'Too Skinny to Fit Behind the Radio Mast'
"Ryan?"
A familiar voice and a touch on his shoulder made Tim Ryan, the HRT medic for Alpha Team, open his eyes and look into the worried face of his boss, team leader Javier Flores. "Yeah, Flores?"
"How you doin'?" Flores asked, he crouched down next to Tim.
"I've been better." Tim replied. The second dose of morphine he'd given himself hadn't quite kicked in yet. "Just sitting here wondering when can I stop being a medic and just be a patient myself?" He gave Flores, a weak smile.
"Funny." Flores replied. "When you quit the FBI. You quit and then you can be the patient."
"That all?" Tim replied. He pulled his badge folio from his left front pocket with his good arm and handed it Flores. "I quit. Can I go be a civilian now?"
Flores rolled his eyes and pushed Tim's hand away. "The Port Police helio is leaving shortly, you're going to be on it."
"Great." Tim swallowed. "Think the pilot will take me to the same hospital that Granger went to?"
Flores shrugged. "I don't see why not. Especially if you ask nicely."
"Well, just point Nicely out and I'll ask him." Tim was starting to feel the morphine pop from the second shot he'd managed to give himself after shoo'ing the cute Coastie Medic away.
"Oh man. Come on, the helio's ready to go." Flores told Tim, helping him to his feet.
Tim wobbled when he stood, the deck of the ship pitching under his feet. Yeah, the morphine was definitely kicking in.
"Martin! Get over here!" Flores bellowed.
Tim winced. "Not so loud, Javier. I'm right here."
The HRT member Flores summoned, Clement Martin appeared at Tim's shoulder. "Help Ryan into the helio." He said. "I'll be back in a moment."
Clement draped Tim's good arm around his shoulder. "I hope you can still walk man, you ain't no light weight."
"Ha, ha…see if I don't remember that crack come time for physicals." Tim groused.
"Yeah, like you'd forget something like that." Clement replied.
He had just finished getting Tim into the helicopter when Flores appeared at the helio's door.
"There's a ambulance waiting for Ryan on the dock." He told Clement. "I'm riding with him that far. You can pick me up when you get back to shore."
Clement nodded and stepped back. He watched as Flores joined Tim in the back of the chopper, then crouched down as the chopper's blades started to spin. He waited until the chopper was in the air before turning around and rejoining the rest of the team.
"ETA two minutes." The pilot told Flores through the headset.
Flores nodded. "Roger that." He cast a worried glance at Ryan, slumped against the helio's door. He was pale, even for a white guy, however, Ryan roused enough when he overheard the pilot's announcement.
"UCLA" was the words that came out of Ryan's mouth, well, Flores THOUGHT that is what Ryan said, it was kinda hard to hear over the whump of the blades and Ryan's own slurriness.
"Landing?" Ryan looked back at Flores, causing him to look past the wounded medic's body to see the docks approaching. The docks were fast approaching, an ambulance sat waiting, it's light's flashing in a steady rhythm.
"Yep. Almost there."
"Good ... need to puke."
"Not in my bird, you don't!" The pilot snapped.
Ryan just nodded, but turned a little green as the pilot dropped the bird's nose and piled up a bit more speed. The chopper landed with no time to spare, Ryan wrenched the door open and heaved out the door.
"He'd better have missed the skid." The pilot grumbled.
Flores looked down as he followed Ryan out of the bird, "Don't worry - he hit nothing but pavement."
"Good."
Flores slammed the door shut on the helio, then thumped on it to indicate that they were out. In moments, the helio was airborne again, becoming a mere speck in the sky in moments. The two medics meeting the chopper already had Ryan in hand but the medic seemed to be fighting them about something. When Flores got closer, he understood. Ryan did not feel he needed a stretcher. "Get on the damn gurney, Ryan." He snapped.
"Boss... I'm fine! Finer than fine, now that I puked. Damn morphine, always did have a sensitivity to the crap." Ryan said.
Flores crossed his arms. "That's an order, Ryan. Get on the damn gurney."
Ryan just grinned the goofiest damn grin Flores had ever seen on the man. "Make me!" Then he collapsed onto the gurney in a fit of laughter.
