Not to be maudlin, but this has been a long time in coming in more ways than one. These stories actually started as a way to entertain my grandfather, who was having mobility difficulties and needed something to laugh about. Our "story times" continued after he was admitted to the hospital, and this one began as a sort of homage to all the medical personnel I was seeing. With his passing, I didn't really have the heart to finish it until now. I'm still not sure if I'll continue with these one-shots or not.
I'd just like to thank everyone who has been reading this fic and sharing their thoughts with me. It really means a lot to know what other people think about my work.
…That was dreary. Sorry. Moving forward.
I hope you like—take care, all.
Knyle B.
Disclaimer: No. It's not mine. *sigh*
Working the ER could be a tad stressful at times. I had become a doctor to help people overcome health issues; an environment where every person who came to see me was suffering some sort of medical tribulation could quickly become…trying. But again—I had become a doctor. Some things just came with the territory.
Like insane Monday rushes. Becoming used to living on caffeine and adrenaline. Holding no hope of rest or respite once six p.m. rolled around. And oh, yeah, dealing with the actual patients. I learned early on that the task of taking care of people is primarily complicated by the people themselves, not their health concerns. ER duty provided the bulk of that learning curve. There was nothing more educational than doing triage in a waiting room with vomiting businessmen, screaming teenagers with cuts, eerily calm toddlers with broken limbs, and the ever-self-entitled throngs of soccer moms and "aunties."
Thankfully, no evening's pandemonium lasted indefinitely. I could usually rely on the clock to save me; things always got quiet in the intervening hours between 3:00 and 9:00 a.m.—at least that's how it worked before I transferred to Hawaii.
"Doc, saddle up. Rescue just called in. They're bringing in a car crash and a bullet wound."
Snapping my head up off my fist, I pulled out of my doldrums. Rusty, my head nurse, was standing on the other side of my desk, hands planted on her generous hips, face an odd mixture of professional tension and patience as she waited for me to shake off my daydreaming. Pushing my chair back, I bounded to my feet and fell into step beside her.
"What'd they give you?" I pressed, matching her quick strides as we swept down the hall towards the receiving doors.
"Two patients, male, both 37, both taken from the same location in the Waikiki shopping district. Rescue reports them both initially conscious and cognitive, but one collapsed before they got on the road. He's still unconscious."
She continued, rattling off stats and specifics, as I retied my wild hair back and made sure that I had my gloves, mask, and all other essentials for the coming examination. Up ahead, I saw Dr. Olsen waiting already. He was the other on-call doctor. He'd be in charge of one of the guys coming in on the bus; I'd take the other.
"Do we know what happened?" I inquired as Rusty and I drew even with our colleague. All we could do until the ambulances arrived was…well, not much, besides redundantly order somebody to prep the rooms that Rusty had undoubtedly seen to already. At well past 4:00 in the morning, we usually spent the interim time between reports and arrivals speculating. It kept us conscious, at least.
"Well, I took the call, but your guess is probably still better than mine," Olsen shared offhandedly, watching out the windows. "Thought I heard something about 'railroading a jeep through a storefront' and stopping some sort of a chase."
Wait a minute...
Frowning, I clarified cautiously, "A car chase?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Could be. I heard somebody shouting in the background when the EMTs called. Sounded like somebody's car was out of whack."
I was definitely beginning to suspect who our incoming patients might be. "You wouldn't have happened to construe that from the term 'control issues,' would you?"
Raising his eyebrows, he glanced over and nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "Yeah, that came up, I think," he agreed, his face exhibiting none of the comprehension that I felt. "Along with some bitching about a paint job and footing a repair bill."
For a moment, I could only stare at him, wondering how he could be so calm. Obviously he didn't realize that what he was describing was soon going to give us all merciless headaches from frustration—and side aches from laughing. He was new, I reminded myself. There was no way he could know to predict the night we had coming courtesy of the two-man typhoon he had overheard. I shook my head, closing my eyes. Reaching up to scrub a hand over my face, I muttered tiredly, "Good Lord. How could they be coming back so soon?"
Beside me, my head nurse chuckled—a rare occurrence. "I'll let that stand as a rhetorical question."
"It's a miracle," Olsen deadpanned. And for Rusty, such restraint was. He'd been around long enough to know the staff, at least.
