A/N: Welcome to my next story. I hope you like the concept for this adventure. As usual, because it is FICTION, I have altered some ages, made some older than others, some younger. Because of the type of setting, there are more OC's than I would normally have. However, none of them are in the story as romantic entanglements. They are patients in the hospital or victims of accidents and fires. This is a story with adult language and adult situations. It is also slash, meaning male/male sexual relationships. If this isn't your thing, just don't read it. There are also some disturbing descriptions of injuries that you run across in the Emergency Room, so there is some "squickiness". Also, all the main characters belong either to Vince McMahon or themselves, I own NOTHING but the story and it's plot and a few OC's. I make NO profit of money, but I hope I make a profit of knowing you like the story. Please read and review. Even a couple of words, left in review can be wonderful, and are appreciated. Now, I hope you enjoy my latest solo endeavor! Lady Dragonsblood.
Captain Bret Sargent Hart was pacing the waiting room floor. The radio attached to his belt occasionally crackled, the talk was about the four alarm fire, burning on the edge of town. Normally, Bret would have been at the fire, but his department was taking its turn of doing back up duty. That meant, his firehouse would be on call to handle anything that came up while the other four departments were busy.
He'd gotten the call that no firefighter or police officer wants to get; your spouse has been injured on the job. He'd rushed to the hospital, lights and sirens blaring on his departmental vehicle.
Bret Hart had been married to Davy Smith for ten years. They had met when Davy was a rookie, sent to Bret's station. The attraction was immediate, on both sides and a torrid love affair began almost immediately. After a year, Bret and Davy married. The hard part was, a marriage meant they could no longer work at the same firehouse. Davy was transferred to Station 40, on the north side of town, while Bret remained at Station 51, on the south end of town. The town was Denver, Colorado the State Capitol.
The waiting room of the University of Colorado Hospital was unusually empty. Hart was the only one there. What made it even stranger was that it was after midnight on Friday or actually now; Saturday. Normally by this time, the room was full of people. Some really sick, some just looking for attention, some just waiting, like Captain Hart.
Bret had been on alert when the first alarm was broadcast. By the time the fourth station was called, he knew it was going to be a long night. He hated stand-by duty. He wanted to be at the fire, doing his job. The first alarm had started as a simple enough call; car on fire. What no one had known at the time was that the car was in a gas station repair shop. The car fire had spread rapidly as the gas tank exploded.
Bret's worst fear came true, the Chief from Station 40 called. James "JR" Ross, told Bret that Davy had been injured and was on his way to University Hospital. That was four hours ago. When Bret arrived, he was told to wait and that was the last time he'd been spoken to. He was worried, angry and frustrated. Why didn't someone tell him what was going on.
After another half hour, the firefighter was fed up. He stormed over to the reception desk. The Ward Clerk, a young girl, was snapping her gum, apparently to the beat of the music echoing in her small ear buds, attached to an I-Pod lying on her desk. She was doodling on a piece of paper. She wasn't used to being so bored on a Friday night, Saturday morning.
"Hey!" Bret said loudly as he pounded on the bullet proof glass that separated the girl from the public. Her hospital photo ID badge read: AJ Lee.
Miss Lee jumped when the pounding finally penetrated her gum chewing brain. With an annoyed look on her face, she opened the sliding glass with one hand, while removing her ear buds with the other. She looked at Bret like she'd never laid eyes on him before. "Yes, may I help you?" AJ asked, her brown eyes wide with curiosity.
Captain Hart sighed, "Yes. I have been here for nearly five hours. What is happening with my husband?" he tried his best not to sound as annoyed as he felt.
"I haven't been told anything, Sir. As soon as I know, I'll tell you. Just have a seat in the waiting room. I'm sure the Doctor will be with you soon," AJ spoke like she was reading from a well rehearsed movie script.
That was enough, Bret was normally calm. He could take a lot before his temper finally blew, he was now at that point. Captain Hart leaned over the counter, the gelled curls fell across his forehead. His long hair was coming loose from its hastily applied elastic band.