Flores shook his head. //Why did I get out of bed this morning?//
While Ryan was giggling, one medic shifted his legs onto the gurney, the other belted him down. The older of the two medics looked over at Flores. "Sir, did I hear him right? He's already got morphine onboard?"
Flores nodded in response. "Any idea how much?" Flores shook his head. "He's our medic, whatever was in his kit."
"Okay ... Uh, Agent--" The medic read the name tape on Ryan's jacket, "Agent Ryan ... can you tell me how much morphine you've taken?"
"Hmm... one, no, two premeasured thingies." Ryan responded, then giggled like a lunatic again, before handing the civilian medic his kit.
The older medic looked through the kit and told the other medic the dosage.
"Heh. He's probably going to regret that when it wears off and the pain hits full force." The younger medic replied.
The older medic looked at Javier and asked "What exactly happened?"
"Hostage situation gone wrong. We managed to get the entire team onboard the outbound ship before the lead started flying. Tim here managed to catch one when he couldn't find cover fast enough."
"Too fat to fit behind a radio mast." Tim said, giggling.
"Fat? Ryan, you're too skinny." Flores leaned down over his teammate. "Why do you think Consuela is always sending you home-cooked goodies?"
"Consuela..." Tim's smile broadened. "She got any sisters?"
Flores rolled his eyes as he nodded to the civilian medics. "You know the answer to that, Ryan. Get him out of my hair, will ya?"
The older medic nodded. While Flores had been talking to Ryan, the younger medic had cut the windbreaker away and was assessing the damage.
"Hey, who bandaged this up?" The younger medic asked.
"Me. Who else?" Ryan tried to sit up on the gurney but found he couldn't.
"Yeah, right, no offense Agent Ryan, but this is too neat to have been done one-handed."
"It was a Coastie medic before she got pulled away." Flores said.
The two medics exchanged looks before the older one nodded, "Had to be Jess."
Flores quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. They obviously knew whoever the medic was.
"Hey, why can't I sit up?" Ryan complained.
One of the medics laid a hand on his shoulder as they lifted the gurney into the treatment bay. "You're strapped in for your own safety, Agent Ryan. Now, be a good little Fed and lay still."
"Man..." Ryan grumbled. He glared at Flores. "I told you I didn't need the gurney."
"Ryan, shut up, lay still and play nice." Flores glared at him.
"Which hospital are you taking him to?" Javier asked. The older medic, who would do the diving, shrugged his shoulders. "That's pretty much up to him or you. Got a preference?"
"UCLA!" Ryan shouted from the back of the treatment bay.
"Okaaaaaaaay. UCLA Medical Center it'll be then." The medic next to the back doors agreed. "You heard the man, Bryan, let's get this dope - uh, wounded agent - to Uk-Lah."
Flores snorted. It looked like Ryan was in good hands and would be fine. But there was a chance he wouldn't be back on duty for a long while, which would put the HRT Unit One in a bind. However, Flores was pretty sure the other members of the unit would step up.
"You going with him?" The younger medic asked, leaning out of the treatment bay.
"No need. I'll catch up with him later. I've got reports to file. Take care of him, will ya?"
The medic quirked a grin. "'Course." He motioned Flores to step out of the way before shutting the doors of the ambulance.
Flores waited until the ambulance was on it's way before turning on his heel to walk to where his unit had parked their vehicles. It was going to be just a little less than a half mile hike, but it would do nicely to help him blow off steam and start to mentally compile his after action reports. He set off at a deliberate pace.
"Agent Ryan ... were you part of the incident that brought Agent Granger to our ER?" Dr. Greider asked as he took a look at the wound under the pressure pad bandaging Tim's arm.
Tim nodded. "How you think I got shot?"Greider nodded. "Maybe you can answer a question for me then?"
Tim looked at Dr. Greider. "Depends on the question."
"Fair enough." Greider replaced the bandage and, picking up the chart from the table, made a notation. "Looks like you're going to need x-rays to determine the amount of damage to your arm, I'll send you down there as soon as I can." He put the chart back down and looked back to Tim. "Anyway, for my question about Agent Granger ... when he regained consciousness, he took one look at me and his autonomic functions, breathing and heart rate, went into a classic 'panic' mode. Any idea why?"
