Author's Note: Hi – sorry for the wait! Ack! Hope you like the update. And just so you know, I'm going away on vacation for a week, and will be back next Saturday. I will be taking books and pens with me, and will be writing by hand, so hopefully I'll have something to give you when I get back, but it's just so you know I haven't… well, either, abandoned the story or… died o.O Once again, many thanks to Shark Nut! XD
Sawyer Fan: I'm with you on that one XD The smile that is…
Samyo Sorry; didn't clarify that one… sorry O.o And every Samantha I've known didn't like having their full name used XD It seems a universal thing.
Mellaithwen: Thanks very much! Glad you liked Luka's thoughts on Alex; it's just what I thought he'd… think O.o Yeah, I make sense… not.
LXGFanGirl I'm trying to update Envenom… sorry! It's being really awkward, and it will get an update, I promise.
ShastenRothe Heh… long live angst! XD Thanks!
MG: Just curious… are you a fellow Brit? XD Your language (bloody brilliant) suggests that you are :)
nobleblue Thanks! And hi again XD
The episode I just saw was '11:08 – A Shot In The Dark', where a cop is shot, and his son has to make a decision about surgery; and where Ray abandons said patient for a gig… O.o Holding back on posting spoilers beyond this point in reviews is much appreciated! XD Thanks!
CHAPTER EIGHT: MY CHILDISH FEARS
As Sam collected the tape they'd need to secure the bandages when the bleeding had slowed and – hopefully – stopped, Abby pulled in a breath; she noticed it was slightly shaky, and with a brief and subtle clearing of her throat, hoped Atkin hadn't spotted it. He was watching Sam more closely than he was her anyway, so it was more than likely he had missed it; she didn't want him to have her fear to use against her. She had to be strong in the face of adversity.
Or something like that, her mind added as she looked to Ray, noticing how his eyes drifted closed. Keeping one hand down on the gauze, she reached up and touched the side of his face with the flat of her palm, saying a simple, "Hey," as she did so. This succeeded in stirring him enough so that his eyes gazed to her; she didn't like the slight vacant edge to them that she saw, but offered him a smile nevertheless. "I know you're tired, Ray, but stay awake, all right? We can't intubate in here… remember?"
Ray blinked sluggishly, and nodded. She heard the muttered, "Right," through the mask. It looked as though his breathing had steadied, the saline slowly but steadily compensating for the lost fluids. But at the rate the blood was escaping his side, Abby wanted to get him out of Exam Three and into trauma; he'd only get worse. She suspected the bullet had hit a vein or a blood vessel, but she wouldn't be able to tell without inspecting the wound deeper and at length; she couldn't do that in here.
Damn this room…
Sam returned with the tape, laying it down as she went to check the IV.
Abby nodded to the mask on Ray's face. "His breathing's steadied. We can take that off." Sam returned the nod in confirmation, and moved around the other side of the bed – further from their captor – to do so. Shifting Ray's head so she could remove the mask, she said to him, "Counted those tiles yet?"
"Gimme a break, Sam," he grumbled quietly. "I'm kinda distracted here…"
She smiled. "No excuses. I've heard you're good at multitasking. Don't let a little thing like this stop you."
Abby smiled, but only faintly. Sam would keep Ray talking; keep him awake. She noticed Sam had collected the tubing to slip over the male's intern's head to help with oxygen, to replace the mask; she'd anticipated the improvement, or at least hoped for it. Within a few minutes, Sam had put the tubing pipe on appropriately, letting Ray lay his head back on the thin pillow again. "That better?" she asked him.
"Sure," he confirmed almost lazily, and Abby quirked a brow. Was he trying to be stubborn? She smiled at the thought, and checked the gauze again. Slipping a fresh one on once more, she heard Sam move closer.
"Another one?" the nurse inquired quietly, and Abby nodded. "D'you think he hit something?"
"No sure way of telling," Abby replied just as discreetly. "I can't really check in here…"
"What's with the secrecy, ladies?" Atkin was staring pointedly at them, and the two looked to him in return. Neither responded, prompting him to add, "I'm sure your friend Barnett can handle whatever you have to say to one another; probably wants to know what's goin' on. Patients like knowin' what's goin' on after all… don't keep it all a mystery."
There was a warning in that little speech, and with only a simple gaze to Sam, she let the nurse take over the job of monitoring the blood loss. She stood nearer to Ray's head, seeing him lock his eyes on her face. He was paler than normal, understandably, and she could almost hear his breathing for the slight force put behind it. Sighing lightly, she called on her courage, and said, "You're losing a lot of blood, Ray. The bullet might have damaged a vein or a blood vessel, which could account for the rate you're losing it, but I can't be sure. The only way to know for certain would be to transfer you to trauma…" The not-so-subtle hint didn't go unnoticed by Atkin.
"Fix it in 'ere or don't fix it at all, Dr. Lockhart…" Clearly, he had caught her stitched name on her coat.
"I can't do that. I don't have the equipment."
"Well then do what you can for him, 'eh?"
Abby sighed again, and looking to Ray once more, made herself busy by collecting the nearby heart monitor, and setting that up, throwing the occasional annoyed glance at Atkin, but only when she noticed his head turn to watch Sam. When she was finished, the slightly altered rhythm of Ray's heart could be heard emanating from the machine in its high-pitched song. She stared at the display for a moment, as if caught in a memory, and then went about setting up the pulse/ox instead. Taking a mental note of both readings when she was done, she stored them away in her mind. Sam looked to the equipment as well, locking the figures away in her head also, from the look on her face. There was no need to speak them aloud. If Ray wanted to know, he could ask; they wouldn't lie.
