Disclaimer: I don't own the actors, the characters of the movie or anyone except Izzy, Trish, Leon, Emma and Robby.
A/N: ok, so I got a few more reviews and I felt really bad about not posting this because I think it's actually really good and I was proud of myself for writing this chapter so I'll go ahead and post it anyway. Enjoy and I'd really appreciate reviews.
Chapter 4: Judgment Call
"Izzy? We need you out here." Jess's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Yeah?" I asked getting up.
"It's Lucas. I think he dislocated his shoulder."
I walked in the treatment room and saw Lucas lying on one of the tables, Garrett and Jay standing next to him.
"Jess, hold him down." I demanded as I pushed my way through to Lucas.
"Shit Izzy, that hurts you know!" Lucas growled as I touched his shoulder.
"Lucas, how many times will I have to tell you?" I asked gently… ish. "It's either Isabelle or Miss Legault."
"Why d'you have to be like- OW!!!" he screamed; I had just pulled on his arm and put his shoulder back in place.
"Now, ice, rest and a sling for a week." I quickly enumerated. "Come back and see me next Tuesday. If it hurts too much, take some Tylenol. Jess, take care of him please?" I added and headed back to my office.
I had just sat back down behind my office when I heard footsteps approaching.
"Why do you hate him so much?" a voice accused from the doorway of my office.
"Excuse me?" I asked, looking up to Jay and sitting back in my chair.
"Why do you hate him so much? Why are you so mean to him?" he demanded again.
"I'm not mean to him." I stated patiently.
"You don't let him call you Izzy-"
"Do I let you call me Izzy? Or Garrett? Or any of the other football players?" Jay shook his head. "Then why do you say I'm mean to him? I treat him the same as everybody else."
"But it's not the same! I mean, Lucas has-"
"A huge crush on me?" I nodded, "Do you honestly think I hadn't noticed? But what would you have me do? Encourage him? So you could then accuse me of leading him on?"
Jay stared at his feet and stayed silent. My phone rang at that moment and I answered. It was Pete who wanted to see me. I got up and walked out of my office, Jay following closely.
When I entered the treatment room, Garrett and Lucas were still there, Lucas getting his arm sling put on and Garrett getting his cast signed by the members of the staff. When Lucas was done he got up and headed towards the door.
"Well, that's everybody's signature then." Garrett stated as he looked straight at me and then followed Lucas out.
I smiled to myself at the attempted slight; this guy could be so childish.
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The three weeks of training were now over and the shoot was about to begin. We had four days off before the real work started and I intended to enjoy the quiet for a change. I was just closing up the clinic when I heard noises coming from the weight room across the hall. So I locked up and decided to have a look, seeing as no one was allowed to be in there after hours.
I walked in the poorly lit room quietly and squinted to see who was lifting weights. I could hear the guy breathe in heavily from the effort and drew closer. Then I spotted a white blur on the lifter's leg and realized it was Garrett. That's ok; he's allowed to lift weights… I thought as I prepared to walk out. But just then, Garrett stood up and wobbled to another station.
"Even with a cast on, you're just too damn stubborn to use your crutches." I called out from my spot in the dark, making him jump.
"Of all the people to catch me…" he trailed off, sighing dejectedly.
"Garrett, sit down." I said nonchalantly.
He didn't argue and sat down.
"I don't know how to get through to you." I sighed. "I'm not doing this to be a bitch; I'm really just trying to get you better."
I shook my head.
"You know, you really are a second Boobie Miles." I paused and looked at Garrett but he didn't say anything, only raised his eyebrows at me. "You're just like him. You may not be black, you may not be a football player and you're not half as full of yourself as he is in this movie… Well, maybe you are-"
At this, I paused again and looked Garrett in the eyes, waiting for his objection. It didn't come, so I went on:
"-but you're as stupidly eager to get back out there and show everyone you can do it. The thing is Garrett, even though a bum knee or ankle might now cost you your career or your future, it will have a significant impact on your life. I should know; when I was in highschool I went to summer camp and on the first day of a week long stay, I sprained my ankle really badly. We went to the hospital and the doctor told me to stay off it a week; I stayed off 3 days. After that, I kept spraining my ankle every few months unless I wore an ankle brace. And do you know how long that went on? Four years; until I did enough physiotherapy to get back in real shape. But to this day, I still wear ankle braces when I do any type of sport; I don't want to go through that again." I concluded.
