Killed in Action - A Spy School Story

Chapter 7: Explanation

McLean Hospital

McLean, VA

Intensive Care Unit

February 4th, 2018

2300R

Alexander POV

Quiet breaths and steady beeping were the only sounds in the room as I stared at my unconscious daughter, fear gripping me. She was still alive despite the severe loss of blood and 0.25% blood alcohol content, but that didn't mean she was conscious just yet. Scratch that, she was conscious earlier, but for only a few seconds to throw up before passing out again. The medical staff were thankfully gracious about being absolutely covered in vomit.

And now, Erica was under suicide watch. Becky the ER nurse—as well as most of the med staff I interacted with—were positive that Erica's injuries were self-inflicted, and I had to agree... unfortunately based on personal experience.

Not mine, per se, but once when I found a troubled young CIA officer in a similar condition (minus the alcohol) during a deployment in the Horn of Africa. She would've died had it not been for the SEAL that revived her and subsequently put her on a flight to Ramstein with other severely injured/ill personnel. Last I heard, she'd resigned from the Agency and was living quietly in Wisconsin with her husband and two kids.

Erica and the ex-officer had two things in common: the method of self-harm and the reason, with the reason being loss. I'd later found out that the ex-officer lost her mother—her only family—prior to the deployment. She didn't seek out any sort of help and never brought it up, resulting in what I can only assume was a bottling up of emotions that ended in slashing her own wrists.

Why didn't I figure it out? I knew she was hurting, but... to go this far? To commit such an act? I should've seen it... so why didn't I?

Erica began stirring with a groan, snapping me out of my thoughts. I hovered over her as she slowly opened her glassy, unfocused eyes that slowly searched the room before landing on me.

"D-Dad?" she choked out in a weak whisper that made my heart clench.

"Yeah, it's me," I quietly replied, caressing her face with the softest touch I could manage. "It's me, kiddo. I'm here."

"Wh-where am I?"

"Hospital. ICU."

"B-but... I was..."

"In your apartment, I know. Chip and Jawa came to visit you, found you unconscious, and drove you here. Did some crazy shit to keep you alive and get through traffic, even getting a police escort."

At that last bit, she fell silent as her eyelids drooped and her eyes turned away. I tried coaxing out a response a few times, but to no avail. Unsure of what to do, I called for Lori the ICU nurse. The woman came in and did a quick check of vitals, attempting to ask Erica about how she was feeling. Like me, Lori received no reply, but the experienced nurse took it in stride, showing extraordinary patience and grace as she continued her work. Once she was all finished, she bade us farewell—but not before quickly whispering some words to me:

"Best thing you can do is just listen patiently."

I didn't want to listen. The officer within me wanted to dissect the situation, extract every possible piece of information. I had to know. What was I missing? Why would she do this? What was—

No, wait. Stop. This is your daughter, not a prisoner. And this is her healing, not some operation.

It was a delicate situation that had to be handled with the utmost care, and it wasn't just because she was under suicide watch. It's because—if I wasn't mistaken—what caused her fracturing was a very certain event. But this wasn't the time to play Twenty Questions... I had to let her divulge at her own pace.