Author's Note: Welcome back everyone! A quick note - once again, this chapter was based on/inspired by the ER episode entitled "Day One," and the chapter title comes from lyrics to the Jimmy Eat World song of the same name. Please let me know what you think, and my apologies in advance. Erm, enjoy!

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Chapter 34 - Hear You Me, Part 2

Erik

Once I'd set off from the surgical floor, I didn't stop running for anyone or anything that I passed on my way out of the department - I didn't stop moving forward when I reached the first stairwell that led down to the ER, didn't stop moving while I roughly shouldered my way past all of the doctors and the nurses and the patients that had the misfortune of needing to cross my determined path, many of them voicing their annoyance at my perceived rudeness. But just as I couldn't bring myself to pause as I moved through hallway after hallway, I also didn't care about how mannerless or inconsiderate I might have appeared then, either; I didn't care about any of them, and thus I hadn't even thought to apologize for how I could've slighted them or hurt them as I moved between departments, back to the trauma room where this whole goddamned nightmare had started in the first place. Blinded by the abruptness of everything that happened to us that day, and very nearly suffocated by the apprehension that I'd harbored at what was still to come, I fought to bite it all back as I made my way to my wife as quickly as possible. Running headfirst into that moments'-long journey that seemed to last a lifetime all the while, I didn't once slow down until I saw the entrance to the space designated for the trauma rooms ahead of me.

The second that I'd rounded the corner that would take me the last several steps to the double-doors of the trauma room itself, however, one of the nurses that was charged earlier with Christine's case had recognized me, forcing me to halt in my tracks just short of the doorway in the following instant. She was quite a bit smaller than me, but the physical demands of her work made her exceptionally strong, and the suddenness of her barring arms nearly pitched me to the ground as soon as we made contact. But even so, I barely registered that imbalance as I tried to remain upright, as I struggled against her in my attempt to get past her once again. Something had gone wrong in that room, I was sure of it now - every single part of me felt that this was the as-yet wholly revealed truth, and my heart immediately seized with that premonition. Each of the double-doors had its own window, so ordinarily we could see inside at all times from the hall if it was necessary; but now, someone had moved a screen in front of those windows since the last time I was there - one that was usually brought out for the patients' privacy, and at this point, had evidently been put in place to discourage concerned onlookers from gathering in the hallway beyond the room. And noting that had only served to make me feel that much more distressed. So, if the nurse had tried to speak to me at all during any point of that brief interaction - and it was more than likely that she had - I truly didn't hear a word that she'd said.

Instead, I had barely given her the chance to continue speaking to begin with as I kept fighting her hands still grasping tightly at my raised forearms, never truly intending to strike out against her, but yelling all the same until my voice went hoarse, "You need to let me through! Let me go, I have to get past, let me into that fucking room!"

But before she could respond to my frantic demands, and before I could yell at her again in turn, Nadir had swiftly appeared from behind the screen and eased his way around to keep from disturbing its placement, obviously alerted to my presence by the commotion that I was making at the trauma room doors. He stepped out of the room as soon as he'd captured my attention completely, and while a part of me had anticipated, even silently begged for some reassurance to be found in his expression, what shone there in reality was anything but; my heart sank the instant I met his eyes, and I stood almost frozen as a result, any fight that I'd had within me before suddenly reduced to nothing. He wasn't bringing good news whatsoever - rather, I could see the pain of everything that he didn't want to say to me etched into the lines of his face.

I'd assumed correctly, and I wished more than anything that I hadn't. Something had gone terribly wrong...

His voice was steady, but that steadiness was too obviously feigned, holding the long-practiced quality of an experienced physician seeking emotional restraint when he spoke, "I need to talk to you. Before you go in, we have to talk..."

Only then did the nurse let go of my arms and take a step away from me, every gesture made slowly, as if any sudden moves on her part would leave me unhinged again. I didn't blame her for using that caution - but even so, I couldn't think about her beyond that brief encounter. With the renewed, vicious grip of dread clenching around my chest, I'd had to all but force away everything that was happening in my mind at that moment, fearing that if I didn't at least make an attempt to do so, then I would lose my sanity altogether under the weight of the icy fear that I was experiencing. Denial mingled with a desperate, yet somehow sinking hope was honestly the only semblance of optimism that I had left to hold onto then - it didn't matter what Nadir had planned to say, I would prove his words otherwise, I was determined to. I had to prove that whatever my instincts were screaming had gone wrong wasn't actually happening. And so, pushing Nadir aside more roughly than I'd intended, and stubbornly ignoring his pleas to continue speaking to me all the while, I rushed into the room, blinded by tears that I hadn't even realized had appeared until I registered their sting in my eyes. I refused to let them fall - doing so, in my stress-addled mind, guaranteed forfeit, I was sure.

