Once a Hero
Chapter 2: Good Luck on Your Surgery, Doctor
Kate didn't know what woke her, only that it was very loud. She groaned and made a motion to cover her ears, but her arms felt heavy and uncooperative. She heard something shift, then the sound stopped.
"Hello?" she called out. Her voice was hoarse and speaking took more energy than she remembered.
A blurry face hovered above her. Kate blinked to clear her vision and it seemed help a little bit.
"Hey, stranger. How are you feeling?"
She frowned, trying to ease through the fog enough to put a face with a name.
"Cassidy?" she rasped, finally piecing enough together to be moderately coherent. She must have gotten it right because the woman above her seemed to smile and nod a few times.
"I didn't mean to wake you." Cassidy waggled the cell phone she was in the process of stuffing back in her purse. "Clem's been worried sick about her Auntie Kate."
Kate's jaw dropped a little, pulling her mouth along with it. Something wasn't working right. She tried swallowing a couple of times, but it didn't seem to help. Cassidy seemed to understand the problem. She stood and disappeared from her field of vision long enough to pour a cupful of water from the pitcher on the night table.
"Here, drink." She pressed the purple straw against Kate's lips. The rest was a reflex that Kate didn't have to think about. She greedily gulped back the water in long, desperate slurps that left her gasping for air.
"Whoa, easy now. Slowly, okay?"
Kate nodded, breathlessly.
"Good. Like that." Cassidy encouraged, allowing her to take a few more sips before she pulled the straw away and set the plastic cup somewhere that Kate couldn't see from where she was laying.
"Better?"
"Yeah," she forced out. "Where?"
Cassidy did her best to mask the sympathy playing over her features and ended up letting out a loud sigh. "Well, what's the last thing you remember and we'll go from there."
Kate shifted irritably, feeling the cool slide of the sheets against her skin. She frowned, why wasn't she wearing pants? Her limbs were shaky, but she frantically ran her fingers along the hem of a blue and white hospital gown. Her heart started to beat a little faster. She saw a flash of Jack sitting on the edge of her couch with a worried look of disapproval on his face.
"Where?" she demanded again while pushing the image from her mind. She felt dizzy and overwhelmed.
"Kate, you're at St. Sebastian Hospital." Cassidy seemed uncertain. "Look, maybe you should get some more rest and I can come back when…" she trailed off.
"No," Kate did her best to appear calm. She tried issuing a weak smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.
"I'm OK," she insisted and weakly propped herself up on her elbows to prove it. The motion only resulted in a stabbing pain that shot through her left shoulder. She didn't protest when Cassidy adjusted the controls on the bed so that she was half-sitting.
"Thanks," she muttered.
Cassidy nodded. "Now, what do you remember? It's important."
Kate rubbed her face absently feeling a little stronger. She couldn't quite muster the energy to meet the other woman's eyes. "I was on the couch at home," she started. She frowned. "And… it's all a big blur."
Kate thought about it and shook her head. She had no idea.
Cassidy relented. "The doctor said you were severely dehydrated and sleep deprived, Kate. Why didn't you call me, huh? What the hell happened?"
Kate's bottom lip started to tremble. Cassidy's sharp tone made her feel like she was a little kid again caught stealing that damn lunch box. "I… I…" her voice cracked and the walls that she had worked so hard to put up started to crumble away. "They all died. Sun and Jin, Juliet, Sayid… and… and… Jack." She bunched the bedsheets in her balled fists. "They're gone…" she muttered as the first tears began to well up, stinging her eyes. "Oh god! They're all gone and I already lost Aaron."
Cassidy moved to lean over the edge of the bed. She tentatively reaching to pull Kate against her, offering solid support as she trembled. Her words had only confirmed what Cassidy had already suspected. Last night she had gotten a phone call from someone she wasn't even sure she still believed to be alive. Sawyer was slobbering drunk and had begged her to let him see Clementine. She almost felt guilty, now as she thought back to what had originally prompted her visit to Kate's house. He might have just unintentionally saved Kate's life.
"I know, sweetie, I know… but it's gonna be okay, you'll see."
They rocked back and forth on Kate's hospital bed until she seemed to surrender to it all and that old coping mechanism that she had trained herself so well to use started to kick in. She squeezed her eyes tight together, only letting the fear in for five seconds as she counted.
One. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, a quick drumbeat that seemed to fill her ears.
Two. Her lungs burned as she forced back a sob.
Three. She could feel Cassidy's fingers rubbing slow circles across her back.
Four. She could see him standing there in her mind's eye. A calm reassuring expression played across his features as the ocean waves rolled and tumbled in the distance.
Five. Kate opened her eyes and took a deep breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding.
"I'm fine," she stammered, pulling away.
Cassidy appeared doubtful.
"Really," Kate tried to assure her. " It just happened so…" her mind was still too sluggish to complete the sentence. "How long have I been here?" Kate asked instead. She was trying to deflect what she was really feeling. The room, what she could see of it, was small and well-lit with yellow paint peeling off the wall and a window open on the far side. Kate appreciated the gesture. It seemed to chase away the cold, sterile, hospital scent and made the room smell like fresh-cut grass and rain. She could smell rain on the horizon.
"A little over a day. They brought you in yesterday evening and it's just after 10:00 p.m. now. Your doctor is going to kill me for waking you up."
Kate frowned again. She'd slept almost 24 hours. No wonder she felt groggy and disoriented.
"No, no," Kate protested while feigning a smile. "I think I've slept enough."
Her yawn gave her away and Cassidy issued her a stern look.
"Oh, you'll be getting more sleep," she insisted. "And you'll doing everything your doctors tell you because, I swear Kate, I don't think Clem and I could handle it if you get sick on us again."
Kate suddenly felt very guilty. The kind of guilt you feel when you realize that you are not totally alone after all, and someone you hadn't even considered had gone out of their way to worry about you.
"You've been here this whole time, haven't you? God, Cassidy, what about Clementine?"
Cassidy shook her head. "Clem's been up half the night eating birthday cake and watching movies. I've been checking in with her every few hours. She's at a sleepover." She glanced toward her purse. Her phone was tucked in the side pouch.
"As of 45 minutes ago they were deciding which one of them gets to be Justin Bieber's wife."
Kate let out a short puff of air, wishing she had Aaron with her to screw his face up at the girl talk.
"That sounds about right."
"Yeah," Cassidy agreed. "Clem is something else. She's growing up so fast! God, it won't be long before she starts bringing boys of her own home and…" she shuddered.
Kate did her best not to look pained. "You know, her father came back with us."
"Her father's a drunk." Something dangerous hung in Cassidy's tone. It triggered a thought within Kate's mind.
Jack used to call her when he was drunk, but it didn't mean that he was… no… no that wasn't it. She thought about it more, working it through as though it was a puzzle she had to solve. Jack. Drunk. Sawyer. She played with the words. Sawyer was drunk! He called her. That was it! Then she had unplugged the phone because he reminded her of Jack.
"Cassidy," Kate swallowed hard. "I'm not sticking up for him, but he was stranded on that island for three years… He…he settled down with someone… made a home. Her name was Juliet. She died when we were trying to get off the island." She tried to explain, but her words just didn't do justice to the whole situation.
"He's grieving," she added.
Just like Jack was grieving the first time they had gotten off the island. She just didn't realize it then. Maybe he didn't either.
Cassidy's expression softened. "I didn't know that," she sighed. "I'm not going to guarantee anything. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he wanted to see her. If he can manage to stay sober that is."
"Give him time, Cassidy. Just promise you'll consider it?"
Someone knocked on the door cutting off whatever else she was going to say. Kate glanced up, wearily scratching at the tape that secured the IV to her hand. A doctor appeared in the doorway. He was tall and in his mid thirties, with kind eyes and shaggy brown hair. He smiled warmly at her as he padded toward the bed brandishing a clipboard.
"Ms. Austen?"
Kate nodded and watched him wearily.
"I'm just going to head down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat." Cassidy quickly excused herself, closing the door behind the doctor as she exited.
"My name's Dr. Nathan Carter. I'm one of the general surgery docs who looked after you when they brought you in last night." He offered his hand. "How are you feeling?"
She automatically reached over to shake the man's hand. "I'm fine," she muttered.
He cocked his head to the side, noting just how bloodshot her eyes were. "Well, from where I'm standing you look like you could use some more rest and a good meal. That certainly disqualifies the stuff they try to feed the patients around here. You can have your friend sneak you something from the cafeteria if you want."
