A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.
In the words of Dr. Strange, "We're in the Endgame…"
Ch. 40 – Malpractice
Edward
"Scalpel."
The surgical nurse reiterates my request and hands me said scalpel. The instrument glides through Mr. Howard Nelson's heart like a knife slicing through butter. It's such a small yet precise implement. Once the incision is made, another nurse assists with clamping so that the four-inch diameter opening shows me exactly what I need to see.
Mozart plays in the background. The composer's symphonic complexities help me focus and remind me that my job is a walk in the park in comparison to Amadeus' dexterous accomplishments. After all, I'm not trying to make history; I'm just trying to save a life.
It's a relatively straightforward procedure, as far as cardiac surgery goes – attach a graft to the damaged artery so that blood bypasses the blockage and travels straight onto the heart. It's what nature intended, pre-fast food in all its greasy glory. In fact, the procedure is so routine that my mind wanders to paperwork, to a call I have to place to Jasper, and, as always, to Bella.
A smile erupts around the edges of my mouth. The surgical mask wholly conceals it, so I'd be perfectly safe in indulging, in allowing it as well as additional thoughts of my Cat Girl to spread. Still, it's imperative that I tamp down on any joy because joy isn't something a man about to go on trial usually feels.
I steal a quick look at the clock. James is forty-five minutes late to surgery – a surgery where he was supposed to be the principal surgeon, and I was supposed to assist. This has me on edge. Not because I need his fucking help; I could do this blindfolded. However, while there are many dark condemnations I can hurl James' way, 'late to surgery' isn't usually one of them.
"Any word from Doctor Penn?" I inquire from the nurses.
"No, Doctor Masen."
"No, Doctor."
With Mozart's assistance, I train my thoughts back to the procedure before me. Regardless of everything else clamoring for my attention, Mr. Nelson deserves my full concentration.
An hour into the procedure, the double doors of the surgery room open. My eyes flash upward for just a moment and catch James as he saunters in languidly and confidently. Despite the surgical scrubs, he looks for all the world as if he's about to mount the next hole at his favorite golf field with the ace club in hand. He even sings a happy tune to himself as he scrubs down.
"Good morning, Tony."
"James, nice of you to show up to your own scheduled surgery."
He offers me a shameless chuckle. "You didn't really think I'd make you fly solo, did you?"
"I actually did," I reply without looking up. In my periphery, I see one of the nurses assist him with his mask and surgical gloves.
James snorts. "Nonsense. You're my protégé. Remember?"
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, focused on Mr. Nelson's heart. "So, where were you?"
"Nurse, can you turn up the volume on Master Mozart?" he asks, carefully nudging the other nurse out of the way and taking her spot beside me. Then, he peeks over my shoulder, chuckling heartily at my sideways glance and breath of irritation.
"Tony, I'm just messing with you. Look, I had some work this morning that simply couldn't wait."
"I passed by your office a couple of times before surgery, and you weren't there."
"Really? We must've crisscrossed one another because I've been there all morning." He claps his hands in a let's-get-to-it gesture. "Alright, tell me what I'm looking at. What are we up to?"
I go ahead and catch him up, and for the next couple of hours, our total focus is Mr. Nelson's heart.
"This is what I love about minimally invasive bypass," James murmurs once we're almost done. "It cuts down the risk, the surgery time, and the healing time. A win-win for all."
"Yeah, it sure is."
James's cell phone vibrates. Against our typical protocol, he moves away briefly, raising Mozart's volume yet again before his return.
"You can start cleaning up," he instructs the nurses, raising his voice over the music. "We're almost done here, and I can assist Doctor Masen with the rest."
"Yes, Doctor Penn."
"Yes, Doctor."
Again, I glance up. "You're just breaking all the rules today, aren't you?"
James meets my gaze, his blue eyes crinkling in a manner that makes it clear he's smiling under his mask. For some reason, my scalp prickles. We return our attention to the surgery, each on opposite sides of his heart. With Mozart blaring, our ensuing conversation remains between James, me, and a knocked-out Mr. Nelson.
"So, how do we feel about this surgery, Tone?"
"I'm feeling good about it. As long as Mr. Nelson refrains from artery cloggers, he should have a decent future ahead of him."
"I agree. And isn't a decent future what we all want? You did great work here this morning, Tony."
"Thanks," I mumble distractedly.
"It's good to see all this crazy shit going on hasn't affected your talented hands. They're as steady as ever."
"Mhm," I hum.
"So how are things going, Tone? In general, I mean."
My heart rate accelerates. A hint of nausea abruptly lands thick at the base of my throat, but I swallow it down. I'm working on Mr. Nelson, after all.
"Things are…well, you know how they are, James."
He snorts. "Boy, do I. How's your lawyer working out for you?"
"It's hard to tell. We won't really know until the trial."
"Ain't that the truth? Won't know a whole lot until the trial. I met with my lawyers a couple of days ago."
"Did you?"
"Can you believe they actually recommended I allow them to feel out a plea deal? They think what the government now has concerning those fabricated murder charges against the Swans may actually be too much to explain away easily."
