Panic attacks are nothing new for Bashir. His first one had occurred the day his sister was born. Looking back, he jokes that he was "so excited to see his sister that he passed out!"
"Don't forget that you almost fell on her, too," Mama would add. "You went to pass me a blanket and collapsed on the spot! We're lucky Baba shoved you out of the way!"
The second panic attack was on the day his parents died. He had taken 3-year-old Amira to the market to buy supper for that night's dinner. He had been so happy, so carefree. They had laughed and played the whole way home. Upon reaching their home, Bashir had stopped when a loud thud reached his ears. Taking no chances, he had quickly dropped Amira off at his friend's house nearby before rushing back.
To this day, he had never cried so hard nor screamed so loudly. He'd been bound and gagged and then forced to watch as his parents were tortured and killed. After that, he'd been left alone with his sister.
Raising Amira had been difficult. Bashir himself was a teenager trying to juggle school and parenting. Many times, he had found himself gasping for air while his sister slept peacefully in the next room.
Escaping to Canada? Easily the most difficult thing he had ever done. With very poor English, he had somehow managed to get a job and claw his way to have a roof over his and Amira's head.
But he had survived. What's more, he had thrived. He now has a secure job at York Memorial Hospital. Amira's smile greets him every morning. His own smiles have returned; tentative at first, but now radiating in pure joy.
However, everything is not perfect. He struggles to pay rent. He still jolts awake with wet eyes and a pounding heart most nights. Sometimes that is it, and he even occasionally catches a few more hours of sleep. But other nights, he'll muffle his sobbing and somehow stumble to the bathroom to throw up whatever is in his stomach, thanking his lucky stars that Amira is a deep sleeper. So, no, panic attacks are nothing new for Bashir Hamed.
The emergency doctors of York Memorial are gathered in a loose semicircle around Dr. Bishop, who is debriefing them after the active shooter drill. Dr. Bishop talks slower than usual and meets the eye of every doctor. His intense gaze lingers on the newest doctor and he frowns at the pale face before him. The drill had affected everyone on his staff, especially Bashir. Dr. Bishop curses himself for not pulling Bashir aside to talk to him about this thoroughly. He'd been told by Mags that Bashir had treated regime soldiers at gunpoint. Lord knows what else the young man had been forced to witness.
Said young man is standing behind Mags, almost hiding behind her. He tries to focus on what Dr. Bishop is saying, but images from the drill keep popping up in his head. They blend with some bad memories, and Bashir has to remind himself that he is at York Memorial Hospital and not in a dusty abandoned building in Syria. Sweat beads on his forehead and he's finding it hard to breathe. Dimly, he is aware that his ragged breathing has escalated into full-out gasping. I'm so screwed, he chuckles humourlessly to himself. And then the panic takes over.
Mags listens attentively to Dr. Bishop's speech, hanging on to his every word. He scolds her for wasting time on the patient that could not be saved and she bows her head, sufficiently chastened. She turns to the sound of gasping, and freezes at Bashir's drawn, pale face. For as long as she has known Bashir, he has always been calm and collected, never letting his emotions interfere with his job. So, she is caught off guard as she witnesses his mask crumble to dust.
Flicking her eyes to Dr. Bishop, Mags notes he is chewing out June and returns her full attention to Bashir. "Are you ok?" She inquires in a low voice. Bashir's head snaps in her direction, pupils blown in his wide eyes. Her worry mounts when he doesn't respond and stares blankly through her as if she is not there. After a long moment, his eyes focus on her and he nods his head quickly before stopping himself. He meets her concerned eyes as he slowly and deliberately shakes his head no. Then his eyes glaze over, and Mags loses him to his mind.
Having finished lecturing June, and tactfully ignoring her glare, Dr. Bishop moves to lecture the next doctor: Dr. Hamed. "You reacted extremely well," he begins, then cuts himself off at the vacancy in Bashir's eyes. "Dr. Hamed?"