"He woke up?" Tim was surprised to put it mildly.
"Sorta. More like a low level of consciousness ... he was there, but he wasn't, if you catch my drift?"
Tim nodded. He took a good look at Greider taking in the brunette hair, the hazel eyes, the makeup of the doctor's face.
"You kinda look like the guy who'd been after Granger."
"After?" The doctor sounded confused.
"Do you know what probably happened to Granger?" Tim asked, taking a different tack, reluctant to divulge any more details of the mission that absolutely necessary.
Greider sat back down on the rolling stool and nodded. "It's not 100 certain - yet - but the paramedics who brought him in, plus my own observations before he panicked ... I'd venture a guess that he'd gone through some sort of chemical interrogation?"
Tim nodded. "That's the suspicion. You kinda look like the guy who'd been...conducting the interrogation."
The doctor paled and brought his hand up to his mouth. He sat like that for nearly a full minute before he dropped the hand and spoke up again. "Then it's a damn good thing I removed myself from his case and turned it over to another doctor then."
"Yeah...but you couldn't have known that. Is he going to make it?" Tim asked.
"I can't begin to speculate on that, Agent Ryan. But I can tell you, the doctor I handed his case over to, Doctor Vernacke, is one of the best trauma specialists in the entire southwest."
Tim nodded. "Granger's a good man." He blinked. The pain from his arm starting to come back as the morphine worn off.
"Looks like I need to get you another pain killer dose... how about something other than morphine?" Greider asked as he stood up and rolled the stool back against the wall.
"'Kay. Morphine makes me puke anyway." Tim said.
"Right, a nice shot of Demerol coming right up. I'll send the nurse in with it before I call x-ray for you." Greider left the exam room in a flurry of white over ciel blue scrubs and, in a few minutes - as promised - a nurse came in wielding a loaded syringe.
"Hi." Tim said, determined to remain conscious as long as possible. Maybe he'd learn something else about Granger's condition. The fact that he'd regained some level of consciousness was amazing.
"Hello, Agent Ryan." The nurse said, smiling at him. "Which cheek do you want this in?"
"Whichever one is closest." Tim said.
"Righto - on your side then and nurse's choice." She sounded just a little too perky about it too.
Tim rolled on his uninjured side and waited.
"Okay, you can roll back over, Agent. I need to check your bandage again now that you're fully loaded."
"You're good, I didn't feel a thing." Tim said, rolling back over.
"Honey, I've been doing stuff like this for well over 20 years ... of course I'm good. Lots of practice." She completely removed the bandage Greider had loosened, tossing it in the bio-hazard bin, and with skilled hands and in less than a minute, had replaced the covering.
"Did you see the other agent that came in before me?" Tim asked.
She nodded but otherwise didn't answer as she made her own notations on his chart.
"Is he going to make it?"
He could feel the Demerol spreading through his system. In a few minutes, he'd be lucky to remember his name. He had to get an answer now.
She put the chart back down and looked him in the eyes. "Honey, Dr. Eric Vernacke may dress like a damn clown, but he's the best in the business. If anyone can pull your friend through whatever happened to him, Vernacke can."
Tim nodded. "How was he?"
"I've not been involved in his treatment." She smiled, again at Tim when he felt his mouth frown. "But, from what I'm hearing? He's got a chance. Everyone who's in with him are tops and, from the looks of things, he's got friends pulling for him too. That helps." She moved a little closer to the gurney Tim was lying on and readjusted the upraised back. "Why don't you just lay back and relax and let the professionals take care of you for a while ?"
Tim blinked, the nurse was getting fuzzy at the edges. "Sounds good to me."
She turned around when another person wandered into the room. "Hey, John, you here to run this one down to your department?" John nodded. "You want help? He's fading fast after a 10cc boost of Dem."
"Please. Any and all help gratefully received." John said.
"You got it. Agent Ryan? Hold on tight, you're about to go for a ride."
Tim blinked and nodded. "Kay."