"Look... kid. My husband is in there. He's a fireman, hurt on the job. I am a Captain of the Denver Fire Department. I demand to know what is going on!" Bret's voice matched the anger in his brown eyes.
AJ swallowed, the man leaning into her space was scary. She pushed her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose, "I'm sorry, Captain. I wish I knew something, they don't tell me what goes on..." the girl was interrupted as a male nurse came into the reception desk area.
The nurse, dressed in blue-green surgical scrubs was Shawn Helmsley, the Head Nurse of the Emergency Department. He was married to the Head of the Emergency Department, Doctor Hunter Helmsley. Shawn was one of Bret's best friends.
Captain Hart called out to his friend, "Shawn! Thank God! How is Davy?" Bret's voice was full of relief and desperation at the same time. At least Shawn would talk to him.
Shawn spun on his surgical slipper covered feet. His long, coppery blond hair was piled under a blue-green surgical cap, a face mask hung around his neck, he looked frantic.
"Just... hang in there Bret, Adam will be out soon to talk to you. I have to get back," Shawn said hastily as he grabbed the sheet of paper he'd come to get. He vanished back through the door that led to the Emergency Room.
Before Bret could react, he was nearly pushed out-of-the-way by a frantic mother holding a toddler in her arms, he was bleeding from a bad cut on his forehead.
"My baby, help my baby. He fell out of his crib!" the woman cried out to AJ.
Take this form and fill it out, a Doctor will be with you directly," Miss Lee said in her scripted voice. She handed the mother a clipboard with a stack of papers and a pen on string. As she did that, she pressed a red button on her phone. AJ then slide the window closed, enclosing her in safety once again.
"But..." the woman was frantic, how could she fill out a paper and keep the cloth over her child's bleeding forehead.
Bret smiled, "here, I'll hold him. I'm Captain Hart, DFD," his tone was warm and friendly as he held his arms out. He was thankful for the unexpected interruption.
"Oh, thank you Sir. His name is David, he fell trying to get out of his crib. So much blood..." she cried as she handed her son to the kind looking fireman. She only trusted her son to the stranger because of the uniform he wore.
Bret startled as she told him the boy's name, but he took the crying child. The woman needed his help and that was his job, to serve the people. "That's a big boy. You are going to be fine. Don't be scared, honey. Doctor is nice. Did you have a bad dream?" Bret's voice was calm and he soothed the boy by gently rubbing his back.
"Monthers under bedth," the boy hiccuped out as he began to stop crying. He was fascinated by the badges and bars on Bret's uniform shirt.
"Monsters can be scary. Next time, you stay in bed till mommy comes to chase them away. That way you won't get a boo-boo," Bret said with a smile. He held the rag tightly over the cut. A head wound always bled worse than the actual injury in most cases. Bret knew the little David in his arms would be alright. The child was alert and could move, that was always a good sign.
The mother finished filling out the papers. She took the clipboard back to AJ. Miss Lee took the papers with a rude snap of her gum.
In a few minutes a nurse, whose name badge read, Maria K., came out to the waiting room. She took the child from Bret and carried him toward the Emergency Room.
The harried mother turned to the fireman, "Thank you, Captain. You're good with kids. God bless you for your service," the door to the Emergency Department closed behind her as she followed her son.
Bret sighed, he had appreciated the woman's words. Thank you was so easy to say, but not often heard. It always made him feel good when someone took the two seconds to say them. Captain Hart looked at his watch, it was three in the morning, he'd been in the waiting room since nine P.M. What in the fuck was going on with his husband!
Bret finally decided to take the bull by the horns. He slowly moved to the door that led to the treatment area of the Emergency Department. He had to find out what was going on with his beloved Davy. In the few minutes it took him to reach the door, his life with Davy flashed in his mind...
–FLASHBACK THOUGHTS-
The handsome young rookie sat across from him at the cluttered but organized desk in his office. The young man had moved to the States as a boy. His family had come from Manchester, England. The rookies name was David Smith, he'd just graduated from the Denver Fire Academy. He'd been assigned to Station 51, a ladder company that specialized in search and rescue on the south end of town.