Carter sat in the chair that Cassidy had vacated, he balanced his elbows on his knees as he leafed through her chart. "Or there's this really great burger joint down the road that delivers. You know, you might want to keep that in mind when the cravings start," he said thoughtfully.
Kate started at him, but he didn't seem to notice. "I remember my wife had this weird thing for pickles and ice cream," he shuddered. "Try explaining that one to the store clerk at 4 a.m." Carter glanced up and caught the strange expression she was giving him.
"Right, sorry." He chuckled, misinterpreting. "Don't worry, you've still got a few months ahead of you before that happens. How's the morning sickness been?"
Kate's eyebrows furrowed.
"What?"
It was Carter's turn to look confused. "Kate, you do know you're pregnant, right?" He asked slowly.
Her tired green eyes flooded with tears as his words sunk in. She didn't hear him apologize half a dozen times before his pager went off. He awkwardly excused himself with the promise of checking in on her later.
"Ms. Austen, you have to eat something." The nurse assigned to her ward clucked at her disapprovingly. She surveyed Kate's untouched plate of plain white rice with bits of diced chicken breast sprinkled over the top. Kate blinked. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since the doctor had left her to her thoughts.
Kate had gone as far as to take the cover off the tray and push the rice around with her spoon just to show that she was trying to be cooperative, but she hadn't bothered to lift the utensil to her lips. She issued the nurse a bland look to clearly make the point she wanted to be left alone. It had worked on Cassidy, but the problem with hospital nurses was that they appeared to be immune.
"Ms. Austen, if you don't eat something soon the doctor will have to…" Kate shoveled her spoonful of rice into her mouth and swallowed quickly. The action seemed to shut the nurse up and earn her the solitude she so desperately craved.
She shoved the tray to the side once she was sure the door to her room had clicked shut again. The thought of eating made her nausea bubble back at full force.
Her right hand automatically drifted to her abdomen. She ran her palm along its smooth surface, feeling the slight bulge drifting up out of the flat plain of skin. She repeated the motion several times in disbelief, unsure how she could have missed something so damn obvious.
She closed her eyes and the let the tears leak out, even though no sound escaped her chapped lips. She didn't move a muscle, not wanting to take her hand away from the little part of Jack that she still had inside of her. Her left hand twitched. It wanted to feel the little mound too, but was confined in the sling Dr. Carter had fit her with.
"Jack," she choked through the tears, shaking her head while still staring at her belly.
"Oh god…Jack!"
Kate let it all take over her again, feeling everything from the moment he walked into her life to the moment they left him behind all bubble up at once. Every smile, every kiss, every fight rushed through her in a blurred haze of emotion.
Jack was going to be a father … and he didn't even know it. He would never know it. He would have made such a great dad, even if he didn't believe it himself.
Her sobs jostled her shoulder making the all too familiar ache return at full force. Everything threatened to boil over like a volcano. She drew in a deep long breath willing herself to just concentrate on breathing through it, to calm herself down and not give in. Kate's bloodshot eyes roamed over the spot again, the place inside of her where Jack still was. All five fingers splayed across it like a lifeline.
Maybe he hadn't left her completely alone after all.
She glanced toward the tray of food and tentatively pulled it toward her. She would be eating for two now.
"Well, I'm sure you're gonna love her. She's extremely pregnant." He could hear himself talking, the relaxed and almost playful tone seeming foreign to his own ears. His was in the hospital…No, he was at work. He could feel his thighs flush with the reception desk as he rested his elbows on the smooth countertop.
Juliet was watching him from the other side. She was grinning, laughing about something with their son. David was there too. He frowned. Why was David at work? Didn't Juliet have him this week?
The hospital lights were bright. Bright enough to hurt Jack's head. He swallowed thickly.
"Shit! I think he's waking up."
Jack glanced around, searching for source of the voice. The hospital was quiet; no one in the ER waiting room...no patients in distress.
"Should we give him a whiff of nitrous while we're waiting?"
Jack frowned. Were they tubing someone? He pushed himself away from the desk intent on investigating. He doubled over with a ragged groan. His right hand automatically went to his abdomen. It felt as though something was ripping him apart from the inside out.
"Midazolam," he muttered when he felt well enough to speak. His left hand was still clinging white-knuckled to the edge of the desk. "Midazolam is used for short ED procedures. The total dosage in adults is 0.02-0.1 mg/kg, 0.05-0.15 mg/kg for peds."