At the volume at which James now has Mozart set, The Marriage of Figaro vibrates against the hospital's sterile, white walls. Flutes, oboes, and clarinets all mix, meld, and bounce off the plaster like thunder. My heart rate keeps pace.
"What does the government now have?"
"So you know how the prosecution is under obligation to disclose all evidence? It's called Full Disclosure."
"Yeah. I know about Full Disclosure." Despite the mask, I keep the smirk off my face. Like mine, James' gaze is on the heart between us, but I won't take any chances of revealing anything with my eyes.
"Well, now it seems they've dug up some sort of bracelet." He spits out the last word as if it's a curse. "Supposedly, it belonged to Maria – excuse me, Isabella Swan – before whatever the fuck happened to her and her parents happened. And supposedly, they can prove it was in my safe at some point – which is total bullshit because the bitch was digging around in my safe, so obviously, she planted it, right?"
Fury rolls up my spine like an angry tidal wave threatening to break right onto James. The urge to dig my surgical implements into his eye is almost overpowering. It's a struggle to keep my hands steady, but I can't blow my cover; not now. Plus, I currently have Mr. Nelson's heart in my hands – literally.
"Mm. That's insane."
"Isn't it? But you know these fucking crooked feds."
Fuck you, asshole. "So, what did you say to your lawyers?"
"I told them to kiss my ass, of course," he scoffs. "Why the hell would I cop a plea when I'm going to get off anyway? If the feds want to keep piling on manufactured evidence, they can go right on ahead, the crooked motherfuckers. It's all bullshit, anyway. What's more…"
When he trails off and fails to pick his thought back up, my scalp prickles. James is the textbook definition of an arrogant, narcissist, egomaniac who loves the sound of his own voice. He gets off on running his mouth. Sudden silence is not his M.O.
My gaze remains on Mr. Nelson's chest as I prompt James. "What's more?"
"What's more, take Maria, for example. Let's discuss her."
The words are hissed sharply, like the rattling of a snake poised to bite. In response, my entire frame stutters to a halt.
"I mean Isabella – I keep mixing up those names," James chuckles. "Anyway, her testimony," he ponders on with seeming nonchalance, "it's hard to tell how it'll go over. Will the jury be able to see through the sham of a thief who was granted immunity so she could turn state's evidence and place Kate and me at the scene of a crime that had nothing to do with us? I don't know. What I do know, from experience, is what a great liar the bitch is."
My heart picks up, goes from zero to jackhammer. Bile churns and bubbles like magma in my gut. But he can't possibly know. He can't.
"I'm sure the jury will take her story for what it is," I reply with as much feigned calm as I can manage. All the while, my gaze remains fixed steadily on Mr. Nelson.
"But see, that's just the thing, Tony. The jury will see exactly what the government wants them to see – a sweet, innocent young woman. I mean, I should know, right? That's what I saw when I met her." He snorts sardonically. "But a sweet, innocent young woman lacking evidence…now that's a whole different story."
The bile rolls and rises thickly to my esophagus. Blood pounds wildly between my ears.
"Then again, she wasn't that innocent, Tony, if you know what I mean." His ensuing snickers are purposely lewd. "Boy, you should've seen the shit she let me do to her, all the places she let me stick my cock, all the places she begged me to stick it."
Across the operating table, my eyes meet his amused, glowing ones.
"Mm," he grunts. "Man, I wish you could've heard her squeals and moans, Tony. She'd squeal just like a little whore, which is what she is – a whore for the government. A whore who fucks whoever's of most use to her at any given moment. I wonder what dumb bastard the little manipulative, exploitive thief has under her spell and between her legs now. I'd guess it's some dirty, double-crossing prick who - ooh! Careful there, Tony, you don't want to mess up your work of art on Mr. Nelson there."
That's when I realize I'm fisting the sharp needle in my hand like a weapon.
James lowers his mask and reveals a broad grin.
"What's wrong, Tony, buddy, old pal, old protégé? Shouldn't you finish sewing up Mr. Nelson before we have to add another malpractice to our growing list of wrongdoings?"
With vision blurred by rage, I blink a handful of times, turn my eyes to Mr. Nelson's almost sewn-up chest, then glare back up at James. And I know I'm fucked. I have to finish sewing up our patient.
James chuckles and backs away from the operating table. "I'll send the nurses back over to assist. See you later, Tony."
He saunters out of the operating room, leaving me with an incomplete surgery and clutching a surgical needle. A few seconds later, the nurses return, and I've got no choice but to finish the job here. All the while, it's a struggle to keep my hands from shaking, to keep my brain from exploding, to keep from howling at the top of my lungs. Beads of sweat erupt over every inch of my frame. I sense the nurse's surprise as she wipes my brow. My gut and bowels clench throughout the minutes it takes to complete the surgery. Finally, it's done.
"Get him back to his room!" I snap at the bewildered nurses before racing out of the operating room, ripping off my surgical gloves and mask and digging my cell out of my back pocket.
Just a few feet away, Mr. Nelson's wife awaits. Before surgery, I greeted her with a sympathetic yet confident smile, promising we'd touch base after the procedure. Her face is a mask of concern.
