Note: This is my first ER fic, and it was the result of watching TNT reruns and remembering the good old eps from 2000-2001. . .
Title: Caught In Between
Author: Snowprincess
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Go bug someone that does.
Summary: Abby is put in a life threatening situation.
Author's Note: This is kinda and AU in which Luka and Abby haven't broken up (obviously), and Dave has not been fired. Sorry to hurt Carby's, but I'm a Luby forever. Also, I apologize for the brief medical scenes-- I have no medical expertiece and no resources to competently fake treat anyone, even in story form. . . so I'll try to compensate for it.
I also don't know where Abby grew up exactly in Minnesota, and I'm using where I put her because it's pretty close to where I live so I know the area (tee hee).
There was this thing about sleeping: it felt good, and it was needed. So how could one argue with the logic that when someone wanted to sleep, they were enjoying it and it was healthy, and they should be left alone? Honestly, one could admire those that were able to function on a minimal amount of sleep, and commend them for their waking ability, some even without the assistance of the wonderful invention of caffeine. But there were those that no matter how much training they received or how much caffeine they consumed, they just needed to sleep.
Abby fell into the latter category.
And still Luka enjoyed the task of waking her up early in the morning. She knew he was really helping her out, since she couldn't shut him off like an alarm clock and ignore it, but seriously, some days she wished he would not wake her up and she could show up to work when she wanted.
Unfortunately, the world did not like her idea, nor would Kerry.
So here she was, trying to hold onto the last strains of her deep slumber as she felt the man beside her shake her shoulders and gently whisper in her ear, "Abby, you have to get up now."
Work was overrated in her opinion, as was anything that kept her from sleep. To add to that thought, she meekly swiped her hand in the direction of the voice and rolled away from it-- promptly onto the floor. She could already hear the man's laughter before he even began the act.
"Are you awake now?" called the voice over the edge; it was just a little too cheery for this time of the morning.
"What do you think?" she replied face- first into the carpet, not at all happy about the unscheduled flight. She groaned and peeled herself away from the floor and unrolled the bedcovers that had kept her oh so wonderfully warm-- partly. The other honor went to the Croatian devil that enjoyed tormenting her to waking.
She rubbed her face before heading to the bathroom and turning the shower on. While she fiddled with the temperature, she felt warm arms snake around her and a kiss to her neck. Abby smiled and faced her boyfriend, giving him a light kiss. "What time do you work today?"
"Not until eleven."
"Then why are you up now? It's five- thirty. You could be sleeping still."
Luka shrugged, "I don't need as much sleep as you obviously do. And you're so tired I didn't trust you to take a shower by yourself."
"Oh really, so you're just here so I don't miss my shift?" she implied smiling.
"Exactly."
"Frank if you ask another patient to empty all of their personal belongings you'll find yourself working the welfare plan again," Kerry snapped as she suffered another complaint. Not sure that the metal detectors were enough to protect his life, the unruly desk clerk had decided to come as close as he could to strip searching everyone that came in for weapons. "If you have a problem with security, take it up with that department but not with patients!"
"If I keep this up one day you'll thank me. Some psycho is gonna come in here and kill us all unless we find the weapon." It was obvious he was keeping this argument going sheerly so he could avoid the phone duty aspect of his job.
"If you keep this up I'll have you committed for dementia," muttered the red head under her breath. "You're a desk clerk; do your job and answer the damn phones. No more searches, I mean it." Before he could argue again, she stormed off with her next chart.
Abby walked in just as Weaver walked away. 'Good thing she's not seeing me walk in late,' she thought. Before that could be amended, she darted into the lounge to stash her stuff, all the while thinking of the reason as to why she was late, and what excuse she would have to make up for Frank who would undoubtedly make an issue of it even if Weaver didn't.
aoi aoi sora no iro mo kidzukanai mama
sugite yuku mainichi ga kawatte yuku
"Abby, you're late. What's the use in paying you if you don't come in on time. Geez, ungrateful employees," Frank predictably griped. "You don't see me coming in late."
