Yay! Mooncat, one of my kind reviewers, gave me a crow-shaped cookie! (munch) I loooove cookies! Thank you to Mooncat and my other two reviewers and that I look forward to your feedback!

Disclaimer: Don't own Trauma Center or some of the dialog (as it was directly from the X missions). These be owned by Atlus. The patient's namesake belongs to DC comics.

Paying the Price: Trauma Center UTK Fanfiction

Chapter 3: Foreshadow

"Well, your vitals are normal, though your heart rate is a bit high."

Dr. Stephen Clarks casually threw the stethoscope around his neck as he rounded the examination table. Derek sat on the edge of the cot, gripping the sides of it as his heart still raced from earlier. Beside him stood Angie, silently fumbling with the sphygmomanometer she had used to take his blood pressure. Though she was confident that Dr. Clarks' examination would shed some insight to Derek's strange behavior that morning, she could not help but recall another time in which he had acted on edge, back when they were in Brussels. Then, too, he had insisted it was caused only by a night of poor sleep. She had entrusted him in that diagnoses as his symptoms had been much less severe. However, she could not shake the feeling that the two incidents were connected. Picking up a chart, Dr. Clarks continued.

"I don't have enough information to base this on at the moment, but it looks like the beginning signs of GAD. Is there anything causing you anxiety, Dr. Stiles?"

"W-well . . .I . .um . ." Derek let out a sigh as he cast his gaze downward. There really was not much use in denying it any longer. Dr. Clarks had, more or less, hit the nail on the head. His colleagues were professionals and exceptionally good at their field of choice; attempting to hide any sort of illness in a hospital filled with the best of the best doctors and nurses was simply delusional. With another sigh, Derek conceded. "Actually, there is . . ."

"What is it, Dr. Stiles?" Angie asked, but was quickly silenced when Dr. Clarks raised a hand. "Let's try not to pry, Miss Thompson. Dr. Stiles will tell whomever he sees fit, if and when he's ready."

"You're right, Doctor. I apologize. I'm just . . . worried."

Derek was silenced by Angie's words, despite not at all being surprised. Of course she was worried about him; they had been through too much not to care for each other. In what way, he was not yet certain. Regardless, he could feel a some what calming warmth spread through him, just knowing that she was looking out for him. And he smiled. It was small and almost unnoticeable, but it was genuine.

"Don't worry, Angie. It's nothing serious." He looked up at the nurse and elder surgeon. "I've just got some . . . things going on and I'm a little edgy right now, that's all."

"If you're sure that's all it is, Dr. Stiles, regardless I'm a bit worried as well." Dr. Clarks replied. "I won't force you to say anything you're not comfortable with, but do you think you'll be able to handle the operation this morning?"

Derek somehow managed not to flinch at the question. "I – I'm fairly sure I can handle it. I just need some rest." He said, growing a bit uneasy when Dr. Clarks did not respond to that immediately. The senior surgeon withdrew as he began an internal deliberation, leaving the young pair to share an uneasy glance. "All right, Dr. Stiles. Get some sleep and let me know how you feel before the procedure."

"Right, thank you, sir." Derek nodded as he slid off the table. Satisfied, Dr. Clarks excused himself, leaving the young medics in his wake. Angie gave him a petite smile as she placed the sphygmomanometer on a nearby table and grabbed a chart. "I'm going to start the rounds, Doctor." Derek acknowledged her with another nod and smile. "Okay, wake me up if you need me."

". . . .Dr. Stiles?"

"Yes, Angie?"

Her smile tightened and dipped slightly as she bowed her head. Derek could barely make out her eyes through her yellow bangs, but it was easy to see the concern that glossed over them. He felt his own smile slip. "Angie . . . I –"

"Dr. Stiles, you've taken care of so many patients. Sometimes I worry that you forget to take care of yourself."

Derek frowned, uncertain of how to respond. "Angie, I . . .I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just start taking care of yourself. That's all I ask."

"Well, if that's all it takes then . . ."

Angie gave him a playful shove out the door. "Stop talking and take that nap you promised! I'll see you at the pre-op briefing." She smiled and turned to leave without another word, leaving a mildly overwhelmed Derek to watch her retreat. He rubbed the back of his neck and released a quick sigh before making his way towards the on call room.

