Connor broke the connection.
What did it mean? Did Connor Doyle officially denied given instructions?
Frank Elsinger, the chief of OSIR was slightly irritated. He didn’t’ expect such a behavior, not in this open way and certainly not from Connor Doyle. Something had to be wrong. Doyle didn’t look well... Then it struck Elsinger: was he possibly contaminated? Was it because of this that he opposed to hand over this really dangerous living thing?
Elsinger couldn’t and wouldn’t risk anything. Though he knew about the parasites and the team members were surely replaceable but this team was now too valuable to risk it...
He reached for the receiver. After pushing several buttons he created a connection that couldn’t be bugged and which number was known to only two people: him and the chief of the Gamma – team with whom he now spoke.
"William? Frank here," he started and continued. "I need a complete team. Place of action: Russia. The number of the official case is 321147, the required information you’ll find in the unofficial file 321147 – Gamma – 3719.
An alpha team is already there. There are presumably problems. Connor Doyle is presumably contaminated, the others could be that as well. You and your team got a task, to get them out of there, I can’t risk to lose the whole team. But," he added, "no one should know you’re there. Good luck."
With these words Elsinger put the receiver back into its cradle. There was the gravity of the situation written on his face, but it was not the only thing, reflected in his face. There was something else... worry?
He was in pain. His whole body seemed aflame with pain, but he shouldn’t show it. Not in front of his team, this would only lessen their concentration and distract them from their work now more important than the state of his body. He had to end this case but not the way Elsinger wanted him to do. His own way. And he wanted to get out the team with no losses. This was the least he owed them after all the long time together.
He guessed, that he wouldn’t survive in the mission and it made him sad. There was so much that would stay unsaid... To his team... to Lindsay. He hasn’t been able to tell her what he really felt for her. But now it was too late. To do it now meant to make everything worse and he swore, that he’d tell her if he survived the situation. But in the same moment it looked like a cowardly promise.
Was he perhaps already persuaded in his subconsciousness that he wouldn’t survive and that’s why he could give oaths like this? He didn’t know and therefore decided, not to ponder over it and to hope for the best.
"Gamma 2 to Gamma 1, we’re in the position. Microphones, ultrasound – and infrared sensors, warmth – and movement detectors are installed and ready for work. Send you all the measures and video signals."
"Gamma 1 to Gamma 2. Understood. The data transformation successfully completed. Please inform about the other plans and actions of the alpha team."
"Understood, Gamma 1," three members of the Gamma team, dressed in black, moved in the darkness of the building. Two gigantic parasites crept not far from them but didn’t notice them.
"Gamma 2 to Gamma 1, protective suits tested and ready to use."
"Understood, Gamma 2," confirmed William and looked again at his monitors, situated in a little hidden basis, 200 m away from the factory building. A lot of little moving objects were to see, but only a little bit of it were humans. There were already many parasites hiding in this building, too many.
The whole operation took place at a high level, that could escalate to the highest security phase. Something had to be done about it.
The Case Manager of the alpha team possibly came to the same conclusion, cause the team looked as if they were about to get away. Some minutes ago Dr. Cooper, the zoologist, was contaminated. Not even Gamma team could prevent it. Although they could determine the position of the parasites, what could they do? Not a thing. They had to stay undiscovered. Luckily Cooper lived, but for how long?
William looked at the little monitors and listened to the talks. Doyle has just ordered an immediate retreat. He himself ran to the cellar of the building, to open the doors.
A dangerous plan, considering the parasites, William thought, worried. William activated the intercom, but before he could say anything, there was a message from one of his teams. "Gamma 2 to Gamma 1, they get away. Doyle is on his way to the pressure controls, to supply the doors with energy."
"Understood," confirmed William shortly, before he contacted the next team: "Gamma 3, be ready."
