Chapter Two: Learn By Heart
Code blue: An emergency situation in which a patient is in cardiopulmonary arrest, requiring a team of providers (sometimes called a 'code team') to rush to the specific location and begin immediate resuscitative efforts.
"Hurry! His heart's stopping!" the girl shouted over the unsteady beep of the heart monitor. The room flew into chaos, a buzz of men and women in blue scrubs scrambling to gets their hands on something, anything that might make a difference.
"Code Blue! Code Blue!" shouted someone without a name in the background, and a man carried in a blue cart filled to the brim with medical supplies. Hands reached out, grabbing things and cutting things and sticking things in, but nothing seemed to be making a difference.
He watched, heart thumping, wishing in vain that his abundance of heartbeats could somehow be transferred into the flatlined monitor. After all, who needs that many? People flocked him, searching for guidance, what to do. Anyone who could lined up at the head of the bed, arms extended and pressing hard against the chest, switching out once they could no longer push at full strength. This was where the prideful were weeded out; saving a life did, and always had to, take priority.
A half hour passed, fluid bags emptied and replaced, the line exhausted and started up again before he finally decided that it was time. At the foot of the bed, a handsome man with dark curly hair sighed, looking around the chaotic room. He held up his hand, and everyone stopped and stared at him. Shaking his head he said, "Call it." Silence followed.
"Anderson, are you certain?"
He nodded, expression somber. "I'm afraid so, unless anyone can think of anything else. Call it."
It was almost palpable, the hearts of everyone in the room sinking into their stomachs. A woman by the head checked her watch and announced, "Time of death, 12:45 PM."
Silence. Blaine clenched his jaw, feeling a strong migraine come through. How could they have failed? This morning when he'd first gotten out of bed, he would never have thought…
Thank goodness this was only the mock final.
A sharp alarm pounded from the walls, and the voice of their professor came through the speakers. "Don't worry yourselves too much, guys. The final's not for another two weeks. And, hopefully, you won't have to resuscitate anyone in real life for another year or more." She sighed, and the class could almost see her rubbing her temples. "Who am I kidding, telling a bunch of med students not to worry themselves. Just… don't kill yourselves. Break for lunch, everyone."
The cafeteria of the hospital where their lab took place was as any hospital cafeteria is — a mix of loud children, solemn patients and family, and busy doctors, not to mention sub-par food. Blaine always did find it strange that the only options to eat were fast food and… well, defrosted fast food. His class sat together at a long table in the centre of the room, so quiet they could almost be mistaken for a comically large bereaved family made up of every gender, race, and religion.
"I'm started to regret taking emergency medicine as an elective," said Sebastian, his close friend in most of the same rotations. "Honestly, maybe I should have done forensic science instead of med school in the first place."
"Come on, Bas," Blaine cheered, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. "We've only got a year left, and then we're doctors. Isn't that crazy?"
"We need to graduate to become doctors, Anderson," sneered Hunter. "After what just happened in there, I doubt that any of us will."
Shaking her head, Marley arrived with a tray topped with a single apple and a carton of chocolate milk and plopped into the seat beside Blaine. "I think all of you have the potential," she added, opening her drink. "You've made it this far, which means you're the best of the best. Don't let one mock exam crush your spirits."
"You were great in there, Marley," Blaine praised, bumping her fist. "Super calm, like we all need to strive for. Panic just clouds the judgment, and when it comes to saving lives, we can't afford that. Especially not in a code blue."
"And that," Sebastian began, popping open his soda can, "is why you were in charge. Honestly, how can you not freak out?"
Blaine just shrugged, stabbing his fork into his pasta. Tuning out of the conversation, he ran through the notes in his head one more time, trying to figure out what they had done wrong — if he had given the wrong order for fluids, if the CPR wasn't proper form, or if there was just nothing they could have done. As much as he hated to admit it, the last one seemed like the most realistic.
The truth is, he couldn't save everyone… even that stupid dummy.
But you know what they say about speaking ill of the dead.
"Earth to Blaine!" Marley whispered dramatically, waving a hand in front of his face. He snapped out of his reverie, and she snorted in her adorable way. "Man, you were really out of it. Carrying the weight of the world on your mind again?"
"I believe the expression says shoulders."
Sebastian smirked. "Yeah, well, as great as your shoulders are…"
"Your mind seems to have a lot on it," Marley finished, glaring at Bas playfully.
"Yeah, well…" Blaine trailed off, catching sight of a familiar pristine white coat out of the corner of his eye. Setting down his fork, he stood up, excusing himself absent-mindedly. "I'll be right back." As he left, he didn't see Marley and Sebastian share concerned glances at one another.
