Ben couldn't stop his father's men from dragging him away from the bombing. He'd known they would do that as soon as Dave got out of the car. He sat up in the back seat and pulled himself together as they sped away from the smoke rising from the dock. "I assume those were your orders?"

"Of course, Doctor." Martin, the driver, nodded. "Your father was very specific. We were to get you away from any danger immediately."

But not Dave. Ben wanted to scream and kick, to pitch a fit, but he didn't. Dave would have jumped out of the car at the first opportunity to go jump into the fray with his team. It was what he did. If Dave couldn't get pissed off at Ben for doing his job, then Ben couldn't turn around and get mad at Dave for doing his.

He took a deep breath. "And where do your orders tell you to take me now?"

"Only to safety, Doctor." Jules, the other guard, sat up a little straighter. "We can take you back to your flat if you prefer."

"No, thank you. Take me to the naval hospital, please." Ben drew himself up to his full height.

"Of course, Doctor." Martin aimed the car toward the hospital. "Are you injured?"

"No. It's my intention to treat the injured as they come in." He kept his tone cool and imperious, just as his father would. He didn't want to be an imperious dick. He'd spent the past thirty years trying his best not to be an imperious dick. Some situations called for it, and this was one of them.

They pulled in at the hospital in record time. A police cordon had been set up around the hospital already, but his car's plates and his guards' credentials cut through it. Ben presented himself and his credentials at the emergency department, and within half an hour he was in a fresh set of scrubs and ready to go.

Under ordinary circumstances, he would never have been able to just walk into a random emergency room and suit up. It was more or less unheard of. Today, bombings had taken place all over the city. Everyone's movements were restricted. Ben had more freedom of movement than any other doctor in the city, simply because of his privilege as his father's son. He was going to use that privilege to serve people affected by this tragedy, and there was nothing anyone was going to do to stop him.

Jules and Martin, the guards his father had sent, waited outside his OR, just in case.

Casualties came in from the Navy yard only moments after Ben got permission to work. He recognized some of them as people he'd seen in the crowd as his car had pushed through toward the Solace. Had the ship survived? Had any of the crew been hurt? Had any of the SEALs been hurt? He refused to let himself think about Dave. Dave would be fine. For all of the worry Ben had done over Dave, Dave was always fine.

Ben operated like his life depended on it. He tried not to see his patients, harder than he usually did. If he knew them, he didn't want to know about it. He needed to keep his objectivity. He worked on crushing injuries and burns, impact injuries, and the kind of lung injuries that only happened when someone was too close to an explosion.

He got through four surgeries before someone came to pull him out for a moment. "Dr. Michaud? We need you for a patient."

Ben couldn't think of any patient who would need him specifically, but he followed the older nurse into the triage room. Jules and Martin followed him. There, lying on a gurney, was Aziza. Khadijah screamed in a glass-sided bassinette beside her, but Aziza was in no position to do anything about it.

The nurse toyed with the hem of her scrubs. "You're listed as the patient's next of kin, Doctor. We need you to make a decision about her child."

"Is Khadijah well?" Ben's insides trembled, but he kept his cold demeanor.

"The baby is healthy. The mother shielded her with her body and was able to protect her from any injuries, but the mother is badly hurt herself."

Ben had to laugh a little bit. "It's the second time this has happened to the poor baby. At least this time she escaped injury." He stroked the back of Aziza's hand, where the IV port was. "She'll have to come home with me tonight. What's the diagnosis on Aziza?"

"She has several fractures and a puncture to her lung, from shrapnel, Doctor." The nurse read from Aziza's chart. "She's scheduled for surgery in the next available OR that isn't yours."

"Of course." Ben fought the urge to ask to operate on her himself. He was Aziza's next of kin, he couldn't do that. "Jules, Martin, has either of you ever held a baby before?"

Neither of them had.

"All right. Nurse, if you could page someone from pediatrics to come up here and give my friends here a lesson in babysitting, that would be very helpful. I need to go back into the OR right now. Khadijah will come home with me tonight. She'll stay with me until Aziza is released."