The 'ride' was mercifully short and, before he knew it, he'd had his photo taken and was back in the exam room, waiting for the orthopedic surgeon to show up and take a looksee. He would've liked to have seen the surgeon and talk with him but by the time he arrived, Tim was fast asleep, the Demerol doing its job.
The next time he was conscious, the nurse from earlier - Michelle, according to her name badge - was starting an IV. "Ah, you're awake." She said. "How're you feeling now, Agent Ryan?"
Tim blinked. Demerol worked, really well. As a result he usually wound up with a wanging headache but not that time. "Well, at least it doesn't feel like I've got a white hot poker in my arm."
"I hope not! This is just a saline drip – for the moment. I'll be adding an anti-inflammatory and antibiotics in a few minutes. Dr. Calvo was in, wants us to get the swelling down in your arm first, but he's penciled you in on his surgery schedule for later today."
"Okay." Tim looked over the bandages covering his arm. "Just how badly did I break it?"
She looked at him as she taped down the IV stick. "You awake enough to read your own x-rays, Paramedic Ryan?"
He nodded. "I'd like to try anyway."
She nodded, then pulled two photos out of a specialized sleeve and held them up for him to look at in the overhead lights. "Tell me what you see."
Tim's eyes popped open. His humerous, the upper arm bone, was sticking out at a more than 10 degree angle to the rest of his arm. "Damn..." He murmured. He'd be lucky if he gain full use of his arm after all was said and done. And then there was the hairline fracture, just above the actual break. It was kinda hard to see but it was there.
Michelle shook her head as she put the films away. "Agent Ryan, do you usually have the gift for understatements?"
He snorted. "Depends on the situation."
"I see." She put the x-ray sleeve back on the counter and picked up two vials, one of penicillin and the other Azithromycin and showed them to him. "Are you allergic to either one of these antibiotics, Ryan?"
"Penicillin." Tim said.
"Right." That vial went back on the counter and she loaded the syringe in her hand with the Azithromycin - making sure he could see her do it and letting him double check the label himself before loading the medication into the IV bag through the injection port.
"How long was I out?" He asked.
"About two hours. You want T-3 or Demerol and ibuprofen for your pain and anti-inflammatory?"
"T-3."
"Good choice." She loaded up another syringe, going through the double check and courtesy of letting him check her work before Michelle loaded that drug of choice directly into his IV line. "That may burn a little when it hits your system."
Tim nodded. "Can you find out anything more on Agent Granger?"
Michelle let out a sigh. "I knew you'd ask ... he's being readied for transport up to our CCU. He's alive, but it's going to be iffy for a while, at least until the crap that was used on him is flushed out of his system."
Tim let out a sigh of his own, one of relief. "He's still here. He'll make it."
"Yes, he probably will." She patted him on his thigh before heading toward the door. "You try to get a little more sleep before the scrub nurses come to take you to their lair. You want the lights left on or turn 'em off?"
"Leave 'em on. And thank you."
Michelle gave him a weary smile, "You're welcome, Agent-Paramedic Ryan. Rest." And she was gone, pulling the door closed, but not all the way, as she went back out into the hall.
Tim lay back and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. Just before he dropped off to sleep, he wondered how she knew he was a medic.
Gradually, Tim came back to consciousnesses. He shifted in the bed, blinked and yawned. Slowly, the room came into focus and he found himself staring at the ceiling. His last clear memory had been of a man, in ceil blue scrubs, coming into the pre-op room to start the anesthetic for the surgery. After that, nothing.
He looked around the room, then down at his arm, openly staring at it. Resting on a pillow, his arm was encased in a plaster cast from mid-finger up to past his elbow half way up his upper arm, sticking out of the cast was enough metal to set off any number of metal detectors. It looked like a mini-erector set had been built around his elbow.
//Damn, PT is going to be a total bitch.//
He lifted his arm off the pillow surprised that he didn't feel anything except a heaviness. As that knowledge sank in, a smile spread across his face. If his arm wasn't killing him, he could find Granger and see him with his own eyes.
