rubbed the bony arms and legs.
Time faded away as he strove to ease his son's suffering. Gradually, the icy body in his arms began to relax and warm. Loneliness was replaced with comfort, fear with a sense of security. Jeff could still feel the pain flowing from the too thin form, but even that did not seem as extreme as before.
A gruff voice growled, "MacGregor."
Jeff looked up into the face of the doctor. "Hi Ted." He could see the gleam of annoyance in Ted's eyes through the faceplate. He also knew Ted wasn't about to scold him here and upset the patient in his arms. "Blair," he softly directed to the precious bundle. "How are you feeling now?"
"Warmer," the faint voice rose from under the blanket.
Jeff softly translated the word for Brannon. "Does your head still hurt?" Jeff felt a slight nod against his chest. After mouthing 'head hurts' in Basic to Dr. Brannon, Jeff asked, "Anything else hurt?"
After a brief pause, Blair replied softly, "No, just cold." Jeff gently rubbed the hand still holding on tight to his shirt as he looked into Ted's eyes again. It was starting. His son had the disease that could kill him. Ted held up a syringe. "Dr. Brannon is here. He has something to make you feel better."
Jeff managed to uncover an arm for Ted to inject. Ted then helped to tuck the blanket around them. He suggested, "I'll have a cot brought in."
Jeff laid his cheek on top of the curly head. "Sounds like a good idea." He wasn't leaving his child to suffer alone again. He continued to rock until he felt Blair drift into sleep.
Mid-morning, Harbor Bay Space Center
Colonel Peter Thornton sat down at the desk he borrowed while visiting the Space Center and quickly shuffled through the reports. It was his job to keep abreast of various scientific research, in case it was needed to protect the colony. Thornton enjoyed learning about each new breakthrough and meeting with the incredible minds who produced them. The Space Center had been especially productive in that area. They had secretively launched newly designed satellites that returned images not just of the colony, but of the Roachian lands as well. Several analysts had pointed out the signs of the ever increasing Roachian population and its strain on their land. They had warned that sooner or later, the Roachians might want to take humans' lands, but none had expected it quite so soon.
Pete sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. The reports out of Claria Island had been shocking. Over half of the population was believed dead, the rest were refugees on the southern coastlines. The scariest was that there were no indications whether the invaders would be happy with just the island. Looking back over the projections from the imagery, Thornton feared they would not. Nor was he certain that the colony's tiny military would be effective against the Roachian army with its large number of seven foot drones.
So, how did they stop them? Thornton was under orders to gather a group of the top scientists to start working on that very problem. There were five he needed to talk to at the center. He'd already spoken to three of them. They had all agreed to work on the new team. He still had two more to meet. Thornton reshuffled the reports, noting that one of the scientists he wanted hadn't turned one in. Frowning, Thornton began to reach for his phone. MacGregor was usually quite dependable, but he had recently gone through a tough time in his personal life. Hopefully, nothing more had happened to little Sam.
Before Thornton could dial, a knock echoed in the barren room. Janos Bartok poked his head around the corner. "Is it time for the meeting?"
Waving him in, Thornton replaced the receiver and turned his attention to the young scientist. "Yes, but first I have a question. What's going on with MacGregor? I'm missing his report."
Bartok shrugged uneasily. "That is a long story. Do you wish to hear it?"
"Yes."
By the time Bartok had finished, Pete would have been pulling out his hair, if he had had much left. "Is there any evidence that this boy truly is MacGregor's son?"
"No, though Jeff is firmly convinced he is."
Thornton swiftly thought over the situation. Mac was still vulnerable from the aftermath of the ferry accident. This was a lot for him to handle now. Nor did it help that the brilliant, yet practical, MacGregor was the one Thornton most wanted on the team. "Does anyone know if the boy's infected?"
Bartok took a deep breath. "He entered stage one of the disease this morning."
&nb
sp; "Then I suppose Mac isn't coming in to the Center today?"
Looking down at the table, Bartok related his most disturbing bit of news. "Actually, Jeff isn't going anywhere. He broke quarantine this morning when the boy became sick."
"HE WHAT!" Thornton stood up behind the desk in order to yell better. "What was he thinking!!!" Before Bartok could say anything, Thornton held up his hands. "Yeah, I know, he wasn't thinking." Thornton thought a moment, then grabbed his coat. "Guess you'll have to take me to him."
