Disclaimer: The Night Shift is property of NBC and all respective cast, crew , and employees. I am not making a profit off this. This is simply for fancition enjoyment.
Summary: What if Topher's surgery had turned out differently? How one moment in time changes everything.
Rating: PG-13
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Michael Ragosa looked Dr. Jordan Alexander straight in the eyes after telling her she needed to treat every patient like everyone else. Even if that meant giving surgical priority to a shooter to killed one of their own... and possibly another.
Jordan sighed heavily.
"Paul?"
"Yeah?" Dr. Paul Cummings turned back around.
"Go ahead and book the OR."
As Dr. Paul Cummings and Dr. Topher Zia waited for Topher to pee in the bottle, Topher tried to fill the uneasy silence.
"Thanks for putting me in my place." Topher said, his voice still raspy.
"... Come to think of it, some patients may be combative and be even bigger jerks than I was earlier. Don't let them shake you."
Paul nodded.
Topher shuddered as he finally peed in the bottle, per Paul's instructions. The pain in his stomach seemed to augment.
"What is it? You okay?" Paul asked.
When Topher pulled the bottle from under the blanket covering him, Paul's eyes widened. The bottle contained blood... a lot of blood.
Suddenly Topher began gasping.
"I can't... breathe..."
"Nurse!" Paul shouted, "Dr. Clemmens right now. Give me TC, give me Jordan, anybody!"
Paul began bagging Topher, squeezing air into his lungs with bag Ambu bag. The minutes seemed to turn into hours as Topher's pressure steadily dropped. A nurse ran back into the room.
"Dr. Clemmens and Dr. Alexander are working on a patient in surgery right now and Dr. Callahan won't answer his page." she announced.
"I need a surgeon, now," Paul emphasized. Topher had now lost consciousness. If his pressure dropped even lower, Paul didn't even want to think about what would happen next.
"Pull Dr. Clemmens or Dr, Alexander out of surgery."
"But we're not supposed to interrupt them while they're in surgery," the nurse protested.
Topher's previous words to Paul echoed in his head.
"Do you hear me? GET ONE OF THEM OUT OF SURGERY NOW!"
The nurse jumped at Paul's tone, but then ran to the OR.
"Yes. doctor."
"Dr. Cummings needs one of you," the nurse explained after barging into the OR, "Dr. Zia's b.p.'s down to 60 and he's bleeding out."
"Topher," Jordan said breathlessly.
Scott hesitated for half a second before responding. He still had a lot of work to do to treat Milo and Jordan did not have the experience he had.
"Jordan, can you step in?" Scott asked, handing Jordan the instruments he had in his hands.
Jordan nodded.
"You can do this," Scott whispered in her ear, "I'll take care of Topher. Call me if you run into trouble."
"I won't have any problems," Jordan said, glaring down at her patient.
She finished working on Milo in silence and joined Scott as soon as she was done.
As Scott began the surgery on Topher, he knew immediately things were bad.
"Why the hell wasn't I called earlier? We've got to stop the bleeding. More suction, please."
Blood was pouring around Topher's spinal cord and it seemed as if the more blood was suctioned out, the more came in.
Scott looked up at a noise in the entrance.
"There you are!" he exclaimed as he saw TC stride into the OR, "Where've you been? The nurses said you wouldn't answer your page."
TC didn't answer Scott's question and the next few moments happened in a blur. One minute, Scott was explaining Topher's dire condition to TC, the next, TC exploded, shouting, "He can't die!" while lunging at the surgeons.
"Get him out of here!"
In the ensuing struggle Scott saw out of the corner of his eye, the assistant surgeon's hands. With his left hand, the surgeon pushed TC out of the way while his right hand, holding a scalpel, dropped very slightly.
"NO!"
Scott pulled the assistant's hand up and out of the way, but it was too late. Scott cursed under his breath. His shouted his next instructions and began to sweat as he worked on Topher.
Scott let out a heavy sigh as Topher was rolled out of surgery. Jordan was holding back tears.
"Maybe.. ma-maybe you were imagining things," Jordan stammered.
"Jordan," Scott turned to face his girlfriend, "I know what I saw. Dr. Kelper nicked Topher's spinal nerves with a scalpel while he was trying to keep TC back."
Jordan shook her head disbelievingly.
"As much as I want to be able to, I can't repair the damage."
Scott waited a few beats before saying what he wanted to next.
"TC's a loose cannon. He shouldn't be working here or anywhere else for that matter."
Jordan turned back to face Scott, grit her teeth and opened her mouth to say something, but then just turned and walked away.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Janet, Topher's wife, looked worryingly through the window. Topher was being hooked up to monitoring devices while an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth.
Scott closed his eyes and slowly opened them, letting out a deep breath.
"I did as much as I could," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I cleared the blood from his spinal cord, but there may still be some damage."
"What?!"
"There is a chance that Topher may be paralyzed."
"H-How large a chance?" Janet stammered.
"If Topher is able to move his legs, we're good. If not..."
"If not, how much of a chance does he have of walking?"
Scott waited as long as he could before delivering the news.
"... less than 5 percent."
"No!" Janet shook her head firmly, "He is going to walk!"
Janet strode quickly from Scott to Topher, but Scott heard what she said under her breath.