Rusty casually socked him in the arm and took up her usual, arms-akimbo stance. While Olsen flinched in genuine pain and rubbed his abused limb, she smirked fondly at the door. "I bet they were trying to out-idiot each other again. Stupid, stubborn bastards."
I sighed and felt my shoulders slump even more. "Rusty…"
It was a common misconception that her nickname stemmed from the mass of russet-red curls on top of her head. In truth, "Rusty" had nothing to do with her hair color and everything to do with her people skills. Normally, lack of bedside manner was a hindrance in the medical field. Not so in the ER. There, horrific injuries abounded to test the strength of one's stomach, and pesky complainers were always one whine away from driving a doctor to seriously consider breaking the Hippocratic Oath.
Rusty was a battle axe. Although she lacked the minimum age expected for such a title, she more than made up for her youth by being twice as feisty, daunting, and competent. Faced with the potential disaster currently barreling towards my hospital, I still couldn't help but smile along with her when I thought of that one, beautiful fact.
Even Detectives and Navy SEALS were afraid of Rusty.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I transferred my mind to important business. "Right," I started, turning to Dr. Olsen. "Count this as advance warning, newbie. We're about to have two men on our hands that, in the eyes of hospital personnel, are essentially two years old. They have a penchant for getting extremely bent out of shape—and not just physically. Depending on what's wrong with them, they'll probably be extremely difficult to separate."
"Unless they're both unconscious," Rusty pointed out helpfully.
I nodded. "Regardless, once we start treatment, neither of them will willingly stay in a hospital bed when they think they're back to normal—which is about when they wake up in their rooms. If you're having trouble, call Rusty immediately. If it gets to be too much, I prescribe a break long enough to drink a full cup of strong coffee with Rusty on guard to make sure the patient doesn't try to escape."
Nonplussed, Olsen listened to my entire litany before remarking mildly, "You seem to have experience with these fellows."
Rusty snickered. "They're only in here once a month—at least."
Dr. Olsen was a very unflappable man. He rarely got excited, always remained cordial, and was essentially the calm in any storm ER could throw at us. It took a lot to get him bewildered. Detective Williams and Commander McGarrett managed it without even being in the room with him yet.
"They're here," Rusty interjected into his wondering pause. Moving forward purposefully, she met the EMTs at the door and held it open so they could wheel in the first gurney.
The second ambulance was just pulling in. Deciding that Olsen could have whoever was in that one, since it would give him more time to process, I trotted over to the rescue personnel. One look at the length of the form on the rolling bed told me that I had not chosen Detective Williams. Well, it was probably best to start the rookie on the most reasonable one, anyway. Halting beside Commander McGarrett's bedside, I looked him over as the EMT closest to me filled me in. Inwardly, I winced at the sight. As usual, the former SEAL had done nothing in halves.
"…kept saying he was fine and was walking around when we got there. We'd barely gotten out of the cab when he blacked out and keeled over. He's been unconscious since," the EMT finished.
That wasn't surprising, I judged, looking at the many lacerations covering the bare skin I could see and the bruises already forming right next to them. McGarrett must have been in the collision I'd heard about—probably one that he instigated on purpose to 'railroad' his suspects off the street. I'd get the full story later…but not from Williams, I remembered with a pang. If McGarrett was the crash victim and I was standing at his bedside alone, that could only mean his partner—
"Where's Danny?"
Glancing up sharply, I caught sight of two stormy, decidedly not unconscious eyes wanting answers. As usual, the commander pulled out of unconsciousness and his first coherent thought was about his best friend. If Danny was present when he opened his eyes, his next favorite topic was the case du jour, but the blond was strikingly absent at the moment.
McGarrett blinked, looking around as much as he was able to while wearing a neck brace. Finding no vociferous partner lurking about, he turned back to me. I subtly signaled to the approaching nurses to get us moving towards an examination room. If I was right, and Danny was in the second ambulance, then our only hope of getting the both of them to cooperate was to get them into treatment before either realized that the other had been hurt. The commander thankfully didn't seem to notice our sneaking.
"He was at the mall," he muttered, brow furrowing. "But not in the ambulance."