The nurse nodded her assent and ran off to find a pediatric nurse. Ben picked up Khadijah, which seemed to make her much calmer. "Er, is this really the best idea, Doctor?" Jules' tone spoke volumes about his feelings on the subject.

"Well, I'm hardly going to bring an infant into an operating room, am I?" Ben rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm only working here until they don't need extra hands anymore. Then she'll be my responsibility entirely. She's a good baby, not too mobile. But watch out, she's getting teeth." The nurse returned, and Ben kissed the little girl on her cheek. "Be good, little doll. I'll see you soon."

He scrubbed back in. He thought he recognized some of the bodies on his table now, but he couldn't be a hundred percent certain. He gritted his teeth and tried not to see Floyd's impressive musculature under his knife, or that distinctive scar just under Toledano's left pectoral.

All of that was blown out of the water when they brought Dave in. They couldn't cover enough of that body he knew so well. Even with his face hidden by the anesthesia mask, Ben had seen too much of him. His mouth went dry. His vision tunneled for a moment, and he grabbed onto the table for support.

"Are you alright, doctor?" The head nurse in the room looked over at him with concern.

"Is there another surgeon available?" Ben whispered. "I have a personal connection to this patient." His hands shook.

"There isn't, and won't be for several hours. The navy medics stabilized him as best they could, but he'll bleed out sooner rather than later if we don't address that bleed." She looked up at the film. "He's your last patient, doctor. We've gotten some of our regular doctors in now."

Ben took a deep breath. This was all happening. He didn't have a choice about this. If he didn't operate, Dave would die. If he did operate, Dave might die under his hands.

Will was a lot more certain than might. "Scalpel."

Dave's injuries were severe, but they weren't impossible to fix. The force of the blast alone had led to collapse in his right lung and broken several ribs, but Ben could fix the lung easily enough. The ribs would resolve on their own with time and careful attention. Ben worked quickly to repair the lung, watching his lover's chest for the slightest sign of trouble. The beeping of his monitors never faltered, though, and Ben was able to get the organ sorted without much trouble at all.

The length of steel sticking out of Dave's leg, on the other hand, was a bigger issue. Right now, it was keeping him from bleeding out completely. They would have to work quickly to remove it and fix the artery.

He outlined his intentions to his nurses, who would have to be entirely on the same page as he was to pull this off. When he was ready, he counted off and they got ready. One pulled out the piece of metal, while the others clamped off pieces of the artery. Another applied suction to clean out the wound, while Ben sutured the artery closed. They checked the wound for debris, and then they sewed him quickly closed.

Only time would tell if they'd been too late and Dave had lost the leg. Until Dave was off the anesthesia, they wouldn't know about other damage. Ben traced his lover's face along the edge of the mask, and then he sent him off to recovery.

He staggered off to the locker room to change, and then he found his guards. Khadijah was still awake, or was awake again, he didn't know. He felt like he should wait for Dave to wake up, but he had to take care of the baby. A hospital was no place for a little girl like her, and it was hard to recover with a baby crying in the same room.

He asked the hospital to keep him apprised of Dave's condition, and then he asked his guards to drive him home.

He hadn't had a cradle or a crib for Khadijah, but he found one waiting for him when he arrived. His father waited with it. Flavien Michaud looked like Ben, but a little more aged. Ben had always resented the resemblance.

Flavien looked at him long and hard before stepping forward and giving him a massive, heartfelt hug.

"I'm glad you survived. I was worried about you, son. Although I suppose I shouldn't have been." He stood back, a tiny smile appearing on his face. "You've always been resourceful. I'm proud of you, as a father and as a statesman, for going directly to the hospital and offering your services."

Ben ducked his head and blushed. His father hadn't ever said he was proud before. "I had to do something," he muttered. "If I sat around here I'd go insane. Thank you for helping out with Aziza and Khadijah." He wanted to push his father away. It had been too long, with too much hurt, for hugs and kisses just yet.

At the same time, there had just been a bombing. Ben had seen too much, too many families torn apart. He was starting a family of his own now. Maybe it was time to let this family, his family, start to heal.

