What Price For A SEAL? by Anne Tolar

When Mercy saw the slim, dark-headed woman standing outside the door, anger and anguish both equally visible on her face, she approached her out of curiosity. "May I help you? Were you in with Lieutenant Curran?"

"Yes. Just for a few minutes' visit."

"How did you know he was here? How do you know him?"

"Captain Dunne sent word through Leary that he was here. I'm his wife, Patricia Curran... or should I say Patricia Warrell. I use my maiden name."

"His wife? His file says he's not married."

"Ex-wife. We divorced years ago."

"So, you're Trisha?"

"Yes... he calls me that."

"Awake and asleep it seems..."

"What?"

"He's been fighting peritonitis for the last few days. Between fever and the infection, he's been dreaming a great deal, and in those dreams he often talks with you."

"Well... It's obvious he doesn't need or want to talk with me anymore. It doesn't do either of us any good, anyway."

"Do you have children?"

"No. Well, we almost did... once, but we lost the baby. He wasn't there."

"That must have been terrible for you."

"He was off somewhere being a damn SEAL. You don't begin to know."

"...and must have been hell for him. Was that what ended your marriage?"

"I don't know that that's any of your business... a good many things ended it... but what really finally killed it was his stubborn determination."

"It's only my business because I'm his doctor, Lydia Mercy. He's my patient, and he's having a pretty rough time right now. But you're right about determination. He's got plenty of that."

"Yes he does... especially when it comes to being a SEAL."

"You didn't approve of his choice of career?"

"Married him knowing about the career... didn't realize I was expected to marry the career and not the man."

"They're the same thing."

"Wish I had realized that a great deal earlier. I thought after we married, he'd see that it was just a bad choice. I thought he would change when he saw how much I wanted him to."

"That was like trying to make him change his soul. You weren't ever going to win that one."

"And the further we went, and the more we fought, the more he advanced and the more determined he got to stay with the teams. I thought I mattered more than that."

"You mattered a great deal, I'm sure, but you were asking him to give up the heart of who he was, not just a job."

"Silly me. Look, I'm going to call Captain Dunne and ask that he not let me know what happens to him anymore. It doesn't do him any good, and I just don't think I want to hear how he dies... it's bad enough to see how hard he has to fight to stay alive. Do me a favor and tell Leary not to call me either."

"If you tell the Captain, I'll let him tell his man."

"Fine. And I wish you luck."

"Luck?"

"Yes. I think you'll need a great deal of luck making him well or truly making him yours."

"Mine? He's my patient."

"Maybe now. What about later?"

"I haven't even considered that."

"Maybe not. But when he woke up, it was your name he called."

"He didn't know who he was talking to. The medicines still keep him pretty woozy, especially when he's been vomiting or when he's trying to wake up."

"Maybe. We'll see. However it goes, you treat him well."

Dr. Mercy watched the woman, filled with conflicting emotions, as she walked away. If she didn't care at all, she wouldn't have come. She must be in hell, obviously caring about him, but not being able to stand his life. She watched until the woman was gone, then reentered his room to see how he had fared.

Chapter 10

"Hello, Lieutenant." She said it warmly, hoping he would respond in kind. Instead, she found that she had caught him unawares. "What's this? I thought you had finished with that. Except for a good beating, I didn't think SEALs even knew how to shed tears."

He quickly covered it, embarrassed at her discovery of his continuing weakness, raking the moisture from his eyes with the back of one hand. He answered her in a voice now drained of emotion. "Yeah... we know how. Every once in awhile, it gets to be the only thing left that you can do. But today, I just really don't understand why I keep doing it. It was over a long time ago."

She busied herself, checking his chest and other vital signs. "I just met 'why', and with the last few days you've had, you've just hit a brick wall. It's not unusual, after all the pain you've been going through, especially after the torture, and then there was Digit. You haven't begun to deal with all of it. Do you want to talk?"

"No. No, I don't want to talk." She noticed a slight shortness of breath, but she attributed it to his mental state, and let it go.

"Change your mind, I'll listen." She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and smiled into his eyes.

He pulled away. "Every time I think I'm through with this, she shows up for ten minutes and just sends me back to hell."

"Do you still love her?"

"I know I did, but I've just finally realized that I don't even love the memory of us any more. It's just something else I loused up. I don't blame her for walking out on me. But, hell, it's time to move on... for her sake and for mine."

"It's sad that it didn't work out."

"Yeah." He retreated into silence.

"But now, enough of that, let's talk about you." She touched his arm again, drawing him back to look at her.

"Me? Why me?"

"Are you up to it?"

"Might as well be... we're going to do it anyway... not like I've got a choice."

"I think you just might be catching on to this routine."

To her immense surprise, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, as if he were trying to turn his back on the sadness. "Okay, then... what exactly do we talk about? I'm stuck with this, so let's just get it over with."

"I think it's good news! The stitches on your shoulder are coming out this afternoon, and I'm starting your first physical therapy tomorrow morning."

"I don't think I'm ready."

"I think you're at least ready for the warm-ups, don't you?"

"No."

"I thought you'd be happy to get some movement back to your legs and feet. Once you're started, and the stitches come out of your leg, you'll be out of that bed in no time. That should happen in just another day, maybe two. The sooner you get on your feet, the sooner you get to move around, and the sooner you get back to the team."

"I don't expect my C.O. and my team will give a damn if I ever come back."

"They're waiting for you..."

"How do you know? You seen any of them around since I came in here?"

"No, no one except Leary, and Hawkins, of course, before he got out. They've all asked about you, but they were told to stay away for a while."

"Why's that? Afraid a little yellow, or a little stupid, might rub off on them? And if they've asked so damn much, how come nobody's thought it might be good to tell me?"

"Afraid they'd make you want to be up too soon. But now's your chance to get started back."

"And exactly how am I supposed to accomplish this?"

"We'll get a corpsman to help you get started. He can help you exercise your legs and hips..."

"No! No! I can't do that yet. I'm not ready."

"You'll do fine once you start. It might be a little painful getting the muscles to work but, come on Curran, you did Hell Week... you can sure do this. "

"I said no! I don't want it, and... AND I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT!! DAMN IT, MERCY. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

Tired herself, and tired of his irrational attitude, she returned his challenge, "LT. CURRAN! THAT, SIR, IS ENOUGH FROM YOU!!"

Challenged by her, his mood changed radically and quickly. "Please, Mercy. Don't make me do this. I don't want a damn man... corpsman... to make me do anything."

"You're walking a very thin line, Lieutenant. I thought you were going to cooperate."

"Look... I'm sorry... I'm really sorry, in more ways than one. Just don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't sign the 'unfit'. I just can't..."

"I didn't say anything about an 'unfit'.

"I'm sorry... shouldn't come after you like that. The whole damn thing's my fault anyway. If I hadn't been so stupid in Beirut, I wouldn't be in this mess anyway."

"Soldiers and sailors get injured and sometimes killed... at least you're alive."

"Stupid SEALs get killed. Wouldn't have been so bad if I had."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Just leave me alone... please.."

"I think it's time for me to just put you out for the night."

"I don't want that..."

"Hush. You're going to sleep. We'll have this discussion in the morning when you're more reasonable."

"Just don't put me out now. I'll be quiet. I'll even try to rest on my own. I'm just tired of this place, the needles, and being doped up all the time. I'll try to sleep. Truce? Please?"