The safest thing to say to that was nothing. Once I had him out of the hallway, I could begin normal procedures and ask the standard questions, but I'd seen the second gurney rolling up to the doors. If I wanted McGarrett to remain pliant, I'd have to put some distance between us and all mention of his partner's health. Studying him with a practiced eye, I could tell easily by his uneven pupils and general befuddlement that he had a severe concussion. Coupled with the twisted knee, cracked ribs, and bruised foot I'd been informed about, walking would not be a happy experience for him. Waving Rusty over, I started silently indicating what I'd need. She was so attuned to me after ten years of working together that she didn't need any more than that.
Dr. Olsen had met the second rescue squad at the door. When he saw the state of their charge, his laid-back demeanor immediately evaporated, replaced by cool, controlled professionalism. That generally wasn't a good sign. Bending over the gurney, he immediately started rattling off low orders to the nurse hovering at his side. She spoke just as urgently to the trainee that she then sent running with instructions.
Just before my crew reached the double doors that led out of the receiving area, the entryway burst open and disgorged a pack of hurrying medical staff. The crowd rushed past us towards my colleague. I could tell from their faces that things weren't looking very pleasant for Dr. Olsen's patient. So could the commander.
"Danny," he deduced instantly. "It's Danny, isn't it? What's wrong?"
Abruptly, I had my hands full trying to prevent him from sitting up and leaping off of the gurney. I cursed inwardly. The longer I let him struggle, the more likely it was that he'd win. Myself and my nurses were all small of stature and concerned about not hurting him; he was solely preoccupied with getting away. I had to head him off. Since the cat was out of the bag, I fell on my next best strategy of containment; brutal honesty.
"Danny's been shot," I gritted out, grabbing his shoulders as gently as I could and trying to hold him still. He was transfixed from the moment the words left my mouth, anyway. Seeking to capitalize on that, I added, "He needs to be treated immediately, which means no pestering his attendants or looming over his bedside. He also has made his opinions clear when it comes to you being difficult in here. I know you remember, because my ears are still ringing from the last time, and I was two rooms away."
He remained frozen in place, still mutinous. "I want to see him."
"So do I," I countered briskly. I was truly fond of my most irksome repeat customers. McGarrett wasn't the only one worried about the flutter of activity taking place in front of the receiving doors. "But I can't figure out what's going on with Detective Williams until my patient—that would be you—is taken care of."
"I'm fine," he lied automatically, still pushing against my hands to try and sit up farther.
I almost laughed in his face. I would have, actually, if I wasn't so busy praying he'd lay back down. He was distracted, so I could still hold him, but that could easily change. Detective Williams' gurney was coming towards us very quickly. My nurses pulled us over to the side a little to let him pass. Olsen looked gravely serious. I sent up a quick prayer for the blond cop under his care as I felt the man's partner tense up dangerously.
"Commander McGarrett, you need to lie down," I ordered futilely.
Ignoring me, McGarrett swung his legs over the side, wincing only slightly. I suppressed yet another curse. He was even more obstinate than usual when concussed. Rusty was headed back from the errands I'd sent her on, but she probably couldn't get there fast enough to keep him from dismounting from the bed. Maybe he'd be dizzy enough for us to catch him…
The detective rolled past at that moment, and movement on his gurney made his caretakers look down sharply. I was more interested in the gruff murmur that reached my ears.
"Th'hell'r you doin'?"
Williams had rolled his head to the side, and two bright, slightly unfocused blue eyes were locked on his partner as he approached. Looking at the amount of blood soaked into his shirt and the towels on top of it, I was amazed he was aware at all, much less speaking. At least the wound was in his left shoulder, not center mass. The lost blood was already being replaced and several IV lines had been installed, which did nothing to explain why the detective had yet to succumb to exhaustion and medication. I marveled at the phenomenon for a second. McGarrett had frozen again, though. Most of my attention was focused on hoping he'd stay that way.
The tall man's eyes were wide as he stared down at his friend. "Danny—"
He cut off sharply when the detective raised two fingers in a poor man's imitation of holding up a hand for silence. His gurney slowed fractionally as well in deference to the request. Definitely on the verge of passing out, the policeman remained defiantly awake for a few moments longer.
For a second, everyone in the ER was watching Detective Williams, but he only had eyes and energy for one person. Gesturing weakly at his comrade, he grumbled crossly, "L'down, shdup, n' g'better."