"I'm happy to help. They deserve happiness. I'd rather all of you stayed in France to live, but a man can't have everything." His smile turned wistful. "The baby should be sleeping, shouldn't she?"

"Probably. She's had an exciting day. I think the hospital sent her home with some formula. I'll have to have some delivered tomorrow." He dug through the bag Khadijah had come home with, and his hand shook too badly for him to pick a bottle up with. "Damn it."

"Here. Believe it or not, I did give you your bottles whenever I could." Flavien rummaged through the bag and found a pre-filled bottle. "I even changed your diapers."

"You did?" Ben couldn't help his skepticism. "Your suits cost more than a month's rent in my old apartment, and you changed diapers in them?"

"They could still be cleaned, Ben. And you were still my son." He sighed and looked out the window. "The last young man who was brought in. He was special to you?" He took Khadijah in his arms and fed her like he'd been doing it his whole life. "Ah, I've missed this."

Ben gaped at his father for a moment before he answered. "He's the father of my child."

"Oh." Flavien lifted his eyebrows. "I wondered. My spies hadn't told me that much. Hm. I'll have to hire better ones." He chuckled at his own joke. "I'll be a grandfather. I'm looking forward to that, you know." He looked down at Khadijah for a moment. "It must have been very difficult for you to operate on him, after what happened in Boston."

"You knew?"

"I did. I also met with Zahi's parents, a few months after the funeral. They're lovely people. They don't hate you, Ben. They'd like to see you again, when you're ready." He swallowed. "This young man, he treats you well?"

"Very." Ben smiled, blinking away tears. "Incredibly. It's been a wild ride, but he's an amazing guy, and I adore him."

"Then I hope you'll be happy together. Although since he's in the Navy I'll probably have to wait a long time to lure you back to France." Flavien made a face. "Don't think I'm giving up, though. How did the surgery go tonight, son?"

Ben sniffed. "He came through the surgery well. I still need to see how he's doing in the morning, though. I'm worried about his leg."

"You're incredible at what you do. I've been following your career very closely, and I know just how talented you are. For now, though, go and get some sleep. You've had a very long thirty-six hours. You need it."

Ben wanted to fight it, but his father was right. He needed the sleep. His baby needed the sleep. He kissed Khadijah on the forehead, and when his father looked sad he kissed his father's forehead too. "Thank you, Dad." He then dragged himself back to the bed he'd vacated not long before.

He slept for a good long time, the stress and exhaustion combining to keep him under for a long while. When he woke up, he grabbed his phone and called the hospital. "I'm calling about a patient, Petty Officer David Hopper."

The person answering the phone sniffed. "We don't give out patient information over the phone, sir."

Ben's hands trembled, yet again, as he summoned all of his hauteur. He had a bad feeling about all of this. "This is his surgeon, Dr. Benjamin Michaud, calling to inquire about the status of my immediately post-operative patient. Can you give me that information or do I need to speak with your supervisor?"

The person on the other end squeaked. "So sorry. It looks here as though Petty Officer Hopper made it through his surgery well, and made it through recovery with no ill effects. This morning, Navy doctors examined him and decided he would be best served by immediate evacuation to Portsmouth Naval Hospital in Virginia for recovery."

"Excuse me? I left specific orders that I was to be kept apprised of that patient's condition and his status. Why wasn't I informed?" Ben held back a scream. Dave was gone. He'd done his job, he'd done everything he could, but he'd lost Dave anyway.

"Our agreement with the American Navy stipulates that their orders supersede local orders with regards to American Navy patients. There was nothing we could do, Doctor."

"Thank you." Ben hung up the phone before he could give in to the temptation to unleash his temper on the poor woman on the other end. She hadn't given the orders, and she probably hadn't even been part of the process. All she was doing was reading information from a screen.

He buried his face in the pillow and screamed.

* * *

Dave didn't know much. Consciousness came and went a few times, but even when he was awake nothing made much sense. On some level, he knew he was higher than the average kite. On some other, he only knew he was confused and he didn't like it.