As Bret looked at the rookie, he noticed the man was muscular, but friendly as a pup. He had that eager look in his blue eyes that all rookies had, the look that says, "I want to save the world". Eventually, the seasoned veteran knew the look would fade to one that said, "Just let me live till I can retire".
A few months later, against usual procedure, Bret and Davy were dating, two months later they were fucking, three months later they were living together. They tried to keep it a secret. Dating in the department was okay, but frowned upon if you were in the same station.
A year later they had to tell the Chief they were now married. The Chief said it was fine, but either Davy or Bret would have to transfer to another station. It was the answer they had expected. Bret knew it was because married people would be more concentrated on each other during a fire, possibly at a danger to innocent victims in trouble.
Davy said he would transfer, Bret was the Captain of Station 51, he would be harder to replace than a new firefighter, so David went to Station 40, on the north side of town.
Over their ten years together, they had their share of scares on the job. Both had been injured. Bret busted his leg when a stairwell collapsed. Davy busted his ribs when a wall caved in on him, but they always came through it; together.
This time was different...
-End of Flashback-
Bret had never been kept waiting this long in the hospital before. The feeling of foreboding just kept growing, was it real or just the anxious hours of waiting. His mind going through what all could have happened.
Hart had eased his way to the door. The Ward Clerk was too lost in her I-Pod and doodling to notice. She couldn't really stop him, but she could press the button that would lock down the ER and send for all kinds of security. He didn't want to risk being thrown out of the hospital.
Just as he reached to push the door open, he was nearly tripped up as the door flew open. A young, blond doctor with a stoic look in his hazel green eyes, burst through the doors.
"Oh, please excuse me. Captain Hart? You might not remember me, I'm Doctor Copeland, we met once at Shawn and Hunter's house," Adam paused, he'd remembered the handsome Captain as soon as he saw him. He had met Bret once, at a barbecue at his boss's house.
Bret's eyes flared with recognition, Adam had been the exhausted intern he'd briefly met at one of Shawn's parties a few years ago. Was this "kid" the one that Davy's life depended on?
"Yes, I remember. What about Davy, my husband?" Bret was even more annoyed. Adam was too young to be a Doctor!
Doctor Copeland sighed, he gently placed a hand on the fireman's shoulder, he hated this part of his job. "Sir, it's not good. From what we have gathered, your husband was standing next to a gas tank when it exploded. I am sorry to tell you this, his body is... badly burned. Third degree, over eighty percent of his body. His helmet and mask are all that saved his face, and only one hand was gloved. His legs and upper body sustained the worst of the burns. We are doing all we can, but I... I... it's a matter of hours. Infections are already starting. Has he recently been ill?" Adam tried to sound professional, but it was hard to keep the emotion out of his voice.
Bret's mind and body began to shut down. Did this kid just say his husband was going to die? Huh? What? Oh yes... he had to think. "Um... yeah, he just got over a bad case of bronchitis. It was brought on by smoke inhalation, a fire at a chemical factory. He was cleared seven days ago, fuck, this was his first shift, fuck, are you, he's going to, NO! You're just a fucking idiot kid! Where the fuck is Hunter!" Bret's voice went through a range of emotions; confusion, recollection, to down right anger.
Adam sighed, he knew the man standing there was just emotional, still the words stung. Yes, he was young, twenty-eight, but he had graduated at the top of his class, a perfect grade point of 4.0 from Junior High until his last class at the University. Well, the Captain couldn't know all that.
"Sir, Doctor Helmsley is with your husband. I called him immediately. That explains a lot. Apparently his lungs were weakened and there was a pocket of infection. Doctor Helmsley will explain. You can see your husband now, but you have to go through D-Con first. I'm, well, follow me, please," Adam's voice was soft and kind. He gently took the Captain's hand in his, the man followed like a small child. Something seemed to have broken inside Captain Hart.