Dr. Bishop approaches slowly, careful not to startle the panicking doctor, before completely abandoning that idea and striding over quickly when Bashir's legs suddenly buckle. Luckily, Mags catches him as he falls, nearly falling herself at the added weight. She stumbles and rights herself and Bashir before handing him over to Dr. Bishop, who guides him to sit on the floor.
Crouching, Dr. Bishop places two fingers on Bashir's neck, but quickly retracts them when the younger doctor flinches away from him. He instead takes a wrist, holding firmly when Bashir tries to weakly pull away. Dr. Bishop mentally notes the rapid pulse.
He flicks on his flashlight and shines it into his subordinate's eyes. Bashir whines at the bright light and tries to move his head but is stopped by Dr. Bishop's unyielding hand on his chin. Ignoring his own sorrow, Dr. Bishop stares deep into Bashir eye's, trying to determine if he is still mentally present. Sighing mournfully at what he sees, the senior doctor lays a hand on Bashir's forehead, finding it cool and clammy.
Suddenly remembering the audience, Dr. Bishop abruptly stands and whirls to face them. "Everybody is dismissed," he barks. Doctors rush to leave, nearly tripping in their haste.
All except for two. Mags ignores his order and strides over confidently, June trailing behind like a lost puppy. While Mags and Dr. Bishop discuss the newest doctor, June kneels next to him. She is not good with feelings. June Curtis doesn't do feelings. But she does know how to deal with patients, so that's exactly what she does. She takes Bashir's pulse, feeling the rapid thrum beneath her fingers. June's eyebrows furrow.
Bashir shifts, and that's all the warning June receives before he topples into her, finally losing his battle with consciousness. She awkwardly puts her arms around Bashir to keep him upright and clears her throat, trying to grab the other doctors' attention.
Mags glances over and bites her cheek to stifle a laugh at the sight of her colleague and friend supporting Bashir, eyes pleading. She takes mercy and crouches down to take Bashir's pulse, tears stinging her eyes when he cowers away from her hand with a soft whimper. Mags swallows the lump in her throat, cursing that Bashir's past has given him reasons to fear human contact.
"We should get him to my office," Dr. Bishop says. "I've got a couch we can lay him on." He runs his hand through Bashir's hair, gently ruffling it until Bashir relaxes fractionally.
"Good idea," Mags replies, but stops short. "How are we going to get him there?" There were no wheelchairs or gurneys around to move Bashir with.
The three doctors glance over to Bashir, still out cold, before staring at each other cluelessly. It makes quite a sight – three prestigious doctors defeated by the idea of moving an unconscious man.
Theo rounds the corner, having finished with his patient. He had taken part in an earlier drill and has been working for a few hours. He eyes them curiously before breaking into an evil grin. The other three narrow their eyes in suspicion.
"Just do what Melissa and I do when the girls are asleep. Put him on your back. Who's the strongest?" Theo inquires. Dr. Bishop wisely raises his hands in surrender before practically sprinting to his office. Theo studies June and Mags for a moment. "June, put Bash on your back. Mags, you hold his arms, so he doesn't fall."
June sends him a glare that freezes the blood in his veins, but shuffles around so Mags and Theo can put Bashir on her back.
Mags loops Bashir's arms around June's neck, and holds them tightly. As the ladies move to stand, Bashir tilts backwards, but Theo quickly catches him and rests a strong hand on his back to prevent him from falling off.
The trio makes its way down the hall: June giving Bashir a piggy-back while muttering darkly the whole time, Mags in front holding his limp arms, and Theo in back with a hand on his back so he won't fall off.
Five minutes later, June stops without warning, making Mags yank at Bashir's arms and Theo crash into her back. She narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Aren't we supposed to go to Dr. Bishop's office?"
Mags's too-innocent face does not fool her. "Oh, is that where we're supposed to go? Oops, I've been leading you down the wrong hallway!"
"Jesus, Mags!" June snaps, ignoring her giggling and Theo's guffaws. "We're at the other end of the damn hospital!"