A hour later, Lila Memorial Hospital, Harbor Bay
"...The Tucker researchers suspect this isn't an airborne disease..."
The blanket tucked around him felt soft and warm. It felt so good to feel warm. Nearby, soft voices whispered in the background. Instead of concentrating on understanding the Basic words, Blair simply let the sounds wash over him.
"...He's already undernourished and traumatized, Pete. He'll need every advantage he can get..."
Blair slowly opened his eyes. Instead of the intense pain of before, his head was down to a dull throb. Yet the rest of him felt so tired and weak.
"...I'm not going to lose him. I've already lost Kate and Aubrey. I nearly lost Sam. I'm not losing this one..."
The voice was warm, rich, and deep, unlike the muffled ones he'd been hearing through the isolation suits.
"...sent him to me. On that alone, I'd take him in... moot point, anyway. He's my son..."
Slowly rubbing his eyes, Blair lifted his head to spot the speaker across the room. A tall, lanky man was leaning against the wall, speaking with a large, round man in an isolation suit. Quietly, Blair studied the lanky man who was waving his hands around to make his point. He had straight, light brown hair that was sticking up in different directions. The long-sleeved red shirt and the light blue pants looked comfortable and slightly wrinkled. Most puzzling was that he wasn't wearing an isolation suit.
Blair stared at the IV tube running down to his arm for a moment, trying to think around the headache. Then he remembered snatches of before, when someone had cuddled him, had rocked him, had made him feel safe and loved. Could it be?
The man turned to looked at him. A gentle smile spread across his face, alighting the brown eyes with warmth. "Hi there." In a couple of long strides, he was kneeling next to the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Head hurts, but okay," Blair's soft voice replied, still studying the man.
The smile turned a bit rueful. "Bet I look a lot different out of the suit."
Blair conjured up a weak smile of his own. "Yeah." He paused a moment, scared of making a mistake. "Are you Jeff MacGregor? My... father?"
"Yep, I'm your father."
"Why aren't you wearing a suit?"
Jeff shrugged nonchalantly. "I was getting pretty tired of them. Besides, you needed me."
Blair nodded. Jeff gently laid his hand on the curly hair. "Are you hungry?"
Blair's stomach flip-flopped in response. "No."
A muffled voice injected, "But you still should eat." Pete was shocked at how thin the boy was. No wonder Mac was jumping into his over-protective mode. Then the deep blue eyes, pain still evident in their depths, looked into his. At that moment, Pete Thornton knew he was trapped. He was going to help this small survivor by any means at his disposal.
Jeff gently tousled the curls. "This is Colonel Thornton. I work for him sometimes."
"Hello, Colonel Thornton," Blair replied politely.
"Hello, Blair," Thornton returned. He glanced back at Jeff. "Why don't you concentrate on this little guy and I'll see what I can do to smooth things on the outside?"
A large smile stretched across Jeff's face as he realized just what a huge offer he'd received. "I'd appreciate that."
Thornton nodded, then turned back to Blair. "You take care of yourself, young man. I'm looking forward to hearing all about your adventure." Blair gave him a friendly smile and a weak wave.
It was a smile that stayed with Thornton through the sterilization cycle. The minute he was outside the isolation room, he walked to the phone. "Helen? Grab some paper. I have a huge list of things I need you to do..."
Once the Colonel had left the room, Jeff turned back to his son. Blair's face was still quite pale, a tightness around his eyes indicating how much his head still hurt. Feeling helpless, Jeff fell back to what had worked with Sam. Taking the small hand into his, Jeff asked, "Hey, would you like to hear a story?"
Blair squinted at him curiously. "What kind of story?"
"Have you ever heard of sentinels?"
Blair's head tilted slightly as he thought. "You mean, the old protectors with the special senses?"
"That's right. Do you know who a guide was?"
Blair's eyes screwed up a moment. "Weren't they the ones who helped the sentinels?"
"Right. But what you don't know, is that your great-grandfather's grandfather was a guide."
"Really?" Blair's eyes lit up with the thought. "Did he have a sentinel and everything?"
Jeff smiled and brushed a couple unruly curls out of Blair's face. "He sure did. Grandpa Keegan's sentinel was named Harry and they had lots of adventures together."