Adam helped Bret go through the decontamination process. They both had to dress in gauzy yellow surgical style scrubs from head to toe. They donned two pairs of latex gloves, an apron and finally, a mask that covered their faces, leaving only their eyes visible. As they left the D-Con room from the exit door, they were hit with a fine mist of d-con spray, then a blast of air.
They entered the sterile ward. Shawn and Hunter were standing at the foot of the bed looking at a medical chart. They wore the same yellow "outfit" and were whispering softly. Shawn tapped his husband on the shoulder and nodded towards Bret and Adam.
"Hey Bret, I am so sorry. Adam explained?" Hunter asked his friend. It was always harder when you knew the family in crisis.
Bret just nodded, he stared at the man lying in the bed. The only part of his husband that wasn't wrapped in sterile, cooling bandages was his face and that was swollen. He hardly recognized the man who'd shared his bed for the last ten years.
Adam told Hunter what Bret had said about Davy's recent illness and it's cause. Hunter made a tisking sound. He told Adam he could go, there were other patients to tend to. Adam nodded and left the three men alone with the victim.
"Hunter, for fuck sake do something! That's my life lying there, suffering!" Bret spun on his friend, his tone was angry and pained.
Shawn put his hand on Bret's shoulder, he was the better comfort giver. "I'm sorry, Buddy. There is an extremely slim chance Davy will pull through, but honey, you... it's time to say good-bye," his turquoise eyes were full of sadness and tears.
Bret looked at his old friend. Shawn had been a first year grad student when they met. Bret was a freshman. Bret then met Hunter through Shawn, they all attended the University of Colorado.
The Captain's eyes held so many emotions; confusion and panic were the leaders. "How? Why? Shawn?" Bret's voice wavered as tears ran down behind his mask over his high cheekbones.
"Bret, his lungs are basically gone, burned out, he will never be off a breathing machine. You guys know the risk, it's his time. He pushed Owen out-of-the-way, honey. He saved your little brother's life," Shawn told Bret what the police officer had seen, he'd ridden with Davy to the hospital. The police and firemen were like brothers in arms.
Bret looked at Shawn, "He, oh god. Can he talk?" his question was answered when he heard a frail whisper from the bed.
"Bret, love," Davy managed to work the words past his parched lips.
The Captain quickly moved to the side of the bed, he was able to hold his husband's left hand. It was the hand that had been protected by the heavy glove.
"Shh baby, I'm here. You just rest, you'll be up and about in no time. I'll take early retirement and we'll be happy. I promise," Bret sealed his words with a gentle kiss to Davy's wedding band.
A raspy, airy sigh came from the man in the bed, his words were terribly halted as he spoke, "No love. Hunter, machine; lungs gone. Don't want to live like that. Our promise," Davy had to pause, he started to cough, blood splattered across his lips.
Bret knew then his Davy boy was leaving him. They had agreed, long ago, that if something like this ever happened, neither of them wanted to live off a machine. If there was no chance for a recovery, unplug the machine. They had kissed to seal the deal, then had living wills drawn up. No matter how hard, the promise would be kept.
"I know baby. I know. I remember. I just, oh Davy, these have been the happiest years of my life. I love you so fucking much, you saved Oje?" Bret asked through the tears that made his voice so halting. Oje was the family nickname for Owen. Bret was called Buddy, unless it was Davy talking to him. To Davy, Bret was simply called love, and he was baby or Davy boy.
"Owen was too close. He okay?" the airy words were followed by more blood spatters.
"Yeah. He's fine, I promise. Thank you for saving him. But why did this happen? How am, I can't live without you. You are my life," Bret wept through his words, still unable to comprehend this was the last time he would talk to his beloved husband.
"Good. Tell Oje, I love him, not his fault, not his fault," Davy paused, drew another pained breath and continued. He had so much to say to Bret. He prayed for the strength to finish his words before his soul flew home.
"Please Bret, find love again. You need, deserve happiness. Promise me, you will find love again. Marry again. I love you," Davy's halting words were cut off, by more painful, blood splattering coughs. He could feel the end, he needed to hear his husband's promise.