"Wow. Is he giving us advice? Guess he's not quite as out as we thought."
Jack drew in a long breath, wanting to say more, but not quite trusting his voice. A grunt of pain escaped him before he could rein it back in.
"Hang in there, Jack. Dr. Carter is on his way down. You're doing great, buddy."
Hang in there? Why the hell were they talking to him as though he was the one with the problem? He had to make them understand. He had to try and help.
"Dammit! He's trying to get up again. Go ahead and gas him. Somebody go and tell Carter to hurry the hell up!"
Jack didn't like the sound of what was happening. He felt dizzy and hot, very hot. He had soaked his dress shirt straight through. He felt like he was going to pass out. He whimpered. Not here. Not at work.
His nails slid against the desk's polished surface in a last-ditch effort to try and maintain his balance. The sound he made seemed to catch Juliet's attention, but her expression was all wrong. She didn't seem at all worried, didn't rush toward him when it became evident that he was losing his battle to stay vertical. Instead she just smiled broadly as though extremely amused.
"Juliet, what?" he mumbled. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't even attempt to ascertain what she was saying. He hit the floor, his ears roaring with a high-pitched buzzing noise that only seemed to make the nausea worse. God, he felt awful.
"I said, good luck on your surgery, doctor."
Jack tried to raise his head, but everything was greying out on him. He felt too sick to move as his mind started to run away with itself.
Jack opened his eyes to a place that he had never been in before. He felt better. There was no pain, just a warm, tickling sensation that seemed to make his insides flutter. The sensation was not entirely unwelcome, but he did his best to block it out and enjoy the feeling of pure euphoria that appeared to be coursing through him.
The landscape was bright and unfolded around him like a colorful photograph. He was warm, really warm. The glaring tropical sun drawing every last drop of moisture from his body. He could see the remnants on his shirt. The dusty, purple tank-top he was wearing clung awkwardly to his chest. He could tell from the faded fabric that it was well worn.
Jack sighed, feeling the recoil of his lungs as he pushed out a long, slow breath. It was as if there was nothing better in the world than the mild sea breeze that ruffled his cropped hair. The breeze was laden with the sounds and smells of the pounding surf in the far distance, heavy with salt. It soothed his body from the oppressing heat. Every care in the world seemed to ooze out of him. He was so warm, so relaxed he couldn't help the dopey smile tugging his lips upward. This was the life! He didn't have to be anyone, a doctor, a father— just Jack.
"Hell, Doc, didn't know taking it easy was in your vocabulary. Did Freckles slip you something again?"
His head craned sideways toward the sound, not bothering to move from the long, flat rock he was apparently sunning himself on.
"Something you want, Sawyer?" he said in a voice that wasn't his own. How the hell did he know that?
He must have got it right because the southerner grinned and flashed a dimpled smile.
"That's a loaded question, Doc, but damn! Right now, I could go fer a couple of Vegas call girls and a one-way ticket off this rock. But that ain't gonna happen is it? So how 'bout Freckles? Any way I can get her?"
"I'm sorry?" Jack blinked, coming back to himself.
Sawyer gave a self-satisfied huff and stiffly raised his shoulder. "Nothin'. Just here for my morning constitutional."
He rattled a pill bottle in front of the doctor's face. "Didn't realize you could be such a lay-about is all. You even been up to the beach yet?"
Jack frowned. "Why would I go to the beach?"
Why would he want to go anywhere? His body was sprawled out across the rock, his muscles were practically melting into the solid stone. He doubted he had ever felt this relaxed in his entire life.
The scruffy man looked affronted. "Well I don't know, Dr. Fix-it. You've been struttin' around here for over a month with yer damn stethoscope wedged too far up yer ass so why stop now? I'm sure someone on this damn island needs saving so get to it already!"
Jack leaned forward, groaning at the loss of heat. "Look, I don't know who you..."
Something changed, burst apart as though he had just realized he had been treading on glass. A cold and clear emotion flickered across Sawyer's features and he looked pained all of a sudden and older, like a man who had finally realized what he wanted from life only to have it snatched away from him.
"You gotta fix this, Jack."
Jack just stared at him dumbly. He was warm and his body felt like it was filled with jello. He was perfectly content to just lay flat and rest his eyes. He was so tired.