It was a bit tight, but they still made it. Now they were hidden in their secret places and waited, but they didn’t have to wait long, cause several minutes later he went down the stairs. He could hardly walk, pressing his one hand to his stomach and hurried on, touching with the other hand the walls and apparatus. His face was twisted with pain, his hair plastered to his scalp, wet with perspiration. He could hardly breath.
Then he made it to the control center. He started to turn the levers, one after another.
The team heard the compressors starting to function. Soon it will be over.
The three members of the Gamma team watched him from the dark corners of the room, were ready and waited for action. Everything had to go on smooth, if the operation was a success. Now it wouldn’t take too long, it’d start any moment. They watched each other. The chief of the team made a movement with her hand and the both men nodded.
Meanwhile exhausted Doyle leaned on the wall and was sitting on the floor. He stretched out his hand to the last lever.
The both men wanted to leave their shelter as the chief stopped them. She showed them the little screen. Four red spots – these were they and Doyle –, a lot of blue spots – these were the parasites -, and another red spot was approaching the room. In this moment Peter Axon ran down the stairs. He was armed with nitrogen against the parasites. He wanted to stop Doyle, to get him out, but Doyle wouldn’t agree, telling Axon about his plan to open the doors. Together with Axon they turned the levers. Then they argued. Peter didn’t want to leave Doyle alone. The team members watched nervously one another. They were short of time. If the parasites got Doyle first, everything was too late.
Peter scanned the surroundings and also noticed the parasites. Luckily the detectors couldn’t differ between human and animal signals so that the team stayed unnoticed. The three looked at each other, relieved.
"Go, Peter, it’s an order." Peter still lingered, but he saw determination in the eyes of his friend and finally headed the stairs. He turned to look at Doyle for the last time, then started to run. He ran to save his own life, he knew it. And he had only little time.
Connor’s pain was now unbearable. The parasite in his stomach turned around and created waves of pain, that seemed to flood Connor’s whole nervous system. He shrunk at the control wall, clinging with one hand on the lever, that meant freedom for him and for all the others. Freedom from the present and future pain, caused by the creatures whose origin still couldn’t be determined. He waited another few seconds, hoping that his team was already outside, hoping that Peter was safe as well. The parasites were coming nearer, he could feel their presence like a cold shower down his spine. He closed his eyes, thought about his team, thought about Lindsay and turned the lever.
Nothing.
What happened? It took him an effort to open his eyes but he was too weak. The last thing he saw, before he drifted off into a deep unconsciousness, was a silhouette of a man, hurrying towards him.
"Come on, guys, hurry on," shouted the chief of the team, "hurry, hurry, get Doyle out of here. I’ll install the bomb. Time – two minutes." While the both men took out Connor, she modified the box, consisting of the controls for the compressors.
The team had already manipulated all the levers of the compressors so that each of them could function. This manipulations were made on every apparatus that could destruct the building. Now she cautiously removed the last choker, turned on the bomb and ran away. In two minutes the blockade would be removed and the contact closed and then everything would blow up. "Run, Peter!"
The explosion shook the earth. The building behind Peter collapsed. A cloud of ashes and dust, illuminated by the roaring flames was the only thing left.
"Peter!" Lindsay ran over to him. "Peter, where’s Connor?"
He looked at her, sad, not knowing what to say. But she understood him without words. Looked at him, not believing. He put his hands around her, pressed her to him.
200 m behind the building now nothing but ashes, the members of the Gamma team in black suits lay in an earth cavity. They were protected form the pressure under a fireproof surface and stayed untouched. Connor Doyle was with them. He was alive.
Heavy machines slowly took away the ashes and stones of the blown up building. The Beta team scanned the surroundings looking for living things. Ultra sound - , thermo detectors, sonar devices, warm reflectors and sound - frequency analyzers helped to search, just like another High Tech devices that were not a part of an usual equipment of a searching troop. But in this case every kind of equipment was used, any chance taken, like it was ordered "from above".
"There’s nothing here as well," one of the team members said, "nothing but hundred remains of these parasites but no trace of Doyle."