Bret saw the honesty and pleading in David's eyes. He again remembered more of the talk they had that long ago day. They had also promised each other that if death called one of them, the other would find love and happiness again. They both knew it would be hard, but they sealed that deal by making passionate love.
Bret swiped his eyes with the sleeve of his yellow, gauze covered shirt. He gently kissed Davy's hand again.
"I'll try baby, I promise. Oh God, I love you so fucking much. I can't say good-bye," Bret finally cracked. He fell to his knees next to the bed as the tears flowed.
Davy slowly worked his hand free from Bret's grasp, he placed it on Bret's head and stroked it, he took a raspy breath. "I love you. Not good-bye, just see you later. Be happy, love. Be hap..." the last word was never finished. Instead a long, last exhale passed over his lips.
The heart monitor, which had once been beeping slowly but steadily went into a never-ending flat line on the screen. Despite the artificial lung, David Smith-Hart's burned body gave out. He was gone. Bret gasped as the undamaged hand slipped limply from his head. It was over, his beloved husband had grown angels wings and flown away.
"No! No! Baby, please, please don't leave me like this... take me with you!" Bret's tears came like a spring downpour as he gripped the now lifeless hand. Somewhere in his clouded mind, he realized the noise from all the machines had stopped. Shawn, who had left with Hunter had returned to shut down the machines. Tears formed in his eyes as he looked at his grieving friend.
The coppery blond nurse put his hands on Bret's shoulders, "come on Buddy. Nothing more to do here. I am so sorry. He died a hero, Bret. Owen is alive, be glad for that miracle," Shawn spoke softly. This wasn't his first time down this road, but losing a friend made it harder.
Bret looked at his friend, "help me" he sounded like a lost child. Shawn nodded and helped his friend to his feet.
It took a bit of effort as Bret just stood there like a robot in the D-Con room. However, Shawn managed to strip the protective clothing from the firefighter. He put their used scrubs in the bio-hazard bin, then led Bret back into the main hallway of the Emergency Department.
Hunter was there. He'd just finished filling out the time of death papers for David. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.
"Buddy, Shawn and I want you to come stay with us for a while. You don't need to be alone now. Adam lives in the carriage house, but we have three guest rooms to choose from," Hunter said in a fatherly tone, even though he was only five years older than Bret.
Bret just nodded, he was like a robotic child. Somewhere in his brain he knew staying at the Helmsley's was good. He didn't want to go home and smell, and know, oh Davy, his handsome Davy was gone.
"Yes? Good. I'll tell Chief Lawler. You can stay with us as long as you want, we are like brothers. Hunter has to stay here, but just give me half an hour. I have shift change to handle," Shawn said softly.
Shawn was a registered nurse with certification in Emergency Services and Surgical Nursing. He even had a year of med school under his belt, but Shawn had decided as a nurse he would be able to help the patients even more. He just had a natural, calming way with people.
Again the grieving firefighter Captain could only nod. He let Shawn lead him back to the waiting room. If Hunter's office wasn't so far, Shawn would have taken him there. When they got to the waiting room, they stopped short.
The once empty room was full. All the firefighters who'd been at the fire were there along with all the policemen. Some of the off duty men from Bret's Station 51 were also there.
Firemen and policemen always shared a bond, but since the horrible events of September 11, that bond was even stronger. It wasn't uncommon for everyone to show up when one of their brothers was in trouble.
The men all grew quiet when they saw Bret. They could tell by the expression on the Captain's face that Davy had not made it. Several heads bowed in prayer. One group of cops and firemen stood in a circle, they parted; standing in the center was Owen Hart.
The brothers just stared at each other. Then, as if pulled by a string, the two brothers moved toward one another. When they met, Bret fell sobbing into his brother's arms.
"Gone. He's gone, Oje," Bret sobbed on his baby brother's shoulder. Owen, his own eyes filled with tears, held his brother.
