REVIVESCENCE
by ardavenport
Blue sky.
So blue it hurt.
Hard cement ground under her. Tiny pebbles, dry leaves, little bits of plants poked her from underneath. But the sky above was soooooooooooooo bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuue.
She was dissolving, floating up into that cold infinite blueness.
Darkness appeared, blotting out the sky. Pushing her back down. She opened her mouth to scream, but her voice had dissipated into air. A roaring filled her ears, getting louder. She was cold.
The darkness rounded into a head, directly over her, blocking the blue. Dark hair. Dark eyes. But his body was blue, like the sky. His mouth moved. She heard nothing. A coolness like the absence of numbness touched her wherever his hands went. On her arms, on her body, her exposed legs where her skirt had ridden up. Her frozen skin tingled wherever he went.
He leaned close, mouth moving, but she only heard the roaring and a muffled rhythmic thumping. He had beautiful hair. Black and thick and full. Young, with reddish-tanned skin, long face, dark brows over dark brown eyes. His mouth kept moving.
He straddled her, his hands on her neck, Her skin warmed Not just where his fingers pressed into her now, but all the other places where he had left the imprint of his touch.
She gasped and the tingling congealed and concentrated in her lower half, delicious heat flaring up from inside her. His fingers pushed in and dug into her neck, but she didn't mind if he wanted it rough. A throbbing joined the tingling and escalating sensation coming up from inside her. She grabbed his shirt, his lean hard body underneath.
The pain and pleasure came at the same time, the sharp jab in her neck joining the exquisite convulsing inside her.
"Aaaaah."
She made a sound. Such a weak little cry. She could hardly believe it was her.
He climbed off of her, but his head still blocked out the blue, blue sky, which seemed much smaller now. She could hear voices, getting louder. Men's voices, tone and timbre and meaningless syllables.
Her heart pounded in her ears. The roaring diminished into wind and distant traffic sounds and a horrible wailing, getting louder. And words.
"Rampart, the ambulance has arrived. Victim's BP is now seventy over forty."
A shallow, deep monotone voice replied from out of a box. "Ten-Four Fifty-One. Get a second IV going if you can, D5W. And transport as soon as possible."
"Ten-Four Rampart. Second IV, D5W."
His hands roved over her arms again. "I think I can get that second IV going now." His hands tightened on her. Another hot jab.
More men came after her. But their touch did not make her tingle. They just got their hands under her and lifted her onto white padded sheets. She was light, almost like air, no weight at all for their strong arms that covered her over with a blanket and strapped her down. Metal clacked on metal as they lifted the contraption she was on into a small metal room. Her black-haired man briefly blocked out the sky again when he climbed in after her from the park outside.
The doors slammed closed, but light and sky still shone inside from the small squarewindows. The wailing, muffled now, started up again and the padded sheets moved under her. There was another man in white, but he stayed back out of the way.
Full, thick black hair blocked the gray metal ceiling above.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you hear me?"
So polite. He spoke too loudly. Especially in this little closet they were in. But he was polite. Good manners.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you tell me your name, Ma'am?"
He held her face. Leaned so close she could look up right into his dark brown eyes. She wished he would smile. He looked so serious. She tried to smile up at him, but her face felt numb.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you tell me what happened to you?"
He let her go. Pulled away. "I think she's still in shock."
He stayed, his hands reaching for long clear filaments that jostled over her. He leaned over her again.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you hear me? You've been hurt and we're taking you to the hospital."
The word 'hospital' jolted her with suddenly realized meaning.
She was hurt. They were taking her to the hospital. In an ambulance. There were tubes on her, needles in her. White bandages on her arms. Hard reality replaced the euphoric blue sky.
And her skin didn't tingle when he touched her anymore.
******************
Roy DeSoto looked up, concerned, as his partner, John Gage, arrived at the Base Station. Hospital personnel in white passed them in the wide Emergency Department hallway. But his worry vanished when he saw Gage's expression.
"She going to make it?"
"Yep." He sighed. "Brackett's just finishing sewing up her arms now." He went to the coffee pot, poured a cup, took a sip and then leaned on the counter, back to the supply cabinet. "Man, I never thought I'd see anyone lose that much blood and still live."
Roy's eyes went to the bloody smudges on the front of Gage's uniform shirt where she grabbed him. "Yeah. She's one tough old lady." They had followed the trail of blood on the walkway, to where she had fallen in a spreading pool of bright red that soaked her yellow dress.
John looked around his partner. "Hey Vince."
Roy turned. Sheriff's deputy Vince Howard arrived at the Base station.
"Hi Vince. Sorry we had to blow you off like that back there."
Howard waved away Roy's apology. "Don't worry about it. I could see you two were pretty busy. So, she's going to make it?"
John smiled. "Yep. There is something in that woman that just refused to die. She'll have to stay in the hospital for a few days, but the doc says she'll be just fine."
