"I'm alright." Kate makes to swat away the hands all over her, but regrets it a moment later as pain shoots up her wrist. She tries to hide her wince in amongst a severe stare, but knows she hasn't exactly been successful as Nikki cocks an eyebrow.
"We'll be the judge of that." Nikki clucks, shining her torch in Kate's eyes, before turning back to face Chris. "Pupils are a little sluggish. Possible concussion." She slaps a hand on Kate's back. "Looks like you're having a CT scan!"
"I don't need a CT scan!" Kate protests, dragging her good hand over her face. "I just want to go home and sleep." Over Nikki's shoulder stand most of the crew. "Isn't there a fire to fight or something?" She mumbles lamely.
"Are you always this terrible a patient?" Chris presses. "You're worse than my daughter when I have to put a bandaid on her." This time, it's Kate's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Look, you're going to the hospital anyway. You need your wrist x-rayed and probably set in plaster."
"And Charge has got a line on the fire, as have the guys from the South Station and Smithfield, so don't worry about that." Dutchy chimes in.
"You guys don't need to baby me."
"You narrowly escaped being crushed in a collapsing building. I'd say we're allowed to be a little concerned." Dutchy shrugs. "Saved 2Dads' bacon at any rate."
Nikki shuts her notebook with a snap and turns an appraising eye towards Kate. "So, you want the stretcher, or are you going to sit?"
"I'm not going in the ambulance!" Kate exclaims, sitting up straighter and wincing again as the pounding in her head increases. "Look, all I need is a couple of panadol and I'll be fine."
Nikki throws her hands up in exasperation, turning to Marshall, who's standing, arms folded, behind them. "You're not driving yourself to hospital. So it's ambulance or you get someone to pick you up. And they take you straight there! Okay?"
"You don't actually need to take me to the hospital." Kate frowns as she sinks deeper into the passenger seat, her eyes closed to protect her pounding head from the harsh sun's rays streaming in through the windshield. Even so, she can feel Mike turning to look at her.
"We're going to the hospital, Kate." His tone is curt, not like the usual jovial tone he usually uses with her, and she's curious and concerned enough to peek through her lids at him. His hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. He looks furious.
Her head gives another severe throb and she squeezes her eyes shut once more. "I'm... I'm sorry I called you."
"Well, I'm not." Mike spits, still in that measured, abrupt voice. "Otherwise I'd probably never have heard from you again. You'd have changed your name and moved to Tibet or something."
She digs the fingernails of her good hand into her thigh. "I... I would have."
"Would you?" He presses. "Because I'm starting to feel like a bit of a stalker, Kate, pleading to your voicemail."
"Mike, that's... it's not that simple." She forces her eyes open and reaches forward to touch his wrist. He pulls away from her touch, jerking the steering wheel in an irritated fashion, so that the tyres squeal slightly as he rounds the corner. "Mike, I called you today. I... I wanted to call you..."
"That's bullshit, Kate. You would have tried everything you could to get out of calling anyone. And I don't know why you called me. I mean, you run bloody hot and cold. And just when I start to think you're opening up to me, you disappear again! So, no, I have no idea why you called me. Perhaps it was because you sensed my interest in you was fading compared to my irritation at how you're constantly pushing me away. Or is it just because your sister wasn't available?"
"Mike, that's not..."
"So, what was the thought process? You were into me, and then the moment you discovered that I actually liked you, you bailed. Our daughters become friends, and you don't want to speak to me, but then you flirt with me. You tell me about your bad days, cry all over me, try to kiss me, and then you won't speak to me again. And then you tell me that, and I tell you I want to be there for you, and you don't drop my calls until you're nearly killed in a fucking tanker explosion?!" He slams a fist into the steering wheel. "So tell me, Kate, because I don't get it?"
Her head is pounding, and she has no explanation, because he's right, there is no excuse, and it's all she can do to shake her head. "I..."
A light ahead turns red, and he slams his foot onto the brake so suddenly she's jolted forwards, the seatbelt catching her before she smacks face-first into the airbags. "You know what, Kate? You're going to push away everyone who loves you, then fine! But you're going to end up a sad, lonely old-"
But Kate doesn't hear the rest of his words. All she knows is that the world is suddenly red, and her head is splitting open, and she can barely breathe, let alone formulate a response. She tries to speak, tries to tell him that she's sorry, that he's right, but she just can't wrap her mouth around the words. And then... nothing.
Mike stops his rant as Kate suddenly slumps forwards, head lolling pathetically like a rag doll. "Shit." He leans over, hands grappling with her, trying to lift her up, to feel for a pulse. Anything. "Kate?" She recovers slightly, eyes rolling, mumbles something unintelligible, and falls again. "Shit." He curses again. "Okay, Kate, we're almost... hospital. Shit, just hang on, okay?"