Bundle of Branches

Chapter 2

In the minor med bay, Chance is also lying on a table, while Jett places a blood pressure cuff on his arm and fills it with air. He reads the dial, his mouth moving silently. "60 over 30," he says, his forehead creasing. "Chance, can you hear me? Your blood pressure is very low. I'm going to need to ask you a few questions."

Chance nods slightly, wincing from pain. "A-alright."

Jett's eyes roam over the bruises on the right side of Chance's abdomen, and he lightly presses on them. "Does this hurt?"

"Nngh- yes." Chance sharply inhales, bringing his hands into fists. He breathes shallowly as the pain dulls.

"Okay," Jett says. "Can you move your right arm for me, please?"

Chance manages to move his right arm a couple inches off the table, sweat pouring down his face from the effort. He drops it back onto the table, breathing hard. "Fuck," he whispers. "That's... not good, is it?"

"Well... no." Jett bites his lip. "Chance, I think you may have internal bleeding in your abdomen."

Chance grimaces as a wave of pain shoots through his stomach. He's vaguely aware of Izzy squeezing his hand. "Jesus." He tries to sit up, but falls back down. "So what are you going to do?"

Jett thinks for a few moments. "It doesn't seem to be too severe, so..." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You're going to get a bed here and rest for a week or two while we manage your symptoms, okay?"

"Okay," whispers Chance, feeling himself slip into unconsciousness.

A bag is over his head, and the fabric is scratching his skin. Someone yanks it off. Bright lights sting his eyes. He is tied to a chair, rope biting into his wrists, and there is a man with a gun standing in front of him...

The next thing Chance knows, he's waking up, tense. His wrists are raw, wrapped in angry red lines, but there is no rope around them. He's not in a chair - he's lying on a cot in a med bay, pale morning light filtering in through the thin curtain that acts as a door. And he cannot move. His entire body aches, but his abdomen hurts the most, the right side screaming with pain.

"I was so scared!"

Chance tries to move his head, grimacing when it makes pain shoot through his neck like a lightning bolt. Izzy is sitting beside his cot, holding his hand. Her face is streaked with tears.

"Iz," he says, his voice raspy. "Were you here all night?"

Izzy nods. "Of course." She leans closer to him, resting her arm across his chest. "Jett hooked you up to an IV. He figured you wouldn't be up for eating or drinking just yet." Jett. She thinks back to the way he moved his mouth silently, the way he looked more concerned than he let on. Her gaze meets Chance's. "What... did they do to you?"

Memories flash through his brain. They're slashing his back with a knife, they're beating him, kicking him over and over again in the abdomen, breaking his ribs. They're screaming at him, demanding that he give up the name of his leader, or else. "They..." Chance grits his teeth as another wave of pain rolls through him. "Nh- they wanted information." His eyes drift closed.

"What kind of information?" Izzy's heart is in her stomach, and every part of her is saying you're in trouble, he's in trouble, every member of your team is in trouble, but she doesn't listen. She can't listen. Chance is hurting, he's hurting badly, and he may be dying. So she can't pay attention to what her gut is telling her just yet. Maybe tomorrow. "Chance?"

He's asleep, his mouth open slightly and his chest rising and falling in slow breaths. His free hand lightly grips the bedsheets.

Izzy sighs, giving his other hand a squeeze. "I'll be here when you wake up, bud. Just... hang on for me."

He had been taken for months, and everyone on the team had been beginning to accept the fact that he might be dead - including Izzy. She would have liked to say that she never gave up hope, but the truth is... all the facts were pointing to Chance's death. There was no reason to believe otherwise.

That's why it was so jarring when they had received the anonymous tip, a garbled voice giving the address of a warehouse off of Pear Street. It re-opened the possibility of Chance being alive, no matter how small, and it was almost like whiplash. Now Izzy was left trying to piece herself back together after seeing how broken Chance had become.