She just smiled and grabbed a chart, "Well I'm sorry Frank that I can't have as much of a life as you obviously do." Without waiting for a reply she headed off to an exam room. "Mr. Sanders?"
The man in question stood by the window looking out into the parking lot. He appeared to not even hear her call his name. Mr. Sanders looked about forty years old, thinning hair, beer belly forming, wearing a faded and used business suit. "Mr. Sanders?"
"Yes? Oh sorry."
"My name is Abby and I'm going to check you out. It says here that you're complaining of neck pain and a sore throat?"
The man nodded and sat on the bed, "Yeah it started about a week ago. I meant to come in sooner but work's been so busy."
"Okay, I'll just exam you quick and then I'll get a doctor in here to run some tests." She took off her stethoscope and began to listen to his breathing. "What was so interesting out the window?"
Mr. Sanders took a breath and then answered, "Actually the sky; I realized today that I haven't looked at it since I was a kid, back in the days where there were no expense reports to write, supervisors to report to, and no criminals to track down."
"Oh, you're a cop?"
"FBI, out of Minnesota. Tracking a guy who killed his wife and three kids with a kitchen knife. Can't tell you more than that."
Abby removed the stethoscope and looked at the man, "I don't have to worry do I?" she asked half- jokingly.
"I wouldn't think so. So what do you think I have?"
The nurse shrugged, "We won't know more until the doctor can get in here and do some tests. It'll just take a little time. I'll let you get back to sky gazing until then."
"Hey don't knock it. 'The days pass by and change, without us even realizing how blue the sky really is.' . . . Office calendar for the day."
Abby smiled and left the room, heading back to the admit. desk. "Hey Dr. Weaver I have a forty year old complains of neck pain and a sore throat for the past week. I'm thinking strep."
Kerry nodded and signed off on the chart, "Run a strep test and I'll write you a scrip if it's positive." She began to walk away to another patient. "Next time don't be late Abby!" she called back.
"Busted," sang Frank.
"Go strip search a patient Frank."
The man quietly entered the ER and filled out his chart, which suspiciously looked like one of those customer service numbers. He didn't care; it was a place to hide out, away from the cold of winter. Here, no one he sat next to knew who he was, or even cared, and as long as the doctors didn't find anything wrong, he could be treated anonymously and be gone within hours. The number in which he was drawn didn't matter because the longer he was hidden, the better, even if he had changed his look.
One thing he didn't like though, was sitting next to people who really needed lessons on how to cover their mouths when they coughed. Just because he didn't mind waiting, didn't mean he wanted to get sick doing it.
He'd been gone for just over two weeks, and the headaches hadn't stopped since he had left. Deep, pounding pain that pulsated with the slightest sound. Migraines of the worst kind he could perceive. No pain killer that he could steal did the trick; he needed something that could be prescribed, something strong. He would make the headaches stop then. He knew they would stop. Until then, he would just try and tough out the pain, and remember that his name was Mr. Tom Sanders.
"Chief you gotta help me! This old lady with a yeast infection won't quit grabbing me and it's really gettin' out of hand," Dave complained to his boss. He looked ruffed up, something that a disgruntled bully might do, not a horny old woman.
Kerry just turned away and ordered for him to handle it. Malucci adopted a helpless look and thought of a last ditch effort: a nurse. . . they would sympathize right?
Maybe not. . .
"You know, I knew a woman like that once. Couldn't keep her hands off me back when I was working on the force after she called to have her neighbor removed for stalking. She just wanted attention."
"Must have been desperate," Dave muttered, Frank not hearing in between babbles.
Maybe Abby felt generous; it was worth a shot. . .
"So Mr. Sanders, I'm going to do a strep throat test, and if it's positive, a doctor will write you a prescription for some antibiotics and you'll be back to man-hunting by the end of the day."
"Actually I'll be heading back home. A local agent is taking over the case and will track him as long as he doesn't leave the state."