"Where's Ben?" he asked the formless face over him.

The formless face didn't have any response. Maybe it didn't speak English. Maybe he wasn't even on Earth anymore. He could hear now, but only this ugly, loud, high-pitched ringing that made him want to pound his head against the wall. He couldn't quite get up the strength to do that, though. All he could do was to lift his head and let it flop back against the pillow, limply.

Something cool and pleasant ran through his veins, and he didn't feel quite as anxious anymore. The ringing stopped, too.

The next time he woke up, the ringing had lessened. It was still there, but he could still hear a thing or two. He heard beeping, and he heard the roar of an engine. Those were ugly sounds, nothing he wanted to hear. "Ben?"

At least he tried to ask for Ben. Instead he wound up making a sound around something big and thick stuck down his throat. He gagged on it, because whatever it was had nothing to do with Ben and he hadn't put it there, but someone he didn't know popped up into his field of vision.

"Leave it alone, Sailor," the voice ordered. The voice echoed oddly, like a sound effect on a mic. "It's helping you breathe."

Dave frowned and flipped the guy off. He took his finger and spelled out BEN on the sheet, since he couldn't talk.

"Bro, I don't know where you've been. But you're going to Virginia. I'm going to give you some more sedative, because you've got to be in a world of hurt."

Now that Bro mentioned it, Dave was in a world of hurt. But Ben would take care of that, just as soon as they brought Ben to him.

He drifted for a while, not really sure if he was awake or not. The next moment of clarity he had was in a place with no engines roaring at all. The ringing in his ears had abated, and he was able to move a little more. He would rather not have moved much at all, because the slightest jolt hurt his chest, but hey, pain was supposed to be temporary, right?

Mal Kelly walked into his room. "Well, look at you all glassy eyed and droopy tailed," he said with a wink. "You're a mess, Hopper. Leave the cannula alone, it's helping you to breathe."

"They took out the thing in my throat?" Dave scowled as he realized his throat hurt now, too. It hadn't hurt before. Now it did. Doctors weren't supposed to make you hurt worse, damn it.

"If by the 'thing in your throat' you mean the ventilator, then yes. They pulled that about an hour ago. They pulled it because they were afraid you were going to hurt yourself pulling it out, which you kept trying to do even though you were sufficiently sedated to bring down an elephant. That's a lot of determination, Mr. Hopper."

Dave frowned. Something was hovering on the edge of his thoughts, but he couldn't quite understand what it was. "Am I hallucinating you, or is this a dream?"

Mal lifted his eyebrows. "Do you often dream about other men's husbands? Because we've got a man you should talk to about that."

"No. I'm in France. Ben's in France." Dave sat up in the bed. His chest burned, and his heart monitor sped up. "Where's Ben? Is he okay? What about the baby?" He wheezed as pain wracked his chest.

Mal jumped forward and pushed a button. The bed rose up to meet with his back. Dave relaxed onto it, and Mal lowered it to a reclining position.

"Is 'Ben' Dr. Ben Michaud, whose file I sent a few months ago?" Mal sat down on the side of the bed. "If so, then I don't have any information about his current whereabouts. What's the last thing you remember?"

Dave glared at Mal, or the hallucination of Mal. He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs didn't let him. "We were in a car. His father sent a car driven by two goons—I mean guards," he added, in case the goons were somewhere nearby. "There was a suicide bombing or IED. I got out of the car because Chief called. That's the last thing."

Mal nodded slowly. "Okay, there was a bombing like, fifty-six hours ago. Dr. Michaud was in fact your surgeon at Toulon. He repaired your lungs, and did a pretty fantastic job of it too. The next morning, you were evacuated to Portsmouth."

Dave mouthed the words. "Why?"

"The Navy, in their infinite wisdom, prefers to have Sailors with severe injuries recuperate on American soil just as soon as their injuries will allow travel. I do see, here in your chart, that Dr. Michaud gave orders that he be advised of any changes to your status, but I don't see any notes that such orders were followed. For all I know the corpsman who evacuated you couldn't even read French."

Dave grimaced. "Oh, man, Ben's going to be pissed."