"If you'll really go to sleep, I'll hold off on sedatives. But, Lieutenant, I'll be back later, and if you aren't asleep, I will put you out. There won't be any truce. Trust me."

"Why is it so easy for me to believe you'd do that, no matter what I want? First the damn tubes, then the MRI, now this. Lady, I'm getting where I don't trust you one damn little bit."

"Shut up, Curran, and go to sleep."

He turned away in hostile silence, with a defiant snarl in his words. "Well, yes ma'am. I'd better just behave myself, and do every damn little thing you say."

Chapter 11

"Hi, Lieutenant. What are you doing awake and sitting up this late? Tyner said Mercy threatened to knock you on your butt if you didn't... what's her pet word... cooperate."

Curran seemed somewhat better, but his corpsman noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Tyner had reported that he really hadn't slept at all, and he hadn't taken in any nourishment.

"Hey, Leary! They told me you were around. Glad you're back on my side. I don't even know what time it is... I just didn't feel like sleeping any more. They don't seem to want me to do much else, but at least Mercy didn't come back."

"You must be feeling better, then."

"Let's just put it this way, I'd better be feeling and acting a good deal better than I did a while ago. Mercy's not after my hide, is she? Digit's not lurking around anywhere, is he? "

Leary's laugh was infectious. "No. He was here earlier... decided to call it a night. He asked about you though. Tyner told me what you said to Mercy earlier, but she hasn't been back. I think you may have ducked the bullet from launching that missile."

"What did Digit do?"

"Just asked if you had passed any more blood... if you had puked your guts out anymore. Asked if you'd had fever? Wanted to know if Mercy had done anything else for pain."

"What did you guys tell him?"

"Well, I haven't seen any blood... don't know about Tyner, but he wasn't here. We both figured that the last was Digit's fault and decided, even if we saw some, we'd give you another day before we said anything."

"Good men!"

"And neither one of us have seen you retch for awhile. I hear you kept down some liquid stuff yesterday, but earlier tonight you refused any. Still, I think maybe you've got a clear on that count for now."

"Excellent."

"And as far as we could tell, your fever's gone. If you'd sleep, I wouldn't have to lie about anything. Anyway, Digit seemed satisfied and said he'd see you tomorrow."

"Oh, hell!!"

"Maybe there won't be anything else then either. He just has to keep a check on you, you know."

"What about Mercy?"

"Yeah... what about Mercy?"

"What?"

"She taking a shine to you?"

"What?"

"Well, there haven't been any spinals. She baby sat you in the MRI and hasn't put a tube down your throat yet. Then, she gave you yesterday afternoon off, and Tyner says she stayed in here a long time night before last, giving you a real, real, soothing back rub."

"She's a doctor, Leary. She's my doctor. Just because you plug my tummy and give me nice Morphine shots when I get whacked doesn't mean you're in love with me... at least, it better not. Don't you go getting anything like this started with the team... especially with Hawkins. How is he, anyway?"

"Out raising hell. Racing dune buggies late last night. Hawkins is Hawkins."

"He doing his rehab?"

"Yeah. Too afraid you'll do something drastic to him if he doesn't."

"Drastic? Me? What would he think I'd do to him?"

"Oh, 'insubordinate'. Put him back in training again. Make him serve a turn as a technical advisor on some low-budget action movie with an all-male cast."

"Hey, keep talking... you're giving me some good ideas. Tell him to come see me tomorrow."

"Uh..."

"'Uh?' What?"

"He's not here, sir... not in Norfolk."

"Why not? I though he was supposed to stay around until he finished rehab."

"He's not on stand down, sir."

"He's not standing down? Why not?"

"Dunne sent him out on mission."

"When? Where?"

"He left yesterday around noon... going to Sri Lanka."

"Mission? Dunne sent him on a mission? With what team?"

"Our team. He's leading our team in to bring out two hostages. Short mission, no big deal."

"Our team? The whole team, and Hawkins is in command?"

"Yes, sir."

"Shit! And why did they leave you in dry dock?"

"I'm on duty too, sir."

"You're on duty? Oh, I see... I'm your duty. And when were you going to let me in on the team's mission?"

"If you didn't ask, I wasn't to tell, sir. The captain hoped you wouldn't ask."

"Get out of here, Leary. I know you're following orders, but you better get out of here before I make a fool out of myself and deck you."

"Not until I get something to eat into you."

"No way in hell."

"Not eating? Hell, Lieutenant, there's more than one way to put food in you. You're best option right now is to eat, then lay back down and sleep some. I'm here tonight, but Tyner and I can only protect you so much. If they find you're not resting well, they'll think of something else to test you for."

Hostility was only the beginning of how Leary would describe his mood to Mercy.

"Okay, my watchdog... I'm a real cooperative patient these days. Bring me some of that liquid stuff. I'll fake a nap anyway. What time's breakfast?"

"About o-six-thirty, sir."

Chapter 12

Digit started the evening meeting, just like before. "Have you seen anything different about him?"

Leary grinned, "Had a little flareup, but nothing major. Meek as a little kitten a little bit ago, drank something, then settled in for a nap. Really cooperative. Starting to sound like himself."

"Not with me. With me he's extremely moody. Sometimes he's so angry, he scares me. Other times he's so beaten down, it's pitiful... he won't even fight with me like he used to. And he's hard on himself... talks about being a failure. Seems to get a little hung up on things... like he doesn't remember saying them. Won't eat. Like you suspected, he doesn't sleep... sometimes even when he's had sedatives. Constant nightmares when he tries to sleep. Things that he would have taken as a joke before aren't a joke now."

Digit understood. "That's about where I'd expect him to be. The mood swings. No need for women to be around... afraid of what a man will do. There are no little jokes right now. Anything that can make him doubt himself is off base. Anything that makes him feel controlled or threatened is not good for him. Being ordered around, with no chance to have personal control of anything... that's a real problem. There'll probably be more and more mood shifts, depression, anger, maybe antisocial behavior "

"I was awake all last night thinking about this. He's got too much empty time on his hands." Lydia paced the conference room, nibbling on a cookie and sipping strong, black coffee

"I agree. Is there anything we can give him to do? Give his mind something to work on beside the beating? But he'll spot something that's make-work... better nothing than insult him."

"Walter, if you think he needs something to occupy his time, I think Captain Dunne just might need to make a visit. Two days ago, he asked me when he could put him to use. Said if we didn't lighten up and let that boy do something useful, he might just go nuts."

"Ma'am, I suspect he knows Curran better than all of us. He's the only thing close to a "father" he's got. If it's support Curran needs, Dunne's the man he needs."

"I'll call him later this evening. Is there anyone else that might be helpful in working with him?"

"I'm not sure, but Dunne will know. Curran's been in Dunne's unit since he was a J.G., just changed teams while he moved up in assignments and rank. Dunne hand-picked him for our team, and brought Graham in with him."

"Good information, Leary. If we're through, I'm going to check on him. I promised him a little something to put him to sleep tonight if he doesn't cooperate. I guess I better let him off on that one."

"Did he want that to begin with?"

"No, Walter, he didn't. He was complaining about the amount of medicine he's been taking."

"Then let's try something else. How many days has he gone without any sleep?"

"A little more than two since I had him strongly sedated."

"Leave him alone. If he doesn't want to sleep, another day without isn't going to hurt him. If he hasn't gotten any rest after two more days, we'll give him a pill... not a shot. One pill, every other day."

