Chapter 15: On the Outside Looking In - 25 December 2013 - Early Morning
Detective Joe West sat by his son's bed, an arm around his daughter. This was not how he had planned to spend Christmas. He had planned to spend the holiday home, with his grown children, drinking Grandma Esther's eggnog, admiring the tree, and laughing at Barry and Iris. Instead he was here, watching the doctor's fail to do anything for his foster son. His hopes had lifted some when Harrison Wells had first talked to him. Of course, the man had been released that same day and Joe hadn't heard from Wells since. The name on the room Wells had occupied was now "Nick Snowden." Joe hadn't heard anything since Snowden had been moved into the room.
Suddenly, the lights cut out and the alarm for Barry went off. Unwilling to sit and watch the now all too familiar sight of Barry coding and the medical staff rushing around, Joe stood and guided his daughter out of the room. In the hallway, his daughter, Iris, fought to keep her tears at bay.
"I can't watch this again," Iris informed her father. "I'm going for coffee." Turning, she rushed down the hall, wiping at her face as the tears flowed. Joe just nodded and watched her retreat. They both needed moments away from each other. They had their own ways of coping, and at the moment, Iris needed time alone. Turning away from Barry's room, Joe slouched against the wall and rubbed a hand across his face. For a long moment, he stood there in the dark, not really processing anything. Screaming followed by a crashing sound and then more screaming from Snowden's room brought Joe off the wall and through the door to the room without thinking.
Like so much of the hospital, the room was in near darkness. A pair of emergency lights cast minimal lighting and caused dark shadows. Joe realized as he carefully entered the room that he had no idea what to expect. He was certain, though, that he had not been expecting the bed to be empty. Stepping fully into the room, he listened carefully for anyone who might be hiding on the other side of the bed.
Ragged, panicked breathing sounded harshly in the room. Somebody was clearly on the floor on the other side of the bed, a foot nervously twitching against part of the bed. With each nervous twitch from the foot, the bed rattled. Joe continued to listen, hoping to get some idea of what had happened in the room. A grunt sounded from behind the bed, followed by a male voice, "Pull yourself together," the speaker ordered himself. A gasp sounded and Joe realized that Nick Snowden must have rolled out of the bed and hit the floor, screaming before he did. There was nobody else in the room as far as Joe could see.
"Hello?" The detective called out cautiously.
"Yes, here. I'm here," the ragged voice called out, sounding desperate and terrified. Joe came around the side of the bed and his gaze landed on Nick Snowden. In the red of the emergency lights, the man on the floor looked a sickly pale. He was tangled in the hospital blankets, chest heaving, a shiver running through his entire body. Trembling, Snowden looked up at Joe and let out a long breath. "Detective West." Letting out another trembling breath, which ended with a rough cough, the man on the floor looked around.
"Doctor Wells," Joe greeted him, moving to kneel next to the man on the floor. "I thought they'd sent you home." As he spoke, the detective looked over the position the other man was in on the floor. "I guess that was the idea of course. A way to ensure the safety of everyone else? Have you here under a different name."
"Doctor Disco didn't feel comfortable releasing me into private care so soon," Wells answered, trying to get untangled from the blankets.
"What happened?" Joe couldn't figure out why the other man had fallen out of bed. Suddenly, the lights came back on, and he got a good look. "Man, Doctor Wells, you look like shit," Joe blurted. It was true. The man on the floor was pale, his blue eyes dull and glassy, his breathing sounded rough and ragged and Joe could tell that the man was working hard for every breath.
"I don't feel very well," Wells managed to say. "Detective West, I don't suppose I could convince you to go find a nurse or Doctor Disco, before you return to Mr. Allen's bedside." He managed to get into a sitting position, still shivering and his legs still tangled in the sheets.
"Yeah," Joe agreed. "Uh, Doctor Wells, I've had some time to think about it, and for now I'd like to let the hospital treat Barry."
A chuckle seemed to shake Wells's entire body, though that could be the shiver caused by what Joe was now certain was a fever. "I perfectly understand, Detective West. If it is still acceptable, my team will continue working on a possible solution. We'll continue to investigate and look into his medical file," Doctor Wells said.
"I'll go get someone," Joe declared. He paused at the door, turning and going back to where the other man could see him. Wells was leaning against the wall, struggling to cover himself with the still tangled blankets. "Why don't we get you back into bed first." Moving to crouch next to the man, Joe carefully got his arms under Wells's.
"Thank you," Wells said, gripping part of the bed. Together, they got Wells back into the bed, Joe well aware of the heat coming off of the other man.
"You might want to stick with just the bedsheet," Joe suggested, pulling the blanket away. "You're burning up and I think the last thing you want to do is up your fever more."