"Hey, Lockhart…"
Abby looked down at Ray, cocking her head.
"How long have you worked here again…?"
"Six years, Ray… why?"
He smiled in an almost lopsided manner, and laughed quietly. "Just curious… good to know you know what you're doing."
Abby was a little taken aback by the sincerity behind the comment, and raised both eyebrows for a moment, before smiling. "Well… take it easy. We'll take care of you, all right?"
When the green eyes turned to her, she didn't miss the very slight pleading in them, just before he nodded. She hadn't expected to see that…
Ray was frightened… he didn't want to die.
Swallowing dryly, he turned his head back to stare at the ceiling with as much focus as he could manage.
Twenty-seven…
He winced when Sam shifted the gauze, and heard her apologise. She called to the other, mobile intern, and Ray looked to Atkin, turning his head to the left to lock eyes with the armed man. The gun was resting on Atkin's right knee as he sat, his hand still gripped around it readily, but his finger out of the trigger guard. Ray didn't say anything, or do much at all, apart from stare.
Atkin stared right back.
"The bleeding's slowing," Abby told him, and that was when he turned his head, realising how heavy and weighed down it felt. He tried to ignore the sensation, and the beeping of the monitor to his right. It was somewhat distracting.
"That's good," he noted aloud, to which Abby nodded.
"Yeah," she acknowledged. "How're you feeling?"
"Tired…" he admitted, angling his head a little to try and ignore the scrutiny he was undergoing from Atkin all of a sudden. The man was still sitting in the same place, but it was almost like he was fixated on the young doctor, much to Ray's displeasure. It wasn't like he could ask him to stop though – for all the good it would do him – so he didn't say anything.
"The more blood you lose, the more you'll feel it. Hopefully the fluids will help." She smiled wanly. "But then, you know all this, so…"
He laughed very softly, wishing he hadn't when a small bolt of pain shot through his side. He winced lightly, and nodded instead. Lying still for a while, he heard the monitor's beeping again, and absentmindedly noted how it was slightly irregular in its rhythm. His heart was trying to compensate for the lost blood, and he wasn't so sure he liked that sound…
Atkin slipped off his seat, and moved over to the window, shifting the blinds in a somewhat cliché manner to peer secretively through them.
Normally, Ray would ask for BP and the like, but this time the patient wasn't some stranger he had to patch up and move along; it was him laying on the gurney now, and he didn't think he really wanted to know all of a sudden. The way he was feeling, it probably wouldn't help his mood to hear about the vitals.
Looking across the room to where Atkin had taken up a short watch, he blinked slowly, and then looked back to Abby. "How bad is it?"
She looked back down at him, one brow lifting in query.
"Really… tell me… how long am I gonna last in here… if I don't get to Trauma?"
Abby cocked her head to one side, eyes averting to the far wall as she roughly calculated, no doubt. Giving a light, apologetic shrug, she returned her gaze to him again, saying, "A couple of hours without the right equipment and procedures."
Ray closed his eyes for a short while, a light sigh slipping out of him before he muttered, "Great…"
"Sorry, Ray…"
Shaking his head lightly from side to side, he muttered, "Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong… just…"
Ray hesitated, and fell silent, nervous about the conclusion to his sentence. It would contradict the role he played in the ER, he knew, but did that really matter right now? He was frightened and he was badly hurt… he wasn't strutting around to check on patients or wait for the next 'exciting' case to roll in the door. This was different… so he had every right to act different as well. He shouldn't be afraid to show that side of him; the side that was terrified of dying… even losing consciousness, and therefore awareness of what was going on around him, and…
"… Abby… don't leave…"
He felt her hand slip softly into his and squeeze lightly as she said, "I won't…" Leaning down slightly, she added in an attempt at humour, "Not like I can, but… you know what I mean."
Holding back the little laugh, Ray looked her in the eyes, nodding again, before his gaze travelled to the ceiling again, focusing on those bland, boring tiles overhead.
Twenty-eight… twenty-nine…
They were up to something out there. There was a lot of movement down the end of the corridor, and he could make out forms of people… lots of people.
Police, he guessed, and lots of them.
Only to be expected, he knew. It wasn't as if he thought they would be likely not to call the authorities and alert them to the situation. Part of him had known this would happen all along. Of course, deep inside, he had never fully intended to shoot one of the hostages, but the young doctor had been annoying him; all those questions and insincere assurances… a man could only take so much. Of course, he was fully aware of the dangerous consequences should Barnett die as a result of the gunshot wound. If he were to be arrested, Steve knew the punishment would increase extensively were one of them to die.
But he wasn't about to let him go, either. He had to be cruel to make them see… to make them see that they went about things the wrong way. They had to make some changes; seven minutes for an ambulance had cost his wife dearly… the poor treatment en route to the hospital had only exacerbated that… and then the procedures and delays in the hospital itself. Steve always thought it had seemed like there were too many people trying to do one job at a time; too many cooks spoiled the broth, as they said…
He was no doctor; that was for certain. He knew next to nothing about anything medical. He'd never learnt in school, and he still didn't know to this day… he couldn't do CPR, let alone read blood pressure and the like.
Things were so different here… he didn't like America, but he stayed for his wife's family. He didn't want to run away. But he had a home back in London if he ever got out of here… and he would go back to it if he could. After this, Celia's parents would never accept him again… they probably wouldn't even look at him if word got out about what he'd done. So he would have to leave… this would change everything.
But then… he had never expected anything less.
To Be Continued…