"Every other day?"

"Yes, and when he gets ready to go home, if he's still not sleeping on his own, we'll let him monitor his own medication."

"What? I thought..."

"What I'm going to give him, he won't have enough medication in the whole pill bottle to hurt him. The stuff won't knock him out, just ease him down some. And it won't cause dependence, even if he takes it every night for a while. I want him to have the chance to decide for himself."

"Then I'll go let him off the hook, and offer him something other than that canned liquid stuff."

"You just might get off his enemies list with that."

"I doubt that... he really still mad about the last ultrasound, he's just hiding most of that too. And that one was your fault."

"I hear you. Mr. Leary, before you go... were you by any chance able to see what happened to Lieutenant Curran in the prison in Beirut?"

"I was with him twice... not for long, either time."

"Did you see him being abused?"

"The whole thing was abuse, Doc. I don't know everything that happened to him."

"Did you observe a rape?"

"No, sir."

"Who else was in a cell with him?"

"Hawkins. Most of the time, it was Hawkins."

"Has he mentioned anything?"

"No. I haven't seen him much, though. I haven't asked him anything."

"All right, then. Thank you. See you tomorrow."

Chapter 13

The view from his window was filled with blue sky and green trees. She had had him moved closer to the window, hoping to lighten his mood. He had actually taken joy from it from the moment they moved him. A small victory.

Mercy and Leary had wrought a small miracle at breakfast, even if he got yogurt and decaf. He at least finished small bites. He thought of it as his ultimate escape from Beirut... fighting off, not so much the wounds, the aftermath of the ministrations of that quack, Dr. Walter Digit, and celebrating the fact that he had kept hold of the breakfast. He was so tired of everything making him puke. He worked at being still so it would stay where he put it. When he finished as much as he could, they left him alone.

He had even started his first small rebellion. He had just come out of the tiny bathroom under his own power. His legs and feet, and the remainder of his body, were currently telling him he was an absolute fool. Nobody had said he could walk by himself, but nobody had said he couldn't either... at least they hadn't said 'no' today. Given the option, feeling better than in days past, he erred on the side of moving. He took the chance on an "insubordinate" and walked the few steps the room afforded to take a long, appreciative look out the window.

Even having taxed his body to the brink, it was proving to be a much better day. He had managed to slip back into the bed, unnoticed, and to regain his breath, when Captain Dunne opened the door. He rose again as quickly as he could, stumbling a little on too stiff legs, and snapped what he hoped was a crisp salute. "Sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant. No need to stay up. I see you're still a bit green." Dunne appreciated the smile he saw on his officer's face.

"Yes, sir, thank you sir." He gingerly resumed his place on the bed. "It's getting better though. Managed to eat a little breakfast this morning."

"And from the smell of this place, you managed to lose it, too."

"Not much of it. She said to expect a little, now that they're letting me try real food again. Said not to try to take in too much at once."

"So of course you had to go for volume right off the bat. Why am I not surprised? Did Patricia come by to see you?"

"Yes, she came by yesterday." It was the first cloud on the day.

"Did it go well? Any chance of getting back together?"

"No, sir. I don't see that happening... but at least we didn't try to strangle each other while she was here."

"Sounds like you two might actually strike a peace accord before long. I hope that's possible."

"Me, too." The cloud passed without damage. A small victory.

"You're too thin, son. Are you doing what the doctors say?"

"Trying."

"Well, just keep trying... a little harder every day. And if they won't let you have anything decent, call me. At least once, I'll sneak you in something from Giardino's."

"Italian? I'll look forward to that, sir. Just don't let Mercy catch on."

"She seems to have you buffaloed. Do I need to take lessons?"

"No, sir. She's just got a wicked set of needles that I'm trying to avoid. What's happening, sir?"

"Excuse me?"

"I haven't heard anything from you since I got here. Now, you're here, and they're loosening the ropes on me just a little. Any chance I'm getting back on mission any time soon?"

"Hell, no, son!!!"

"Shit."

"Lieutenant?"

"Sorry, sir. I just feel I'm close to being ready."

"No, you're most definitely not. You've still got stitches in your abdomen."

"But the team's out... Hawkins is out with them?"

"So you know."

"Yes sir. I could have gone, sir."

"Are you challenging my orders, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I'd hate to add an 'insubordinate' while you're on stand down. But I will, if you give me trouble. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I understand. Can you get me out of here?"

"No, you've still got a few days here. Then you've got rehab to finish... and, Lieutenant, trust me, for once you are not going back on any mission until you completely finish rehab."

"But..."

"No buts, or I promise you it will be your butt if you disobey on that one again. And it will be me that does the chewing this time. Understood?" The voice was crisp and no-nonsense.

"Yes, sir." The always tough SEAL suddenly sounded to his Captain like a very disheartened man.

"Curran, look, I came here for a reason. I'm here to offer you a little bone... a meatless bone... but nevertheless, a bone... There's a chance..."

"Sir." He felt a small flash of hope.

"Nothing big now. There's really not too much going on right now, anyway."

"But... ?" Curran was getting more hopeful by the second...

"But... since you're more alert now and you won't have much to do between rehab workouts, I was wondering if you'd be interested in helping keep watch on a potentially dicey situation."

"Sure, Captain... what situation. Who's involved?"

"We can talk about this tomorrow. You're supposed to rest for the entire day today. A little food, and a lot of rest. I'll bring around a packet of information for you to start reading tomorrow. What time is your workout over in the morning?"

"Uh... I don't have a workout scheduled, sir."

"Why not? Two days ago I asked Mercy if I could bring something for you to work on. She said yes, with the stipulation that I wait until after your workout tomorrow morning. I know 'workout's' not the word you'd use, but she said you were going to take your first rehab session tomorrow. Didn't she schedule it?"

"We discussed it." .

"And..."

"I'm just not ready, sir." The hope began to fade

Dunne stood in silence for several minutes. "You're ready for a mission, but not a workout. Okay, why aren't you ready?"

"I don't know." Laying there, facing his C.O., Curran felt extremely small and helpless, and he realized that he was scared.

"That's not an answer I would expect from you."

"It wasn't the answer I expected to give either, sir."

"Then what is it? Why did you tell her no. Are you still in that much pain?"

"No, sir. There's still plenty of pain, but it's manageable."

"Then what?"

"I don't know. I just can't... .I can't... ."

"Well... I'm surprised, but we'll just give you a day or two, then I'll bring the papers for you to start reading."

"But I'm really able to start now..."

"I'm looking forward to having your help on this, but I'm more concerned with getting you well, getting you back in physical shape to work with your team again. We haven't been that busy for over a week now, and you know we don't stay quiet for long. I'd hate to see your team have to go out without you."

"You, they, really want me back?"

"Why wouldn't we want you back? Curran, are you going out of your mind?"

"I've just been such a screw up lately. I got Graham killed, then Dane and Rexer. Then I got the team captured... and I couldn't do a damn thing to get us out. If I were you, I think I'd be seriously looking for a new lieutenant."

"CURRAN! THAT KIND OF SHIT MAKES ME WANT TO JUST KICK YOUR SCRAWNY ASS."

Curran felt himself cower in front of the man.