The scene that I met beyond the threshold could have been torn from any other trauma case that I'd witnessed or participated in over the course of my career; Dr. Freeman's stance alongside his team's work was almost textbook, I'd give them that. But the stony silence of the staff in attendance, their pitying eyes meeting mine for only a flash of seconds before the backdrop of blood and shrieking medical equipment, was too overwhelming, too foreboding to allow me to continue my progress even just to the foot of Christine's gurney. I stopped short before I'd ever really entered the space, every thought telling me to turn around then and there and just flee - nothing good was going to come of the approaching conversation. I knew that...I knew that. But, even so, I refused to believe it entirely - despite the voice in the back of my mind whispering in stern warning of a dawning pain, I couldn't bear to acknowledge it then.

They were still putting air through the ambu bag situated to protect Christine's airway when Nadir joined me just inside the door, barely past the screen blocking the windows. Regardless of that effort, though, from where I stood it didn't seem as if anyone was getting ready to push medications or try another rescue attempt, to do anything more than finish out whatever treatment plan they had already set into motion.

"What are you doing?" I demanded of no one in particular - I didn't realize it until later, but I was terrified to look around in order to speak to anyone more directly. I simply couldn't bring myself to meet anyone's eyes again, not beyond the fleeting glances that had ushered me in, not as long as doing so meant that I risked finding something there that further signalled disaster as I yelled, "Move! Keep working!"

But my words meant absolutely nothing to those around me, my authority nonexistent, and although their responses certainly were not as cold as their seemingly deliberate silence might have otherwise suggested, my commands went ignored. And I knew then what I had been so fiercely denying all along, what I had barred from becoming reality every second up until that point; deep in my heart, I knew with total clarity the answer to my unspoken questions and futile pleas. Nothing more was going to be done then...It wasn't possible. No further attempts could be made to save Christine's life. If this trauma team had even attempted a Hail Mary before my arrival, that last-ditch act of desperation that we all dreaded and hoped to avoid at all costs in the span of our careers, then they were well beyond that measure now. Any blips on the monitors, any signs of life whatsoever were only lights and sound and nothing more, made apparent to me as I looked on solely because someone else was making them happen; Christine's body no longer had the capacity to sustain life on its own. With that realization, I had to look away from her, had to look toward some blurred and meaningless point across the room - the sight of her laying vulnerable and motionless on that gurney surrounded by medical personnel was an image that I would never forget. As it stood, I had to actively block that aspect of the scene from my overall awareness then...I couldn't handle it.

So instead, I tried to clutch desperately onto a shadow of hope that simply no longer truly existed, that was no longer justified or rational - I kept holding on to near-complete denial, because that was all I had left. Just considering the alternative was excruciating, nevermind facing it directly. I couldn't think clearly then, couldn't even make the attempt; it seemed impossible to concentrate on the situation enough to be even remotely of any use or to accept what had happened, what was still happening. And so, to delay the inevitable, it was only then that I finally forced my legs to move once more, to take the few steps forward in order to stand at Christine's side. Slowly, as if I was trying to make my way through a deep and impenetrable haze, I approached the head of the gurney, to be as close to my wife as I could possibly manage in those moments. Even in the enclosed, decidedly suffocating space, it wasn't nearly enough, but I reached out to her all the same. Her hand was warm under mine - it was warm, in spite of its lack of response and the equipment beside her reminding me that she was only artificially alive then. Her heart was beating because they had forced it to - and only barely at that - nothing more. Once they stopped working completely, that would be the end. There would be no more they could do to help, and so they would have to cease heroic measures altogether.

They hadn't called me down to inform me of their continuing plan of action for treatment; they did not intend to discuss alternative options with me or to obtain my consent for any specific procedures. This wasn't about medicine anymore at all - it was an act of mercy for me.