I almost sighed. As usual, the source of his spectacular feat was a desire to look after someone else. I'd seen him completely disregard a broken arm for the time it took to carry his teammate Kalakaua into the ER, smile through agony to reassure his daughter, and routinely become heedless of his own condition when concerned for his partner's wellbeing. It was at once inspiring and aggravating.
It wasn't the time to express that sentiment. I was afraid to say anything, lest I disrupt the mysterious force keeping both men in their respective states of lucidity and attentiveness.
McGarrett frowned fiercely. "Not if you're—"
"Not askin', Stv," Williams retorted with surprising clarity. "Y'r in charg'v Grace."
That was all it took to sweep the wind out of my would-be escapee's sails. Dropping his stubborn air immediately, the commander nodded once, to my delight. "I'll take care of her, D."
"Y'first," the blond man corrected him. "Call Chin fr'today."
"Okay."
Williams was being whisked away to surgery as the commander finally relaxed under my hands. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I firmly pressed him down flat while a nurse grabbed his legs and set them back where they belonged. With his moment of adrenaline fading, my patient was looking a little the worse for wear. Seeing him blink and struggle to reopen his eyes, I had my crew start forward again and began retaking his vitals.
When McGarrett reached for the phone clipped to his belt, I surprised us both by snatching it away. "I'll call Officer Kelly," I told him, successfully avoiding the look of appraisal from Rusty brought on by my break in character. "You're going to behave and get properly examined."
He deliberated for a moment, but he didn't argue. Giving me one last look that I couldn't get a read on, the commander nodded, reached up to unlock the phone, and closed his eyes. Shaking my head, I gestured the others into a room with him and stepped aside to make a call.
By the time McGarrett had been treated, admitted, and stationed in his own room, Williams was just getting out of surgery. I ran into Dr. Olsen as he was just leaving the operating theater. Though dead tired after three hours of surgery, the man was smiling and affable once more. The detective would pull through, and, barring mishap or unforeseen complication, Olsen saw no reason why he shouldn't make a full recovery.
Elated by the news, I sent the weary man for coffee and all but skipped towards McGarrett's bedside. He would still be asleep, but Rusty might be there to share the good news with. I approached the door to his room and heard voices. I slowed and forced myself to exhibit a little more decorum. That didn't mean I was frowning. Technically, the commander hadn't been cleared to have visitors yet, but I had a very good idea of who they might be.
The cousins that made up the other half of their task force were much better housetrained than their counterparts—but just as stubborn and worryingly talented at persuasion. As far as rules went, I didn't have much hope of winning them over, either. When I came to the doorway, I saw that Officers Kelly and Kalakaua were indeed the sources of what I'd heard. They were arranged throughout the small space, Kelly in the armchair, his cousin on the couch. When I took another step into the room, I could see over the unconscious commander's bed just enough to pick out a fourth person. Grace Williams was asleep on the couch, her head pillowed on Officer Kalakaua's thigh.
"How's Danny?" Kelly pressed quietly, forgoing small talk.
Turning to find him watching me, I let my inner glee bubble out in the form of a wide grin. Both he and his teammate relaxed at the sight. I remembered to look more serious after a second. As nice as it was to put them at ease, my doctor's instincts cut in to caution them, "He's not out of the woods yet. The surgery was successful and his doctor believes he'll make a full recovery, if no further problems arise. He's in ICU until tomorrow; then we'll see about getting him around here."
I wouldn't normally share so much, but Williams' "next of kin" was twelve, the man who held his power of attorney was currently sedated on the bed between us, and I'd seen more than enough of the Five-0 team to know that it was perfectly all right. I also wouldn't normally insist on being so dire. The cousins took it in stride, though. McGarrett and Williams' remarkably bad luck was hard not to notice. Especially when an example of it was laying prone and battered right in front of them.
"Steve will be happy," Kalakaua murmured, watching her boss sleep with worried eyes.
"Until I tell him that he can't go visit, that is," I snorted, patting the back of the commander's nearest hand and automatically going through a vitals check. He was in good shape, considering. No broken bones, only two cracked ribs, a few stitches, a sore leg, and a nasty blow to the head were it. Granted, that was more than enough to down the typical adult human being, but I was dealing with "Super SEAL." The minute his drugs wore off, he'd be up and trying to check out AMA—against medical advice— even if he couldn't walk a straight line to the front desk.