"Derek! Hey, wait up!"

Derek stopped and turned, allowing Tyler to catch up with him. The blond man slowed his jogged and quickly scooped up a few renegade papers that tried to slip from the file folder in his left hand. One managed to escape, fluttering gently towards the tile floor where Derek recaptured it. "Hmm, wow. You started the report on the new Powell Procedure already?"

"Started it? Dude, I'm finished! I just need to run it over to the Chief for final approval."

"Heh, typical geek." Derek smirked slightly as he read the heading and handed the cover sheet back to the ace academic.

"Thanks. . . . good to see you're your usual self."

"What?"

Tyler wordlessly straightened his report papers before returning them to his file, his usually cheerful smile was no where to be seen. "I heard you were acting really weird in the lobby this morning and I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh, that. I . . ." Derek felt a rush of embarrassment overtake him. At the time he was too shaken up to take notice or care, but in retrospect, it would probably be his most humiliating moment within the hospital walls. "Don't worry about that. I was just lost in my own world and . . ."

"Are you sure?" Tyler raised an eyebrow. "You look a little –"

"Pale. I know. I was just on my way to take a nap."

". . . . . Well, I hope you feel better."

"Yeah, thanks."

Derek resumed walking with Tyler meeting his steps. Slowly, the latter's smile returned as his cheerful disposition no longer had to contend with the concern over his best friend. "Dude, I had the sweetest dream about Scarlett last night!"

". . . I really hate you sometimes, you know that?"

-----

"Let's start the briefing." Chief Sidney Kasal addressed the surgical team assigned to this procedure, consisting of Dr. Clarks, Derek and Angie. Dr. Victor Niguel was present as well. Being the head of Research and Development, he would be overseeing the recovery of the bacterial sample for research.

"As you all recall, we have received several cases of a new strain of bacteria that invades and festers inside various organs. The strain appears to seek out a single organ to be its host and does not typically spread to other parts of the body. However, the resulting toxin will eventually prove too much for the victim's body to handle. The disease works slowly and, for the moment, is only communicable through direct contact with the victim's blood or saliva. For this reason, I ask anyone who has an open cut or any other puncture in their skin to refrain from participating in this procedure. Extreme care is necessary for this operation.

"Today's patient is Leonid Kovar. He was admitted three days ago and the infection has overtaken his pancreas. His vitals have been dropping slowly but he is otherwise stable. Regardless, we need to be fast and proficient if we are to treat him. The operation has only one objective –

- Recover a small sample of the bacteria for research.

"Be sure not to remove too much of the mucus. As we've observed in other patients, attempting to drain the mucus completely will only cause the bacteria to create more. This creates a sudden surge of toxin in the patient's body which will instantly cost his or her life. Collect only as much as necessary and no more. Are there any questions?"

The doctors and nurse remained silent, signifying that all was understood. The chief gave a small nod of approval. "Good. Please begin the operation."

-----

"Let's begin, Dr. Stiles." Angie said, signaling that she and the rest of the team were ready.

"Understood." Derek disinfected the area before creating his incision, running almost automatically through the most rudimentary of surgical procedures. With the opening of the patient, the man's discolored pancreas was visible before him.

"All right, Stiles, listen up." Victor murmured in his usual monotone. "The infestation has festered in between the outer membranes of the organ. We don't want it to get past the inner layers, so be careful when you make your incision."

Derek took in the researcher's instructions, tenderly pinching the outermost layer with his forceps and gently pulling it towards him. With sufficient space between the two membranes, he slowly punctured the pancreas and a tiny dot of bright green puss squeezed out. He set the scalpel back on the tray and reached for the drain in order to get a sample. The mucus made a nauseating sound as it was suctioned, and the surgical team cringed mildly in spite of their experience.

"That'll be sufficient, Derek." Victor mumbled again. "Finish treatment and close the patient."

Derek placed the drain back on the tray as Angie held out the forceps and carbon skin graph. He took them from her, giving her a subtle nod in thanks, and placed the graph over the puncture. Once again his body flowed through the practiced motions as he massaged the antibiotic gel onto the wound, when a vicious frigid bit at his fingers.