He caught up to the white-coat doctor, who was walking through the hall with his phone out, scrolling through some kind of medical database app. His brown locks covered his eyes, but Blaine could tell he was tense from the tightness in his shoulders.
"Everything alright, doc?" he called out, leaning against the grainy wall. The doctor stopped and turned, a smile suddenly lighting up his handsome features.
"Hey, squirt! You had a lab this morning?" Cooper asked, ruffling his little brother's wild curls. Blaine nodded, pulling a sour face that made his brother chuckle. "I remember my emergency medicine rotation. Those were the days."
Blaine rolled his eyes. "Of course you remember this rotation — you liked it so much you decided to go into it, if I remember correctly, Dr. Anderson."
His brother grinned widely, showing his pearly teeth. "You know, soon enough there'll be two Dr. Andersons, and people are going to have to call us by both names."
"Fingers-crossed," Blaine replied, doing exactly that. "Anyway, are you working tonight?" Cooper nodded in affirmation. "Alright, I'll stop by your office with dinner."
"Sounds great, and I'm sure it'll sound heavenly once I've worked for twelve hours. What's on the menu? Chinese take-out again?"
"Actually," Blaine responded, pushing himself off the wall. "I was thinking Italian tonight."
By the time Blaine arrived at his apartment, Wes had already taken over the coffee table.
"Okay, Wes, you're my friend, but I'm worried about you. I think we need to have an intervention."
Wes chuckled dryly, rearranging his assortment of books scattered across the mahogany. "Hilarious, Blaine. You should quit med school and become a stand-up comedian."
He raised his eyebrows, watching his friend scribble on post-it notes and stab them furiously into a harmless manuscript. "After how the mock went, I might just consider it." Wes stopped, turning to his exhausted friend and immediately clearing a spot on the couch for him to sit.
"Do I need to break out the good stuff?" he asked, handing him a half-full glass of cheap liquor. Blaine downed it in one gulp, but shook his head anyway, leaning against the headrest.
"I'm just afraid that…" he trailed off, swallowing the large knot in his throat. Wes placed a hand on his knee, reassuring. "I'm afraid that the same thing will happen, but not during an exam…"
"Blaine, you know you can't save everyone," Wes comforted, all attention off his books and on his roommate. "But you can damn well try, and that's all anyone will ever ask of you."
"Not everyone," he mused, tracing the glass' rim with his finger. "Not me." At Wes' concerned stare, Blaine shook his head, laughing shakily. "But you know, I won't have to worry about this for another year or two. How about you? How was class today?"
"Ah, same old," he replied, gesturing to the books on the table. "Please tell me we weren't that obnoxious when we were kids."
"Teenagers, Wes." Blaine chuckled, troubles fading away. "And yes, we definitely were."
"Seriously, it's like none of them appreciate Shakespeare! One of them wrote, 'he's the guy who made Jaws.' Jaws!" At that, Blaine's small giggles turned into full-blown laughter, and after a moment of pretending to be offended, Wes joined him.
After they calmed down, Wes wiped a tear from his eye and asked, "Are you home for dinner today?"
Blaine shook his head. "Take-out with Cooper, I'm afraid. Speaking of which," he checked his watch, "I should head out now. Thanks for cheering me up, buddy." Grabbing his bag and wallet, Blaine pressed a light kiss on his friend's cheek before heading to the door.
Before the door closed, he saw Wes rolling his eyes and smiling fondly. Suddenly, he felt lighter, almost like the weight on his… mind had been lifted. He grinned, thanking his friend in his head, and allowed himself, just for a moment, to feel weightless, light, free of responsibility.
But… everyone knows Blaine Anderson was never destined to be careless.
"I come bearing pasta," Blaine announced as he stepped into his brother's office, two paper bags dangling from his hand. Cooper shot up from his computer, rushing over to his brother and snatching one from his hand.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you, squirt?" Cooper squealed like a child just told they were going to McDonald's, mussing Blaine's curls again before rushing back over to his desk and tearing open the package. He breathed in the heavenly scent, sighing to himself.
Blaine sat at the table, unpacking his bag. "I don't recall, actually. But you can make it up to me by not starving to death at work. Although, if you were to starve to death, I suppose the best place to do it would be at work…"
"Because I'm a doctor, yeah, I get it. Has anyone ever told you that you should be a stand-up comedian?"
He grinned to himself. "Once or twice." Clearing his throat, he picked up a fork. "What's the plan for tonight?"
"Well, I'm on call, so whatever happens I'm dealing with, I guess. Let's hope that's not a lot. Dare I say it, so far it's almost been… quiet."
