Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga 4) (15 page)

The doctor turned and walked away, headed toward the charge nurse’s desk to leave the signed discharge papers.

Meg turned to the door and rapped on it softly.

“Come in,” a raspy voice called from inside.

Meg reached down and turned the knob, steeling herself for what may happen next.

“Hey, you,” Meg spoke softly as she rounded the corner of his room, showing herself to Cole.

His green eyes brightened when he saw her.

“Hey, yourself,” he said, nervously adjusting the blanket draped over his lap.  He was wearing a typical blue hospital smock, his thick, dark hair had been shaved and he was sporting some bandages around his face and neck.  He tentatively offered a smile wide enough to show the dimple in his right cheek.  His full lips looked dry.  Meg resisted the urge to offer to put Vaseline on them.  She was trying to resist a lot of urges just then.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, feeling stupid.

“Better,” Cole’s eyes darted to the chair beside his bed.

Taking the hint, Meg slowly made her way around to the moderately comfortable hospital chair and sat at the front edge of it.

“You look…” Meg swallowed hard and cleared her throat.  “You look like you’ve been through hell,” she blurted, then bit her lower lip as though chastising herself for her candidness.

Cole was staring down at himself and offered only a slight nod in response.

“Listen, the plan worked.  We’re getting you discharged today.”  She searched his facial expression for a reaction.  She was too tired from her efforts to read his emotions.

Cole didn’t move.  His eyes were fixed on a spot on his dark-blue sling.

“Did you hear me, Cole?  You’re coming home today!” Meg tried to say it more exuberantly, but still didn’t receive the anticipated happy response.

“Aren’t you happy about that?”  She prompted.

“You tell me, Meg.  You’re the one who can read emotions.”  Cole’s voice was flat, so hard to interpret.

“Not now.  I’m too exhausted to use my empath skills,” she sighed deeply.  Cole looked up to watch her face, trying to discern whether she was telling the truth.  For the first time since she walked in the room, he noticed her face seemed to have changed since he last saw her more than a week before.  She had dark circles under her eyes and she looked pale under that softly olive skin. 

“You don’t look too well yourself, Meg.”  Cole offered, a hint of compassion eking into his voice.

Meg shrugged.  “I’ll be fine.  I just need a few good nights’ rest.  I’ve been working with the little boy we rescued from the Facility a lot since we found him.  I’m starting to have a hard time bouncing back.”  Meg averted her eyes.  She didn’t want to tell Cole that it was Creed’s love and devotion that was fueling her life force
.  Were it not for him, Meg would probably be passed out half the time because there was no way she was going to stop working to ease Danny’s traumas.

Cole’s body was injured, but his levels of perception were very much intact.  “What did you do to make it so I could leave without them asking a bunch of invasive questions?” he nodded toward the door to his room.

Meg sighed.  She really was exhausted.  She wasn’t lying. 

“I just encouraged your attending physician to sign your discharge papers.”

“You ‘encouraged’ him?  What does that mean?”

Meg figured this part of her development she could share without injuring his feelings.  “It’s the final step in my evolution.  I’m able to influence some people’s minds, but it does take a lot out of me.”

“You can make them do what you want them to do?”

“Well, only if they’re weak-minded or
, like your doctor, exhausted with emotional and physical pain they were already trying to cope with.”

“So, if it weren’t for you using your gift, I could have been turned in to a lab rat?”

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t say that,” Cole snapped.

“It’s true.”

An even more awkward silence echoed throughout the room.

“They’ve been sending in a shrink to talk with me over the past few days.  He’s a really smart guy.”

“Oh?” Meg looked up, guilty, tired tears stinging her dark eyes.

“Yeah, I think—I know I need to take responsibility for my actions.  I don’t blame you for anything I did, Meg—not the serum, not the car accident.”  Cole took a slow, deep breath before continuing.  “The problem is inside me.  You have every right to love whomever you want,” he pressed his lips together forming a stern, straight line before continuing, “and so do I.”

Meg tried to read Cole’s emotions, but felt a wave of dizziness as punishment.  She was still too weak.

“I can’t read you, Cole.  Are you sincere or is this just a front?” 

“I wish you could read me.  I’m very much sincere.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have feelings for you and I probably always will.  But I can’t blame you or anyone else for my actions.  I can’t make you love me the way I want you to.”

Meg felt each of his last words like stabs of a knife.  She actually flinched. 

“So I just wanted you to know.  Thank you for helping me get released from this place.  I know my dad was really worried about people asking the wrong questions, but once I’m recovered, I’m leaving.”

Meg’s eyes whipped up to watch Cole. “What do you mean leaving?”

“I’m going to be seventeen in a couple of months.  And we both know that after you’ve become—what we are, you grow up even faster.  I’ve been working with my dad on this plan.  He’s helping me get set up at his alma mater.  My scores were high enough to get me accepted into
Baylor University in Waco.  I want to study medicine.”

“You’re going away to college?” Meg was shocked.

“Yes, I’d like to be a pediatrician.  I’ve always loved kids, and I really want to do something good in this world.”

“Wait, what about everything…”

“It’s not my battle.  It never was.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Meg’s voice was distant.

“It’s the right thing to do.  Most kids our age are looking into colleges,” Cole shrugged, and then flinched at the attempted movement of his broken collarbone.  “Maybe after you’re done saving the world, you’ll find time to be a college kid, too,” Cole offered softly.

Meg scoffed.  “My dye has been cast
.  I was turned into a metahuman when I was a baby, the first to survive the process.  I will be fighting to right the wrongs for the rest of my life.  I have no options.”

“Of course you have options, Meg,” Cole frowned.  “Life is full of choices!”