The others in the room backed off to give the Hart brothers some privacy. Shawn saw Bret would be alright and went to do his shift change reports. It had been a quiet night, it wouldn't take long.
The ER door opened again, the mother and son from earlier came out. She saw the kind Captain. She'd heard what had happened as the young Doctor who stitched up her son spoke to the nurse helping him.
The mother stepped up to the fireman. "I'm so sorry, Captain. I'll pray for you. Thank you again for helping me with Davy," her words were soft and sincere.
Bret turned, he managed a small smile. He saw the toddler had a small Sponge Bob bandage on his forehead, over his right eye.
"Thank you Ma'am. I was glad to help. Now young man, remember, stay in bed till mommy comes to chase the monsters from under the bed, Okay?" for a moment, Bret's tone had returned to normal.
The little David leaned over and hugged Bret's neck, "I will. Me be big boy, no monsthers. I love you Mither Fireman," he spoke with the lisp of a toddler just mastering advanced verbal skills.
Bret hugged the boy in return. He watched as the mother and son went to pay at the desk. Shawn was standing there, he caught Bret's eye. Hart shook his head, he indicated that he would pay the woman's bill. It was obvious she didn't have much. Shawn smiled and nodded.
Shawn took over the check out from A. J. He explained that there was no bill to pay and gave the woman her papers and a small bottle of antibiotics, along with a bottle of children's pain pills.
The mother wasn't stupid. She took the things and stuffed them into her bag. She looked at Bret and mouthed, "thank you", then turned and left the hospital, he son safely in her arms.
That small gesture made something inside Bret snap, with a deep sniff, he felt better, not much, but enough to regain his usual stoic behavior. He turned to his comrades, "thank you all for being here. It means a lot to us, er, me. It will be a full funeral, not sure when. It will be announced. David Smith-Hart was, a hero, in more ways than one. Please, instead of food and flowers, give to your Departmental funds for widows and children. Davy would want that. Now, go home, your families are waiting," Bret's words sounded official, but they were filled with warmth, love and honesty.
By the time everyone had hugged Bret and left, Shawn was ready to go. He'd changed from his nurse's whites into jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy boots and hat, his long hair was pulled into a neat pony tail. Now, he looked like Shawn.
Owen was the only one left with Bret in the waiting room. "I'm going to stay with Trips and Heartbreaker for a while, okay?" Bret said to his brother. He used Hunter and Shawn's nicknames since college. Trips was for Hunter's initials, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Triple H. Shawn was known as the Heartbreak Kid, he'd been a bit of a rouser in his day. Well, after all it was college.
"Good. You could stay with us, but you hate the couch. I'll come see you later, I need to talk to you. I love you, Buddy," Owen said with a hug and kiss to his brother.
"Okay Oje. Yeah, there is just more room at Shawn's. See you, love you," Bret said as he returned the embrace.
Shawn led Bret to the far corner of the employee's parking lot. They got into a blue Chevy pick up truck. It was only three weeks old, Hunter had bought it as a birthday present.
The friends made small talk on the twenty-minute ride. The Helmsley's lived across from the University of Colorado, in Aurora, a suburb of Denver.
The home was a three-story, colonial revival, built om 1905. It was a beautiful property and Shawn had restored it to its original glory. It had four bedrooms and four bathrooms, along with the other standard rooms of a house. One room was a vast library and students were often allowed to use the collection of medical and other books.
Over the garage was the "carriage house". A beautiful, airy studio apartment. Doctor Adam Copeland lived there. Adam had occupied the apartment since his second year of college. The Helmsley's were like parents to him and his older brother Jason, who lived only a couple of blocks further down Humboldt Street.
Adam was just stepping out of his car, a 1967 baby blue Ford Mustang. He'd had the car for years and was restoring it over time. Only the upholstery and carpet were left to be redone.
The young doctor looked worn down. Bret felt bad about the way he'd treated the pretty blond. When he stepped out of the truck, he walked over to Adam, whose foot was on the first step of the stairs that led up to his "carriage house".
"Hey, kid..."