Blaine gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his forehead. "Cooper! You've cursed the shift!"
"Oh! My apologies. I really should be more careful," he replied, grinning.
As they ate, the brothers talked about their days, weeks, sometimes even just the state of their lives. It was more often now that Blaine was back in Lima after undergraduate studies in New York that they could see each other, especially now that lots of Blaine's classes were at the hospital where Cooper worked. It was an arrangement that suited both of them, despite the fact that Blaine was… well, in Lima.
Not that he hated Lima — he would just rather be back in the city that had his heart. But after their father's death, leaving their mother alone and with no one to care for her, both brothers had concerted to return to their hometowns, and once Cooper found a job in the ICU and Blaine completed his bachelor's degree and gained acceptance in med school in Lima, there was really only one thing left to do: pack up and move back.
He tried not to long for the busy streets or the quaint cafés, for Times Square or Central Park, for the lights at night or the sunny days, but every night he would dream of being back there, of having completed medical school and having the perfect job at a hospital and still having time to sing at coffee shops at night, of going out with his friends and getting plastered but of having someone waiting at home to forgive his stupidity and take care of him the way he was so used to taking care of everyone else.
These were some of the few thoughts that Blaine never shared with his brother. He knew Cooper had dreams, too — packing it all up and moving to LA, making it big as an actor. In fact, when he looked up, he could still see the poster from his Free Credit Rating Today commercial hanging beside the degrees in his office. But both of them knew that this was their lives, and it was okay — they were happy. Really, they were… just not as happy as they had dreamed.
"You dreamed what?" Blaine exclaimed, barely saving himself from choking on his dinner roll. Cooper smirked, patting his brother (just a little too hard) on the back
"Oh, you know, that you and Sebastian were married, and I was your best man." Blaine blinked, eyes wide, staring at his older brother who rolled his eyes at him. "What? It's not like it's impossible. Probable, even."
"Cooper, you know that's not how it is with me and Bas. Besides, I don't want probable. I want… passion. Love. I want impossible." Blaine sighed, resting his chin on his hand dreamily. "Is that dumb?"
His brother shook his head fondly. "It's ambitious, not dumb."
"But do you think…?"
"I think I'm not the best person to ask," he explained, solemn look in his eyes. Blaine paused, lowering his gaze to the cracks in the table. Each second the silence dragged on, he could feel the stinging in his eyes turn into tears, and he blinked them back furiously, knowing that if he cried, so would Cooper… and they had only just gotten past that.
"Cooper-"
"Just drop it, please," he replied. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
"Okay." He poked at his dinner, not looking his brother in the eye. Even after six months, his brother couldn't help but shut down every time he tried to talk about her.
After a long moment of less-than-comfortable silence, a loud buzzing filled the room, breaking the men out of their reveries. Cooper sighed, grabbing his pager off his belt and shoving his half-eaten dinner aside. Blaine watched him distractedly, fiddling with the mouse on his brother's computer.
When Cooper stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor, Blaine's heart rate quickened. "What's wrong?" he yelped as Cooper tore his coat from the hook and jammed his arms through it. Instead of getting a response from his brother, however, Blaine was answered by the resounding click of the overhead speakers, followed by a code he had only ever known in textbooks.
Code Orange.
He grabbed his cell phone, refreshing his email to find one from the hospital calling for anyone available. "Road accident — truck went rogue and ran over a bunch of pedestrians… there was a shooter. Ambos return in fifteen."
"I have to go, Blaine," Cooper stressed, digging through his on-call bag for his stethoscope. "Where is it?"
"Right here," Blaine answered, looping it around his brother's neck. "Stay calm, Coop."
Cooper hesitated for a moment before grabbing his brother's shoulders. "You need to come with me."
Blaine's eyes popped open, and he took a step back. "I haven't even graduated!"
"It's an emergency, squirt!"
"Cooper, I failed my code blue this morning! How could I possibly be of any help?"
"I believe in you," his brother told him, looking him square in the eyes. Blaine hesitated, and Cooper repeated his words. He nodded, and the men hurried towards the door, throwing it open to see others doing the same. All hands on deck.
It seemed that Lima wasn't so different from New York after all.
His hands were always full. Every second. He always had something to do; so often, in fact, that he didn't even have time to panic. This was what Blaine was good at — handling situations. That morning faded out of his memory, along with the self-doubt, the worry. All that was left was duty, responsibility. His specialty.
If you asked him the next day what happened in those first ten minutes after the ambulances arrived, he wouldn't be able to tell you. The adrenaline pumped through him, coursing through his veins as though it was rushing into him through an IV, and each task he completed with a level head was one less thing a doctor had to do. His heart was racing, but he felt good. Strong.
