In all his years with the teams, he’d never had a mission fail. Not go according to plan, sure, but never an outright failure. His ability to think on his feet and get out of sticky situations had been legendary. And yeah, he’d had a bit of an ego about that. Never left a single man behind, and he’d been plenty proud of his team’s low injury rate. Cocky bastard. Turned out the only thing worse than not being out in the field, was not being out there, knowing full well that he could be responsible for a catastrophe. It was the worst kind of helplessness, and now he had to head to the medical center, put on a strong front and try not to see himself in the families.
Once at the hospital, it was hard not to flash back to Neal, to those awful hours when he’d been the one in the hard plastic chairs, the one waiting. But he had Carmichael to think about in addition to everything else at the hospital. The kid looked as pale as his hair when they made the rounds in the ICU waiting room, getting updates on the status of the injured personnel.
“You need a coffee, Lieutenant?” Carmichael asked, voice wavering, obviously desperate for something more to do than to stand at Apollo’s elbow.
“That’s an excellent idea.” Apollo forced his voice to be steady and sure, fully in command of the situation. “I want you to get orders from as many people here as you can. It’s going to be a long night.”
That it was, and guilt was threatening to swallow Apollo whole even though he knew it was stupid. Guilt was the most pointless of all emotions, especially when he still didn’t know what to feel guilty about. Action was what mattered here.
“Lieutenant Floros, I need your help.” A nurse in green scrubs whom Apollo had already spoken with several times walked up to him as soon as Carmichael moved on. She kept her voice low and motioned for him to lean in. “I’m very worried about Ensign Lopez’s wife. She has to be at least eight months along.”
The woman in question had been sitting by herself in the corner, quietly weeping, and she waved off Carmichael who’d approached her with his pad of paper for drink orders. She had long dark hair and a pastel maternity dress that matched her pink nails. She was heartbreakingly young, probably around twenty like Lopez. No other family had arrived for Lopez, and she didn’t seem to know many of the others in the waiting room.
“Do you think you could convince her to go with me up to Maternity? Do a quick vital check, maybe get her some rest.”
“Lopez still in surgery?”
She nodded sharply, eyes guarded. “It’s going to be a long night. You might want to ask her if she’s called his folks. They should know.” Her sigh seemed to echo the chill in Apollo’s chest—things weren’t looking good for the young ensign.
“What’s her name?” Apollo whispered as he followed the nurse over to the woman.
“Luciana.” The nurse took the empty chair next to Luciana, leaving Apollo loom in front of them.
“Luciana, I’m Lieutenant Floros—”
“Is there news about Juan?” She seemed to shrink into herself. “Oh please, tell me it’s not bad.”
“He’s still in surgery.” The nurse patted her arm.
“Is there someone I can call for you? His parents maybe? Someone who could come and be with you?” Apollo asked.
The young woman seemed to retreat further. “There’s no one local. We’re new here. But just tell me Juan’s going to be okay. Please.”
This standing-over-her business wasn’t going to help Luciana relax, so Apollo dropped to a crouch, ignoring the protest of his back muscles. “It’s you we’re concerned about. The nurses have suggested you could go up to Maternity. There’s a triage room free—”
“I’m not leaving Juan.” Luciana cradled her belly. “I’m the one who’s fine. Just some cramps.”
Apollo exchanged a concerned look with the nurse. “When are you due?”
“A week from Tuesday. And I am not having this baby without Juan.” There was a stubborn tilt to her chin that said that Apollo might have to bodily carry her to Maternity. But it was the tears in her eyes that really unmanned him, made it hard to speak. He couldn’t promise her that wouldn’t happen, and that fact made him want to join her in weeping. “Juan’s only just back from deployment. He can’t miss this.”
“Would it help if I promise to personally bring you news from surgery? Juan would want you to take care of the baby, right?” Apollo tried to focus on what he could offer her, not all the promises he wished he could make. “And I have an idea. Do you have a phone with you?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s low on power—”
“I’ll have Carmichael procure you a charger. Don’t worry about that. But how about we make Juan a recording of the heartbeat? Then you can share that later.” Please let there be a later. Their surrogate had done the recording thing for them more than once, and Apollo still remembered the thrill of listening with Neal.
Neal. Apollo couldn’t stomach a future where Luciana might have to raise her baby alone.
“I’ll do one better.” The nurse offered Luciana a reassuring smile. “I’ll see if we can get a portable ultrasound in there, make a little video for him. But we should make sure everything’s okay with both you and the baby, maybe get you something to relax, a little rest. You can trust Lieutenant Floros to bring you news.”
Please let her be right. Apollo nodded, even though he didn’t feel the most trustworthy right then.
“Will you walk up there with me?” Luciana asked him, starting to cry in earnest again. “I’m not sure I can do this. Not without Juan—”
“Absolutely.” Apollo patted her knee. “And I’ll see that you have regular updates, no matter what.” He wasn’t sure he had the strength to bring her anything other than good news, but he forced his voice to be sure and steady. He might not have a team of men to command, but right then, Luciana was his mission, and Apollo was going to do everything in his power to keep her and the baby safe.
“Okay.” Luciana accepted a hand up, then grimaced.
“We’re getting you a wheelchair,” the nurse said decisively. “And I’m going to call up to Maternity, tell them we’re on the way.”
As Apollo followed the nurse and wheelchair down the long corridor to the elevators, he tried to calm his pounding heartbeat. He sent Carmichael a fast text as to where he was going, and tried to distract Luciana with a story about the twins as babies as they rode the elevator. God, he missed his girls. Wished he could hug them. He sent Dylan a text for good measure too, not able to tell him much, just needing to know he’d reached out, needing to know they were safe too.
Please let me keep everyone safe. Let me keep it together, just a little longer.
*
Dylan hated his phone, hated the hours of silence. Friday night, Pat and Marilyn insisted on bringing him and the girls pizza from Project Pie, which was a welcome distraction for the girls as Marilyn showed them the pictures and videos she’d taken. But Pat seemed subdued, a bit done in by the day, and they left before the girls’ bedtime. After the girls were tucked away, Dylan wasn’t able to resist checking the news on his phone.