"James, you didn't kill Graham! Hawkins didn't even kill Graham. Graham, Rexer, and Dane were all mission casualties... that happens... you know that happens. And son, so what if you broke cover? Didn't you learn long ago that sometimes you have to break cover or die. You chose not to die. That's not a real hard decision to make, and you didn't let your men die either. Trust me, from my point of view, you made the right decision. So your team spent time as hostages... that's rough... but they're not the first. What got you caught was the hostiles you found in that building and alley. You didn't have the intel on it, and there wasn't anything you could do about it except break cover and warn your men. And are you forgetting that you're the one who paid for it? You tell me, what's your first objective when you go in?"

"To do the deed... and to bring back my hostages and, if possible, all of my team."

"Correct. Did anybody die in prison in Beirut, or this last time?"

"No, sir."

"Did the missiles get done?"

"Yes, sir... though not with any thanks to me."

"I think with great thanks to you, both times. You planned it with your team, and you stayed with it until you couldn't anymore, but you had your team prepared well enough that even when it was down to one and a boy, they got the job done. Give yourself credit, Lieutenant. You deserve it just as much as any other member of the team does. You just concentrate on telling yourself that you did the deed."

"I don't know if I can. My mind tells me I failed. It was my fault."

"Then I suggest you tell your idiot mind to shut up! Practice till you get it right, Lieutenant. That, Mr. Curran, is an order. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

While he lay there, his C.O. walked closer to him and leaned in until his nose was barely inches from Curran's own. He held a level stare with him for a full, absolutely silent, minute.

"Mr. Curran!" He hadn't talked to him in this quiet, stern tone of voice since he was a very green JG.

"Yes, sir?" And Curran hadn't answered him with so much dread since then either.

"Just when do you anticipate that you will be able to start physical therapy?"

"Sir, I'm not..."

"You're not ready. I heard that. What is keeping you from being ready?"

There was silence. Curran, who could always meet his CO's stare, flinched and looked away.

"I want the truth, Mr. Curran. What is it that is keeping you from being ready?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Not the right answer, mister."

"I'm a coward, sir... I'm afraid..." The hope died and became a lump in the pit of his stomach.

"Coward?! Never! Afraid?" The room was filled with a protracted silence. " Afraid."

"Truth... yes, sir... I'm afraid."

"Oh. Is that all."

"All?"

"Sure, son. That'll pass, Curran. First the pain, then the memory and the fear. Hell, if I remember right, I think the first time I had you scared shitless was the first time I threw you in 'The Hole' with Bill Graham. Right?"

All of a sudden, Curran smiled at the memory. "Yes, sir."

"Threw you and Bill Graham both in there because you got drunk and threw up in my wife's flower bed. This is just a bigger case of scared shitless. SEALs do get there from time to time."

"Yes, sir."

"How long did you stay in that miserable swamp the first time?"

"I think we did the courses four times before I got it done in the time allowed. Billy'd just trot to the end, sit down and wait for me to figure it out. Fourth time, he tied a damn rope to my belt so I couldn't get lost."

"You got it right and on time the first time. I told Billy to put you through it until he figured you'd had enough."

"What? You mean I spent eight extra hours in that dark hole for nothing."

"Not exactly for nothing."

"For what then?"

"First, a little humility lesson... you were probably the cockiest SEAL I had ever met. Cocky as hell. Second, a lesson not to puke in my wife's flower bed. Third time, for real, to learn that even when you're scared shitless, things will work out, eventually, if you have the courage to keep trying. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I think I do."

"Is being afraid all this is?"

He became quiet. This was the man who had helped make him what he had wanted and needed to be. A man he respected, he owned him the full truth.

"Sir... I just don't know. There's a lot about Beirut I just don't remember. A lot I'm afraid to remember."

"It'll come. Whether you want it or not. Maybe all of it... maybe part of it... but knowing you, it won't be that long coming, and you're going to survive it."

"Do you really believe that?"

"You don't need a lie, son. You're a SEAL now; you'll be a SEAL when this is over. You'll be the man your team trusts and needs. Just give it time, and don't be so afraid you'll forget to ask for help."

"But the team... I failed them."

"Practice, Lieutenant. Your team needs you back, and your team wants you back. You just remember this, there aren't many men that bunch would disobey direct orders for or follow into hell... but for this bunch of SEALs, you're him. Now, when are you going to try your first PT session?"

"Tomorrow morning, sir... at least I'll try."

"Fair enough, but you do remember how I feel abou the word 'try'."

Curran smiled.

"Good. Then why don't I bring your packet by at about twelve, and we'll talk about what you're objective is while we eat lunch."

"Yes, sir. I think I'll enjoy that. I'll be ready, Captain."

"You always are, Lieutenant. Now, why don't you do Mercy a little favor and get some sleep."

"Yes, sir. Sir?"

"Yes, James?"

"Why the fourth time?"

"Hell if I know. Graham always did have a weird sense of humor."

Curran just shook his head, smiling as he remembered antics he'd pulled with his friend. "No shit, sir."

Chapter 14

"It's o-six-thirty, Lieutenant. Breakfast... if you're up to it."

"Tyner, where do we start?" He was already sitting up, waiting for orders.

"I recommend this small breakfast, PT, another small breakfast, then a nap, sir."

"Okay. Should work. You leading the PT session?"

"Yes, sir. For today."

"And after today?"

"Man named Jordan Markham. Captain Dunne said you knew him."

"Damn." His eagerness disappeared. "Yeah, I know him. When's he starting?"

"Day after tomorrow, I think. Is there a problem?"

"No. Markham was my lieutenant when I came to the teams. Hardest s.o.b. I ever knew, but fair. He left the teams a few years ago. Now he's a rehab specialist."

"What kind of specialist?"

"Works with injured SEALS."

"That's good. Sounds like the man you need."

"Burned out SEALs, Tyner. He rehabs men who can't make it anymore. That's ALL he does."

He wasn't hungry. The morning turned gray and rain began to pour in sheets against the windows. Suddenly, he was tired and all he felt was pain.

"Tyner... I'll start in a little bit." He retreated to the bed and lay down again.

"You will talk or your men will die."

"No... no... don't... Leary... Make it stop!!!"

"Lieutenant? Lieutenant?"

"Tyner!!" He realized that he had been screaming. "Hell, damn dreams are back."

"Turn over." A needle plunged into his hip.

"Shit. Thought I was past this. My gut's on fire again."

"I did, too, but Mercy said if you got worse to use it."

"Not a damn red is it?"

"A what?"

"Good. Are you putting me out? I don't want to sleep."

"No, sir. She said it would give you a little energy boost."

"Green."

"Sir?"

"Never mind, at least it's not yellow, too."

"Sir? I don't understand."

"Neither do I. Just forget it."

"Do you want some of the liquid food?"

"NO!!"

"Lieutenant, I'm under orders... you either eat on your own, or I see that you're fed... the hard way."

"No, that won't be necessary." He drew in a deep breath and made himself seem more calm. "Just not the liquid stuff. If we're starting PT this morning, I think it had better be fruit and maybe some whole wheat toast."

"Good choice, sir. Have you up before you know it."

"Oh, and maybe a small... a tiny glass of fat-free milk."

"Even better. Back in a few minutes." Curran smiled as Tyner left to find the food. He waited a few precious minutes, then wrapped the blanket around him and limped out the door.