Tim's eyes swept the room. No clock. Crap. He'd have to wait for someone to drift past to see him before he would know how long he'd been out. He looked up at the IV attached to his arm, then down at the port on the back of his hand. It would be easy to disconnect the IV without taking it out. That way he could sneak off, come back and reconnect the IV without alerting the nurses that he had gone anywhere. He looked down at himself. No heart monitor, no O2 monitor. A quick peek under the sheets told him no catheter. This was getting better and better. He'd be gone and back before anyone knew.
Now, where was it that Michelle had said Granger was being taken to? CCU? Surely there was a map in the hallway or somewhere close by that would tell him which floor CCU was on. He sat up, slowly, letting himself readjust to being vertical, threw back the blanket and sheet and slid out of bed. He'd detach the IV in a moment. He wanted to get his legs under himself first. It was a good thing he took those few seconds because the moment he stood, his head spun and he was forced to sit down.
//Okay, this may take a longer than I thought.// He never quite knew how he'd react to anesthetic or how long the effects would last.
He heard footsteps in the hallway, approaching his room and, quickly, slid back into bed, throwing the blanket and sheet back over his legs and waist. He had plenty of time to find Granger. The door to his room opened and a nurse walked in.
"Oh, good, you're awake." She came over to his bed. "I thought you might be around this time."
"What time is it?" Tim asked.
"8:32 p.m." The nurse, Sharon, her name tag read, said. "How are you feeling? Is your arm hurting?"
He shook his head. It was only 8:30?
"That's good." She reached behind him to pick up a blood pressure cuff. "Are you hungry?" She walked around to the other side of his bed and wrapped the cuff around his arm.
Tim thought while she took his blood pressure. He nodded after a few moments thought.
"All right, I'll see what I can't do." She undid the cuff, hung it back up and pulled a thermometer from her pocket. "Open."
Tim obeyed, closing his mouth when told to do so. He watched Sharon making notations in the chart at the foot of the bed, wondering if he should ask her about Granger.
"Dr. Calvo said he would be by in the morning to see how you are doing. He was quite pleased though at how well the surgery went." Sharon told him, taking the thermometer from his mouth when it beeped.
Tim nodded again. "Ma'am?"
"Yes, Agent Ryan?" She said, making one last notation before closing the chart and returning it to its place.
He shook his head. "Nothing."
A smile crossed her face. "Agent Granger is resting. He's holding his own from what I've been told."
Tim's eyes widened. How did…?
"We nurses have our ways." She replied. "I'll make sure someone from Dietary makes it up here with a tray for you. Do you need anything else?"
He shook his head. "Thank you."
"Thank you." Sharon replied. She left the room with Tim staring after her.
It was until just after the shift change at 11 p.m. that Tim had the energy to get up and go roaming. After Anna Wilson, the head nurse and probable heir to Genghis Khan, had checked on him, he figured he had at least twenty minutes, maybe more. It all depended on how many patients she had to look in on.
After detaching himself from the IV and slipping out of bed, his first task was to see if there was anything he could wear that wouldn't leave a draft. The gods were smiling down on him for in the closet, he found a patient robe. A check of the nightstand drawer revealed his credentials. He slipped in them into a pocket in the robe and was out the door. He knew he'd probably be on the receiving end of at least one lecture for getting up and moving around so soon after surgery. Not that he cared. He had to see that Granger was still in the land of the living before returning to his room.
Being careful not to bump his arm, he made it all the way to the elevator without seeing another person. The nurses station was empty and so was the elevator when he got on. According to the directory on the wall of the elevator, CCU, Critical Care Unit was on Floor Four. He was currently on Floor Two. He hit the button and waited, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. If, by some quirk of fate, he passed out in the elevator, he would never live it down.
A moment later, the elevator dinged and he stepped off onto Floor Four. A sign with an arrow pointing to the left directed him toward CCU. A few moments later, he was there, standing outside of Granger's room, watching him sleep. One of the nurses on duty had given him a look but let him be after taking in his arm and its mini-erector set.
There were a multitude of machines around the other man, all flashing and blinking. Part of Granger's face was covered with an oxygen mask but that was to be expected. What worried him the most was how still Granger was. He had never seen the other man so lifeless. Granger was a study in perpetual motion.
