This is a fiction about Nigel. I was inspired to do this fic after seeing the rerun of the episode "Forget Me Not" Disclaimer: I do not and never will own any part of Crossing Jordan or anything associated. Please R&R. Flames are welcome as long as they are constructive. Thank you, A.E.Venturi.
Nigel was riding home at midnight after a tortuously long day at the morgue. He had had plans for that evening but a pileup had taken care of that. He turned a corner and immediately had to slam on the brakes as a little girl ran out in front of his motorcycle. The bike fishtailed slightly before skidding to a stop. He hurtled off to see if the girl was all right. She lay a few feet in front of him, crumpled on the pavement. He knew he had not hit her, but still she lay, not moving. He began to feverishly examine her. Her breathing was labored and her heart was racing as though she had just run a great distance. His long fingers gently palpated her neck, checking for fractures. Finding nothing, he rolled her over carefully. She was still unmoving. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called for an ambulance.
Snapping the phone shut, he knelt down behind the girl, placing her head gently on his lap. She couldn't have been more than five or six years old. There was a small scrape on each of her knees and palms from where she fell. She looked like she was sleeping, his legs as her pillow, except for the fact that she wouldn't wake up. He felt that there was something terribly wrong with this. Five-year-olds don't just run away for no reason. He swept her shoulder-length brown hair away from her face and smoothed it behind her ears.
Despite his rather non-conformist appearances and the generalizations that people made because of it, Nigel was actually very good with children. Some of them might shy away at first because of his style but once they got over that, they warmed up to him. He became very protective of them when he knew them well, especially when there was abuse suspected. 'Which may very well be the case right now,' he thought.
From the distance he heard sirens, getting louder by the second. He scooped her up in his arms and held her close. "Hear that, Luv? That's the ambulance coming. We're going to get you sorted out."He saw the lights before the ambulance turned the corner. It screamed to a stop just ahead of where Nigel was standing. The doors flew open and two EMTs hopped out. They ran over to Nigel and he laid the girl gently on the waiting gurney.
"What's her name?" one of the paramedics, a woman, yelled over the siren.
"I don't know. She collapsed in front of my bike." He waved his hand over to where the motorcycle was still sitting at the end of a dark skid mark. "She hasn't been conscious since she fell."
As the paramedics loaded her into the rig, Nigel ran over to his bike and moved it over into a nearby parking space. He ran back to the ambulance, and before they could shut the door, he pulled himself in.
"I'm riding with you," he said. His tone of voice left no room for argument and so he rode to Boston General with the two paramedics as they worked on the little girl. When they pulled into the ambulance bay, they were net by a nurse and a doctor who took hold of a side of the gurney to help roll it into the Emergency Room. The four wheeled her into an exam room and transferred her from gurney to bed. The EMTs went back to their rig and the doctor began her evaluation.
"Order a C-Spine, chest and pelvis films. CBC, chem-panel, lytes and tox-screen," she said to the nurse. Turning to Nigel, she asked, "Are you her father?"
He shook his head. "No. I found her. She ran out in front of me. I almost hit her."
The nurse spoke, "She's severely dehydrated. The mucus membranes are dry, her heart is still beating fast, but the BP's low, and I can't raise a vein."
The doctor went back to the girl. Even with both doctor and nurse working on her, it took a few sticks for them to get the blood drawn and an IV in. Nigel stayed close to her, holding which ever hand they were not working on. He didn't think the poor little thing would have been too crazy about being poked and prodded repeatedly and he wanted to provide as much comfort as he could.
When the two women had gotten all the blood samples, x-rays, and other tests done the nurse left to drop off the blood and the doctor turned to Nigel. "Do you want to stay with her?" Nigel nodded. "If it's not too much trouble." The kind doctor waved her hand at him as though she was waving away his words. "We'll find you a chair. I'm Dr. Vetra by the way. You know, had you not told us that you were not her father I would have sworn that you were. Sorry, I don't seem to have gotten your name."
"Dr. Nigel Townsend." They shook hands.
"You should have said that you were a doctor. I would have consulted with you," the doctor said with a smile.
Nigel shook his head. "I'm not the kind of doctor you ER docs would want to consult with. In fact, if I was your doctor, you'd be dead. I'm an ME."
"Well then, I guess not. I'll be back to check on her in a little bit. If there are any changes in her condition, come find me or one of the nurses."
"May I use this phone in here?" Nigel asked.
"Sure. Dial nine to get out." The doctor smiled again and walked out. As soon as she was gone, Nigel went over to the phone hanging on the wall and called Woody. The phone rang a few times and then Woody picked up. "Hello," he mumbled.
"Woody, it's Nigel. I need you to get down to Boston General."
"Aw, Nige. Do you know what time it is?" Woody groaned.
"As a matter of fact, I do. I've been up just as long as you have. Actually, longer. I get to the morgue a good hour before you get to the station. Just get down here, all right?"
"Yeah," Woody replied, but it was too late. He had heard the click as Nigel replaced the phone into its cradle.
Nigel went back to his place by the bed and took her hand again. He thought he felt her slightly squeeze his hand, but when it didn't happen again he dismissed it as his imagination. He felt himself nodding off but jerked awake. He wouldn't allow himself to sleep, not when the little girl could wake at any moment. To keep himself occupied he pulled a pack of cards from one of his jacket pockets and began shuffling them. About fifteen minutes later Woody slunk in.
"What's up, Nige? The nurses at the desk said to be quiet coming in here."
Nigel quickly pocketed the cards and rose from the chair one of the nurses had brought in. "She's what's up," he said and indicated the still unconscious girl. "She ran in front of me as I was going home. I almost hit her. She's been like this ever since. I suspect that there is more than meets the eye. Whichever way, you can start a search for her parents. When you find anything, let me know. Just don't bring the parents here yet."
Woody nodded. "When I know something, you'll be the first to hear about it. Hang in there." He left to find a fingerprinting kit and returned a few minutes later with a nurse. They fingerprinted the little girl and Woody left quickly to begin the search. Nigel looked down at the girl who now had blackened fingertips. The nurse had tried to get all of the ink off, but that was next to impossible to do. He went over to the small sink and wetted a paper towel. Wringing it out well he brought it back and began removing the ink from the girl's fingers. It was a small gesture, but he felt that it was all he could do for the moment.