No…No, this isn't right.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes tightly and tried to piece the fragments of this day back together in my mind, stalling for more moments of something that I couldn't quite name while each detail came to me warped and turned around and unfocused. How long had it been since Christine and I had spoken? When she had been brought into the hospital after the accident, we'd only separated after Josie had also arrived at the ER and was taken upstairs into surgery; it was impossible for so much to have changed in what should have been an inconsequential amount of time. Wasn't it? In spite of years upon years of experience and specialized medical knowledge for these exact circumstances, I still couldn't grasp at the right answer, didn't even come close to that kind of rationality. But that didn't matter anyway, I decided; it couldn't, because we had just talked to one another, held onto one another. She had been so afraid, and she was in pain, but she was alert once she'd regained consciousness, and that made all the difference. Nadir had already informed me that her condition was all over the place, her outlook unstable, but I couldn't dwell on that, because she was awake and alert when we were last together, because she'd been able to ask for promises from me then, because I had kissed her before going to our daughter...Christine was just with me, she was alive.

Her hand was warm under mine...

Nadir touched my shoulder, shocking me back into the present.

"Erik…" he began softly, and it didn't escape my notice that he was the one that had approached me, that he was the one doing the talking - Nadir was in charge of communicating vital news with me instead of Dr. Freeman, whose duty it would have been to do so had I been anyone else, and yet who had remained standing nearby but now kept his eyes averted from mine. Everyone there knew that Nadir and I were close friends, and so it seemed that, even though this trauma case was not officially his, he had been the one assigned as my keeper, regardless of that point of formality. Because it wasn't likely that anyone else could have reached me with what was about to unfold, with everything that needed to be said moving onward in this situation without question or hesitation. Not in my current state of mind. Still, I distantly realized that this choice wasn't without its own faults, because I didn't believe that I would even be willing or able to listen to the man that was like my brother, that I had known over the majority of my life and trusted implicitly. What he was intending to tell me - because although I continued to consciously deny it, somewhere in my mind I could feel that this was exactly what was about to happen - whatever he needed to say was unacceptable.

"No!" I yelled, my voice breaking with that single word, yet somehow still overtaking the small space as I violently flinched away from him - away from the obvious and absolutely unbearable sympathy in his eyes. Shaking my head again, the movement once more serving as an additional shield born of my denial, I demanded, "Why aren't you working? Keep going!"

"We can't - "

"Keep working!"

"Erik, we can't. We've done everything for Christine," he said slowly, forcing me to look directly at him, "Listen to me. She's gone - "

" - Don't - "

" - She didn't suffer, she was never alone here, she just asked about Jo, asked to make sure you were alright. She was thinking of you - "

" - Nadir, stop - "

" - And she isn't in any pain. But there's no recovering from this."

"There has to be. Keep trying."

"Erik - "

" - You've done it before!" I nearly screamed, rounding on him, but - luckily - mindful as I did so not to make any contact, aware that I might inadvertently hurt him if I did, "After the shooting, you did that much for me!"

He sighed, impossibly composed in the face of my immovable desperation, and began again, "Erik, realize how long you've been upstairs...Don't you think we've gone that far already? She's one of our own, don't you think we've gone beyond that for her?"

Of course...Of course they had…

But it simply wasn't enough.

They had done everything in their power to help her, had used all of the knowledge and resources available to treat her, but ultimately, it wasn't enough to save her life. And somehow, when all else had utterly failed to reach me, that simple, unerring truth had managed to break through my own fierce responses and shatter my resolute denial completely. Christine was gone, in every single way that mattered - she was about to die by every medical and legal standard, but in truth, she was already taken from me, from herself. She was about to be pronounced dead before I'd even been paged, I was sure. Nadir had more than likely intervened when that outcome became obvious. What I'd assumed before about this specific encounter being set forth for my sake was true, of that I had no reason to doubt - they wanted to allow Christine's heart to still be beating when I let it go, to give me the final word with the dismal hope that going this route would make the loss easier for me to accept. It wasn't an uncommon practice in our field, yet I resented its existence just the same. And now, I had no choice - I had to let go, had to let her go, and dear God, it was painful.

The bridge that had connected us for more than a decade had collapsed in the span of one afternoon, the chasm between us growing steadily wider through these moments, and would continue on until the sudden distance was impossible to close - I could feel it in every part of me, body and soul. Approaching our goodbye was unbearable, but I had to face it nonetheless; even if I ran from this room, even if I fled from the hospital altogether and forced the veil of denial over my eyes once more, the semblance of relief would only be temporary, and all I'd be left with would be the truth. There was no escaping it, no going back.