"If we just knew who she was. She wasn't able to speak."
"Well, I think I can help you there." Vince held up a pink vinyl woman's wallet and read from the I.D. inside. "Name's Michelle Grenhoff. Age 68. Lives in Norwalk. Found a contact number for a daughter and we've already called and told her to come here."
"Where'd you get that from?" Roy peered down at the wallet and Vince handed it to him.
"From the mugger who stole her purse."
"Is that what happened to her?" John put his cup down and came to look at the card as well. "Well, why'd he cut her up like that? Man she almost bled to death."
Officer Howard shrugged. "Apparently she didn't want to give him her purse and she put up a fight."
Roy looked up from the I.D. "Well, who called us? When we got to the park, we found her behind a bush on the walk. There wasn't anyone else around."
"The mugger did it. He knew he hurt her; he just didn't know how bad. And he did not want a murder rap."
"Well, how'd you find him?"
"A patrol car spotted him. A man in a bloody t-shirt with a woman's purse walking away from a phone booth is pretty conspicuous." Vince shrugged. "He gave us a bit of a chase, but we got him. That's when he told us where he left her and that he called for help. I just rolled up to the crime scene when you were getting ready to leave."
Roy held up the wallet. "Well, thanks for bringing this and calling her family. We had no idea who she was or what happened to her."
"I didn't do anything. You two are the ones who saved her life."
Gage turned. "Hey, Doc - -"
Doctor Brackett arrived at the Base Station.
"- - Vince here found out who your patient is. She was mugged. He's already called her family to come here for her."
"Oh, great." Brackett checked the ID that Roy held up. "She hasn't spoken yet. Glad you found this. Did you catch the guy who mugged her?"
"Yeah, we got him. And our suspect is going to be pretty glad she made it."
Gage made a face. "Well, maybe if he was feeling so sympathetic, he might have started by not mugging her in the first place."
"People who steal purses are not known for thinking that far ahead. There'll be some detectives by to speak to her later and get a statement. Will she be up to it, Doc?"
"I'd say give her a few hours rest and she should be fine."
"Good." Vince pointed at the wallet that Roy still held. "I'll leave that with you. See you guys later."
"See ya, Vince." He left.
Brackett folded his arms before him.
"I'd say that our patient is one lucky lady. It's a good thing you got that carotid IV going when you did. She'd have never made it without it. That was good work, Johnny."
He shook his head. "I wish I could take all the credit, Doc, but I swear she helped me somehow. There was not a usable vein in that woman's whole body anywhere. But all of sudden it just popped out on her neck and I was lucky enough to get it. And she was looking at me the whole time."
Roy smiled. "Guess she just wanted to live."
"I guess so." Nurse Dixie McCall low voice drew their attention as she joined their group. "And now she wants to talk. And she wants to talk to you." She pointed at John.
"Me?" He put his hand on his chest.
"You." She nodded. "I think she wants to thank you for helping her and she was very insistent about it."
Roy grinned his partner. "Sounds like a determined woman."
Gage shrugged and put his coffee down. "Well, I better not keep her waiting."
******************
Bright lights overhead. Tiled, speckled white ceiling. Antiseptic air. No breeze. People died in places like this. But apparently not today.
She heard a familiar voice. That black, thick hair blotted out the light above.
"Well, hi, Michelle. I hear you're feeling better."
Michelle? Nobody called her that.
"Shelley."
He leaned close to hear her whisper. She wished he would touch her again. But that was not going to happen.
She was old now. And he was still young.
"Shelley."
He heard her this time.
"Shelley. The police caught the man who took your purse. And they've called your daughter to come here."
Delia? They called Delia? She hadn't even thought about what was supposed to happen next. The outrage and violation about being robbed and attacked seemed so long ago, eclipsed by her rescue.
"Thank-you for helping me."
Turning his ear toward her, he leaned so close to hear her speak that she could smell him, his hair, his sweat. Then he turned his face to her again. He had a big smile.
"Oh, I was just doing my job. I'm real happy to see you pulling through. You did really well back there."
She felt like she could barely smile back. She weakly lifted a hand nearest to him, but he immediately stopped her, touching her. Mindful of the tube in her arm.
"Now, try not to move. They're going to take good care of you here. But you've got to do what they tell you and stay still."
"Sorry." He had a white name tag on his blue shirt, black letters, but she couldn't read it. Old eyes. "I don't know your name."
"I'm Fireman-Paramedic John Gage, Shelley."
"John? Johnny?"
Big smile again. "Yes, Ma'am."
Shelley wanted him. But that was impossible. But in a way. . . . she'd had him. She'd had him. Her Johnny in blue. It didn't matter if he didn't know that. She knew.
=^=^=^= =^=^=^= END =^=^=^= =^=^=^=
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Mark VII Productions, Inc., Universal Studios and whoever else owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.