At least until he was wheeled in.
The unconscious boy looked young, maybe seventeen or eighteen. His pale white skin was cracked and stained with dark blood — a split lip, slash across his nose, and a black eye. But worst of all, there was a large gash on the back of his head, seeping blood that was drying in his chestnut hair.
Without pausing to think, Blaine rushed to the boy's side, spewing questions at the EMT. Cooper caught sight of them, rushing over and gently assessing the injuries. The boy was in critical condition, slipping in and out of consciousness, but seemed entirely delirious.
For the first time that night, Blaine was scared… as he didn't know why.
"No gunshot wounds," Cooper determined, checking his clipboard. "Shit, the staff are all occupied. Why didn't he arrive with the others?"
"He wasn't at the scene, doctor," replied the EMT. "Someone called from the high school, his brother. We believe he was assaulted by a classmate or someone in the building."
"Blunt force trauma to the head," Blaine said softly, cradling the boy's head in his hands and turning it gently to show his brother the wound. "Some kind of long metal object, like a crowbar. A different angle could have penetrated the skull."
"Doctor?" said the EMT, face heavy with barely-concealed emotion. "We believe there was sexual assault involved, at least to some extent. The patient was conscious when we arrived at the scene, hysterical. He was hostile to touch, which is common in…" The sentence trailed off, and Blaine's breath hitched in his throat.
"What's his name?" he asked as Cooper lifted up his shirt, wincing at the colour across his ribs.
"Kurt Hummel, seventeen years old. Student at McKinley High."
"And he was found by his brother? No sight of the perpetrator?"
The EMT shook his head. "Found by his step-brother, one Finn Hudson. The perp was gone when he found him."
"Is the step-brother here? Did he ride in the ambo?"
"No to both. Waited for his mother, I believe." With Cooper's dismissal, the EMT rushed back to the ambulance, leaving the brothers with the boy.
"So he has no one," Blaine whispered to himself, brushing a strand of hair out of the boy's swollen eyes. With tremendous effort, they opened for a moment and locked with his, and for that moment, Blaine was mesmerized by their stunning blue. "Kurt."
"Blaine." He jolted back to reality at his brother's sharp tone, catching his gaze. "We have to stabilize him. He has a pulse, but it's weak. Low blood pressure." Kurt had drifted back into consciousness, but Blaine could see the blank, confused look in his beautiful eyes, as though he had no idea where he was or what had happened.
Blaine's heart tightened in his chest when he began to sputter, and he quickly and carefully turned Kurt to his side where his injuries were less. Vomit spewed from his lips with an agonizing cough. "Aspiration. He's choking on his own vomit," Blaine stated. "Does that mean he could have sustained a mild brain injury?"
"Not necessarily," Cooper replied. "Look at the bruising on his abdomen. The emesis could be a result of injury to his digestive organs, or very well a concussion."
Kurt rolled onto his back, groaning painfully but quietly, as though he was subconsciously trying to keep quiet through the heart-wrenching pain. His eyes were closed again, and Blaine shook his head, whispering gently to the boy. "Stay with us, Kurt. Please."
Cooper stared at them, eyes wide. "Blaine, I… I can try to save him, but I need someone to assist."
"So find someone!" Blaine exclaimed. There was a moment between them that spoke for Dr. Anderson, and Blaine shook his head passionately. "No, Coop! I can't! I'll… I'll find you someone else! Someone better-"
"There is no one else," Cooper admitted, looking down at the broken boy on the stretcher. "Lima hasn't seen a situation like this in a long time, squirt, so everyone's already got their hands full. I need you, Kurt needs you. Please."
His heart hammered in his chest, each one seeming to go by faster with how little time he had. He really wasn't sure what to do, what was the right thing for Kurt — whether to risk helping his brother himself despite how little experience he had or waiting for someone better, wasting that precious time that seemed to be rushing by with every beat of his heart. And, also with every beat of his heart, Blaine couldn't help but notice how Kurt's was slowing...
Then, for just a second, Kurt's eyes opened again, those stunning pools of blue. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a hint of reassurance in them, as though Kurt had been following everything that had been said despite his delirium. Blaine took a deep breath and gave his answer.
"What do you need me to do?"
It was then, as Cooper gave him a solemn smile and started doling out instructions, that Blaine realized that the feeling weighing him down was no longer just responsibility — it was fear. Fear like he hadn't felt in a very long time. The kind of fear that makes your spine stiffen and your hands sweat, that makes everything you've ever experienced seem useless. The kind of fear that also relieves you, because you know it can't get any worse.
Only it did get worse, the second Kurt Hummel's heart stopped beating.