His body stiffened as the chill ran throughout his body and, in that brief second, all Hell seemed to break loose. "His vitals are dropping fast! What in the world just happened?" Dr. Clarks almost had to yell to compete with the screech of the heart monitor. "He's going into ventricle fibrillation! Where's the defibrillator!?" The surgical tray crashed violently to the floor in the midst of Angie's frantic search for the machine and Victor was nearly toppled over. "Jesus Christ! Be careful! We don't want it spreading!"

"Get me a stabilizer!"

"I need a bio container! Now!"

"He's flat lining!"

"Stiles! Do something!"

Derek was nearly oblivious to the chaos that exploded around him. It was hard to focus on anything else, as he watched the man's pancreas begin to dissolve under his touch. No, this isn't happening. Slowly he withdrew his trembling fingers. This can't be happening. . . .Oh God . . .no . . . A black river of tar poured from his finger tips, sizzling into the patient's other organs and flesh as it dripped. "No . . "

The frantic surgical team around him halted and turned towards the stunned surgeon. For that moment, they shared his shocked silence, leaving the flat lined heart monitor as the only source of sound. It quickly changed as their expressions melted into rage. "Derek! What the hell did you do?!" Victor shouted.

"It's n-not me!" Derek pleaded. "I - I . . . I'm not doing this!"

"You're killing him!"

"Derek! Why are you doing this?" Angie cried as she cupped her hands to her chest. Her voice cut through him, searing with a mixture of rage and anguish. "Angie! I swear I'm not . . ."

"Your skills have given birth to many lives which never should have been. . . They are your GUILT. . ."

The angry doctors and nurse around him were muffled by the sinister voice. Derek looked up, startled, as his eyes directed him towards a dark corner of the room. The voice was not coming from within his mind, as it had been before. It was there, where a pair of piercing eyes glared out from the shadows. "Adam! You're . . ." The figure took a ginger step forward and, as the light illuminated his figure, Derek felt his innards take an icy plunge. "No . . .this isn't happening!"

"Your medicine is deceit, and you are nothing but a false prophet..."

Adam's voice slithered from the figure's smirking lips, but that face did not belong to the long deceased Delphi leader. Neither did the malevolent eyes, which began to glow with a hint of blood red as they narrowed to slits. Instead, the dark figure through which Adam was speaking was . . . himself. Time stopped around him as Derek watched his evil counterpart approach the operating table. "Wh-who . . .what . .are you? What do you want?"

"You are nothing but a false prophet." Adam's voice repeated through his twin's body. He raised his right hand and held it above the patient's remains. "But all that has changed. I have blessed you."

"What?!" Derek tried to take a step back, but found that his body was unable to move. His feet were all but stuck to the spot and he could only watch helplessly as his own right hand shakily rose to match the pose of his doppelganger. "I have given you the gift of Bliss. Indeed, you have been blessed with the gift of death itself." Derek felt warmth ooze down his temples and forehead, realizing right away that it was blood. "Y-you're insane! You can't do this!" he yelled, feeling nauseas as the blood trickled into his mouth.

"Accept the gifts that you have been given." Derek heard his own voice mix in with that of Adam, and both their hands began bleeding out more of the dark liquid. "You cannot deny death or the powers within you. You have no choice."

"No! I won't let you do this!"

"From this day forth, you will bathe in blood. You will indulge in the taste of death." A large crow slowly began to rise from the dark pool on the table, its blood red eyes burning holes into Derek. He closed his eyes tightly but the images stayed with him, almost as if they were crawling into his mind.

"You will deliver this Bliss onto the world. That will be your prophecy."

"No! I won't let this happen! I'm a doctor! I help people! Nothing will change that!"

"Derek . . ."

Opening his eyes, Derek was startled to see his counterpart looking at him sympathetically. The evil smirk and glowing eyes were gone and so to was Adam's voice. "D – Derek?" he stuttered. "What are you . . .?"

"Their blood. It's already on your head."

Derek did not even realize he had regained control of his body as his eyes darted towards the floor, where he felt a warm pool around his feet. The source of the blood, which covered every square inch of the floor, was the slain bodies of Dr. Clarks, Victor and Angie. Their remains were twisted horribly and their lifeless eyes were wide, frozen with a final emotion of terror before their passing. "No. . .no!" Blood began pouring in from the ceiling, vents and door. Derek backpedaled and pressed his back against the wall as the blood level rose quickly and engulfed him. "Nooo!"