Chapter 15

It was a good choice. The hall directory showed a 'Sunroom'. Nobody else was in it... mostly because it was early still, and there wasn't any sunshine. He sat for a long time, letting the pain in his body ease, just thinking about all that had happened... how it had all fallen apart. His marriage, his friendship with Graham, his career, his strength, his courage, his team... all gone. They had found out. He couldn't do the deed anymore. He was lost. He was alone. He was afraid. But only cowards were afraid. His father had known long ago that he was a coward... he had said so. And he had been hurt... so hurt. Dunne had lied... they didn't want him, not someone who was a goof up, a coward, and damaged to boot.

He stood up and walked to the large windows. For a few minutes he rested his forehead against the cool glass and felt the vibrations from the cool gusts of rain beating against the opposite surface. He looked around the room, finally noticing the door at the far end leading to the observation deck. He walked over and tested it, finding it open, even so early in the morning. The rain blew in the door, chilling him slightly, but it also felt good to feel something real for a change... the rain against his skin.

He stepped back inside, walking to the observation windows again, looking out toward the buildings of the medical complex. He was so very tired... so tired of all the hurt, and the pain... tired of every damn thing there was. He hadn't realized until now that he was on the ninth, maybe the tenth floor. The height made him a little dizzy, and he retreated to the nearest cushioned chair. When he sat down, with a groan, suddenly he began to laugh.

"Hell, now it's heights, too. Dark, light, heights, food, sleep, MRIs,... what else are you running from, you little piece of shit? Oh, rectals, hands, and hurt, too. Damn, Curran, two weeks ago you jumped from thirteen miles up, but today you're afraid of a look off a ten-story balcony. What a damn coward." He was amazed to discover wetness on his face, and humiliated to know that it wasn't rain.

Quietly, sadly, he walked back to the door and tested the handle once more. The rain hit him in the face. "Well, at least they won't know you were crying like a baby." He took a deep breath and pushed it harder.

"Hey, boss!"

He spun to find Dale Hawkins standing inside the room. "You know you've got that floor of yours in one hell of an uproar? Some guy name Tyner says he's going to wring your neck. Well, I'd say what he really said, but that might upset you just a little. What are you doing up here?"

From somewhere far away, in despondency, he answered. "Just looking... thinking..."

"Shouldn't do that too much just yet. Trust me, after you've been in this place a while, the old gray matter gets turned into mush." Hawkins eased closer to him, noticing the sadness in his friend's eyes. "You know you're standing in the rain? Lord, if you take a cold, Mercy's going to kill you."

"Probably do me a damn big favor."

"Whoa! A little down, are we?"

Curran shook his head. "Yeah... guess that's what it is. I'm just so tired I think I could sleep for a year."

"That would make somebody damn happy. You look like you haven't done much of that in a long time. Hell, boss... you let me get down for a few days, you just let yourself go slam to hell. And just exactly how much do you weigh?"

"Huh? I don't know."

"Well, son, we've got to get some food in you. What would really taste good? I'll get it."

"Nothing. Not worth the trouble."

"Ah, now... there's got to be something."

Curran tried to focus and think. "You know what would taste good? Vanilla ice cream... with red cherries on top."

"Well, we've got to do one thing first. We've got to get you dry, warm, and back in bed. You do that for me and Tyner, and I'll get you a whole bowl of ice cream, with cherries, if I'm able. Sounds like a great way to spend a rainy morning... sure beats drowning."

"Yeah... beats a whole lot of things I could do."

"Okay then. Let's just head on back downstairs."

When Hawkins got back to him, he was dry and warm. He was also in a small, padded room, on a small cot, in full restraints, and heavily sedated.

"Tyner!!!" Hawkins pulled the corpsman by the scruff of his collar into the hall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"He's on suicide watch. Has been for days, but I slipped up. I thought he'd come out of it. I made the mistake of trusting him, and I almost lost him."

"Who says you almost lost him? Hell, he was just having a moment alone in the sunroom."

"You know he was at the door... on his way out to the ledge."

"Maybe he just wanted to feel the rain. Hell, wouldn't you want to feel something after being cooped up in here hurting for days on end? Look, maybe he was confused, but nothing happened. You leave him in there like this, he will go crazy. This man moves for a living. You're killing him."

"He has to be restrained."

"No. No he doesn't. You want him watched, I'll watch him. Starting right now. But get him out of this room, get him off that damn cot, get the restraints off, NOW!!"

"Tyner?"

"Yes, Dr. Mercy?"

"I think Mr. Hawkins is right."

"But..."

"I know... it was probably a very close call. I agree. But I don't think putting him in a place where he feels totally controlled is going to help. He'll think he's being abused... all over again."

"What do we do different then?"

"Move him back to his room, near the window. The sun's coming back out. Mr. Hawkins can stay with him this morning until about ten. Then we'll offer him a nap, without drugs. When Captain Dunne comes back, we feed them lunch, just like we planned for him yesterday. His life goes back to as active, as normal a state as possible."

Dale Hawkins didn't wait for permission. He simple unfastened Curran's restraints and lifted him from the cot. "You show me where you want him. And somebody put that ice cream in a freezer."

"Hawkins?"

"Yeah, boss." The man was disheveled, unshaved, but watching every breath Curran drew. He had known the man was coming to, and he had made preparations.

"What time is it? Untie me, please."

"It's early. I couldn't get Tyner to agree to all of them, but look... your right arm's free. You ready for ice cream?"

"Ice cream?"

"Don't tell me you forgot or you don't want it now. I got the damn cherries." Hawkins thrust a small plastic spoon into his hand. The 'big bowl of ice cream' held less than a half-cup of frozen yogurt.

Curran looked questioningly from the spoon to the bowl, like it was something totally foreign. "Red cherries?"

"Red cherries... you hate green ones. I'll hold the bowl, you feed yourself. I might choke you."

"Somebody ought to, for good."

"Look, you keep up that shit, you're going to be back on that damn little cot. It's not time to dick around."

Curran raised the spoon and spent a few long minutes working slowly on the melting concoction. Too soon he pushed the bowl away, letting the spoon drop. "Guess you're right."

"Damn straight. You better speed up a little on this stuff. It's melting, and you've got a nap to get in before Dunne gets here."

"No more sleep. No more needles, and I'm not hungry anymore. Why's Dunne... Why's he... ?"

"He's bringing you an assignment, you airhead."

"Oh... I forgot." Suddenly James Curran didn't feel so low.

"Obviously... let's get it in gear, sir. Get these emotions under control."

"Seems like I always tell you that."

"Yeah... I've been waiting a long time to get even. Now, do the deed, Lieutenant SEAL... Eat this stuff."

He worked at the ice cream with renewed interest, that lasted only a few brief minutes. "Hawkins?"

"Yeah... want more?"

"No, no. Not now. What was the mission?"

"Went to get two stupid bureaucrats out of Sri Lanka."

"It go okay?"

"Yeah. All clear. All pretty smooth."

"Any problems taking them in?"

"Shit. Do you know that Franklin moved when we were just outside the compound? Thought he was going to get Martinez killed. I told him he was a real goof-up."

"You told him that?"

"I sure did!"

"It ring any bells in your own head?"

"Should it?"

"Of course, not!! When did you ever break cover! Geez, Hawkins... at least you got a taste of your own for a change."

"You're not pissed are you, Boss?"

"Doesn't look like I'm anybody's boss."

"So, you are ticked?"

"Oh, just totally... but not at you. Just at me. If I hadn't been the goof-up in Beirut, I wouldn't be losing my team now."