All of this just couldn’t be true! She hoped to wake up anytime from this horrible nightmare but the hope was vain, she didn’t wake up and wouldn’t do it, for this was no dream. It was reality, showing one of its cruelest faces this time. Why didn’t she stop him as she had a chance to do this? Why? Why haven’t Peter stopped him? He saw him the last! Why did he leave him alone? Peter could have stopped him! Connor could still live!
Lindsay sighed. She was lying on a bed in a little, scarcely furnished quarantine room. Arms crossed behind her head, she stared at the ceiling. She’s been here for three days but still couldn’t sleep a single night. She still was tortured by the memories of the night. Now she thought how different things could be if Connor stayed alive. Would she dare to tell him how she felt? The real feelings, much more than the usual friendship between the members of the team? Now he wouldn’t know. Never. His death was so final. So damned final. Tears ran down her cheeks and left wet spots on the pillow.
He heard noises, voices, felt the slight pressure of the oxygen mask on his face, light reflexes danced in front of his eyes but he couldn’t open them. Where was he? And with whom? What did they do to him? He felt a dull pain. The parasite. He was still inside. An electrical peep ton, that he has heard all the time somewhere behind, increased the frequency. His heart race. Was he in a hospital? How did he come here?
Someone approached him, he sensed their presence, heard how they were talking but he couldn’t understand what it was about. He saw everything as if through fog, that dulled all his senses. Someone lifted his lids and blinded him with a stark light. He couldn’t move. He saw shortly blurred faces that his eyes closed again. The darkness again gained him. A swift prick in his palm, a slight touch of a hand. Then he felt nothing more, the tiredness covered him slowly, the voices disappeared somewhere far. He seemed to fall in to a world of silence and peace, he was surrounded by darkness. He had no more pain.
Dressed in blue quarantine clothes like every member of alpha team, Peter sat alone in a corner of his room and ruffled his short hair. He sighed deeply. Did he act wrong? Could he have saved him? Not even now he could do something for him. As soon as alpha team returned, he was put under quarantine till it could be determined, that no one in the team was contaminated. What he’d given to be there now... with his friend. Did he abandon him? He cried silently.
There was a high activity in the lab, the last preparations. Neon lights turned everything to a cold white light. In the middle of the room there was a metal table. A team of scientists and doctors, dressed in white tunics, stood within reach. "It is efficacious, there’s no activity found," another woman said, looking up from the monitors, "you can start."
"Well, let’s go," one of the doctors said and put on his band. The others followed his example. They approached the table on which Connor Doyle lay. His abdominal cavity was already opened and the rest of his body covered with blue cloths. Scalpel sparkled cold in the artificial light of the lab.
"Is Peter in there?" Lindsay quietly asked Anton, who stood in front of the door to Peter’s room. Lindsay looked tired, her eyes reddened. Anton didn’t look different, he also grieved his friend, who – regarded objectively – no chance of survival had. Peter told him that Connor was contaminated. Even if he survived the explosion, surely not the outbreak of the parasite in his body. Anton answered Lindsay’s question with a nod. No one spoke much ever since the accident. Everyone thought about something, tried to manage the tragic situation. Lindsay wanted to pass Anton and to enter the room but Anton hold her back. As she looked at him, questioning, he shook his head. Lindsay threw a short look through the clink in the door. She saw Peter. He sat in a corner of the room on the floor, the knees pressed to his body. She heard his quiet sobbing. She looked away, tears in her eyes.
"We should leave him alone," Anton whispered. "For a while," he added then.
Anton and Lindsay went down the floor.
"Don’t make him a scape goat," Anton suddenly said, "he couldn’t do a thing."
"But... I didn’t want..." Lindsay started but she stopped as Anton silently looked at her. She lowered her eyes. He was right. In a way she wanted to make Peter guilty. She searched a scape goat. Needed someone against whom she could rage, but it was unfair! It was too simple, it wasn’t Peter’s guilt. She knew Connor’s way, she’d have to handle the same way too. She would have done it the same way! She also left Connor as he ordered her to do it and this fact haunted her in her dreams and thoughts. She nodded and sighed.