Sawyer shook his head sharply, his face twisting in irritation. For some strange reason the man seemed to age in front of his eyes. He blinked and Sawyer was standing in front of him wearing a strange, dust colored jumpsuit with the words "LaFleur, Head of Security" stitched on the breast pocket. Jack rolled away from him, suddenly feeling queasy all over again. He was facing the mouth of a cave and wanted nothing more than to just crawl inside and lie down.
Sawyer seemed to be approaching on him fast. He could hear his heavy footsteps as they scuffed the grass, but the sound was coupled with something softer, more persistent.
"Seems half out… Nitrous isn't doing much for the pain…"
Of course it wasn't. Midazolam. They needed Midazolam … morons.
Something inside of him did a flip-flop and he was glad he was already lying down. Maybe if he could just close his eyes and … Ahhh! God it hurt!
His breath came in shuddering gasps making his entire chest quiver. It seemed to draw a fresh bout of pain straight out from his middle.
"Shit! BP's shooting…"
He clutched his side. Everything was burning. He felt his stomach contract and he couldn't hold back the onslaught that followed.
"Dammit! Suction… I need suction!"
Jack hung over the side of his rock for a moment resting his head on the jagged edge, too weak to do anything else.
Light appeared to resonate from the interior of the cave, the soft glow snaring his gaze and willing him toward it. He contemplated it at first, but his body wouldn't let him move, as much as he wanted to get up and out of his own mess. The smell infiltrated his nostrils, daring his stomach to repeat the action.
Then, the whole world seemed to burst into flames around him; everything the light touched, the grass, the trees, the sky. He stumbled onto shaky legs, needing to get away from the inferno around him. He could hear the flames cracking, feel the heat on his skin, instant and unrelenting.
"Okay Jack. Hang on, buddy! Let's get him started on high dose midazolam and a couple of micrograms of fentanyl. That'll relax him pretty quick. Easy now, Jack. You'll feel better in a sec…"
Jack moaned. The sound was distorted, playing with his mind, making it impossible for him to figure out where he was or what was going on. He could smell his flesh starting to burn as his legs fell out from under him and he started to lose his battle. He couldn't tell if the smoke or tears were making his eyes sting.
The flames flared up around him, arcing over his head, ready to obliterate him… Then nothing, nothing at all.
Dr. Nathan Carter watched Jack's vitals even out on the monitor.
"Good," he nodded to his surgical team. "He didn't look like he was having a good time of it. Ryerson, wanna go ahead and intubate him?"
The door to the sterile corridor opened and Carter stiffened as the Chief of Surgery entered. "Running late, Dr. Carter?" Hamill's tone was accusing.
The younger man sighed. "I was with a pretty distraught patient. She just found out she was pregnant. The father's dead." He didn't mention that he royally fucked up and made the situation a whole lot worse.
Hamill nodded.
Carter blinked, noticing that the older man appeared intent on staying.
"You auditing me?" He tilted his head and asked in a half-joking tone.
The circulating OR nurse had already begun to swab Jack's stomach in a pink Betadine solution as the men spoke.
"No. Dr. Shephard here is a senior member of our surgical team. I want to lend assistance when necessary."
Carter nodded. "Of course, sir. I recognized his name, but I don't think I've ever met him."
Hamill glanced at him. "Dr. Shephard's been … on leave," he said, hesitating for only a moment. "How's his temperature doing?"
"104.1."
"Up the dosage on the acetaminophen. I don't want him going into shock. I'm amazed he's hanging in there as it is."
Ryerson, the anesthesiologist, pushed another gram into Jack's line and looked doubtful. "I'm not sure if we can open him up without killing him," he admitted, earning an incredulous look from Hamill.
Carter caught Hamill's gaze. "I agree. He's almost in full blown heat stroke and he's septic. Even with rehydration therapy his heart rate still isn't where we want it. He's really sitting on the critical borderline with his temp."
"Are you suggesting we leave him to die, doctor?" Hamill retorted in a raised, irritated tone.
Nathan Carter felt his heart beat a little faster as the man's eyes bore into him. It finally dawned on him that Hamill was emotionally invested in this somehow. Of course, he was. He was the Chief of Surgery. Jack was one of his surgeons and it was his job to look out for his people.
"No. I'm suggesting, we get someone from cardiology up here for a consult," he told the man brightly.