-----

A strangled gasp ripped from Derek's throat as he sat up. Panting and shaking heavily, he reached for his glasses with a trembling hand. He slipped them on a quickly rushed out of the on call room, thankful that no one else decided to come in for a nap at the time. He reached the nearest Men's room in record time, throwing his glasses on the counter and splashing cold water on his face. After the third handful of water, he turned off the faucet and closed his eyes, feeling the cool liquid drip from his face. "These dreams . . . am I loosing my mind?"

Derek sighed and reached for a paper towel as his racing heart finally began to calm down. There can't really be any meaning to this, can there? They're just nightmares. Horrible, vivid nightmares and nothing more, right? He groaned into the towel as he finished drying off his face. "Maybe I really am loosing my mind." He tossed the paper into the trash and reached for his glasses, sighing again as he slipped them on. "This is just great. There's no way I –"

He froze, his eyes widening and heart accelerating to its previous rate as the reflection of a shadow glared from behind him. He spun around quickly, coming face to face with nothing more than the empty stalls and quickly turned back to the mirror, seeing only his frightened reflection and those same stalls behind him. His hand rested over his hammering chest as he leaned against the counter for support. "Oh good God! What the hell is wrong with me?!"

-----

"Dr. Clarks."

The middle aged surgeon turned at the sound of his name. "Ah, Dr. Stiles. Are you able to proceed with the operation?" Derek sighed heavily, bowing his head. "I'm sorry. I can't handle the procedure today."

"So, you're still not feeling well? You should speak with Sidney. I'm sure he'll let you go home if you're sick."

"I'm not sick. I just . . . I need some fresh air. I'm sorry."

Derek turned quickly and excused himself from the conference room. He was fortunate enough to get out of there before Angie arrived. He did not think he could handle seeing her worried eyes at the moment. I'm sorry, Angie. What good am I as a surgeon if I can't operate just because I had a nightmare? I'm letting you down, aren't I?

"Dr. Stiles."

"Huh? Gah!"

Derek was startled out of his thoughts as he nearly collided with the current Director of Caduceus USA. "Dr. Hoffman! I – I didn't see you there."

"Dr. Stiles." The elderly man continued unflinching. "I'd like to see you in my office."

-----

To Be Continued . . .

Don't worry, Derek's not in trouble. Well, he is but . . . ah you'll see.

Sorry if the operation turning out to be another dream seemed like a cop-out, but it was necessary for the plot. I also apologize if anyone was grossed out by the puss and mucus infestations. Another necessary evil, I'm afraid.

GAD – General Anxiety Disorder. Symptoms include (but are not limited to): restlessness, excessive tension or a feeling of being 'edgy', fatigue, trembling, being easily startled and trouble falling/staying asleep. For more information, consult your doctor.

Gah! I just can't nail Dr. Clarks' character down. He's the head surgeon so of course he's going to be professional and serious, but at the same time, he's a father to two young children and has been known to have a kind demeanor. I tried to get a good balance of serious professional surgeon/kind fatherly guy but I don't think I did a very good job.

As for the patient, if there are any comic geeks reading this, you may have noticed that Leonid Kovar is the civilian name of the Teen Titan, Red Star. I took his name because it was just the first thing that popped into my head.

I really hope I'm not making Derek seem too wimpy. Obviously, I want him to be scared of what is happening to him, but I don't want to turn him into some whimpering coward either. Sure, he may not be the bravest man around, but he's been in dangerous situations before. He disarmed a bomb for Peter's sake! I think he'd be somewhat used to life threatening situations by now. Not to say that he still doesn't get scared, but you know . . .

Mooncat said in a review of chapter one that Derek's nightmare would have been more disturbing if Derek saw himself talking to him in an accusing, demonic voice. I thought, "Hey, that's a cool idea!" so I decided to act upon it.

Anyway, I think I have some weird obsession about torturing my favorite characters and having them drenched in blood. I swear I'm not crazy! Well, maybe a little. . .

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