"Peter thinks he’s guilty," continued Anton, "I hope he’d be ready soon to talk about it. He shouldn’t keep it inside."
"Excellent work, I expect your report," pushing a button, Elsinger terminated his talk. He smiled. So far so good. Now the parasite was again where it belonged and the tests could go on.
His senses were coming back, slowly, but they were still dulled. He had a strange feeling but couldn’t find out what it was. Did he feel lonely? But it was a good feeling... Then he understood. He didn’t sense the presence of the parasite inside of him. Was it removed? Did it die? It wasn’t inside of him any more. Connor felt well.
"Make sure that he doesn’t regain consciousness," one of the doctors warned the assistant, that took care of the patient. He nodded and checked the dose of narcotics.
"He’s rather pale," he told then, a bit worried. The doctor approached the bed and controlled the pulse and temperature. Though the monitors were adjoined, she wanted to be sure. "Everything is all right," she calmed down the assistant, "there are all side effects of the operation, it was rather hard. Doyle will live."
She turned to her current work, the investigation of the parasites. They really made it, removing the parasite out of the body, without killing one of them. She still asked herself, where Elsinger got the vaccine but such questions were never spoken in this branch.
"The measuring look good," one of the scientists said, while observing fascinated the parasite, that slowly moved in its glass," our little friend her seems to wake up."
"As soon as his measuring is stabile, I need the roentgen and spectral analysis," the chief doctor ordered, "till then take tissue – and blood samples. Everything must be analyzed and measured. And try to find out how he grows. We need a bigger glass."
Two months later.
The team recovered from the horrors of the accident and even investigated several other cases. Now under the leadership of a new team member. Matt Praeger. A very efficient man, but at first there was coldness between him and Axon. Peter, that thought he’d become Connor’s successor, was placed by Elsinger in front of the facts. He tried to manage the situation as well as he could but Praeger didn’t make it easy for him, with his constant remarks. But at least he made Peter and Lindsay talk. Now there was peace between Peter and Matt and between them slowly developed a relationship, that even seemed to look like a friendship.
They have just finished the last case. Peter and Lindsay sat in the mobile lab and packed the files. They talked about the case, that turned out to be a coax.
Peter looked up as Lindsay said nothing to his last remark. She sat at the table, lost in thoughts, her eyes staring in the distance.
"Lindsay?" Peter stood up and approached her. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Everything all right?"
"Hmmm?...Oh yes, everything is all right, Peter. It’s only that... I think right now about..."
"Connor?"
She nodded and sighed. "Peter, I miss him so much!"
He sat down next to her: "We all miss him, Lindsay, but we must try to manage it."
"I know, the life goes on, doesn’t it?"
He nodded. Lindsay smiled: "It would be easier to bid farewell if there were a place where I could feel him close. But he doesn’t have even a grave!"
"He’s here, Lindsay," Peter replied and a made a movement, enclosing the room, "this here was his life."
Next day they were back in the town, ready to handle another case. Till then, though, they had some time to have a rest.
"I’m already looking forward to sleeping 12 hours at a time," Peter said and sighed as Lindsay took him home. She laughed: "Yes, and I need a hot shower." He opened the door and got out.
"Well, sleep well, Peter," she shouted after him.
He waved at her, smiling and opened the door of the apartment. He collected the post from the floor, jammed in the last days. There was a little package under it. Peter looked for an address on it but didn’t find it. He put it to the rest of the mail. The letters can wait. Peter went to the bath and freshened a bit. Then he fell on the bed and was asleep within few minutes.
Lindsay was leaving bathroom, still filled with hot steam. She was wearing her white coat and ruffled her hair with a towel, to dry it. Suddenly her telephone rang. She wavered a bit but then finally made up her mind and picked up the receiver.
"Hallo?"
