White lies

Inside the room, Frank watched as Major Lunning swiftly checked Steve’s vital signs and brain-wave activity. "No doubt about it," the major confirmed ab- sently as he worked. "He’s coming out of it."

"He’s on barbiturates, for God’s sake!" Frank protested. "How can he come out of it until you lessen the dosage?"

"He’s fighting it off. He’s got one hell of a constitution, and that woman out there in the hall has a strong effect on him. Adrenaline is a powerful stimulant. Enough of it, and people perform superhuman feats of strength and endurance. His blood pressure is up and his cardiac output has increased, all signs of adrenaline stimulation."

"Are you going to increase the dosage?"

"No. The coma was to keep his brain from swelling and causing more damage. I was almost ready to begin bringing him out of it anyway. He’s just moved up the timetable a little. We’ll have to keep him on drugs for the pain, but he won’t be in a coma. He’ll be able to wake up."

"Jay thought he said that he hurt. Can he feel pain, as drugged as he is?"

"If he was conscious enough to communicate, he was conscious enough to feel pain."

"Can he understand what we’re saying?"

"It’s possible. I’d say he definitely hears us. Understanding is something else entirely."

"How long will it be before we can question him?"

Major Lunning gave him a severe look. "Not until the swelling in his face and throat subside enough for me to remove the trach tube. I’d say another week. And don’t expect him to be a fount of information. He may never remember what happened to him, and even if he eventually does, it could be months in the future."

"Is there any danger that he might reveal some classified information to Jay?" Frank didn’t want to say too much. Major Lunning knew that Steve was a very important patient, but he didn’t know any of the details.

"It isn’t likely. He’ll be too dazed and confused, maybe even delirious, and at any rate, he still isn’t able to talk. I promise you, you’ll be the first to see him when we take the trach tube out."

Frank stared at the still form on the bed; he had been unconscious for so long, it was hard to accept that he could hear or feel, that he had even made an attempt to communicate. But knowing what he knew about the man, Frank realized he should have been prepared for something like this. The man never gave up, never stopped fighting, even when the odds were so strong against him that anyone else would have walked away, and because of that he had survived in many instances when others wouldn’t, just as he had this time. Most people never saw past the easy grin to that enormous, fearsome determination.

"What’s the likelihood of permanent brain damage?" he asked quietly, remembering that Steve could hear, and there was no way of telling how much he could understand.

Major Lunning sighed. "I don’t know. He received excellent, immediate care, and that counts for a lot. It may be so minimal that you won’t be able to tell the difference, but I wouldn’t put my money on anything right now. I simply can’t tell. The fact that he woke up and responded to Ms. Granger is totally out of the expected range. He leapfrogged over several stages of recovery. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Normally the stages are stupor, where it would take vigor- ous stimulation to rouse him at all, then delirium and extreme agitation, as if the electrical processes of his brain had gone wild. Then he would become quieter, but he’d be very confused. In the next stage he would be like an automaton. He’d be able to answer questions, but unable to perform any but the simplest physical tasks. The higher brain functions return gradually."

"And the stage he’s at now?"

"He was able to communicate, as if he were in the automaton stage, but I think he’s lapsed back now. It must have taken a tremendous effort for him to do that much."

"As you cut down on the barbiturates, he’ll be able to communicate more?"

"Perhaps. This one incident may not be repeated. He may revert to the more classical stages of recovery."

Exasperated, Frank said, "Is there anything you’re certain of?"

Major Lunning gave him a long, level look. "Yes. I’m certain that his recovery depends on Ms. Granger. Keep her around. He’ll need her."

"Is it safe for her to be with him while you bring him off the drugs?"

"I insist on it. She may keep him calm. I sure as hell don’t want him thrashing around with that tube in his chest. Will she be able to take it?"

Frank lifted his brows. "She’s stronger than she looks." And Jay was oddly devoted to Steve in a way that he hadn’t expected and could not quite understand. It was as if something pulled her to him, but there wasn’t any basis for that kind of attraction. Maybe later, when he was awake–his effect on women had always had his superiors shaking their heads in disbelief. But he was little more than a mummy now, unable to use the charm for which he was famous, so it had to be something else.

He had to let the Man know what had happened.

Suddenly the door was shoved open and Jay entered, giving them a hard, bright look that dared them to throw her out again. "I’m staying," she said flatly, moving to Steve’s side and putting her hand on his arm. Her chin lifted stubbornly. "He needs me, and I’m going to be here."

Major Lunning looked from her to Steve, then at Frank. "She’s staying," he said mildly, then consulted the file in his hand. "Okay, I’m going to begin decreasing the barbiturates now, to completely bring him out of the coma. It will take from twenty-four to thirty-six hours, and I don’t know how he’s going to react, so I want him under full-time observation." He glanced up at Jay. "Ms. Granger–may I call you Jay?"