Mal blinked. "Why would he care? He did his job."

Dave wouldn't normally be this chatty, but Mal was pretty easy to talk to and he was still loopy from the painkillers. "We were sailing home together, to buy a house." He swallowed. "He's pregnant."

Mal's mouth formed a perfect "o." Dave giggled as Mal said, "Well. That's just shocking."

Dave rolled his eyes, which sent the whole room spinning. He hated painkillers. "Dude, you got pregnant."

"Yes, yes I did. But that was me. I'm not a celebrity." He grinned.

Dave heard his heart monitor speed up again. He couldn't remember why Ben hated that word, but he knew he did. "Dude, no. He's not a celebrity. He hates that stuff, man. Don't say that."

Mal eyed Dave's heart rate monitor in a way that made Dave's heart race even faster. "Hm. Good to know. Anyway, you're back in Virginia. I'm here looking after you now my shift's over. Nick's going to come in and check up on you in a little while."

Dave frowned and tried to calm down. "Look, Ben's going to be super worried. Can you reach out to him? Tell him how to find me and everything?"

"I'll see what I can do." Mal patted his hand. "Go to sleep, Hopper. You're going to worry yourself into a heart attack."

Apparently painkillers and sedatives made Dave very suggestible, because he passed out right away. He woke up the next day to meet with a doctor called Steed, which was the funniest thing Dave had heard all year. The nurse working with him grimaced and turned to Steed. "Maybe we should wean him off the painkillers, sir?"

"Probably not a bad idea," Steed told him. "Look. Can you understand the words coming out of my mouth, son? You're very sick. You've got several broken ribs. Your lung had to be surgically repaired. It's doing much better, and we can start letting you breathe on your own, but I want to make sure you're not going to backslide on us. You've got an infection from that stupid girder, although the antibiotics that Frog doctor gave you are doing wonders with it so that's a good thing."

"He's got dual citizenship," Dave told him, enunciating carefully. "He's French and American."

"Well la di da." Steed rolled his eyes. "Anyway. It looks like you managed to avoid nerve damage to that leg, although I can't for the life of me tell you how."

"It was Ben. He's a Franco-American. Like the pasta in a can."

"Yes, nurse, let's wean him off the painkillers and try this again another day." Steed stood up to go, rolling his eyes and muttering about stoners.

Dave grabbed at his hand. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to call Ben. Tell him I'm okay."

"Add a sleeping pill," Steed ordered.

The nurse wrote the orders down and followed Steed out the door.

Dave drifted again. He didn't see anyone again until Mal showed up again. "Mal. Oh, thank God. Did you find Ben?"

Mal patted his shoulder. "Relax, boyo. I know you're worried about your team. It turns out Dr. Michaud worked on quite a few of your teammates over there. He pulled shrapnel out of Toledano's chest and out of Floyd's abdomen. He helped put a chest tube into Fitzpatrick, too. He was a busy little Dr. Bee, which only makes sense considering his record."

Dave tried to focus. "Can you get them to take me off of these drugs? I'm trying to communicate something here, and it's just coming out like word salad."

Mal snickered. "Yeah, that's because you're trying to convince us you got Selene Eliot's son pregnant. I mean yeah, Hopper, you're an attractive guy, but come on. Let's not strain the bounds of reality too far, right?" He patted Dave on the shoulder. "Sleep it off, mate. You'll feel better, they'll wean you off the good stuff, and you'll realize you've been talking nonsense for days." Mal left.

Dave screamed at the ceiling, which just made his head hurt. No one came to help him, or to put him in touch with Ben.

The next morning, he gritted his teeth and asked his nurse exactly what was in each and every pill on his list. Some of them were antibiotics. Some of them were painkillers. And some of them were sedatives. He looked the woman in the eye. "I will not take those. I will not take the sedatives. I will not take the painkillers. I'll take the antibiotics, but I need help, and apparently I'm not going to get it until I'm off those drugs. So I won't take the drugs."

The nurse frowned at him. "I can't just not give you your medication. They're Dr. Steed's orders."