"Hell... you're not losing your team. You're just on stand down a bit, until we get you squared away, and Dunne made it abundantly clear that I wasn't replacing you for long."

"We shall see." He was quiet, but he picked up the spoon again and finished the ice cream. When he finished, he looked back at Hawkin, "Do you remember it all?"

"Remember what?"

"Beirut... the prison?"

"Wish to hell I didn't, but I do believe I remember every shitty little detail. Why?"

"I don't remember."

"None of it? Well, congratulations. Somebody ought to get a pass on that."

"You don't understand. I can't remember what happened to me. I remember getting caught in the alley. I don't remember anything else until the Coral Sea. I remember the trip back to Beirut, but I don't remember anything after we hit the beach... not until I woke up with a gut full of stitches and Digit trying to rip my guts out through my mouth."

"Don't be surprised, boss. You got hurt bad, a lot of times."

"Do you know... Does anyone else know what happened to me?"

"Far as I know, Leary and I know some of it. Others know you got hurt... that's all."

"You didn't tell anybody else?"

"No... We agreed, Leary and me, to just keep it to ourselves unless you said different. We've kept to it, too. Does it matter?"

"Yeah. It matters. Don't tell... Not Dunne, or Mercy, and damn sure not Digit."

"Do you want us to tell anybody?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"

"I want you to tell me. I've got to know what happened, or I think I'm in big trouble. I can't sleep and I can't eat... and I think it's because of what happened. And I can't make it back without knowing."

Hawkins looked into his eyes and knew he told the truth... he needed to know. "Okay, we'll tell you sometime. But not today... you need to get something else to eat and then you need to get some real good sleep. When you're rested, when you're sure you're ready, you let one of us know, and we'll have a good long talk. Okay... you going to try to sleep on your own, or do you want me to arrange something?"

"No shots. No tubes. And Hawkins... take off these restraints... and make plans on how I'm going to get out of here... that's an order."

"Your orders doesn't hold water here, sir."

"Come on, Hawkins."

"Okay... I'll do the restraints, but no tricks."

Chapter 16

"That was a really close call today. I don't really know what brought it on, but he's already reached non-compliance, and I've joined the ranks of the enemy."

"Why do you say that, Lydia?"

"He refused physical therapy. I told him I was starting that tomorrow, and he balked. I don't think he's really thought about what he was turning down. He was in a pretty dismal state just then."

"I thought you reported he came out of the MRI with a much better attitude than he started, even when it started as a bad experience."

"He did come out better... but then his ex-wife came to see him..."

"Trisha was here?" Leary was amazed at the revelation.

"Yes."

"Poor bastard. That's always a bad situation. Neither one of them can get over the loss of that baby."

"When she left, he started going down hill, and fast."

"Then, let's control visitations for a time. Does he have other family we need to be concerned about? I haven't met any, but if we need to include anyone in this, I need to know. Mr. Leary?"

"No. His parents are dead. I never hear him talk about brothers or sisters... I don't think there are any."

"All alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, he's probably feeling more alone than he's felt in his entire life. That won't help him."

"He's missing the team, worried about the team not wanting him back, about his commanding officer not wanting him back."

"Dr. Mercy, did he really say that?"

"Yes, more than once. It's part of him blaming himself. He thinks he failed you, so he's not worthy of your respect or of command status. He even said it might have been better if he had died in Beirut."

Digit grew extremely serious. "Gentlemen, have either of you heard any other comments even remotely connected to that one?"

"No, sir." The shocked corpsmen answered in unison.

"I had not mentioned this to you men earlier, though I did mention it to Lydia. Keep a very close watch on him now. Report any such comments... don't take them lightly... even if he's joking. Keep anything injurious out of his room, and make arrangements if you need to leave for more than a few minutes to have another staff member keep in touch with him."

"Damn, sir... you think it might really come to suicide?"

"It all depends on how deep the trauma goes. I'm afraid from what happened this morning he is already in serious trouble, and the worst is coming. He's progressed through the stages more rapidly than I had assumed, but we haven't provided a great deal of therapy or support."

"Well, sir... the Lieutenant may be feeling alone... but he's not. He's got a family, and we'll take care of him."

"What family?"

"His team, sir. When he's ready, we'll be there."

"Okay then... What exactly do we do for him?" Without saying it, Tyner's look at Leary told them the young corpsman was now part of Curran's team.

Digit took a deep breath. "First, we don't know that he's been raped. My having Dr. Mercy to bring it up may not have helped the situation. We'll treat this as straight PTSD. I'm going to have a talk with him. Lydia... you work on getting him to eat and sleep. It's important that we start getting his body back into condition. Tyner... you work on physical strengthening that he can do here. I want you to beg, nag, and encourage. He's used to exercise and lot's of it, but now it hurts physically and emotionally. Reluctance to exercise may be a way he has of dealing with the physical elements of the abuse, whatever type there was."

"What about the team?"

"That's where you come in, Mr. Leary. It's up to you to get him resocialized with the team. You must remember, you men were there. Being around you may bring back more of the trauma than he is able to face right now. Any support you can give him will be excellent, but if he is in trouble, be sure to let me know. But, for heaven sakes, Mr. Leary, don't treat him like an invalid. If you big, strong, healthy SEALs hover over him and treat him like a 'poor dear', I hate to think where he's going to wind up. I anticipate he'll be released from the hospital within a week, so he'll need some type of support as he eases back into a more normal life."

"Normal? Curran's life hasn't ever been normal... he's a SEAL for heaven sakes."

"To him, SEAL life is normal life. Everything that happens until he gets that life back will be highly abnormal. Now let's get to work. Who's got watch tonight?"

"Tyner. But I'll be in the corpsmen's quarters if I'm needed."

"Excellent. Let's meet for breakfast at 0-six-hundred?"

Chapter 17

"We're not exactly sure. It's all just whispers and disconnected junk."

Curran and Dunne were eating. Dunne, chicken cordon blue; Curran a very small mug of a very thin soup. Dunne watched him work slowly at the food, stopping repeatedly to obviously let his stomach deal with it. He still had to tell himself that the emaciated, exhausted, ash-colored man sitting in front of him was the man he considered 'his' SEAL. Curran had been the best he had ever seen, a man he had thought was invincible. In spite of the few minutes of painful exercise early in the day, at least Curran seemed to have real interest in the 'job' he was being offered.

"Where'd the first whisper come from, sir?"

"Brazil."

"Brazil? But, Captain, we're Eastern ops, not Western."

"Do you care?"

"No, sir. Just means getting myself and my team up to speed."

"Fine. Work on yourself first... we'll do the team later. The other whispers are coming from Lebanon."

"Beirut?"

"We don't know. Possibly..."

"Al Shudadah?"

"Probably."

"Right now? it's just a lot of reading, some research... ."

"Can I get out of here?"

"Of course not. Not for several more days."

"Then, can you get me a computer and a printer in here? With a table and a couple of chairs?"

"Lieutenant... not now... read, get ready, but no more than that."

"I'll need an Internet connection, secure link to Intel... and maybe a few books..."

"Lieutenant..."

"And see if Abindallah's ready to come back to work."

"Lieutenant!! The Chief's been back to work."

"What?"

"He's with Team 3."

"NO!"

"Lieutenant!!!"

"I go down a little, they steal my team. I need him, Captain. Get him back. Where is he anyway?"