"Could one of us go sit with him?" Officer Kelly requested.
I was fine with that, since I knew them, but it wasn't my call. "You'll have to ask Dr. Olsen. The detective is his patient." Feeling his silent demand for clarification, I explained, "He's only been here for three months, just transferred to ER duty last week. Great guy, and the best surgeon we've got. If not for him, Danny could have lost at least twenty-five percent mobility in his shoulder from this."
I was glad I'd stopped to talk to Olsen's attending RN on my way up. The last bit of information that she'd shared with me seemed to do the trick. There was respect on both officer's faces—and latent fear in their eyes—as my words took effect.
Kelly nodded, getting to his feet. "I'd better go thank him, then," he announced, rounding Commander McGarrett's bed. Reaching over as he passed, he laid a hand on Grace Williams' head. To his cousin, he promised, "I'll come back once I know something. Thanks, Doc."
Favoring him with a more reserved smile as he walked out the door, I glanced back at Officer Kalakaua. She was looking down at Grace, stroking the girl's long brown hair. The youngest team member had only been to the ER as a patient once. Williams had carried her in with gashes all over her right leg from stepping through the loft of a condemned building. The rest of our encounters had been in the hospital rooms of her three male teammates. Even her cousin, for all that he was practical and cautious, wound up under my care about five times a year. I
had a feeling Kalakaua got injured just as much as the rest, actually. Her cousin came in out of prudence, but she probably shared the other men's lack of common sense and avoided hospitals. She obviously did a better job than her seniors of hiding it or talking her way out of seeking medical attention. Or maybe she really did get hurt less often. Between the skills she undoubtedly had and the overprotectiveness of her teammates—I could never decide what traits were faults and which were virtues, with those guys—it could happen.
Out of the blue, I asked her, "Do you ever just want to lock them all up in a rubber room?"
Startled, she looked up at me. I was starting to blush; I was never so outspoken with patients. Or anybody, really. Thankfully, Kono smiled and answered before I could get really embarrassed by my forwardness.
"Yeah, sometimes," she admitted with soft laughter. Her head bent again; her hand resumed petting the little girl's head. "Growing up, I was kinda used to the idea of people getting hurt on the job," she shared. "My whole family basically carries a badge. I still hate it, though, especially when it's Chin. And the other two…I mean, the boss is nuts, but most of the time he can pull it off without a scratch. That makes it even worse when he actually takes a hit. When it's Danny…"
She twirled the ends of Grace's hair in her fingers. I nodded solemnly, understanding exactly what she meant. "The stakes always seem higher, don't they?"
Glancing up briefly with appraisal in her eyes, she nodded and looked back down. "He's always moaning about Steve getting them into trouble, but once it starts, he'll never back out. The only time he doesn't say everything that comes into his head is when he's pretending he's not hurt." She sighed heavily. "And then there's Grace. Every time I start to worry about him, I worry about her, too. They love each other to the moon and back."
"You're not wrong." Having migrated around the bed to the side closest to Officer Kalakaua, I leaned against the mattress and crossed my arms. Smiling down at the slumbering child, I thought of Williams' words back in the ER hallway. "It's obvious that you all love her—and each other—very much. The detective told Commander McGarrett that he had to listen to me so he could get better and look after his daughter," I recalled. "I'd have never gotten him to stand down otherwise."
"You should call them Danny and Steve," Officer Kalakaua recommended suddenly. At my look of mystification, she went on firmly, "You should call us all by our first names. We're certainly familiar enough by now, don't you think?"
A small, rueful smile fought its way onto my face. "We are, aren't we?"
"If you ask me, that's not healthy," Rusty cut in, bustling through the door to look over the sleeping SEAL and administer his next round of IV bags and such. Officer Kala—Kono and I turned to watch her, both amused by her brusque diagnosis. "Nobody in their right mind would be pleased about being on a first-name basis with an ER doctor."
"Thanks, Rusty," I muttered, unperturbed.
Straight-faced, Kono nodded solemnly at the nurse. "You're probably right."
Rusty stopped abruptly and pursed her lips, giving the policewoman a measuring look. "I like you," she decided magnanimously. Then, before her non sequitur could really sink in, she glared down at my unwitting patient. "This one and his partner, though, are completely off their rockers."
