Disclaimer:  They're not mine, and I'm not profiting.

Taking the Fall

A clamoring sound resonated throughout the ER, followed by shuffling as a group of paramedics wheeled a gurney into the nearest available room.  "What've we got?" Dr. Kovac asked breathlessly as he threw the doors open and entered with Neela and several nurses in tow. 

"Severe head trauma," a paramedic said, then he proceeded to give the specifics.  Kovac and Neela managed to stabilize the woman within several minutes, but she wasn't breathing without the help of a respirator, and it was likely that she wouldn't wake up.  Neela's eyes fell on the woman laying on the table.  She was dark, possibly Indian, and the young medical student couldn't help but notice the resemblance between herself and the patient.  "She was hit over the head," Kovac said, splicing into her thoughts.  "And I think I know who did it."  His gaze traveled to the man pacing outside in the hallway who had been watching their progress.   As the nurses came to take the woman to intensive care, he entered and demanded, "Is she going to be alright?"

"Are you her husband?" Luca asked.

"Brother," he answered desperately.

"We've managed to stabilize your sister, but we had to put her on a respirator.  She's unable to breath without it.  Does she have a living will?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice rising in volume and pitch.

"Mr.-" Kovac hadn't caught the man's name.

"Anderson."

"Mr. Anderson, you're going to have to make a very difficult decision.  We can take your sister off the respirator-"

"No!  I have to see her!" Mr. Anderson yelled, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.

"I'll have a nurse take you to her," said Neela, stepping in for the first time.  As they walked away, Kovac stripped off his lab coat.  "I'm on break," he said to Weaver, not waiting for a response, or even looking at her.  He was so drained, he knew he'd be asleep the moment he sat down, so he paced in the break room instead, taking a sip of coffee every minute or so.

---10 Minutes Later---

Neela took a chart from the counter and scanned over it.  Burning sensation… always a classic.

"Who killed my wife?!" a voice demanded loudly.  Everyone turned toward the spectacle.  A man with wild eyes waved a gun madly at anything that moved.  Weaver moved to call security, but he aimed at her.  "Don't do it.  Which one of you worked on my wife?"

"Just calm down," Dr. Weaver said in a low voice.  "Calm down and we'll get you some help."

"She came in here a half hour ago, and now she's on a fucking respirator!"  Something clicked in Neela's mind.  She knew exactly who he was talking about.  "I'm going to kill this bitch unless somebody tells me who did this to her!"  The man still had his gun trained on Weaver.  Neela thought quickly.  She certainly couldn't serve up Kovac on a platter.  But he was about to kill someone, and she couldn't let that happen.  She remembered how much the woman had looked like her, and she made a decision.

"I did," she said meekly.  "I worked on her."  She was hoping that he wouldn't be able to hurt her if she reminded him of his wife. 

"Come here," he said, his voice more controlled.  She hesitantly walked over to him.  It seemed to take forever to take the few steps, but finally she stood before him, searching his eyes in an attempt to predict his behavior.  They were no longer wild.  In fact, he seemed to know exactly what he was about to do.  But as he swung the gun back and brought it down hard across the side of her head, the rage returned.  She fell to the floor like a rag doll, her hair falling limply in front of her face.  "Get up," came the command.  She struggled to raise her head, her vision blurry and her breathing ragged.  Finally she was able to drag herself from the ground, only to be hit on the other side of her head.  The blood pounded in her head, and her vision went black for a moment.  When she was finally aware of what was happening, she was being pulled by the shirt into a standing position and then forced to walk into a dark place.  When she looked around, she realized she was in a janitor's closet.  "Don't move, don't talk, and don't do anything stupid," the man demanded, taking a knife from his pocket.

To be continued…