So, what could loosely be considered acceptance broke through that strong and steady drive toward denial. They were keeping my wife artificially alive for my sake, and mine alone - Dr. Freeman and his team were giving me the chance to say goodbye before the instant of Christine's passing had actually taken place, plain and simple. Everything was happening so fast, but beyond that, I couldn't comprehend anything that was occurring, or make any real sense of it, so I just stopped trying at all; a small shift in my mind, and everything about me turned stiff and mechanical, a defense response that instinct insisted was necessary to progress. Nadir had assured me that Christine wasn't in pain, but if there was any chance, no matter how remote, of that assessment being wrong, then I didn't want to make her suffer for longer than she already had, didn't want to hold any part of her in this world when she was ready to slip away. Not letting her go was selfishness and borderline madness on my part, and she deserved her dignity. She deserved peace. And so, with every unwilling ounce of strength that I had managed to maintain thus far, I shut out all of the other details in the room, every sight and sound and presence that would come to define this day in Hell in my memories, focusing only on my wife's unmoving figure before me. I had to do this quickly, or I'd lose my nerve for good.

Setting her hand carefully next to her body on the gurney, and instead holding on to the cold and unyielding rail on its side, I leaned in close, as if the gesture would allow her to hear me across an unseen and unknowable distance.

"Christine..." I whispered, my voice reedy and hollow, almost inaudible. I hadn't expected a response, yet her silence broke something in me that much more even so. I lost myself still further when faced with that reminder of our circumstances, but I continued softly, "I love you."

"Are you ready?" Nadir asked gently, and I wanted to say no, of course I wasn't ready for this moment, but I knew that wasn't what he meant. So I simply nodded.

The nurse released the ambu bag, alarms on the machinery blared, only to be cut off abruptly at Nadir's command - another gesture made for my sake. And all at once, the fight was over. Christine was gone, she was dead, and there was nothing I could do to bring her back.

I felt the weight of their gazes surrounding me before falling on my shoulders altogether, felt smothered by their compassion. Holding my breath, I stood motionless, both hands now clenched around the gurney railing so forcefully that my knuckles had turned white. But still, I said nothing, moved only to finally exhale. I was paralyzed with that initial grief, and it wasn't until the words time of death made their way into the haze of my consciousness that I reacted fully, a sensation so violent that I felt ready to collapse, covering my mouth with my hand for the very realistic possibility that I would scream out into the room. Never in my life had I experienced such a visceral, mind-numbing pain, and all I could do with it in the seconds that followed was stand there as I began to shake uncontrollably. I had never understood devastation until the moment that I'd lost everything. It had always been an abstract concept, something that I'd assumed I knew, but had never felt. Now, it was clear, and it was absolutely staggering. If I had stopped breathing then and there, really stopped breathing outside of my own power, I wouldn't have been surprised whatsoever. I remained that way for an immeasurable time, not knowing what else to do, only to finally give in and release the sob that had been choking me since my arrival. Nearby, Dr. Freeman asked for everyone in the room besides Nadir to step out, but his words were only a distant echo to me then - I heard nothing after that.

The enormity of Christine's death was incomprehensible, and it was with that thought that I felt myself sinking to the ground as everyone and everything else left in the room blurred at the edges, shifting out of focus as I fell to my knees beside the gurney; still gripping the railing like some demented lifeline under my hands, I took note of my stranglehold and released it, hearing my wedding ring clang against the bar as I slowly let go to the distinct sound of metal brushing metal. And almost unconsciously, I felt myself wrapping my arms tightly around my chest in the next instant, as if somehow that gesture alone would keep me from breaking apart entirely. Staring sightlessly ahead, every breath I took a shuddering mess, I swear that I could feel the grief continuing to build inside of me, holding onto my heart like a vise. Nadir reached for me in turn, but I shrugged him away as soon as I felt that attempt at a point of contact; I couldn't stand his sympathy. Still, he was relentless, and I just didn't have the presence of mind to fight him any longer. He knelt beside me then, but beyond noticing that he was level with me once more, that he was suddenly embracing me, I didn't acknowledge him. Rather, another choked, rasping sob escaped my throat, and once that was unleashed, with it came the tears that had been threatening for what had seemed like a lifetime, and I finally cried then.

When I did, I couldn't stop.