Again I waited to hear what he'd have to say but he still kept quiet. He had on a face of ashamed defeat I would later recognize when I'd see the movie- the scene after the Midland Lee loss- and always wonder if he had been acting that night of if he had used our conversation as a way to conjure up that face later.
When it became clear he wouldn't say anything, I got up and headed for the door.
"Are you gonna tell Peter on me?" he asked just as I had reached the door.
Ah, I thought, that's why he was being so quiet and demure; you don't bite the hand that feeds… Especially if you're not even sure yet if the hand is gonna feed you.
"Would it even make a difference if I did and he deducted money from your pay check?" I asked over my shoulder. He stayed silent. "Didn't think so."
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Halfway though my second day off, I found myself heading up the emergency exit staircase to the roof in an attempt to get away from Trish. Don't get me wrong, she's nice and all but I swear that girl's life ambition is to heal mankind of all its wounds and she's decided to start with me. Ever since I talked to her about my brother, she's been analyzing every word I say and asks me about fifty times a day "and how does that make you feel?" or "how do you feel about that?"
So as I said, I'm heading out to the roof to get any from my 'therapist' and when I get up there, I stop a few feet away from the edge. There's a plastic lounge chair- one that you'd normally find by the hotel's poolside- about two feet away from the edge of the roof, facing the direction the sun sets in. As I make my way closer, I can see a note taped to the chair's back and I pick it up.
I just thought I'd make watching the sunset a little more comfortable for you, Miss Izzy.
-Leon
With a smile I sat down and watched the sun set and the stars come up. I hadn't even realized I had fallen asleep until I woke up in the cool night air, shivering. I didn't know how long I had slept for but headed back down to my room. The clock on my nightstand indicated 10:30. I decided I might as well get ready for bed and read until I fell asleep again.
The second time I woke up, feeling disoriented, I could hear Trish' slow breathing. I didn't know why I had woken up and hoped it wasn't because I had slept out on the roof and wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. And that's when I heard it; a tiny noise that could have gone unnoticed if I hadn't been such a light sleeper. I turned in the direction the sound was coming from: the sliding glass window.
I walked up and pulled the curtains apart just as something small flew at the window and made another noise. A pebble, I guessed. I got out on the balcony and looked down- we were only on the second floor- and saw a shadow standing in the bushes, about to throw another projectile.
"Who's there?" I hissed.
"Isabelle, is that you?" the voice answered. I was unable to recognize it.
"Yeah, what gives?" I asked, annoyed at being woken up.
"You have to come to room 135, someone's hurt." and I saw the shadow run away.
You've gotta be shittin' me. I grumbled noiselessly. I put on jeans and a sweatshirt, making sure I had my keycard and cell phone just in case. This better not be a prank.
I decided to use the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator then walked down the hall until I found room 135 and hesitated briefly before knocking. I didn't have to wait for long for the door to swing open and frowned when I was answered by Lucas.
"Aren't you on the second floor too?" I asked as he pulled me in.
"Me and Garrett are." he slurred. I could smell alcohol on his breath.
"What's going on Lucas?"
"Robby's hurt real bad, Izzy."
"How many times do I- Hey!" I cried out when he yanked on my arm so I'd enter the room further.
Robby- one of the real football players- was indeed looking pretty bad, lying on what I only assumed was his bed. He had bruises already forming on his face and his shinbone was sticking out of his leg in a painful open fracture. I kneeled next to him on the bed and immediately checked his pulse; his heart was beating furiously and his skin was boiling.