"Then you can send Dr. Steed up here, and I'll explain this situation to him. Or you can leave the pills there and look the other way while I chuck them into the bedpan. But those pills are not going into my body."

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him, but he just crossed his arms over his aching chest and waited. She stormed out of the room at last. Not thirty seconds later, he heard someone paging Dr. Steed.

He sat back to wait. The pain from his ribs was intense, but he could take it.

Dr. Steed showed up half an hour later. "Where exactly is your medical degree from again?" he snapped.

"The University of the guy with a kid on the way and a partner who was caught up in a suicide bomb, thank you very much. I have asked multiple people multiple times, for help contacting said partner. Apparently it's because they think I'm high enough to be delusional. Fine. I'll go off the drugs, but I am telling you right now that I will find my partner and my child. And when I do there will be hell to pay for everyone who tried to keep us apart."

"Big words for someone who's still stuck with a bedpan." Steed sneered. "Do you honestly think some West Virginia hick could actually land the son of a Hollywood actress and a French statesman?"

"How about if you give my CO a call and ask him." Dave set his jaw about the hick comment. "Or better yet, give the guy himself a call."

"Lt. DeWitt was injured in the blast." Steed looked away. "He was evacuated on the same plane as you."

"Then go down to his damn room and ask him!" Dave shouted. "Because injured or not, I will break the arm of the next person who tries to force a pill down my throat."

Steed's face went red. "Mr. Hopper, your body is the property of the United States Government. I am a superior officer and you will take the pills I order you to take, when I order you to take them, or you will be guilty of insubordination. Do I make myself clear?"

"You are trying to keep a service member apart from his family, for no readily apparent reason other than a bias against poor Appalachians. Don't think I don't have recourse, Doctor." Dave bared his teeth with his smile.

Steed turned away. "I will be noting this in your personnel file. Any hope you had of promotion just went out the window." Steed stormed out of the room.

Dave stared at the ceiling for ten minutes. Then he took a deep breath. Moving hurt, and getting to his feet hurt more, but he had to do this. He disconnected his IVs from the port in his hand, just because he didn't trust them. Screw this hospital, and screw Dr. Steed. He was going to find Lt. DeWitt, and through him he was going to get in touch with Ben.

He supported himself on the walls as he lurched through the ward. He had no way of knowing if DeWitt was on this floor, and he didn't know how long he'd be able to get away with being out of his room. His chest burned and strained at the unaccustomed activity, but he gritted his teeth and sweated through it. He had to find a way to get to Ben.

DeWitt was in a room four doors down from Dave's. He was awake when Dave walked in, but he looked like crap. His face was covered in small cuts, and he was breathing through a cannula. "Hopper?" he wheezed. "You're okay?"

"I wouldn't go that far, sir." Dave would have explained further, but Steed and the nurse came running into DeWitt's room.

"Now you listen here you insubordinate son of a bitch!" Steed hollered. "You will get back in your bed this instant, and you will take your damn pills, and you will stop your nonsense about Ben Michaud!"

"Excuse me." DeWitt raised himself into a sitting position. "What's this now? Hopper's one of the best disciplined men I have. I've never met a man I could less describe as insubordinate."

"Well, apparently the bomb scrambled his eggs, because he's out there screaming to everyone that will listen that he got Selene Eliot's son pregnant." Steed put his hands on his hips. "Keeps demanding one of us call the guy and tell him he's okay. He even threatened us with violence over his sedatives."

"Oh." DeWitt wrinkled his nose. "Is that because you wouldn't believe him?"

"Of course. Like Selene Eliot's son would bother with a redneck!" Steed snorted.

"Well he did, and he is pregnant, and he is almost certainly in a state of absolute panic right now. So, my advice would be to either find a way to get in touch with Dr. Michaud, and quickly, or learn to like pain, Dr. Steed. Also, I'd rethink your position on guys from West Virginia, or at least where you express it. The incoming medical director of this hospital was born and raised in Buckhannon. Just thought you might want to know."

Steed gaped, and Dave finally collapsed into the guest chair by DeWitt's side.