“Can a dolphin choose to walk on land?  Can a coyote choose to leap into the air and fly?”  Meg was tired, frustrated and alarmingly upset at the idea of Cole leaving, but she was trying very hard to stay calm.  It was a hard thing to do when she was feeling goaded.  “I am who I was designed to be.  I am a fighter.”

Cole nodded, giving up for now.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Cole called.

“Well, Mr. Andrews.  It looks like Dr. Mastiff thinks you’re ready to go home today.” A nurse with cartoon characters on her scrubs came breezing into the room, still staring at what Meg knew to be the doctor’s signature at the bottom of the discharge papers in her hands.  She shook her head and frowned a little before looking up at her patient.  “How do you feel about that?”

“I think it’s great news,” Cole managed a wide smile, though Meg knew he was playing it up for the nurse. 

“Did I just hear you’re to be discharged, son?”  Dr. Andrews flew into the room at just that moment pretending to be happily surprised by the news.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you feel like he’s ready to leave the hospital?” The nurse asked Theo.  She was obviously feeling uncomfortable with the decision that had been made without her input.

“Didn’t Cole’s attending sign his discharge paperwork?” asked Dr. Andrews.

“He did, Dr. Andrews, but we have a protocol at this hospital where a patient’s attending physician discusses their opinions as to when and where the patient is to be discharged.  Dr. Mastiff did not follow protocol.  I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, but he’s not answering his page and his office door is locked.  I may need to pull another doctor in to ask his opinion before we make any moves to release your son.”  She was watching the clock as she spoke, her fingers on Cole’s wrist.  She must have been content with his heart rate because that earned him a tight-lipped smile.

“I appreciate your concern, but I would still like to take my son home
.” Dr. Andrews was losing his cool.  Meg could see the redness of anger crawling up his neck.

Meg knew she would have to tap into her reserves to help matters, and though she feared having to stand to approach the nurse, she couldn’t think of any other way to make this work.

“Nurse…forgive me, what is your name?” Meg asked politely.

“Stacy,” the nurse said briskly.  Her hands were busying themselves checking Cole’s vitals and marking down their readings on his chart.  The frown in her forehead was deep.

“Stacy, I wondered if you would take a look at my stitches while you’re here.  They’ve been bothering me and I’m worried about the redness around them.”  Meg pushed her will carefully toward the nurse who looked up from her tasks and watched Meg’s eyes closely for a moment before blinking.

Darn it, I knew I was going to have to risk passing out cold on the floor.
  Meg grumbled inwardly as she made her way across the room to the nurse.

Just then, a
knock came at the door.  Evan and Creed walked into the room.  “Hey Cole, it’s good to see you,” Creed offered, but his eyes never left Meg.  He knew something was up.

“Hi fellas,” Meg offered conversationally.  “Cole’s doctor wants to discharge him.  Isn’t that awesome?” 

“Fantastic!” Evan played up his surprise.

“See, Stacy.  My hand is really hurting.  Do you think I should go back to the ER and have it looked at?”  Meg held her right hand out. 

The stitches her brother put in place were still there.  There definitely was some redness and swelling around the site, but Meg knew exactly why.   As she had walked to the nurse, she’d rubbed her hand roughly against her jeans intentionally aggravating the cut. 

She didn’t care about her hand.  Meg just needed skin
-to-skin contact with the nurse so she could push her influence on her.  Stacy was going to be a tough nut to crack.  She definitely wasn’t weak minded like Laz or exhausted like Dr. Mastiff.  This was going to be tricky.

The nurse leaned down and peered at the
wound before reaching out with her gloved hands to hold Meg’s hand up to the light. “It’s definitely reddened.  The stitches looked as if they were pulled a little too tightly during their placement.”

Evan coughed, irritated at the nurse’s comment.

“Hmm,” Meg began.  “It’s so important to have the proper care, isn’t it?”  She asked innocently.

“Yes, of course.”

“You are such an exceptional nurse, and that must be why Dr. Mastiff chose to work with you.  I heard he only works with the best,” Meg prodded more intently on Stacy’s will, looking for cracks.

“I’ve worked for Dr. Mastiff for the past twelve years,” the nurse said.  Her voice had taken on a distant, dreamy quality. 

It’s working.

Meg’s heart raced in her chest with the effort she was exerting.  Pushing even harder, Meg added, “and you completely trust Dr. Mastiff’s professional opinion, don’t you Stacy?”

The nurse’s frown reappeared but only briefly before her face smoothed.  “I completely trust Dr. Mastiff’s professional opinion,” Stacy echoed.

“Of course you do, Stacy.  You only work with the best, and Dr. Mastiff is definitely the best.  It’s why he is always put on the most difficult cases, because his patients respond beautifully to his medicine.  His success rates are unmatched in this hospital.”

“His success rates are unmatched,” Stacy nodded.  Her eyes were locked onto Meg’s.  She blinked slowly. 

Meg gave one last strong push of her will, moving her uninjured hand up to the nurse’s wrist, above the glove.  The skin-to-skin contact, with the latex glove out of the way, intensified her will over the nurse.

“Cole Andrews is more than ready to go home.  You will prepare the necessary documents and make his discharge happen as quickly as possible.  You have to clear this room for truly ill patients.  Cole Andrews no longer needs hospital care.”

“Cole Andrews no longer needs hospital care,” she echoed.  “I’ll go prepare for his release.”

“Thank you, Stacy.  We will begin packing his things.”

“Yes, of course,” the nurse mumbled and began walking out of Cole’s room.

“Oh, Stacy.  I believe you’ll need Cole’s discharge papers,” Meg called after her, motioning to the abandoned clipboard at the foot of Cole’s bed.

“Thank you, yes.  I need Cole’s discharge papers.”  The nurse returned to grab the clipboard then turned back to the doorway.  She was rubbing her temples slowly.