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Beth stealthily slipped up the back stairs to the ICU ward. Earlier in the day she had established, with questionable identification, that she was the health insurance agent of one Bill Strannix. But now it was after hours -- waaaaaaaaay after hours. If anyone caught her, they would know for sure that she was bluffing. But she had promised Deb that she would keep an eye on Billy and talk to him if she could. So far, he had been asleep each time she had checked in on him. It was well after midnight, Bill's normal prowling time. Beth decided to sit with him a little while on the off-chance that his body would try to kick into it's regular habits. Unlike the Cardiac ICU, this ward had no video cameras in the rooms. Only the machines kept the nurses on duty aware of their patients' status. That and the nurses' regular rounds. Beth had waited in the stairwell until she saw one round go by. She figured she had some time before another. She slipped into Bill's room and pulled a chair up beside his bed. He had various wires taped to his chest and an IV in his left hand. She made sure not to entangle the chair in any of the circuitry. She sat for awhile, didn't really know how long. Listening to the steady rhythm of the heart monitor, occasionally glancing back at the window in the door. She thought she had even nodded off once or twice. A cough from Bill reassured her that she was indeed awake. She watched him as he slowly came to conciousness. When he opened his eyes, he looked at her drowsily, taking a while to focus. When she was sure that he was fully awake, she asked: Beth: How ya feel? Bill: I got shot in the damn stomach, how the hell ya THINK I feel? Beth smiled. Beth: Oh, you'll be fine. Bill moaned and tried to alter his position slightly. Bill: Feel like an elephant's sittin' on my head. Beth: God knows how many drugs are in your system. The hospital staff keep telling me that they sedate you every time you wake up and do your Ty Cobb impersonation. Bill: What the hell time is it? Beth: I don't know. Late. Early. Something like that. Bill: What are you doin' here? Beth: I'm just filling in till we can get the one you really need in here. Bill: How do you know what I need? Beth: I just do. I can see it in your face. Bill snorted derisively, closing his eyes for what seemed like a long moment. Beth: Listen, when you get tired, let me know. I'll be-bop outta here. Bill opened his eyes and reached for her drunkenly. She grabbed his hand, and though it dwarfed her own, she held it very gently so as not to disturb the IV. Bill: You can stay a little longer, can't ya? Beth: Yeah. Bill: Hey, you need to check on my house. I think we left the door unlocked. Beth: Already taken care of. I went by there at lunch and locked the place up. Bill: Nothing missin' was there? Beth: Just that hundred grand I took out of your vault while I was there. Bill: You're a riot. Remind me to kick your ass once when I get outta here. Beth grinned. Beth: You got it. Bill: How's the punk doin'? Beth: She's a little scared, William. I don't think she's ever witnessed someone getting shot before. It's a little unnerving. Bill: It ain't too damn pleasant on my end of it either. Beth: Especially when it's happening to a loved one. Bill leveled a gaze at her. Bill: Don't. Start. Beth: O. K. Bill: Tell her I'm fine. Beth: Will do. Bill: Tell her not to worry. Beth: I'll try. Bill: Tell her, she sneaks in here, she can sit on my lap and we can see how high we get that heart monitor to go. Beth: That oughta tell her you're all right. Degenerate. Bill: Wussy. Beth: Invalid. Bill: Pipsqueak. Beth: Navy cook. Bill: Remind me to kick your ass twice when I get outta here. Beth: I'll keep a running tab. Bill focused on the door and barked: Bill: Down! Beth dropped to the floor, well-hidden by the bed. Bill had seen the nurse walk past the small window. He closed both eyes quickly, then opened one a crack. Enough to see her glance back into his room and then head back down the hallway again. He leaned slightly over the bed. Bill: Ok. Beth: You know, it alarms me at how instinctive that is for me. Bill grinned broadly. Bill: Got ya trained good. Beth stood up, leaned against the railing of the bed. Beth: I really need to stop hanging out with lawless types. Bill sighed heavily. Bill: Thought you were already doin' that. She took his hand again. Beth: Still best friends? Bill leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes again. Bill: Yeah. Beth: See? No accounting for taste. Bill: Shut up. Beth: Go to sleep, Bill. I'll see you tomorrow. Bill: Bring the punk with ya next time. I need her. Beth: Will do. Bill: Tell her no cryin'. Can't stand a damn cryin' female. Beth leaned in close and whispered: Beth: Go to sleep, Bill. She kissed him on the forehead, felt his hand go slack as he slipped back into slumber. She moved the chair back against the wall as she walked to the doorway. She looked back at his still form and shook her head. In sleep was the only time that his face still had the look of an innocent child. "Beth Franklin" - 1998 Beth pushed the door open, made hurrying motions with her hands. Beth: C'mon, hurry up! And remember, no crying. Deb: I'm hurrying...and I didn't promise not to cry. Billy: You didn't promise her, you damn well better promise me. Deb wiped at her eyes, which were glistening suspiciously. Deb: You feel good enough to mouth off, there's nothing to cry about. Billy: Knock it the hell off, you're