Paul gripped his foster son's arm, clamping down like a vise. "Don't look like that, Son. She's here, and they're giving her the best of care."
Peter regarded him mutely, as Paul looked him over carefully. "That's a nasty bump on your head there, Peter. We'd better have you checked out, too."
"No. Leave me alone." Peter twisted out of Paul's hand and backed away, looking like a cornered animal. "I've been knocked in the head before. It's nothing. The only thing in this world that matters to me is Kacie. Where is she? How is she? What's wrong with her? What about the baby? Who…?"
Paul held up a hand to stem the torrent of questions. "Whoa, whoa, slow down, slow down." Looking over Peter's shoulder, he saw Blake standing in the background, shifting his feet restlessly, hands thrust deep in his trench coat pockets.
"Blake, do I have you to thank for bringing Peter here in one piece?"
Blake ducked his head and smiled wryly. "Mission accomplished, Captain."
"I'm not your captain anymore."
"You'll be my captain until the day I die, Captain. Lifetime habits are hard to break."
Peter headed for the emergency room doors, determined to find the answers to his questions. The sliding doors admitted him, and his head was on a swivel, eyes straining to find a beloved form.
An intern blocked his way as he started for a room that was swarming with medical personnel. "I'm sorry, sir, you can't go in there. You shouldn't be in this section at all."
Peter stared coldly at the man. "My wife, Kacie – Katherine – Caine. I want to see her. I-I-I need to see her."
The intern, whose nametag read D. Nelson, M.D., shook his head firmly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Caine, but the ER staff is with her now, and you would only slow down their treatment and get in their way."
Peter started to argue, but Paul caught up with him and took him by the arm. "Come on, Peter. Let these people do their jobs. Dr. Sabourin said she would let us know as soon as she knew anything."
"Dr. Sabourin?" Peter reluctantly allowed himself to be led away. "Dr. Sabourin is with her?"
"Dr. McClanahan has the whole hospital jumping," Paul reassured him. "From what the nurses have told me, every specialist on staff is being consulted. Kacie is getting the best medical care available anywhere."
Both men stopped short when a voice called from behind them, "Detective Caine. Peter?"
Peter recognized the familiar baritone and turned back to face McClanahan. "Kacie? Is she all right? What…?" His voice trailed off at the grave look on the doctor's face.
McClanahan cleared his throat and gestured at a row of chairs. "Sit down, Peter. I need to talk to you."
Peter's face was the color of old parchment, and he felt for a chair, sinking into it without taking his eyes from the doctor. Paul stood discreetly off to one side, wanting to give support, but hesitating because of the way Peter was emotionally distancing himself from his family and friends. {Oh, Lord, he's back to this 'I'm not worthy of love' crap we fought for so many years. But then again, I don't know what I would do if this were Annie or the girls.}
McClanahan took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. "Peter, Kacie has a very serious infection."
"What-what's that mean?"
Gray eyes bored into frightened hazel depths. "The…wounds…on her back were allowed to become badly infected, either from the pieces of cloth embedded in the sores or from bacteria present in her environment while she was held captive. The infection has led to shock, called septic shock. Her blood pressure is dangerously low, even though her heart rate is rapid. She's running a high fever, and…" The doctor huffed out his breath in a weary sigh.
"And-and what?"
"We've had to put her on a respirator."
Peter stared at McClanahan, blinking rapidly, throat constricting and facial muscles twitching as he fought for control.
The older man put a steadying hand on Peter's shoulder. "We're doing everything we medically can, Peter. We've opened up and cleaned the cuts, and scraped away the infected tissue. We've started intravenous broad spectrum antibiotics, and are restoring her blood volume with IVs, and she's getting vasoactive drugs for the low blood pressure."
"You-you-you can save her, can't you?"
"We're doing our damnedest, Son."
Peter took a breath and swallowed hard. "What-what about the baby?"
"It's too soon to tell. Your baby won't be affected by the drugs we're giving Kacie. The fetus is far enough along in development that our medical treatment won't hurt it."
"What about the infection?"
McClanahan had to look away -- at the floor, at the walls, at the ceiling -- anywhere but at the devastated face before him. "We don't know how many of the toxins in Kacie's blood stream have reached the baby, or how much it's been affected. We're hoping we caught things in time, and that with aggressive treatment we can save them both."
Peter ran the back of a trembling hand across his face and brushed his eyes, shaking his head and looking again at the doctor. "If she loses this baby, it will kill her. You know that, don't you?"
The doctor rose to his feet, and Peter stood up with him. "Peter, Kacie's pregnancy has been progressing beautifully. She's been taking excellent prenatal care of herself and the baby, and we're hoping for the best. We're moving her to ICU now. When we know more, someone will come and tell you about the prognosis."
"I want to see her. I need to see her." Peter's features were set in grim lines though he remained dry-eyed.
"I'm sorry, Peter, but you can't."
"The hell I can't!" There was some measure of relief in being able to vent his anger and frustration somewhere, anywhere.
"No, you can't." McClanahan's voice was quiet, but steely. "You'd only get in the way of the doctors and nurses. She's much too critical for that. You'll just have to wait."
Peter felt a roaring in his ears as the sensations of the world around him faded. {My baby is dying. My wife is dying. And it's my fault. My fault.}