"What the fuck happened! And why didn't you take him to the hospital?!" I screamed at Lucas, Jay, Garrett, Derek and some other football player.
"We were out at this bar, on the balcony-" Jay started, slurring his words too.
"We were play fighting-" added Garrett with difficulty. God, are they all wasted? I asked myself.
"And he just…" Derek made a whistling noise like the one's you'd hear in cartoons when something was freefalling then a splat noise, "fell." he concluded.
I briefly looked up from Robby's wound to stare bewilderedly at the other guys before looking back down.
"And why didn't you take him to the hospital?" I asked again.
"Coach said he didn't want us going out and ruining all our training by getting drunk. Peter said he'd have our asses if we got into trouble." the other football player whose name I couldn't remember explained pitifully.
Garrett crutched his way to me and lowered his head so he could speak in my ear and he was so close I could smell his breath.
"So you can't tell anyone, it's our secret." he said loudly in my ear, stumbling over every other word.
I rolled my eyes.
"Promise!" he added roughly, yanking my arm away from Robby.
"Ok!" I yelled back. Satisfied, he walked back to the chair he had been occupying before. "You-" I looked at Lucas, "get me some clean towels from the bathroom." I ordered.
He walked away obediently.
"Jay, you go to the ice machine. Bring me lots of ice."
"Um… ok, but why?" he asked, his eyes screwing up when he looked at me.
"Because Robby's running a fever."
He nodded then left the room.
"Izzy, I mean, Isabelle, they haven't got any towels in their bathroom." Lucas came back dejected.
"Well go to the front desk and ask for some!" I screamed at him. "And why don't you take Garrett with you." I added bitterly as the drunken cripple started laughing uncontrollably.
And so they left the room too. Derek just sat in the armchair at the opposite end of the room and closed his eyes.
"Fuck this shit." I said as I flipped my phone open and dialed. "Peter?" I said hurriedly when he finally picked up. "Call an ambulance then get to room 135 as quickly as possible." and hung up without explaining any further.
Jay was the first to come back closely followed by Lucas. I didn't even see Garrett come back. I ripped away the towels from Lucas's hands and wrapped them around the protruding bone to stop the bleeding; Robby had already lost a lot of blood. Then, I put the remaining ice cubes in another towel and lay it on my patient's chest to lower his temperature more quickly.
That's when things started getting really bad. Robby started trashing wildly in his bed, slapping me across the face and throwing off the ice. I was screaming at the guys for help when his eyes rolled back in his eye sockets. Then Peter burst in the room and more yelling ensued, the guys screaming at me for calling him and Peter screaming at the guys to know what was going on. And then suddenly, Robby stopped trashing.
I checked his pulse again and dread washed over me as I didn't feel one. I pressed my ear against his chest- cool from the ice- but didn't hear a breath. As tears stung my eyes, I screamed for everyone to get out except Peter. Pulling myself up, I ran my fingers along Robby's ribs, trying to find the right place to apply pressure.
"Peter, please go check if the ambulance's here." he opened his mouth to object but I cut him short, "please." I asked with a wobbly voice.
As he walked out, I started CPR and looked to the sky while I counted the 'beats'- half in an attempt to get my tears out of my eyes, half imploring God to help me. Then I tilted Robby's head back and gave him the breath of life only to start pumping his heart again. The more time passed, the more desperate I got and really tried to control myself so I didn't press on his sternum too hard. I was starting my tenth cycle when a heavy hand dropped on my shoulder.
"Miss, miss, let us through." a strong voice called to me and I looked up to see the paramedics.
"How long have you been performing CPR miss?" the other paramedic asked as they cut through Robby's shirt and applied adhesive pad electrodes to his chest.
"Uh… two and a half minutes." I sniffled.
When the last electrode was on his chest, the portable heart monitor emitted a loud uninterrupted 'beep' and the paramedics prepared the defibrillator.
"Clear!"