"He's in Syria."

"How long?"

"Been out two days, expect them back tomorrow. He's just filling in for a chief who's on family leave." The Captain realized the specter he had raised with the comment. "Sorry, Curran. You know you were scheduled for leave yourself. Nobody anticipated she was going into labor, especially a problem labor, that soon. I'd have gotten you back here if there was anyway to do it." It had all been said before.

"I know. The barracks were in rubble. The place was in chaos. My team was hunting and ducking terrorists behind every grain of sand. It wasn't something any of us could control. And the truth of it is, she would have still been born dead. I just wish I could have been there for Trish. Forget it. Look, can you get Abindallah back?"

"Soon as he hits ground and gets his breath back, and when you get out of here."

"He can breath here... they'll even supply oxygen if he needs it. The one thing I really need right now are legs... Abindallah won't fight being my legs. Who's involved. Does my team get the Warning Order?"

"I can't promise it. We don't have much intel about what's happening yet. If you work on the start up... learn everything you can, and if you work hard enough to get yourself in condition, you might... and I say might... get the assignment."

"I'll need Hawkins, too."

"Hawkins? You really want that mess back in your face this soon?"

"He may be a mess, Captain; but he's my mess. He's got a good brain. He's tactically sound. He's fearless... sometimes too fearless. And I need him... no questions, okay? And besides, he knows and hates Al Shudadah just as much as I do. We can rehab together after they kick me out of here... then we'll figure out what we need to do."

"Then you'll start tomorrow."

"Now, Captain, Now. Come on... I know you. You knew I'd go for this, and you've got the packet somewhere close by... just tell Mercy..."

"Tell me what?" She stood in the door, having heard most of the exchange.

"Shit!" But it was a whispered protest.

"You see, Dr. Mercy, it's like this..." Captain Dunne turned and walked the woman back out into the hallway, beginning a discussion that Curran hoped would keep his own sorry little butt from landing back in hell.

"You're determined to do this?" She didn't want Curran to know that her discussion with Dunne had been a set-up. She fussed at him while she removed the stitches from his abdomen. "I thought we had an agreement. You'd do what you were told, cooperate, and I wouldn't sign the 'unfit'. If you change your mind on me this time, I just might change my mind, too."

He was stoic about the stinging that accompanied the disappearance of each staple. "Look Mercy... I'm not leaving the hospital yet. You were letting me sit up, stand up, walk a little anyway... that's all it takes to do research. A little reading, a little thinking, a little talking with my team."

"A little less sleep, a little less food, a little less attention to what your body needs. You forget how well I know you."

"Look. I'm not going to miss out on working on this, but I'll follow your orders. You tell me how long I can work at a time, you tell me what to eat, you tell me when to sleep... I'll do it... just don't make the schedule too tight, okay."

"I don't think..."

"Mercy... come on Mercy... please. You know what this is... it's my ticket back to the team. I've been hurt twice lately... Dunne knows it. The brass isn't going to look real favorably on giving me my team back. They'll stick me behind a desk or make me drop out. You know they'll do it, too. If they asked you, right now... what would you say?"

"I'd have to say 'unfit'. You know you're not up to any of it."

"Not this minute... not physically, and probably not mentally. Even I know it. Dunne's giving me a chance at the mental part now... helping me get my head on straight. You're the one to tell me how to get back physically. That's why I've got to do it all. I've got to learn the material, come up with a plan, and get my miserable body back in shape too, all before this comes to a head. I don't know how long I've got. Help me, Mercy."

"And how do I live with it if I help you get yourself killed?"

"You live with the fact that you helped me get back the life I wanted. It's my life... I've paid enough to have it, Lydia... and I want it."

"Everything I say?"

"Everything you say."

"And when are you going to start doing what I say?"

"Right now. But one thing..."

"What now?"

"Pajamas? My own pajamas, or at least a robe?"

Chapter 18

"She said lights out tonight at twenty-one. It's twenty-one-ten. First day of the deal, and you're weaseling all ready, sir. She won't mind pulling the plug one bit."

"Okay, okay... Look, Tyner, I did the five-minute stretch twice, just like she said. I ate a baked potato, plain, just like she said, and drank some milk. I even ate the damn green Jello. Do they know how to make any other flavor, or do they buy it in forty gallon vats just for me?" He didn't mention that he had thrown it all up... nothing was staying where it belonged, and Leary said he was down to 138. "Now, you just hide the packet where you and Leary know how to find it. I'll sleep a little and read when I wake up. Tomorrow, I'll need you to..."

"But I won't be here tomorrow, sir."

"Taking a day off? Well, can't fault you on that one. You married, Tyner? Your wife beginning to think you've gotten hitched to this place?"

"I'm not taking a day off, sir. My wife and I are heading to San Diego... for SEAL training."

"You're going to be a SEAL? Does your wife know what you've chosen to do?"

"She knows."

"Does she buy into it? For real? For every little bit of it? Does she know you'll probably disappear one day and never come back... at least not alive."

"Yes, sir. She says she understands."

"Make damn sure she does, Tyner, and confirm it before training starts. If you don't, I guarantee you won't stay married long. I thought I had mine convinced, but I didn't, and it didn't last over eighteen months."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll miss seeing you around here, Tyner. Thanks for what you've done to keep me sane during all this. And if you don't DOR, I'll maybe see you somewhere along the line."

"No DOR, sir. Not an option."

"How well I remember saying that. HOOYAH!!! Okay, so you're walking out on me... Where's Leary?"

"He's got morning shift, sir."

"Okay... tell him, if I'm not up already, to wake me at oh-four-hundred."

"Orders say oh-six-hundred."

"Well... what do you think... if I get up at oh-three-hundred, read an hour or two, then get back in bed for her to find me dead asleep at oh-six-hundred... will she buy it?"

"You see that little box up there on the top shelf?"

"Yes."

"It's a camera. She doesn't trust you one inch. She's having everything you do observed. If you so much as scratch your nose, she's going to know. If you try to pull anything over on her, you'd better expect an 'insubordinate' and an 'unfit' in about ten minutes. Orders are posted to tell her about any, and I mean any, infraction of the orders on your part. And right now there's some s.o.b. telling her the lights are on in here, you're still awake and plotting, and it's twenty-one-fifteen. You're on your own, sir."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Just found out a little bit ago. She doesn't trust me or Leary, either. Called us your partners in crime."

"Who's replacing you?"

"Guy named Jernigen."

"Can I trust him?"

"Truth?" He dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Got to know what I'm up against."

"He's her handpicked toadie."

"He's dead meat."

"Look, Lieutenant. You best just be real cooperative until she lets you go home. Harder for her to track you or pin you down when you finally get out of here."

"How long's that going to take?"

"If you're real good, eat all your vegetables, do calisthenics when they tell you to do them, and stop trying to get a ticket out of here, I think you'll probably be out in under a week."

"Still a week? I think the sentence keeps getting longer."

"Look, sir. Just treat it like the Warning Order from hell. You survived Beirut... you can survive Mercy."

"Yeah, but I didn't survive Beirut all that well, now did I? Okay... okay... I'll try to do this deed too."

"HOOYAH, sir. Good luck."

Chapter 19

Within two days, she turned him loose a little, knowing he needed routine. The routine had quickly changed from being harassed by corpsmen to giving orders for his team. When he wasn't doing PT, he was busy reading or making Hector Abindallah miserable.