Abby unwrapped the cotton swab and motioned for him to open his mouth. "I grew up in Minnesota, about an hour north of Minneapolis. Still really cold in the winter?"
Mr. Sanders gagged as the cotton grazed his throat. As soon as it was gone he answered, "Yep, but nothing is beating this horrible wind."
"You build up a resistance." Abby placed the swab in its tube. "Well I will run this to the lab and we should know in about an hour."
"Hey Luka, stop keeping your girlfriend from coming in late," Frank ordered in greeting as the Croatian entered the ER, shaking off some fallen snow. "You guys aren't paid to shag."
Luka momentarily prayed that Frank would get sick for a month or something. "Frank, since when do I bug you about your personal life? Kindly stay out of mine."
He dropped his stuff off and headed to the board. To his dismay the ER was already sinking deeper into patient debt that they wouldn't get out of for hours. And here he was hoping for a slow day because of the bad weather. With a sigh of acceptance he grabbed a chart and began his work day.
"Reports are coming in from the Federal Bureau of Investigation that the man who murdered his wife and three children in Minnesota may have left the state. The aptly named Butter-Knife Butcher for the murder weapon he used but not found, it is believed he may have escaped to the Chicago area. Residents are advised to be on watch for a man in his early thirties, blond hair, about 5"9'."
The television blared on and a picture of the man in question appeared. Frank sat engrossed while eating a cafeteria sandwich. "What a freakin' psycho," he said in between bites.
Suddenly the picture went black and an angry attending stood beside him, crutch in the air. "Frank we do not pay you to watch tv! The phone's been ringing for half and hour, we've got patients waiting to even get a starting chart, and here you sit in front of this garbage."
"I'm on my lunch break for cryin' out loud. You know, worker rights?!"
"I don't care get to work!" Kerry marched away with another three charts, handing two off to Dave as she walked by, causing him to drop the five he already had. "See more patients we're backed up!"
"When are we not?" he called back.
Frank shook his head and turned the tv back on again. The phone kept ringing.
"Tom Sanders?"
"Yeah, right here," answered a brown- haired man who towered over the short Abby.
"Alright, my name is Abby and I will be checking you out before the doctor comes to see you." She led him to the same exam room as the other Mr. Sanders and pulled a curtain around them for privacy. "What seems to be the problem today?"
The man curled up in his seat on the cold hospital bed, "Well, I've been having really bad migraines for the past couple of weeks, and nothing I seem to take has loosened the effect."
"Any other problems such as illness or tenderness anywhere?"
Tom shook his head in the negative.
"Alright well I'll give you some pain meds and we'll see how they work in a couple of hours." She opened the curtain and began to head for the door. "You doing okay Mr. Sanders?"
"Fine considering I'm just waiting for one test, "Mr. Sanders shrugged.
"Sorry, we're a little busy today. I'll go get your results as soon as I can." Then she was gone.
Mr. Sanders turned to Tom, "So you have the same last name as me? I'm Tom."
"I know."
The real Tom looked at his neighbor for a moment before shock and fear etched his face.
Luka caught her as she passed the lounge and pulled her into the quiet refuge. "Did you get badgered by Frank when you came in?"
Abby nodded and smiled, "No sex before work talk?"
"Uh huh," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "Wanna make it a no sex during work talk?"
"What are you asking for?" she asked on his lips.
The man put his arms around her and seemed to think for a moment, "Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?"
"Sure, want me to wait until you get done with your shift?"
At that moment Dave walked in and the two broke apart like two caught teenagers in a school hallway. Luka opened the other door, "Um I'll catch up with you later."
"Getting frisky on the job Abby? You know you'll have better luck with the crash room, at least then Witchy Weaver can't catch you."
"Dave get a life."
He got close to her and she knew that he wanted something. "I already have a life thanks, but you could get me a pelvic on a horny old lady in two."
"Ugh," she didn't even give a response, just walked out.
"Is that a yes?"