"Look into your mail box," a throaty voice whispered, before the connection was broken on the other side of the wire. Lindsay looked at the receiver in her hand, a bit surprised, then put it back to its cradle. What did that mean? Look in our mail box. She felt a bit nauseous, nevertheless she decided to follow the orders. But first she dressed. Who knows, what or who was waiting for her...
She cautiously opened the door and went out of the house. She attentively watched the surroundings but could detect nothing suspicious. Then she approached the mail box, stuck in the little key and turned it round. Lindsay looked around once more but no one seemed to watch her. Very cautiously she opened a bit the mail box and peeped in, but she could no cabels or something else, that could lead to a bomb or something like this.
She drew her breath and opened it, still expecting something to jump at her but all, she got were letters and a little package.
She breathed out, relieved, collected the mail and went back home. She looked at the letter and the addresses there, but each one had a sender. The only one without a sender was the little package. She cautiously opened it and knitted her brow as she took out a tape. On the sticker it was written with black letters: Part 2. That was all. No letter, no note, nothing. Only this tape. Lindsay decided to watch the tape and put it into the recorder. The screen shimmered, then it became black. Slowly, line by line appeared the text:
"(Part 2 of a two parted message, Part 1 owned by Peter Axon)
That’s why I allow you, to investigate this case. But believe me, you must hurry on, before it’s too late. And be thorough, the things are not always what they seem to be. At the end you’ll see the basis of the secret group, that must be uncovered and stopped as soon as possible." A picture of a storing house was shown then again text: "I beg you to help me and I apologize for the vague message but I couldn’t give your more information, because then my anonymity might be threatened. A friend."
The telephone rang. He moaned, murmured something barely audible. Then he put his head under the pillow but the ringing didn’t cease. He sighed and gave up hope to sleep on and searched for the telephone.
"Hallo?" he murmured in a sleepy voice. He sat up.
"Peter?"
„Hhm?"
„Peter, it’s me, Lindsay."
Now he was almost wide awake. Something in her voice told him, that it had to be something important. "What’s wrong?" he asked. "Has anything happened?"
"I can’t say it for sure, Peter."
He frowned.
"Have you already checked your mail?" Lindsay continued.
"Yes and no," he replied," I just piled it before I went to be."
"Was there a package?" she asked anticipating. "Without a sender? Only with your address?"
Now he was curious. "Yes," he confirmed.
"Could you please look up what’s in there?"
"Yes, a moment please," he put the receiver aside, hurried out of the room and came back with the package. He took again the receiver. "Well, now I’ve got it here." He opened it and took out the tape. "A tape," he said, surprised and watched it, looking for some sticker. "Part 1?" he read in a questioning voice.
"I’ve got Part 2," Lindsay explained, "and can’t understand a lot."
"Well, then I propose we’d watch it together," Peter said.
"Right, I’ll be over at yours in quarter an hour."
"Till then," Peter put the receiver into its cradle.
"Well, here we go," Peter said, put the first tape into the recorder and pressed "play". Again there was black background and the white text appearing.
"(Part 1 of a two parted message, Part 2 owned by Lindsay Donner)"
I beg you for help. You’ll ask who I am but it’s not important. You don’t know me. I don’t talk to you because of anonymity and security, but I chose this way of communication. I hope you understand.
What you read now, should be treated confidentially within your team to avoid questions and to have at least some security.
It all has to do with a storing place (See Part 2)that look as if not used from the outside. But within there are secrets and truths, that must be uncovered. The project must be stopped.
The End of Part 1.
Peter changed the tapes. "What do you think about it?" he asked, after they had watched together the tapes.
"I don’t know," replied Lindsay, a bit uncertain. "We didn’t learn much about this "project", she said then.
"But why then the tapes, what for the whole conspiration?"
Lindsay shrugged: "A trap?"
"But why?" Peter considered shortly, then shook his head. "Our last case was a coax and the other ones were also not that great, so that we mixed someone’s plans or bothered someone." Lindsay nodded.