"I need good reference books on Brazil, Abby... not a kid's high school textbook. Details on political climate, history, ethnic groups. I'll call archives at Langley and get them to pull a special file for me. I'll tell you when to pick it up. And see what the Wall Street Journal and Forbes have on economic news for that region."

He sipped iced tea with a small amount of lemon and a great deal of sugar. He was down to 137, the hallows in his cheeks and circles under his eyes were becoming prominent.

"But won't Langley have..."

"Yeah, they'll have plenty... but I want to see what the civilian population is likely to know."

"Anything else?"

"See if you can get Ramos in here."

"Ramos, sir?"

"Yeah. He needs to start planning the communications hook-ups for when I get out. Make a list. See if the Captain will pull some strings and get a computer upgrade so the one we get will actually hold the data. What idiot told them to plan on sending me a Pentium I with a two-meg hard drive. And the printer needs to be color laser, not inkjet, with large sheet print and large capacity. When we get to doing graphs, recon photos, and topographical studies, we'll need color. And see if there's a faster secure line we can have... That'll get him started. He'll know what to add to it when he sees this requisition."

"Anything else?" Abby handed him a banana.

"Not now... save it for later, and tell Dunne we'll need a place to work... a small complex... exercise area, office spaces, place to map out strategy. Our compound if possible, but if there's an op going on... anyplace will do. Keep it at Norfolk, if he can."

"Eat this! Next?"

"Get language tapes for Brazil." He peeled the fruit and stuck the first bite into his mouth.

"Which language, sir?"

"All of them. I don't know what region we might hit, so let's start getting ready. You want Portuguese or German?"

"Let Leary take German. Martinez can have Portuguese."

"Leary's Irish, Abby... and Martinez is Mexican. Spanish, Portuguese... who can tell?"

"You're getting as bad as Hawkins."

"Well... then give Hawkins German." He grinned at his boss.

"Hawkins gets in trouble in English."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Check on dialects along the ocean front... no sense washing up on shore and not knowing how to say 'where's the missile'."

"Anything else?"

"Tell Hawkins he's got Brazilian drug trade... where's it hot,, what's selling, who's buying. And get it in two, okay."

"And?"

"Get some maps... all kinds."

"And?"

"Be creative. Right now we've got time to learn about Brazil. Sometime soon, we'll find out there's at least one other country we've got to cover, and there'll be damn little time to cover it."

"I'm on it sir. Aren't you tired yet? Can I call in Franklin?"

"I'm fine. Yeah, call Franklin in... he needs the experience. Give him the coast dialects... that ought to be fun to watch." Curran stopped and took a deep breath, not wanting to consider the next item on the list. "And Abby... you might just go ahead and start updating our records on Lebanon... coach Martinez on that... see if anything significant has changed."

Since he had considered they might have to go back to Beirut, the dreams had returned... he wasn't sleeping. Abindallah failed to notice the look on his face... it was just another in the unending list of jobs to complete.

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Quit asking, Chief... or he'll never stop." Mercy stood in the doorway, shaking her head at the clutter that covered his tray.

"Yes, ma'am... sir." The chief knew when to retreat.

"Lieutenant, is this how you're spending all of your time?"

He rose and walked to the window. She noticed that he was more pale and seemed more gaunt than he had been even the day before. "When I'm not on mission... I'm thinking possible mission. The fewer surprises we have the better."

"Do you know when you're expected to go out?"

"No... not yet. Right now, I'm lucky... we've got a possible area, and chance to plan. Lots of times, we don't know anything until a day before, sometimes a few hours before. That's why we train. Our physical skills have to be sharp so we can just pull what's in the arsenal into play at any given moment. People think we sit on our duffs and just wait for a job... It's just not that simple."

"Can I see what you're working on?"

"No. Sorry."

"Can't talk about it... ?"

"Hopefully, not even in my sleep."

"What sleep? You didn't sleep last night, and you haven't slept so far today. Did you eat anything?"

"Tell your watchdog, Jernigen, if he's going to keep track of me to get it right."

"How did you know about Jernigan?"

Curran pointed at the camera's red light, blinking from the shelf above, "You're trying to play ball on my court, but I'm the pro on this one. I slept four hours last night, and I ate breakfast this morning and took a nap after that. I'm really trying to be good." Again, he forgot to mention the bouts of nausea and the newly recurring dreams. He knew how to duck surveillance cameras, and he was very good at it. "When do I get out of here?"

"When you gain at least five pounds."

"What? Are you ever going to stop adding new conditions?"

"How much should you weigh?"

"Around 160 to 165. I can get away with 170 if it's muscle, not flab."

"What do you weight right now?"

"Don't know... enough."

"No, you don't. You're somewhere below 145, and you're not moving around much. Anything below 150 says you're malnourished. You can't work on a team when you're any more than ten percent below target weight. That means if you try to get back in condition now, your body's going to break down on you, and you'll endanger your team. I can't put you into rehabilitation with Jordan Markham until you've got a minimum of 150. Which means you've got to eat more... try small meals, but lots of times a day... snack all the time on good things. You should start feeling stronger that way."

"Okay... I should be able to do that." He reached over and picked up another banana, saluted her with it, and began to peel it.

"We shall see. Have you seen Walter Digit?"

"Hell, no. And I don't want to see him." He put the banana aside, suddenly very nauseous.

"You will. He's got something to talk about with you, and it's getting close to time for the follow-up ultrasound."

He sat down, stunned. "I thought I was through with that. Look, that can't happen again... I'm just getting past the last one. I'm fine... really. I've just gotten where my insides don't feel like a punching bag." She saw the fear beginning all over again.

"Talk with him. Tell him how you feel."

"If he ever listened, I'd talk. Look, if he tries that again, I'm just out of here."

"Don't threaten that. You will get an 'insubordinate' for going AWOL... and Dunne won't be able to let you even this close to a mission. If you even keep talking about that, Digit will put restraints back on you. If you're not sore, it shouldn't be a big problem. Last time, you had just had surgery. The tear, all the bruising, should be healed, and you told me yesterday that the incision site wasn't painful anymore. You'll just have to do what has to be done."

"Sure. No problem. Just suck it up, and take it. Damn, Mercy... I'm really tired of this shit." For the remainder of that day and one additional one, Digit failed to come. Curran decided Mercy must have saved him from that one, and just let himself forget about it.

A little walking, some stretching and bending, was all she would let him do. He was pushing it as fast as he dared. Light work, but he didn't complain... his body did enough of that. If he kept making progress, she promised he could go home when he could work for thirty minutes straight... even if it was a light workout, and when he was back to 150. But she hadn't weighed him yet. He moved with constant pain.

He had to get back to the point he could run for miles without fatigue with a full pack and heavy boots. It was going to be hell to come back, but he had found and begged permission to use the physicians' inside track for exercise twice a day... short mileage... walking only. He couldn't swim the requisite ten miles with gear in heavy chop, but the whirlpool was going to help his muscles gather strength. He wanted endurance, but that would come later. Shoot, he couldn't even do five pull ups, much less 100-150 push ups and sit ups, and 75-100 pull ups that his daily routine normally included.

But he told himself repeatedly that at least he could move, and he wasn't a prisoner anymore... not in Beirut... and not in Bethesda... it was a small, but very significant, victory. With even the small amount of added exercise, his inability to eat dropped him quickly to 135.