Even from across the table, Carter could see the muscles in the man's jaw clench in irritation.
"There's nothing wrong with his heart, Dr. Carter." Hamill fixed him with a calculating look as though trying to decide if the doctor was competent enough to be leading the case.
Carter nodded. His OR mask hid his smile. "Have you ever been to a 7-Eleven, Dr. Hamill?" he asked wryly.
The Chief of Surgery glared at him for just a moment, ready to kick him out, but then something in his eyes changed. He choked out a little laugh.
"You've been spending too much time in the ER. Brief your team, doctor. I'll get Dr. Pearce."
"Dr. Carter, what just happened?" McKay, Carter's resident, asked somewhat uneasily as they watched Dr. Hamill's retreating form. "I mean are we going to do the surgery or not?"
The rest of the surgical team appeared to share his apprehension.
Carter easily slipped into teaching mode. "McKay, when a patient goes into cardiac arrest, how do you stabilize him so you can get him to the cath lab to see what's going on in there?"
The resident glanced at Jack, then back to his attending. "Well," he racked his mind. "I guess you'd use could do post-ROSC cooling? I mean, they do it in the ER all the time. Cold body means decreased myocardial demand, which means lower oxygen requirements and less cell death. At least that's why we cool people after they code on us—to slow things down. Dr. Hamill's right, there isn't anything wrong with his heart, but an IV ice slurry would cool his blood down in a matter of minutes. I guess it would act to slow the infection down as well?"
Carter winked at him. "No data on that, but his lactate was through the roof, which means his organs are pissed off, just like in a code situation. We'll have to watch and wait to see what he does. I'm hoping if we get him cold enough it'll take some of the stress off his body. This is going to be like a giant IV Slurpee. Normally we stick a CVP line in the internal jugular, but this isn't my territory so cardiology may opt for femoral placement. Ryerson will keep a close eye on him once we start, won't ya doc?" He peered behind the anesthesia drape to wave at the man.
Ryerson rolled his eyes and issued a thumbs-up.
The team seemed to settle into an easy rhythm under Dr. Carter's leadership. Even when Dr. Hamill returned with Dr. Pearce and several technicians, he didn't once question the younger doctor's competency. By the 45-minute mark, they had Jack sufficiently stabilized enough for the surgical team to scrub in and start the procedure. Carter made a mid-line incision to open Jack's abdominal cavity.
"Ah, I bet that's our problem right there." Carter ran a gloved finger over the perforation in Jack's small bowel. "No wonder he's septic. I'll have to do a sew-over."
They worked vigilantly to cauterize the source of the blood that had pooled into his abdominal cavity. He had an infection. A bad one. They could tell by the putrid smell of the wound that it was riddled with bacteria and pus. The knife had nicked Jack's intestine and his own bacteria and joined forces with the opportunists which were already trying to do him in. Carter repaired the wound and then rinsed Jack's abdomen with several liters of warm, sterile water that had to be suctioned away. He inspected the integrity of Jack's other organs as he worked.
Hamill himself insisted on closing. Carter didn't dare argue with him.
"How's his temp?" Hamill asked, not looking up from his needle driver. He caught the edge of the curved needle with his forceps and pulled it through so that he could tie off the vicryl suture it was attached to.
Carter glanced at the monitor. "He's at 82.2 so moderately hypothermic. The question is how fast do we want to warm him up?"
Robert frowned. "He's got one hell of an infection; one of the worst I have seen in a while. If we warm up some IV fluids and bring him up by 10 degrees we can leave a bit of a buffer zone for the fever."
"So, we'll bring him straight on through to ICU?"
Hamill nodded. "Yeah. We can keep him on regular acetaminophen and start him on some re-warming fluids. I hope the rough part of this is over."
Carter yawned. "Me too. Though I have to say, for a doctor, he's being a pretty damn good patient."
The Chief of Surgery scoffed. "He hasn't woken up yet, so don't get too excited," he warned.
"Why's that, you think he's gonna be a pain in the ass?"
Hamill finished and tried to spread the wound apart with his fingers. When it remained intact nodded to the scrub nurse. "You said it yourself. When is a sick doctor not a 'pain in the ass'? It's a distinguishing trait."