"Well," Peter said then, "we have nothing else to do but think how to handle the case."
"Only to inform Anton first... and Matt," Lindsay stiffened his wish to act, for once started, Peter was not to stop. So looked a face he pulled.
Lindsay grinned and shook her head. Then she stood up.
"Come on, Peter, let’s talk to the others."
He sighed but stood up as well. She was right. If it was a trap or something dangerous, there were two more people around.
"And you want now to investigate?" Praeger asked, turning to Peter and Lindsay, after watching the two tapes.
"Yes," Peter answered immediately and was ready for an usual fight. But he saw Lindsay’s warning glance and stopped. She continued instead of him.
"Matt," she started with a calm voice, "if there’s really something on in this storing place, we should check it. Whoever sent us this tapes, he begged an urgent help to stop this "project", that he mentioned. As soon as possible."
She looked at Matt, but she didn’t seem to like his expression because she continued: "We don’t have another case now, Matt, so that this case wouldn’t threaten our official work."
Praeger frowned, then looked around: "And you also want to investigate it?"
He asked, addressing Anton.
As he nodded, Praeger sighed and stood up from his chair. "Oh well, let’s try to investigate it. Does anyone know something about the storing house?"
"There are some abandoned storing houses in the industrial region, perhaps it’s one of them," Peter said, again filled with fire.
"Well, then let’s go there and look for ourselves," Praeger proposed, while he was already on his way to the car.
Peter quickly typed out the picture of the storing house and then hurried after the others. "This must be it," Lindsay compared once more the picture of the house with the house standing in front of them. Yes, it was doubtless the same house. The team stood a bit aside and watched at first the surroundings and the house but they could detect nothing suspicious. Still they took the mobile lab to the place to have at hand some of the equipment.
„Okay," Praeger turned to his team and noisily breathed, "let’s tackle it!"
The others nodded. Praeger cautiously opened the door of the hall, to which led the anonymous call. He peeped in. "Nothing in here," he whispered and slid in. Lindsay, Peter and Anton followed.
It was dark and quite in the all, nothing moved. Praeger gave a signal to part and the team divided into several. Daylight, falling through the dusty windows gave the hall an eerie feeling. Praeger was glad, that they had taken their flashlights. "Are you sure we’re right here?" he asked per intercom, as he in vain looked for something suspicious.
"It must be the right address," replied Lindsay, "there’s no other storing house in this region, looking like the picture here." "But it doesn’t look as if someone’s been here shortly...," retorted Peter. The light of his flashlight slid over the dusty chairs, tables and apparatus that seemed unused for ages and now were the victims of time’s wheel, that kept on turning and leaving its traces.
"Perhaps we were just coaxed and someone’s laughing dead somewhere out there," speculated Praeger annoyed.
"There are foot traces here on the ground," Anton said suddenly, "and the tables are free from dust."
"Oh, here as well," confirmed Praeger, that was now standing in front of a door where the traces led. "Looks like they got everything out of here through the door. Perhaps they knew we’d come."
The team gathered again and investigated the part of the hall someone obviously shortly used for something.
"They were really good," Praeger noticed, "only some dust on the chairs and on the floor and we wouldn’t have noticed anything."
"Perhaps we would," Peter said suddenly and picked up a piece of a glass tube that was under one of the tables.
"A retort?" Lindsay asked. Peter nodded and handed it over to Anton. "I’ll take it back to the lab immediately and look what I can find," said the latter, "Perhaps they know more."
"All right," Praeger nodded, "we’ll continue searching. Perhaps there is something true in the message. But looks like we’re too late anyway."
Lindsay nodded, approving: "Yes, who knows how long the tapes have lain in our mail boxes?"
"Oh, my God," Peter suddenly whispered over intercom. Lindsay and Praeger looked around, searching for him but they couldn’t find him. They couldn’t even find him with the help of his flashlight that was lying abandoned on one of the table, where he put it shortly to pick up the glass.
"Peter, where are you?" Lindsay asked.