"Frank it's been an hour; you've had your lunch and two breaks."
"I want to see if there's news on the freak that is loose on Chicago."
Kerry shut off the tv yet again and pocketed the remote. "There's always a freak loose in Chicago. Now I want to see this board clear of patients and those chairs empty before I leave today. Get to work! And that goes for the rest of you!" she yelled at the other members of the staff.
Abby exited the lounge and stealthily ran away before Witchy Weaver got her in her fire sights. She went and got the morphine for Tom and headed back towards the exam room.
The sight that greeted her shocked her beyond belief. Mr. Sanders was fighting Mr. Sanders. . . and one of them had a butter knife. The younger one looked up and quickly stood. She could see that the older one was bleeding from more than one place. Before she could think the same knife was at her neck.
"Not a word," he whispered. Abby nodded in compliance. "Is that my medicine? Give it to me."
She handed it over and watched as he shot himself up with it, not caring whether it actually entered a vein or not. 'So he wasn't lying about the migraines, or he's a drug seeker. But why would he stab a roommate when I was going to give him medicine anyway?. . . But the knife he's holding. . .Oh no.'
"You're the guy aren't you? You killed your wife and children and now the man who was trying to apprehend you?"
The man could have breathed fire at the moment while he spouted off a litany, "What do you know about me?! No more than this cop did while he chased me across two states! Oh, here's the Butter-Knife Butcher who brutally murdered his family. No one ever considered that that bitch was having an affair and that those kids probably weren't mine!"
"And you think this is the answer; killing a man who's guilty of doing nothing but his job? Look, there are people here who can help you." She watched as he shook his head and then winced and grabbed it with his free hand, "You weren't lying about the migraines were you? How long have you had them?"
Another not so good thought reached Abby: the man could be psychotic. If that was the case then the slightest thing could set him off. . . Again, not good. She risked a step closer to him and attempted to reach for the knife in his hands. . . What she wouldn't give for some haldol right now.
The reaction was violent and loud, "Get away from me you bitch! You just stay away! You're just like them!! AAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Abby heard the door opening and a voice from the hallway, "Abby, do you need some help in here?"
As soon as she turned her head to the intruder, she found herself in her patient's arms with a knife to her neck. Now she could see that it was Kerry coming to see if she needed help, and now suddenly she did. The attending took one look at the floor and her captive nurse and muttered, "Oh my God," under her breath before following up with a loud and desperate, "Security!"
Within seconds there were two guards standing at the door and beginning to enter, guns drawn. The traffic stopped as it always did when the magical word was called. Patients and staff members alike tried to crowd around the room for a first class seat, regardless of the danger. Kerry stood just inside the door and waited for a chance to go to the hurt man on the floor, but behind her she heard the familiar voice of someone who would not like what he was about to see.
"Kerry, what's going on?" Luka stepped into the room. The first thing he saw was a bleeding man on the floor which led his gaze up to Abby. . . A hostage in a police vs. knife showdown. "Abby. . ."
She met his gaze and with a look told him that she was alright, but that was all he could pick up. The master of rock hard emotions, she could hide well any fear she might have been holding and save it until she could be alone to deal with it. It reminded him of the time that that four month year old baby had been stolen and she had blamed herself.
She had gone out to the ambulance bay and watched as the mother pleaded to television cameras for whoever had taken her to bring her back. He had come out as soon as he saw her and attempted to cheer her up, but all attempts had proven unsuccessful.
Abby had basically told him that he was unable to stay, but all he had said was that he was unwilling to leave. It was only after that did she open up to him about the tremendous guilt she was feeling and allowed him to comfort her somewhat, but it had been a big step in their relationship.
The world crashed around him again as one of the officers ordered the unknown man to drop his weapon. In a distant part of his mind he heard Kerry calling to him to help drag the injured patient out, and he had no choice but to follow. They carried him to a gurney and wheeled it out into the hall, where Malucci was waiting. Immediately he turned around and reentered the room.