"I hope."
As Janet sat by Topher's prone form, she struggled to keep back the tears. She pushed back Topher's hair and gently kissed him on the forehead. Even though Topher had yet to wake up from the anesthesia, Janet spoke to him.
"You're going to be fine, Toph," she whispered, "you hear me? You're going to be just fine."
Slowly, Scott walked away, his head downcast.
"I need more pain meds!" the unruly patient shouted.
Jordan entered the post-op room, coming face-to-face one again with Milo.
She glanced at Milo's chart.
"You're fine," she said flatly.
"Did you hear what I said, Missy?"
"Yes," Jordan replied dismissively.
She turned towards the two policemen in the room.
"Get him out of here."
TC left the room emotionally spent, yet relieved. More relieved than he had been in years. He had finally told someone... Jordan about what had happened to his brother years ago. For years, he carried the responsibility of his brother's death. His hesitation has cost his brother his life. He finally told someone. No one, not even his fellow soldiers fighting alongside him, had known. Although he still felt some guilt, talking with Jordan helped.
"TC!"
TC turned and quickly glanced to his left. When he saw Scott, he quickly raised his hand dismissively and kept on walking.
"I don't care what you have to say," he muttered softly, assuming Scott would berate him.
"Really?" Scott said to TC's retreating back, "Even if that means Topher might be paralyzed because of you?"
TC immediately stopped and turned slowly around.
"Yeah," Scott nodded, "Because of your little outburst in the OR, one of the assistants had to push you away. In doing that, he cut Topher's spinal nerves."
TC stared at Scott, at a complete loss for words.
"No..." his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh yeah," Scott said emphatically, "now if that's not proof you don't belong in the OR, I don't know what is."
TC's hands tensed in the air and muttered under his breath, "You've got to be lying, you little..."
But he glanced behind him, suddenly aware of where he was. Several nurses were behind him and all were watching.
Quickly, TC turned on his heel and walked away.
The first thing Topher noticed was the sound of whooshing oxygen and the cool feel of it on his nose and mouth. The dull pain in his stomach and now on his back came next. He stirred slightly and winced as he opened his eyes.
"Hey Toph," a voice said gently.
Topher turned his head to the left and smiled as he saw his wife.
Janet gently stroked the side of his face.
Topher took off the oxygen mask.
"How're you doing?" he asked, his voice even weaker than before.
"I'm okay," Janet chuckled, "How are you?"
Topher shrugged, "Eh, been better."
Janet bit her lower lip, wanting to ask Topher something, yet not wanting to at the same time.
"You should go home," Topher said, "I'll be fine. The girls need you and have probably driven the babysitter nuts by now-"
"Can you move your legs?" Janet said in a rush before fear could back her down.
Topher gave Janet a sideways look, then looked at his legs as the implication of what she said sank in.
Topher adjusted himself to sit higher in the hospital bed.
"Hey," Jordan stepped into the room, "How are-"
"What happened to me?" Topher interrupted, looking at his legs.
"You were shot," Jordan said, thinking Topher was still recovering from the anesthesia.
"Not that! Why can't I move my legs?"
Jordan and Janet exchanged worried glances. Janet tried to fight back tears.
Jordan let out a slow breath.
"We were afraid of this," she said, trying to maintain her own composure, "because we had to treat that scumbag Milo, it took a few minutes longer to get you into surgery when you started bleeding."
A moment of silence passed as Topher processed the information.
"... and in that time, the bleeding around my spine pushed up against and damaged my spinal nerves." Topher finished for her.
"There's still a chance you could walk once you regain your strength..."
"How much of a chance?" Topher asked, looking Jordan in the eyes.
"Less than five percent," Jordan replied hesitantly.
"No," Topher said adamantly, "we spew out statistics all the time, but we really don't know, do we?"
"There's still a chance..." Jordan's voice trailed off. She held up a small instrument with a pointed end.
"Can I?"
Topher shrugged in resignation and pulled the blanket off his legs. Starting at his toes, Jordan began gently poking his skin with the instrument. She progressed upward, alternating between each leg. Each time, Topher shook his head or stated flatly that he didn't feel anything.
Jordan's hand began to shake. She had done this assessment on patients before, but this was different. She never truly stopped to think about what must be going through the patient's mind; desperate to feel something and devastated each time they didn't.
Finally, when Jordan poked near Topher's bellybutton, he gasped.
Janet grabbed Topher's hand and began to sob.
Topher pulled his hand away from his wife and shook his head. Using his arms and hands, he moved to the side of the bed. Jordan and Janet reacted, rushing to his side, but he stuck his left arm and hand out towards them, still shaking his head.
Now sitting up, Topher again used his hands, this time to pull his legs over the side of the bed. Taking a deep breath, he slowly slid off the bed... and immediately collapsed to the floor. Janet and Jordan rushed to him.
"Janet, go home!" he yelled, staring straight ahead and avoiding eye contact.
A few seconds passed as everyone froze.
"... please," he said in a much softer tone, "the girls need you."
"But..." Janet started to say. Then she saw the look in Jordan's eyes.
"Okay," she whispered. She wanted to step towards her husband, but instead slowly exited the room.
To be continued...
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