No answer. The only proof of life from Peter was his quick breathing over intercom.
"He’s alive," he suddenly whispered over intercom in a shaking voice.
Was he crying? Praeger looked over at Lindsay, unable to understand. He thoughtfully watched her. Then he raised his brows and cocked his head. Lindsay didn’t react. Now she saw through him, lost in her thoughts in another place, another time. "He’s alive," the voices in her head whispered, "he’s alive." Could it be possible? Suddenly her eyes widened. Was it possible? Could it be true? Did she really know what Peter was talking about? Or did she try to cease a chance, that wasn’t even there?
"Lindsay, he is alive," again whispered Peter. Who else could he mean, she asked herself. It just had to be this way!
"Where are you, Peter?" Lindsay could also only whisper now.
"Who does he mean?" Praeger asked.
"I..." began Lindsay. She didn’t actually know where to begin but she was interrupted by Anton, that came back from the lab.
"I’ve found something," he reported, excited, "you won’t believe it but I have found some parasites in the retort." He didn’t wait for an answer. "This was the same art of eggs as back in Russia..."
"Parasites? Russia?" now Praeger lost any hope to understand what was happening.
Before Anton could finish his report, he was interrupted by Peter’s cries.
Lindsay ran over to him, without thinking. Praeger and Anton slowly followed.
"What’s wrong?" Anton asked. Praeger shrugged. „I don’t have the slightest hint. Peter has obviously found someone and from then on they’re both as if..."
He stopped as he saw that Anton stopped and watched him with widened eyes. "Now don’t say you know who it is!"
"I’m not quite sure," Anton replied and then hurried on. Praeger looked up to the ceiling, he sighed. Then he also went to see, what was happening.
Lindsay found Peter. He immediately took her by the shoulders, his eyes glittering with joy. He couldn’t say a thing. Instead of it he dragged her through a small door, hidden behind shelves. Peter stayed in the door and watched Lindsay making slow progress. He felt great, the feeling he hadn’t had for a long time. A big smile lit up his face.
"Oh my God," Anton whispered that was also standing behind him. "Who is that?" Praeger asked, who arrived there as well.
"Connor?" Lindsay whispered quietly, approaching the bed, where a man was lying without moving, attached to a provisory oxygen mask and to a dropper, its bag empty. She saw his chest moving. Unshed tears filled her eyes. She kneed in front of the bed. Yes, it was Connor Doyle, there was no doubt about it. Though his hair was a bit longer and he had a beard, she would always recognize his face.
She tenderly removed a lock of hair from his forehead. He didn’t seem to have fever. "Connor?" she whispered again. "Can you hear me? It’s me, Lindsay..."
She tenderly brushed his cheek and held his hand with traces of old and new pitches. What did they do with him here? How did he come here? And who was responsible for it? These were questions and she didn’t know the answers but it was all the same to her now. For there was only this moment, this wonderful moment, that will forever stay in her memory.
"Connor?" she whispered something into his ear, something that was meant only for the two of them.
Suddenly his hand slightly pressed hers and a slight grin came to his face. Lindsay cautiously removed the oxygen mask.
Then he slowly opened eyes. His eyes. How much she missed these wonderful blue gray eyes! She looked at him and he looked at her.
A tear ran down her cheek. Connor tenderly wept it away with his finger. He smiled. He opened his mouth, as if wishing to tell something. Lindsay bent down to him.
"May I invite you for a dinner, Lindsay? I’ve got to catch up a lot..."
"Yes, right," Elsinger put down the receiver into its cradle. He leant back in his heavy chair, smiling. Everything went as he wanted it to be: the saving, the parasite, the tests and the anonymous call. No one would think he was an initiator and so he could really get everything he wanted. He had the parasite and he didn’t have to dismiss an excellent Case Manager. Now that Connor was back so "surprisingly", he could be put back into his team. If only all his plans went that smooth...
The End
1 August, 2001,
By Steffanie Tallen
Translated by Anastasia