Feeling the sudden need to defend the slumbering commander, I protested weakly, "Well, it works. Usually."
Leveling an unimpressed stare in my direction, Rusty said nothing. Her expression was enough to make me feel like an idiot, anyway. When I was probably about crimson from blushing, she shook her head and finished her tasks. As she left, I heard her muttering something about "overzealous, stubborn idiots" and "too damn heroic for common sense."
Kono laughed. It woke up Grace, who blinked blearily and pushed herself up onto her forearms to look around. Catching sight of me as she rubbed her eyes, she brightened and perked up immediately. "Hi, Doctor Karen. Is my daddy okay?"
I smiled at her wide-eyed hope. "He's going to be fine. Everything worked out great with his shoulder. He's resting right now after surgery, but tomorrow I think he'll be able to move to a room where you can see him."
She grinned, looking quickly for the rest of her family. "Is Uncle Chin with him?"
"Yep. He went to go sit with him for a while," Kono affirmed, hugging the little girl and pulling her into her lap. "We're gonna stay with Uncle Steve for a little bit before Chin and I take you home for dinner, okay?"
"Okay." Grace settled easily back into her adopted aunt's embrace. Soon her eyes came back to me, however. "Do you think you could have Daddy stay in the same room as Uncle Steve?" she inquired. "That way they won't get lonely. And Danno feels better faster if he can yell at Uncle Steve right away."
Kono and I burst out laughing. Mindful of the man sleeping beside me, I stifled my giggles with a hand and stood up. I had my rounds to finish. Before I left, though, I nodded at the guileless child in Kono's arms. "I'll see what I can do."
Three days later, Commander McGarrett had been discharged with a clean bill of health and stern orders not to push himself too hard—which everyone knew he would disregard. He still spent a large amount of time in his old room, though. Just as Grace Williams had requested, he and his partner had shared a space after I'd convinced Dr. Olsen to put them together for the duration. The whole team maintained a steady presence at the hospital, barring mandatory absences for casework and self-maintenance. I thought of their presence as a double win; Danny got company, McGarrett got unintentional downtime.
The downside was, with his partner checked out, Williams no longer felt the need to act the model patient. In truth, he hated hospitals just as much as his best friend—he was just much more polite about it. As soon as he no longer had the duty of keeping one determined SEAL in bed and under watch, he considered himself free to express his dislike of the situation. I could get him to eat, take his medicine, and exercise, sure, but not without confronting his deep-seated and obvious desire to be elsewhere.
It seemed strange to me that both men were so eager to jump back into the work that had landed them under my care in the first place. I had learned not to mention the concept of vicious cycles to either. Danny, at least, had Grace to motivate his recovery. She visited nearly every day and left colorful artwork of all shapes, sizes, and subjects in her wake. Even the nurses' stations were starting to fill up with it, much to the RNs' glee.
I saw a lot of her mother, too—beautiful woman, and still in love with her ex-husband, if Rusty was any judge. She was, but I told her to keep her opinions to herself on the matter. I didn't need my patient's blood pressure any higher than it got every time his partner walked in after another day of mischief without supervision.
"Storming a war museum, Steven? Really?"
"I couldn't wait around for them to take hostages, Danny. What was I supposed to do?"
"Chase them into a building that wasn't full of old guns and bombs, genius!"
The nurses' station closes to Danny's room was becoming a popular site to stand and giggle while a certain troublemaking SEAL was around. Walking by it on my way to the break room one evening, I saw Chin and Kono heading down the hall towards me. Both of them were smiling along with the rest of the staff as they listened to the partners' argument drifting into the hall.
Kono waved at me as they reached the door and went in. I nodded back and looked wistfully down at the papers on my clipboard. The detective's stay was almost over. Soon he and his ohana would be back to business, death-defying stunts and all. I was really going to miss them.
At least I was 90% certain they'd be back.
Ta-da. Any thoughts?
I should point out that I am one of the only people in the world not addicted to some form of ER drama and thus have no idea how one actually works. Sorry if I've written something grossly inaccurate. In my defense, normal procedures shriek and collapse in fear when they see Five-0 coming, anyway.
Thanks for reading.
Knyle B.