gettin' me wet. C'mere. Beth quietly took up a post at the door while I hurried to Billy's bed- side. He was sitting up at a 45 degree angle, which was the most they would allow. I smoothed his hair back from his forehead, leaned over and kissed his cheek, breathed deeply of his indefinable scent. Deb: How are you feeling? Billy: I been shot in the gut, how the hell you... Deb: ...think I feel. I know, sweetie. Billy: Sweetie? Deb: Yeah. Sweetie. Need me to say it again? Honey? Over by the door, Beth was consumed with giggles. Billy: Shut up, you. Beth: Sorry. Deb...down! I had been briefed, and I dropped instantly to the floor and rolled beneath the bed. Billy faked deep sleep while Beth ducked below the level of the window set in the door. Billy: Under me...right where you belong. Deb: Har-har. Beth: All clear. Billy waited until I regained my place, including my hand stroking his dark hair. Billy: If you're gonna bark at the moon, stay home. Deb: Thanks loads. I was worried about you, too. Billy: Don't need your ass all whipped up. You're a bitch to settle when you're all whipped up. Deb: More than one way to whip me up, dude. Billy: Damn right. Now that I got ya both here, I got a job for ya. Beth: Wait for it. Billy: Shut the hell up. Get me out of here. Beth: Not possible, Tyrus. Deb: No way. You're sick, you've still got a drain. Beth: Impossible. Deb: Inconceivable. Beth: Ill-advised. Deb: Idiotic. Billy grabbed me by the waist and squashed me against the rail of the bed. Billy: Do I feel sick? Deb: I don't know. Do you? Billy yanked me down, forcing me to support myself awkwardly to avoid putting any pressure on his stomach. He took advantage of the fact that I was clotheslined over the railing to do a little laying on of hands. He kissed me fiercely, then abruptly released me and left me to slide back to my feet, I was so stunned I nearly sagged the rest of the way to the floor. Beth: That's no guide. He's not well enough to leave, Deb. Deb: I know. He's not. You're sick. You need to stay here. Billy: Shit I do, get me home. You take care of me I'll be cool. Deb: I'm not gonna do any such thing, and you're staying here until you get discharged, William. I mean it. Beth and I made a midnight raid to the laundry, where we chose from a pile of pink housekeeping uniforms fresh from the dryer. Beth: These things are butt-ugly. I feel like a humongous pink wintergreen lozenge. Deb: Bet Sam'd think you were cute. Beth: Fortunately for me Sam's not a hard sell. Deb: Nice color on you. Beth: Oh, shut up. It matches your hair. Deb: Yeah, makes a nice contrast with this devil's food cake red. Here, get in this cart... Beth: I'm the actress, here. I think I'm the logical choice. Deb: Point taken, but if I'm too hard to push... Beth: You're fine. Shut up. I'll hide you in with these sheets. We can pack Billy in them when it's time. How in hell'd he talk us into this? Deb: How does he ever. I just think he's gonna kill himself with this one. Beth: I know what you mean. Tough is tough. but this is ridiculous. Deb: Maybe we oughta just do a quick fade. Beth: You gonna give up the chance to be near him now? Deb: Can't hide anything. Sucks. Beth: Go on, get in there. Beth dumped a load of warm sheets over my head. I lay beneath them perspiring lightly, listening to the sounds of a hospital at night as she trundled me back to Billy's room. Beth: Not much further now. Deb: What about all the machines? I forgot! How will we get him unhooked from all the monitors? Beth: Aren't any machines. He's in good condition now. You were too busy checking out the machine to notice. Deb: Oh, hah! Beth: Personally, his rate of recovery is frightening and I don't know how many times I've watched him do it. One day he's laid out, the only things missing are the pennies on his eyes, and the next day he's...Bill... Billy: Come on, come on, come on, load up. Tired of waitin' on ya. I poked my head out of the sheets to see Billy, leaning heavily against the doorframe but otherwise ready to go. Deb: Beth...Sam's line? Beth: 'I God, Woodrow, I think yore right. Billy: I already owe you for two, pipsqueak. Beth: And believe me, I am pipping and squeaking with terror. Billy: Look like a hunk of Bazooka bubble gum. Oughta squash you flat like big pink bug. Beth: Naturally he'd find a way to bring a weapon into it somehow. You look like the before picture on the Frankenstein lobby card. Deb, get out of there before we get caught. Billy: Stay put, punk. You too tiny and fragile to push a big old laundry cart, there, Squirrel? Beth: How'd you find out Sam calls me that, dammit?! Billy was climbing into the laundry cart, trying to arrange himself around me without hurting his stomach. I was pulling the sheets over us and feeling his hands on me. Billy: Phone-taps...e-mail pickups...bugs...stuck a wire in your purse once. Damn, that was an eyeopener. You two are damn noisy! Beth: Get out of there, Deb! I'm gonna dump this...this... Deb: Assmunch? Beth: Thank you. ...down an elevator shaft myself! Billy: Damn! I love it when she threatens me. Feels like old times. Beth: Shut up. Jerk. Sam'll be furious. Billy: Dawg don't need to know. Deb: He'll find out. He reads her like a book. Beth was in a righteous snit and dumped the sheets over us, taking the opportunity to clout Billy over the head. Then she started pushing. With the sheets over me, my world was reduced to Billy. Beth: Knock it off. Sheets don't sigh. TO BE CONTINUED...
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