I jumped as they jolted Robby's body with electricity and Peter- who had re-entered the room with the paramedics- wrapped his arms around me.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
"He's still asystolic. Charging to two hundred… Clear!"
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
"Asystole. Again. Clear!"
After the third surge of electricity, the continuous 'beep' finally stopped and then:
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
"Let's intubate him and get to the hospital quickly before his heart stops again." the first paramedic said to the other.
When they rolled Robby out of the room on the stretcher, Peter and I followed them quickly to the ambulance.
"We can take one person with us." one of the paramedics said as he stepped in the ambulance.
"Go." Peter ordered me. "I'll get a car and meet you there." I nodded and got on.
As the other paramedic closed the doors to the ambulance, I could see the guys standing outside the hotel doors, glaring at me.
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As I sat in the hospital waiting room, I let all my emotions out. At first I tried crying quietly but eventually my stress and emotions got the best of me and I started sobbing loudly. I cried in my hands, my body racked with uncontrollable sobs until a soft hand started stroking my back. I looked up into the eyes of a fifty-something-looking nurse, with dyed carrot-red hair and blond roots, her fire-engine-red lips smiling gently at me. I felt my lower lip tremble as I looked at her quizzically.
"There, there honey." she said soothingly and I threw myself at her welcoming arms and continued sobbing into her shoulder.
"Izzy?" a soft voice called out when I had finally stopped sobbing and resorted back to silent tears. "Are you ok?" Peter asked concernedly.
"Oh she's fine." the nurse replied pulling away from me. "We did wonder for a while if we'd have to give her a sedative, but she calmed down on her own." she smiled at me and got up. "I hope whoever you're crying over will be ok honey." and she walked away.
Peter took her place in the chair next to mine and I rested my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and we waited in silence until the doctor whom had walked away with Robby and the paramedics earlier walked into the waiting room.
"You're the one who came in with Robby Johnson?" he asked me. I nodded. "If you'd like to come with me…" he said as he walked away. "So, what's your relationship to Robby exactly?" he asked while we walked.
"Actually, he works on my movie. And Isabelle is our physical therapist. She's the one that performed CPR and first aid until the paramedics arrived." Peter summarized.
"Ok, does he have family we should contact?" the doctor asked tentatively.
"Why do you have to contact his family? He's not dead is he?" I asked worriedly.
"No, but I'm guessing my family would like to know if I had been clinically dead for two minutes." I blinked back tears furiously. "Now we won't know for sure until he wakes up, but there doesn't seem to have been any damage to the brain. Anyway, nothing showed up on the head scan. The ECG shows no more arrhythmia and he's been taken off the ventilator because he was gagging on it, which is a good thing since it means he's breathing on his own."
"Doctor, what happened exactly?" Peter asked.
"Oh… Well, from what this young lady told the paramedics, Robby fell off a bar's balcony and suffered an open fracture along with a mild concussion. Because the people he was with didn't get him immediate medical attention, his wound got infected which caused a fever well over a hundred and four degrees. That coupled with the concussion sent him into cardiac arrest." the doctor explained.
After that, the doctor accompanied us to Robby's bed telling us he'd be transferred from the emergency room to a private or semi-private room shortly. After Peter told him to put Robby up in a private room and that he would contact Robby's family himself, we shook hands with the doctor and he left. The nurses assured us they'd call Peter as soon as Robby woke up and we made our way back to the car Peter had used to get to the hospital. We were both silent as we drove back to the hotel and when we got there I silently got out of the car and headed for my room without waiting for Peter to catch up to me. As I slipped under the covers, I looked at my clock and turned the alarm off. It was already 5:30.
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When I woke up later that day, I still felt really tired and stayed in bed even when Trish offered to give me a massage to relieve my sore back muscles. Worried, she walked to me and pressed a hand to my forehead.
"You're burning up. Maybe you caught Robby's fever." she said distractedly. I had told her all about the previous night's even when she came to check on me at lunchtime.
"I can't have caught his fever." I grumbled.
"Whatever. I'm calling Peter."
