The End - Blackbird book 7

8. left behind

Fred showed up at the door. "I've got it. We gotta take it to Ballistic."

"Kurt, Al, let's go," said Hank.

Connor patted Tanya's hand. "You go too, T. I'm fine."

"But...!"

"I want a good tech working on my mom's case."

"Hey! I heard that, wannabe!" Kurt said, and smiled when it pulled a shaky scoff out of Connor.

Brock tried to follow Cooper out and found Russell's hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"We've got it covered, Brock. You stay here with Connor."

Brock's scowl was meant to turn Russell into ice. Had Russell not been working with him for the last two years, which made him sort of immune to his stormy scowls.

"You need to be here when Reg wakes up," Russell added.

I need to get to work or I'll lose it! Brock couldn't say that, so he scowled deeper. Russell patted his arm.

"Call us when she does. We'll keep you up."

The rest of the team brushed past him on their way out as Brock stood there, watching them leave. He heard Connor type behind him and couldn't bring himself to turn around and face him. The boy put his computer back in his backpack and came to stand by him. Brock sighed.

"Come, Connor. Let's find your mother."

"Room 307," the boy replied. "I already accessed the hospital database."

Of course he'd hacked it. Easier than just asking the nurses like an ordinary mortal. They left the waiting room together.

Gillian had been taken to an individual ICU, just around the bend from the third-floor nurse station. As they approached the glass wall of the small room, Connor said, "I'm glad you're here. And thanks for staying."

"Of course. We came as soon as we knew."

Brock had the bugging feeling of treading on thin ice. He'd never been alone with Gillian's son, and the boy kept formal and distant with him.

"We shouldn't have stayed here, the whole team," Connor said in a thoughtful tone. "We lost a precious time to identify the shooter. But we were all so shocked..."

Brock swallowed his surprise at hearing him speak as one of the team. A moment later he realized he shouldn't be, considering all the times he'd seen the boy work on a case with the punks. He'd been one of them for years.

Connor went on, as if thinking aloud. "We just froze." He grimaced. "Mom wouldn't have frozen like we did. She never freezes. She always knows what to do." He flashed a tight smile. "Like the lads say, that's why she's the boss..." Connor glanced up at Brock. "I'm glad you're here, 'cause she's gonna ask about you as soon as she opens her eyes."

Brock scowled. "No, Connor. She'll ask about you, not me."

Connor scoffed. It's genetics, Brock thought. That was Gillian's trademark smirk pursing the boy's lips, contrasting with his formal way to address Brock.

"She won't need to, sir. 'Cause I'm gonna be right by her side. And you're gonna be waiting out here."

Brock almost smiled. They reached the room and paused to look at Gillian through the glass wall. All of a sudden the real meaning of Connor's words hit him. Why would the boy say Gillian would ask for him? The boy knew what his mother felt for him?

Connor breathed deep and went on alone to the closed door. As he walked in, Brock sunk his hands in his pockets and watched Gillian lying there on the hospital bed. Her dark hair framed her pale, absent face; a thick, notorious bandage showed under the hospital gown around her left shoulder. She had electrodes to her chest, a slim oxygen tube to her nose, an IV, the oxymeter pin pressing her finger. He stepped back as a chill ran down his spine. It was such a terrifying picture. He spotted a vending machine and his feet took him to it before he could even notice. His fingers slid the coins into the slot and ordered a latte. The last thing he wanted was a coffee. But that was what she used to have. So, a latte. The soft paper cup warmed his cold hands while he waited for her to open her eyes.

Because she was alive.