"Doctor Masen, Doctor Penn said to ask you how my husband's surgery went?"
"Fine, fine. He'll be fine!"
Rushing past her, my feet only come to a halting standstill when I see the missed messages and calls on my phone screen – from Elayna slash Alice, from my buddy, Emerson slash Emmett, and from my other buddy, Jason slash Jasper. At that point, I leave behind all pretense and run blindly through the hospital's white hallways. Alice's cell phone rings and rings, then goes to voice mail.
"Hi. You've reached Elayna Baker. I can't come to the phone…"
As I make my way to the hospital's nearest staircase, I try Emmett. The case, my cover, Mr. Nelson's wife, Mr. Nelson's heart – they all take a back seat. My entire being is centered on one solitary objective, but with every second, with every unanswered call, the tentative grip I've got on my sanity slips.
"Come on, come on, pick up. Pick up, PICK UP!" I growl in the silence of the stairwell, taking the steps down two and three at a time. My heart pounds so violently against my ribs I'm certain it'll soon break free and land across the steps below. I grip my hair. Spots dance before my eyes. Stupidly, I try Alice once more because my raging heart still won't acknowledge what my mind and gut tell me: if everything were okay, Alice would've already picked up.
Everything around me flashes and dissolves into distorted shapes and blurred colors as I break into a full sprint, headed for the underground parking garage. It's not until I'm in my car's driver seat that I notice the passenger beside me. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I slam my other fist into his jaw. His head ricochets, but I maintain my grip and punch him again.
"Where is she?" I shout, my voice reverberating throughout the car's interior.
James groans and concurrently chuckles. "Fuck you, Tony, or should I say, Special Agent Cullen?"
I ram my fist between his eyes, feeling his nasal cartilage break beneath my knuckles.
"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE? I WILL FUCKING ANNIHILATE YOU!"
"No, you won't." He speaks calmly despite the blood oozing from his nose.
Our faces are mere inches apart when I yank him by the collar, my spittle spraying him when I speak.
"Try me, motherfucker. You have no clue how badly I've ached to kill you for months now."
Again, he chuckles. "Then you should've gotten to it then because if you do it now, you'll never see her again."
My chest heaves, swollen with a sense of loathing that's almost too much to contain. The hands I've got fisted around his collar burn with white-hot heat. Rage roils through me. I punch him square in the jaw once more, then release him and throw back my head, howling with impotent, frenzied ferocity, emptying my lungs of every breath left.
I can't think. I can't…won't breathe, not…not until I have her back safely. The world around me spins in a dizzying, sickening array. Worst of all is the fear, the choking, agonizing fear coursing through every vein in my body, then weaving itself like a web around me.
When I turn back to James, he's smiling.
Again, I grab him by the collar, this time shoving him against the passenger side window and slamming the back of his head against it. The glass cracks, jagged lines racing upward.
James grunts.
"Where. is. she?" I growl through clenched teeth.
"I want the evidence, Tony or Edward," he sneers. "All of it."
"What?"
"Get me all the evidence, and we'll trade."
"You're fucking insane," I spit out. "There's no way I can do that. It's locked up in the Assistant DA's office."
"If you're half as good at being a fed as you are at open heart surgery, I'm sure you'll figure something out."
"It's not possible."
"It better be fucking possible, Tony, if you want her back. Or maybe you're done with her? Maybe you're willing to try and carry on the case without her, try your case sans testimony? What is it?" he grins tauntingly, scarlet blood staining his ivory teeth, his lips pale against its crimson hue. "Got tired of having her warm your bed? Had enough of that nice, plump- oof!" he grunts when I clip his mouth.
"You piece of shit, motherfucker, if you hurt her-"
"She'll be just fine," he says, struggling to catch his breath. "Just get me that evidence, Tony, all of it, or our little thief of hearts will be the one who pays the price."
My entire frame quivers, vibrates with the overwhelming need to put his head through the window once and for all. But I can't. I can't, and he knows it.
When I release him, he inhales and exhales long and hard as I slump against the driver's side window, glowering hatefully at him.
He offers me a mocking snort. "Tony, Tony, Tony. What have you done to yourself? What have you let her do to you? Go home, Tone. Clean up the mess there, check in on your other agents, but don't speak one word of this little meeting here. You'll receive a call later from one of my associates letting you know where we can make the exchange."
Squeezing my eyes shut, I dig my fists against my temples. "James, I swear to you, if she's hurt, you won't live long enough to enjoy that mistrial you're so desperate for."
"Point taken. As long as I get what I want, you'll get her back in one piece. Don't worry too much, buddy. Maria's always been a feisty little thing. I'm sure we both know that."
"You dirty bastard."
He chuckles. Then he wipes off his bloody face with his scrubs and rakes a hand through his disheveled hair.
"Now, I've got to get back inside and take care of these bumps and bruises I just received by falling down the stairs. If you'll excuse me, Doctor Masen."
He pushes open the passenger side door. Once again, James saunters, this time away rather than toward me, yet still as cool and confident as ever.
Meanwhile, inside the confines of the car, my entire world crumbles.
A/N: Thoughts?
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