I objected violently but in the end, I was too weak to stop her from reaching the phone. Peter got one look at me and decided to call for a doctor and I whined moodily while we waited for him to arrive; I didn't need a doctor, I didn't have a fever, this was a waste of time, etc…
Finally the doctor arrived and took my temperature and other vitals then diagnosed me as suffering from extreme exhaustion- to which I rolled my eyes, duh!- but reassured everyone that it wasn't anything rest, Tylenol and a lot of fluid couldn't fix. He told Peter I'd need bed rest for at least five days and to make sure my heartbeat was back in the eighties before I got back to my normal activities.
"Five days!" I exclaimed when the doctor finally left. "I can't stay in bed for five days! I'll get bedsores! And the clinic's gonna be insane with one therapist short!"
"They can manage without you." Trish said.
"You sound just like Garrett!" Peter teased.
"Speaking of which…" Trish lowered her voice. She paused until Peter was out of the room to continue, "the guys have been badgering me all day to let them up to see you. They all seem pretty pissed."
"Like I care."
I thought that would be the last I heard of 'the guys' for at least the next five days but was sorely disappointed when Trish opened the door after a loud nock. Jay, Lucas and Garrett made their way in our room and sat on Trish's bed without waiting for an invitation to do so.
"We told you not to tell Peter!" Garrett immediately exploded.
"You have no idea the shit we're in!" Jay added hotly.
Lucas on the other hand remained quiet while he stared at something seemingly really interesting on the floor. I suddenly got out of bed and walked out of my room. I wanted to make it to the roof to be alone but no such luck; the guys and Trish followed me out.
"Izzy, you shouldn't be getting up." Trish warned severely.
"You might not want to friends," Garrett continued badgering me, "but you don't have to be such a bitch! I told you we'd get into trouble!"
I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around so quickly I got dizzy, a look of pure fury painted on my face.
"You have no right to be mad at me!" I yelled.
I didn't care that I was in the middle of the hall and that people could hear.
"I had to pump Robby's fucking heart!" I spat angrily. "You screwed up, not me! He was dying! He was fucking dying and I couldn't do anything about it! I could feel him fucking dying and there was nothing I could do about it! My stupid CPR wasn't bringing him back!"
I started sobbing, all the fear that had consumed me the previous night coming back with a vengeance.
"He could have died! If I hadn't called Peter and the paramedics hadn't got here when they did, he would be dead right now!"
I felt my stomach turn and the hall seemed to be spinning faster than ever, but I had to get this out.
"And all you care about is that you're in trouble?! Did your heart stop? Did you stop breathing?" I asked with a shrill voice full of disdain. "I have 'no idea the shit you're in'? I don't fucking care! I stopped caring the second your shitty call not to take Robby to the hospital forced me to make the right call."
I was now so emotionally and physically drained I had to put my hand on the wall so I didn't topple over. Shakily, I started walking back to my room, using the wall to support myself. Halfway there, I had to pause for fear of fainting. I was hot and sweaty, undoubtedly flushed but I didn't care.
"Just remember," I said softly, "if Robby had died, it would have been your fault, not mine. So who should you really be mad at?" I concluded, looking at the three of them.
I started walking again, Trish next to me and I knew they had finally stopped following me.
"Here, let me help you." Lucas spoke softly.
"That's ok." I objected weakly.
But to no avail; in one swift movement, Lucas picked me up and walked to Trish and mine's door. She opened it and he walked in, only to lay me down softly on my bed. Silently, he gently tucked me in and I could tell he was really ashamed and regretted dearly the events of the previous night by the way he avoided to lock eyes with me like he usually tried to do.
"Now you take care of yourself Isabelle." he said over his shoulder as he walked out.
"Lucas?" I called out and he turned around and faced me. "You can call me Izzy." I sighed and smiled weakly.
He gave me a sad smile and walked out. I didn't even hear the door close before I slipped back into a foggy sleep.
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A/N: so what did you think?