Blue eyes riveted on his father, Blair pulled his teddy bear close to his side. "How'd they meet?"
Getting comfortable, Jeff leaned back and his story-telling voice replied, "When he was still quite young, Keegan was a student at the Mountain Center, studying everything he could to be a guide. There was a lot to learn in order to lead a sentinel properly. One afternoon, he had gone to a park to study..."
Next morning
Jeff paced as Brannon examined Blair. The boy's temperature had risen sharply and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. It was hard to stand by while a fierce battle raged inside the thin body. Jeff kept wondering if he could have prevented it. If he hadn't hurt Naomi so bad during their breakup, would she have told him about Blair? If Naomi had told him, would Blair have been visiting Harbor Bay over the summer school break and thus been spared the whole invasion? Or if Blair had known him, would he have been able to contact Jeff once he had landed, thus avoiding the cross-country trip and the added stress? Heck, if Jeff had known, he would have been searching every ship that had landed on the mainland for his son. Would any of those scenarios prevented Blair from contracting this disease?
A gloved hand placed itself on Jeff's chest, stopping his pacing. "Jeff?"
Lifting his head, Jeff stared into the faceplate. "Janos?"
"I have news," his friend explained softly. "A Jane Mullway with the Tucker research team has isolated the pathogen that causes statcus. It is a bacteria that secretes a neurotoxin."
"This is good?" Jeff asked, not liking the sound of 'neurotoxin'.
"Very good. Now that they know what it is, the team is rushing to make up an antitoxin. Once it is given to Blair, it will hopefully neutralize the neurotoxin's effects. Ana is making sure a dose will be sent here as soon as possible."
Jeff almost feared to ask the next question. "How long?"
Janos broke eye contact. "I don't know."
Jeff swallowed hard. Blair had only another day or two at the most.
"Ima," a soft voice pleaded from the bed.
"What is he saying?" Janos asked.
Jeff's face was bleak as he translated, "Mother." He walked back over to the bed, taking the wash cloth from the nurse's hands. Dipping the cloth in the cool water, Jeff gently bathed the hot face. "Easy, son."
Eight hours later
Jeff stroked back the damp curls from Blair's face. He had been keeping watch as the boy's condition worsened, rubbing the small hand tucked in his. Blair was already receiving oxygen through a nasal tube. Jeff glanced at the mound of equipment standing by, ready to spring into action should Blair's breathing or heart stop. He feared they would need it, possibly soon. The boy was growing sicker and weaker by the minute, muscles going slack as the disease progressed. Jeff concentrated on sending his strength and positive thoughts through his connectio
n to the boy. He didn't know if it would help, but at this point it was worth a shot.
Suddenly, a flow of activity poured out of the sterilization chamber. Brannon was beside Jeff before he could blink. "We have the antitoxin," Ted explained as he gently picked up a limp arm. Jeff prayed as the doctor worked, hoping this was the miracle Blair needed.
It was. Four hours later, the fever had broken and weary blue eyes blinked up at him. "It's going to be all right now," Jeff softly told him. Blair snuggled back into the covers and drifted into a restful sleep.
Brannon laid a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "We'll need to run a few tests in the morning." He took another look at the father. "Why don't you get some sleep now, too? Blair and Sam need you to stay healthy."
Jeff wearily nodded his head and stumbled to the cot.
Next morning
"There doesn't seem to be any permanent brain damage..."
Jeff felt the relief from Ted's words flow over him. His second greatest fear had been that the bright little boy he'd met that first day would be lost forever to the disease. His first, that the boy wouldn't live at all, also seemed to be banished as well.
"...He's going to need a little therapy to strengthen up his legs and arms, but it won't be as extensive as what Sam had to go through. We don't know about the headaches. They may go away in time, or he may suffer from them for the rest of his life, though they should decrease in length and frequency as time passes."
Jeff frowned a little at that. He didn't like to think of Blair continuing to suffer from this.
"There is also a minor lesion on his brain."
"What?" Jeff exclaimed. That did NOT sound good.
Ted raised his hands in a calming fashion. "Just a minor one, Jeff. We think it's located in the portion of the brain that controls speech."
Jeff suddenly realized that Blair hadn't uttered a sound since yesterday afternoon.
"But Blair is young. We hope he'll be able to talk in time and with some speech therapy. It's just that we have so little experience with this disease."
