"Just a minute or two until the bus gets here," Olivia said. She had moved to a window and could see it approaching the building.
"He's waking up," Elliot called. Olivia turned around and saw that George was stirring feebly, eyelids fluttering.
"Doc, can you wake up?" Elliot asked. He jogged George's shoulder, shaking him. "Wake up, George."
George moaned weakly as the excruciating pain assaulted him once again. He wondered how much time had passed since he'd lost consciousness, but it couldn't have been too long, since the EMT's hadn't arrived yet.
He struggled to lift his leaden eyelids in response to Elliot calling his name again. The use of his first name caught his attention- it was the first time Elliot had said "George" instead of "Huang" or "Doc", and that let him know how serious this was.
He looked up at them blearily. Even in his pained, fatigued haze, he could see the worry on their faces. "L… Livia… 'Liot…" He whispered. He tried to sit up, to see them better, but a hand immediately pressed on his chest, sending the message across wordlessly. Save your strength.
"W… Why… does…" George was about to ask why his chest hurt so badly, but he knew it was a waste of energy. And with how much pain he was in, he had to focus on staying awake.
He suddenly became aware that he was completely breathless, even though he was breathing deeply. "I- can't- breathe," He wheezed. "I-"
"Just keep trying to breathe, doc," Elliot said softly. "Relax. Don't try to talk until you catch your breath."
Nodding silently, George laid back down, continuing to take quick, deep breaths in an attempt to ease the pain and discomfort. But instead of easing, the sensations intensified. His chest ached and throbbed agonizingly, and even though he was breathing deeply enough to completely fill his lungs, he wasn't getting enough air. The breathlessness and pain were even worse now that he was lying flat. He frowned, trying to diagnose himself.
Then he began to cough again, intensifying the breathlessness and the pain. A small, anguished sound escaped his lips and he shifted, curling into himself as his body struggled to tolerate whatever was happening in his chest. He couldn't believe it was possible to be in so much pain. It crashed over his body with each breath, making him whimper and shiver.
He struggled, panting and gasping for breath between his coughs. He began to feel lightheaded and dizzy; he wondered if he was going to pass out from lack of air. The way the room tipped and spun around him, the spots that began to fill his vision, and the faint, weak feeling combined, and made him feel like he was going to pass out at any moment.
He suddenly realized how tired he was. He felt a vague sense of danger, a warning that he should try to stay awake- but why? He was too exhausted to remember. He just wanted to lean back and fall asleep- there wasn't anything wrong with that, he reasoned.
He was so tired…
George sighed softly, closing his eyes. The calm, quiet, painless darkness began to overtake him again. His mind was sluggish, his body heavy; he felt too peaceful and sleepy to resist the tempting pull.
"Stay awake!" He heard someone say. He was too tired to pay attention to who it was. He ignored them, but then the person shook him, and he moaned in protest. He just wanted to sleep- why wouldn't they let him?
Then he heard the door open, and a second later he was being prodded by more people. A blood pressure cuff was attached to his arm, and fingers pressed against his wrist, taking his pulse. Something icy cold- a stethoscope, he realized- was pushed under his shirt and against his skin, directly over his heart. He shivered heavily and tried to squirm away, but he didn't have the strength.
The people- he heard a man and a woman- shouted various measurements out, and George listened with mild interest. "He's extremely tachycardic- 180 beats per minute- he's hypotensive at 70/60, auscultation shows that he has a third heart sound and an arrhythmia," The man called.
"Can you hear me?" The female EMT asked loudly. George didn't answer, but then they rubbed his eyebrows roughly`- he knew that they were trying to make him respond so they could assess his level of consciousness. He gave a small sound of pain, but he couldn't muster the energy to move away or speak. "Can you hear me?" She repeated.
"Unh…" He struggled, trying to form a more coherent response. "Y… yes…"
"Can you squeeze my hand?" She asked.
George once again struggled to complete the task, but he managed- though he held the person's hand, rather than squeezing. He was too weak to do anything more. He hoped that that would be enough to appease them, so they'd let him sleep. He was slightly worried about the sudden deterioration, but the emotion was muffled by everything else.
"My name's Lisa. Can you tell me your name, the date, and where you are?" The woman asked softly, squeezing his hand comfortingly.
"My… name's… George…" He panted. Talking was difficult, with how short of breath he was, but he forced himself to continue. "And… where I am?" He frowned, thinking. He knew it shouldn't be taking him this long to remember, but he couldn't think clearly; it was as though a thick fog had covered his brain. Finally he remembered Elliot and Olivia being there, and then he knew where he had to be. "I'm at the 16th precinct… and the date…" This time, he was stumped. He had absolutely no idea; he couldn't tell if it was winter or summer, let alone the month or day.
He felt his mind clouding more and more by the second; he couldn't think clearly anymore. He felt confused, disoriented.
"Yes?" Lisa prompted, squeezing his hand.
"Yes, what?" George muttered dazedly. He closed his eyes in weariness. When were they going to let him sleep?
"He's out of it," "He's out of it," He heard a concerned voice- it sounded like Elliot, but he wasn't sure.
George frowned. "El? Liv? Where're 'ou?" He asked quietly. His voice was almost inaudible, and laced with pain, fatigue, and confusion. He could hear how much his words slurred, and that worried him.
"Shh, relax," Lisa said. "Are you having any trouble breathing?"
"Mm-hmm," George hummed in response.
"We'll get you an oxygen mask soon, okay?" She said. She touched his forehead, which he realized was wet. Sweat- he was sweating- but why? He was cold, not warm. The shivers that had started to run through his frame were proof of that.
The shivers intensified, making his entire body shake, and his teeth chattered. He curled into himself as much as he could, but the EMT's prevented him from doing so. "Stay still," They told him.
His brain had grown so clouded over the last few minutes that it was difficult to think, let alone speak. "M'cold… can some'ne?-" He began incoherently. He was trying to ask for a coat, or a blanket, but the words weren't forming correctly. He lapsed into semi-delirious mumbling, trying to convey his thoughts despite his fevered state. "R'lly cold…"
"George, we're going to lift you up, okay?" The woman asked. Her voice was so gentle- it was almost like she was trying to soothe a child. Part of him felt insulted at being addressed this way, but he also appreciated the kind, gentle, soothing voice. "Squeeze my hand if you understand, okay, George?"
He managed to nod slightly and squeeze her hand. They counted to three, and then lifted him onto the stretcher. To his relief, they elevated the stretcher slightly; the breathlessness eased somewhat when he wasn't lying flat. It was still difficult, but less so.
George leaned back and rested his head. The slow motion of the stretcher lulled him, even with the occasional jostling bump.
"He's passing out," The male EMT- he'd never heard his name- told Lisa.
"George, stay awake," Lisa instructed.
He tried to open his eyes, but his entire body was hopelessly weighed down. It was like trying to lift a boulder. He couldn't even muster the energy to hum in response.
The EMT's lifted him into the ambulance and attached an oxygen mask to his face. He sighed inwardly, allowing himself to stop struggling against the sensations in his body.
Darkness consumed him, tugged him into its depths, and he didn't offer any resistance. He was vaguely aware of being attached to a heart monitor, and the ambulance starting, as he drifted off.