The police were staring through their guns, running scenarios through their minds that could work before they were forced to take a shot at the kidnapper. Many were thought of and discarded at the same time.
Not wanting to do nothing, he decided to take the psychiatric ward approach and attempt to talk the man down. "Sir, you don't have to do this. We're not going to harm you, we just want to help. If you'll just put the knife down and let her go, all of this can be resolved." Luka put his hands out in a gesture to show the man that he held no weapons and was completely vulnerable.
There was a reason as to why he didn't go into psychology. His people skills with complete strangers just weren't up to the standards of that department, because his plea had absolutely no effect. In fact, he got more defensive and held onto Abby tighter, shaking her up in the process. An officer stepped in his line of vision and again told the man to drop the knife.
Abby was terrified, but the training from being a drunk for years helped her to mask it. Showing fear now would just aggravate the situation and could make things more charged and risky. Luka was across the room from her, and she could see the fear in his eyes when he looked at her. He valiantly tried to hide it and negotiate her release, even though she already knew it would be pointless. The police in her line of vision were becoming increasingly agitated and she knew that if her captor didn't give in, they would be forced to resolve the developing situation themselves.
She was getting fairly uncomfortable. The knife was pressed so hard into her neck that she had to tilt her head up so she could force her trachea to take in some air. She could hear it wheezing past her throat and burn into her lungs. Her hands were wrapped around his knife arm, forever trying to loosen his grip and allow a pain free breath to enter her lungs.
At least the real Tom Sanders was being taken care of, she had seen Kerry and Luka drag him out and brought to a trauma room.
Her attention was forcefully brought back when the predicament just gained more trouble. The officer who was trying to talk the patient down had lost what little patience he had had to begin with and was ready to end this. "Sir, if you do not put the knife down by the time I count to five, I will shoot you. One. . ."
anata no koto wo omou
sore dake de kokoro ga
tsuyoku nareru ki ga suru yo hakanai omoi
zutto donna toki demo negau yo anata ni
todoku you ni to. . .
Luka was paralyzed. There was nothing he could do at this point other than hope that either the man would give in to the police, or that the officer was a very good shot. He locked eyes with Abby and finally noticed that she was having trouble breathing, probably because of the knife pressing hard into her throat. She couldn't hide anything from him in her eyes now. She had shed the cold exterior in favor of trying to live and her eyes told him that she was afraid of dying at this point.
"Two. . ."
His face softened and he let his feelings show, allowing them to have a silent conversation amidst the chaos. He could feel how much she loved him, and Luka hoped that she could feel his. They were so far away from each other, and nothing was helping them get closer. . .
Yet they had never been this close. Never in all the late night conversations, love-making, or embraces had they had the connection they did now. He felt in that moment the part in him that was madly in love with her grow stronger, and he longed to tell her that much.
"Three. . ."
Abby's lungs contracted in a fight for air, and she slowly tried to breathe in as slowly as she could. She could feel the man's trembling behind her. . . He was afraid too. His grip on her tightened in a physical attempt to remain in control, but in the end, he really didn't want to get shot.
Her eyes never left Luka's as they held their moment. It was like a bubble of time that froze and allowed them to just be within their own world. The five second countdown to aggressive violence seemed to stretch.
"Four. . . "
She wanted to scream at the police to stop, to just calm down and talk to the man behind her. That the man would probably drop the knife if his life wasn't being threatened. But that was the compassionate nurse talking. She mentally kicked herself and reminded her nurse side that the man had killed his wife and three children, all because he thought his wife had had an affair. If Kerry hadn't walked in when she did, she would probably be bleeding to death by now and this man would be off on the run again.
She glanced at the cop and could see he was about to say the last number and saw that his eyes were already looking for an appropriate place to aim.
In milliseconds her eyes came back to Luka and they both knew what was going to happen.
"Fi-"
A shot rang out.
End Chapter 1
Yea I know not the best of stories, but it's my first ER fic. . . Feedback. . . . .