"I'll keep that in mind," Wells agreed with a nod. Glancing at the bed, Joe pulled the railing up on first one side before walking around to pull up the other. "Thank you, Detective West." Joe nodded, patted the man on the leg, and went to look for a doctor.
The hall was oddly quiet. Joe, decided to look in on Barry first, relieved to find that his son was still in the room, the monitors beeping to indicate the young man was still alive. Reaching out, Joe gave the limp hand a squeeze before heading back into the hall. Glancing in both directions, he decided to head towards the nurse's station. There was always a nurse there. He rounded the corner and frowned. It was annoyingly empty. On the wall behind it, the vitals for the various patients displayed on the wall. Joe realized that something must be going on at one of the other rooms.
"Bloody holiday," a grumpy voice said near the elevators. Joe recognized it as belonging to the man who had been treating Wells.
"Excuse me," Joe called, rounding another corner and spotting the tall, gray haired man. Scowling, the Scot looked up and arched an eyebrow at the detective. "Uhm, Mr. Snowden needs some help," Joe managed, feeling oddly terrified of the skinny man.
"In more ways than one," replied the grumpy man. "Any particular way right now?" Joe couldn't help but think those eyebrows impressive.
"He fell out of bed. I think he had a nightmare. Anyhow, I went to check him," Joe paused, wondering why the hell he was telling this scary doctor so much detail. "As I was helping him back into bed I noticed that he was running a fever."
"Bollocks," the doctor snarled. "Was he having trouble breathing?" Joe nodded, wondering at the intensity of the man. Turning sharply, the doctor started striding towards the room. "Was he managing to cough?"
"Weakly," Joe stated, struggling to keep up with the fast moving doctor.
"Well, that answers one question. Thank you, Detective West. Perhaps you should delay letting Mr. Snowden from taking over the care of Mr. Allen. I'm afraid that the poor man has come down with an upper respiratory infection and I'm not certain how long that will take to treat."
"You didn't know if he'd be able to cough," Joe declared, a little shocked. They paused outside the door to Wells/Snowden's room.
"No. I didn't." The doctor paused and looked like he was going to say more, but just shook his head. "Happy Christmas," with those final words, the doctor strode into his patient's room. Joe stood by the door, listening.
"You, Mr. Snowden, are a bloody fool," the doctor lectured. "I shall contact Doctor Snow and let her know that you will not be returning home today. Also, I'll contact your therapist."
"Thank you, Doctor Disco," Wells replied, sounding weaker than before. The detective continued to stand at the door, listening. It was probably the cop in him.
"Deep breath now," Disco ordered. Joe could imagine the doctor examining his patient. "Again." The medical doctor made a sound. "The air movement in your lungs isn't as good as it was the other day, I can also hear some crackling. Does it hurt to breathe?"
There was a mumbled response from Wells that Joe didn't hear clearly. "Unfortunately, Mr. Snowden, I'm going to have to insist that we keep you longer than we had originally planned. I have no idea how your body is going to handle being sick now. We'll get you started on a nasal canula and I want to get an IV with medication started." There was another muttered response for Wells. "No, we'll need to do some additional testing before I'll make a full diagnosis. For now we'll treat the symptoms. What about that? Is that something new? I don't remember you reporting it happening previously." Joe strained to hear the response, wondering what the doctor was talking about.
"This is the first time it has been this severe," Wells managed. It sounded like he was going to say more, but he was cut off with what started as a mild coughing fit but grew and grew.
The cough rattled out of the room and Joe could hear Wells gasping for air in between the hacking wheeze. "That sounds bloody marvelous," the doctor observed. "For now, oxygen, bedrest, IV, medicine to bring that fever down, and no more going visiting. I know you've been going to visit your friend when Doctor McGee isn't around. You'll need to put a stop to that. Wouldn't want to get him sick."
There was a pause, which could have been an unheard response, or just the doctor getting some other vital. "You know, you are bloody lucky my girlfriend is very understanding and doesn't mind me working Christmas day," the doctor lectured.
"Will you be spending the day with her after you both get off work?" It was the only response from Wells that Joe had heard clearly.
"After I get off work. She's a history professor at the university. God I love a woman with brains." The doctor chuckled and Joe stepped back from the door, uncertain if the man was done in the room.
Footsteps coming down the hall drowned out the response from Doctor Wells. Joe looked up and stepped away from the room as his daughter approached him. "Hey," he greeted her, giving her a quick hug. "Looks like they have Barry stabilized again. Come talk to the doctors with me?" Normally he wouldn't have asked her to come along, but after two weeks, he needed the moral support.
"Sure. Here's to hoping it is good news," Iris said, trying to sound cheerful. Together, they headed into Barry's room, Joe glancing briefly at the room of Nick Snowden.