"Right. Puts us up there with cops and doughnuts and fireman with those spotted dogs." Carter agreed, barely suppressing a smile. "We'll have to put a warning sticker on his chart that says he's a doctor so that the nurses give him the 'Sick Doctor Treatment' if he acts up."
Robert Hamill blinked. "The what?"
"You've obviously never been hospitalized," Carter deadpanned. "Don't worry. It's some universal code among nurses. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they teach it in school. Trust me, if they know he's a doctor they'll know what to do."
"Good. If it speeds up his recovery tell them to treat away."
"Yes, I suppose you do want your spinal surgeon back?"
Hamill frowned and dodged the question completely. "You did good work here today Dr. Carter."
He pulled off his gloves and glanced at the clock mounted in the corner of the room. "Jesus, your shift ended hours ago. It's past 1 a.m. Why don't you take off? I'll wait and page the porters to wheel Jack down to ICU."
"Nah, I'll help you bring him now. My wife's out of town with the kids so it's only saving me from cold pizza and HBO. I also have a patient I want to check up on before I kick off."
"The pregnant one?" Hamill asked, ripping off his gown and surgical mask. Carter followed his lead.
"Yeah. She was brought in yesterday with a GSW to her shoulder." His face hardened as he spoke. "Funny thing was, the wound was at least a week old. It looked like someone had stitched it up with a needle and thread. I explored the wound and it was clean enough, but she was severely dehydrated."
"Did you get the police involved?" Hamill frowned and made a motion to pull the guard rail up on his side of Jack's gurney. Carter mirrored him and shook his head.
"Not yet. She just didn't seem to fit the picture of an assault victim. Said a doctor in Fiji stitched her up and admitted to not taking her antibiotics. I didn't realize she didn't know she was pregnant. She broke down on me when I mentioned it so I didn't want to push her."
He grasped the foot of the stretcher and the ventilator with his other hand, pulling them both along as Dr. Hamill steered them out of the OR.
"Well, someone's going to have to look into it." Hamill told the man sternly.
"I will. Just give me a couple of days to let her…" Carter paused and frowned. "Kate?"
Kate had been walking the floors for almost an hour. She had eaten the rest of her meal and earned some points with the charge nurse who seemed sympathetic that she couldn't get back to sleep. Kate was restless by nature. The nurses could see that and relented when she asked to go for a walk to "help her relax."
She claimed that she needed the exercise, not the drugs they couldn't give her because she was pregnant, to put her to sleep. It was late and visiting hours had long since passed. They finally agreed provided that she took it "slowly."
"Kate, what are you doing out of bed?"
Her head snapped up and she let her eyes focus down the brightly lit corridor, two floors below her own ward. Had the nurses really followed down here?
With effort, she brushed aside the initial instant of shocked recognition. The doctor looking after her, Carter, was advancing toward her, but it was what was behind him that she couldn't seem to process.
"Do you know how late it is? You're supposed to be resting," he explained gently, frowning when she didn't appear to be listening a word he was saying. "Kate?"
The colour drained out of her face. She looked as if she was going to pass out.
"Jack." She rasped, in a wary, confused voice. She shakily evaded Carter's attempt to steer her back toward the elevator and slowly made her way to Dr. Hamill and the stretcher.
This couldn't be real. Jack was dead. Her mind was still playing tricks on her. It had to be.
Every step towards him felt like an eternity, like she was walking in a tunnel with no end. But there he was laying there, not 10 feet in front of her, his body lax and sedated from the cocktail of drugs being pumped in his system.
Jack. She began to shake her head back and forth in a tentative denial, waiting for him to vanish like a mirage in a desert. Her vision wavered from the tears starting to sting her eyes, but the image didn't resolve itself. Jack stayed on the stretcher; he didn't disappear like he had when she was curled up on her couch. He didn't look mad, or disapproving, or anything. He just slept on, oblivious to what was unfolding around him.
"Jack?" she managed a hoarse whisper. One hand clumsily found his cheek. He was cold, ice cold. Kate jerked her hand back in surprise.
He was dead.
Her nails dug into her palms as everything around her began to swim with the raw emotion of it all. Her ears started to ring and she emitted a low whimper. Dr. Hamill caught her before she could fall face first onto the tile below.
A/N: Huge thanks to DimpleCurlAeternaGirl for all the awesome ideas and beta! Also thanks to everyone who reviewed. Please let me know what you think and if I should continue. :)