He rested his head on the cool glass wall and sent up a prayer to whomever might be listening. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him raise his head. Granger's eyelids fluttered open, his eyes roaming the room before spotting Tim. A weak smile crossed his face before vanishing as quickly as it had come. He tried to raise his arm to wave, but his arm barely moved. Then, sleep reclaimed him and his eyelids slid shut. Tim smiled. Granger would be fine.
"Do they know you're down here? I bet not." A nurse came over to him. She was a different from the one who had seen him walk in a few moments ago. She was a bit older and more formidable.
"Uh..." Tim felt trapped. He looked through the glass again at Granger. He wanted to go in but had a feeling that that was as close as he was getting. Attila the Hun, or Marcie as her nametag read, didn't look like she was going to let him near her patient. So, he tried the one thing he thought he might work, the truth. "I work with Agent Granger. I just wanted to look in on him, that's all." He held out his credentials.
She looked at his identification, glanced at it then handed the folder back. "You were hurt in the same incident?"
He nodded. "Can I go in?"
She nodded but tapped her watch to remind him to keep his visit time limited. "Just don't wake him, and make it short."
He nodded back and walked into the room. He came over to Granger's bed and, after casting a quick look at all the machines, looked down at the sleeping man and said, quietly "Hang in there, man. I didn't get shot just so you could die." He backed out of the room before Attila could drag him out. "Thank you." He said again.
"You're welcome, Agent Ryan. If it'll keep you in your own bed ... he's going to be okay. It's just going to take a while." She smiled and, for some reason, Tim got the impression of a momma grizzly bear protecting her cubs.
"Yes, ma'am." He retreated to the elevator and returned to his room before the nurses on his floor started to look for him or so he hoped but his luck was not that good.
When he stepped off the elevator, he saw her standing there in the doorway and knew he was busted. She stood in the door to his room, her foot tapping out a furious rhythm on the tile flooring. "And just where have you been, young man?"
"Sorry, Mom, I forgot my math homework." Tim quipped.
"Funny, try again." She moved aside to let him into his room, but decided to follow him inside.
Tim shrugged. "The only person who calls me 'young man' is my mom." He walked into the room and headed for the bed. He shrugged off the robe and returned his credentials to the nightstand before sinking onto the bed. It felt good to sit down.
"Yeah, well, I'm old enough to be your grandmother, so respect your elders and answer the question." She helped him climb into the bed, arranging the pillow to rest his pinned arm on and then pulled the blankets up over his waist. She clucked at him as she reattached the IV to the shunt in his hand. "You take out this IV again, and I'll reestablish it the hard way."
"Yes, ma'am." Tim smiled at her. The last thing he wanted to do was tork off the nurse, especially the head nurse. If he did, he'd never get out of the place. "I went to check on a fellow agent."
She nodded, like she'd expected that answer. "Thought so. One of the nurses up in CCU called down, wondering if we had misplaced a patient."
He flushed. It hadn't occurred to him that he would be 'told on'. "Ma'am, it'd be real hard to explain why I went down there."
Anna smiled knowingly. "Agent Ryan, the patient you went to see is a fellow agent and, I'm assuming, a friend. Trust me, I understand."
He nodded. "So, you're not too mad at me?"
She tucked the blankets around his feet a little tighter before answering. "No, I'm not mad. But next time you decide to go wandering the halls, tell me. I like to keep track of my patients. How's the arm feeling?"
"Not bad, kinda heavy actually. If I had told you were I was going, would you have let me?"
"No." She answered quickly, but before he could protest, she amended her response. "At least, not on foot. I would've taken a break and wheeled you up there myself."
That was an answer Tim had not been expecting. "You would?"
"Of course. I understand the bond of the badge ... nurses have something similar you know." She checked the chart at the foot of his bed, nodded at something she read there and then looked up at him. "We're going to start stepping you down off the Demerol, you need anything for pain just now?"
He shook his head. All he wanted to do right then was sleep. "No thanks."
"Okay. Get some rest and I'll be back by in a little while." She patted him on the left foot as she left the room, a smile gracing her sixty-something face.
Tim smiled. The next time he went to check on Granger, he'd take Anna up on her offer. He shifted around in the bed, closed his eyes and went to sleep.