Title: Be Still My Heart What If..
Part: 4/?
Pairing: Lucy, Weaver, Carter
Beta Reader: Scotty Welles.
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimers: They're mine so nanananana........
Lucy closed her eyes against the tears that were running freely. She
wanted to help, to be in there with the others, working to save Dr.
Weaver. Her first response after they'd rushed toward trauma one had
been to charge after them. Carter had taken only a moment to order her
out. She'd just stood there until he'd lashed out at her.
It wasn't that he'd never yelled at her, it was just he'd never
attacked her like that. With that edge of desperation and near-panic.
His eyes had been the worst. Wild and scared. She had backed toward the
door watching as Weaver crashed.
Carter's panic rising while everyone worked to save her, to save one of
their own. Lucy's body being pushed aside as Kovac raced in, his dark
complexion paling as he saw who it was, saw her laying there lifeless.
Malucci not far behind him. His hands clapping together in the trauma
room with smugness. "Nothing like the smell of a fresh trauma to start
your shift..." The way he'd pushed Lydia aside to take over incubating
her and the look of horror on his face.
Lucy had watched his unshakable loftiness collapse as he dropped the
instruments to the floor and wheezed. "Ch-chief..." Malucci had backed
up and run from the room, audibly getting sick into one of the nearby
hazard bins.
She'd finally backed away from the scene playing out in front of her,
sitting on the floor across from the doors, keeping guard. Malucci
joining her shortly after. Helpless to do anything except listen to the
flatline and the electrical charges as they shot through Weaver's body.
Malucci reached over, gripping her hand tightly. "The chief's strong,
she'll make it."
Carter stood in the middle of the trauma room, staring at the empty
table. She'd crashed three times, each time it had taken them longer to
revive her. Each time he had nearly broken down.
He slowly peeled the blood-soaked gloves off, letting them fall to the
floor. He should go upstairs, he should be there when they brought her
out of surgery. Then who'd cover the ER? Both Malucci and Lucy were too
shaken up to be of any help.
He jerked off the protective glasses, letting them join the rest of his
scrubs on the floor. His clothes felt heavy, clinging to his body from
her blood. He paused just outside the doors, feeling the bile fighting
to rise.
The ER was silent except for the soft murmurs of the detectives.
Everyone was in shock. Even the normally racy Randi was just sitting
behind the desk. The nurses and other doctors were standing around
waiting, now wearing various scrubs.
There was nothing else to do. The police were only letting in patients
brought in by ambulance. Carter watched as Lydia dropped her head. It
was probably better that way. No one here was up to dealing with
anything, at least until they knew what was happening with Weaver.
"Here..." Carter took the scrubs that Malucci handed him. The younger
man was staring at the blood on Carter's clothes, looking like he was
going to get sick again.
Carter numbly made his way toward the locker rooms, stripping off his
expensive clothes as he made his way towards the showers. He turned on
the water, letting it heat the suddenly cold room, steam surrounding
his tired body.
He pushed his palms against the chilly tiles and let the first sobs
retch through his wet body. Each sob came harder than the last. If he'd
only trusted his instincts and gone into the exam room maybe he could
have stopped the attack. If he'd only paid more attention to Lucy then
it would've been him lying there instead.
He just couldn't shake the image of her lying there in a puddle of her
own blood. Gazing at him in pain and confusion. Carter slipped to the
floor, curling up and let go of all of the emotions he'd tried to hide.
The wounds shouldn't have made her crash so many times. She was strong,
strong enough to fight this, to fight death. Why wasn't she trying
harder? Carter leaned his head and felt his panic rise.
The week he started moving out, he'd lost a patient. He'd spent four
hours working on her trying to save her. Her wounds had been bad enough
to be life-threatening, but not bad enough that she shouldn't have
died.
Kerry had sighed heavily. "When I was first starting out, I lost a
patient. There was no apparent reason why. One of the doctors at the
clinic was a shaman. You know what he told me?"
John shook his head without any real interest.
"Sometimes the soul is too sick for the body to be saved."
John stood up at the loud bang that echoed around him. Someone had just
come into the shower room, letting the door slam. What if it was the
guy responsible for Kerry's current problem? His breathing sped up as
the fear became rage. Not caring about his nudity, he glanced around
for some sort of weapon with which to defend himself. If he could get
his hands on the bastard who'd stabbed Kerry...
Nothing but his towel came to hand, but he held it under the water,
letting it gain weight as it soaked. It wasn't the most effective of
clubs, but swung hard enough, it could still stun an attacker. He
inched into the locker room, spotting the dark-haired man bending over
to pick up his clothes.
A loud scream ripped from Carter's throat, the improvised weapon
swinging in his hand. The man spun around to him, blocking his wrist
before the towel could connect. Carter pushed forward. How dare he
hurt his friend? How dare he come into this haven and hurt her?
A torrent of Croatian filled his ears, pain exploded across his face,
and he fell back. Kovac's hand pulled back, ready to slap him a second
time. "Jesus, Carter, what are you doing?! Are you trying to kill
someone?"
Sanity returned as it sank into Carter's head that he was assaulting
one of his colleagues, an attending, no less. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Dr.
Kovac. I...I thought maybe it was...after what happened to Dr.
Weaver..."
Luka nodded, releasing Carter's wrist. "Okay, I can understand that.
Just next time, look before you leap, all right?"
"Sure, I'm really sorry." Mortified more for his unprovoked attack
than his nakedness, Carter wrapped the sodden towel around himself.
"Were you looking for me?"
"We've got MVA's in route. A man wearing a hospital gown ran out into
the interstate. I've sent Lucy upstairs and with Kerry... I've paged
Mark."
"Okay, I'll, uh, I'll be there in a minute," Carter said, nodding
mutely.
"Don't be too long, they'll be here shortly."
"Yeah, just give me a minute, okay?" Carter could feel himself
starting to shake as the adrenaline rush subsided.
Kovac met his gaze, then left the locker room. Carter could see how
much effort it was taking for the older man to keep going.
Carter sat on the bench next to his scrubs, trying to pull himself
together. There was no excuse for losing it like that, he told
himself. Even if you are worried sick about Kerry. What would she
think of you for that? And people need your help.
He reached for his scrubs, uncaring that he wasn't dry yet.
Part: 4/?
Pairing: Lucy, Weaver, Carter
Beta Reader: Scotty Welles.
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimers: They're mine so nanananana........
Lucy closed her eyes against the tears that were running freely. She
wanted to help, to be in there with the others, working to save Dr.
Weaver. Her first response after they'd rushed toward trauma one had
been to charge after them. Carter had taken only a moment to order her
out. She'd just stood there until he'd lashed out at her.
It wasn't that he'd never yelled at her, it was just he'd never
attacked her like that. With that edge of desperation and near-panic.
His eyes had been the worst. Wild and scared. She had backed toward the
door watching as Weaver crashed.
Carter's panic rising while everyone worked to save her, to save one of
their own. Lucy's body being pushed aside as Kovac raced in, his dark
complexion paling as he saw who it was, saw her laying there lifeless.
Malucci not far behind him. His hands clapping together in the trauma
room with smugness. "Nothing like the smell of a fresh trauma to start
your shift..." The way he'd pushed Lydia aside to take over incubating
her and the look of horror on his face.
Lucy had watched his unshakable loftiness collapse as he dropped the
instruments to the floor and wheezed. "Ch-chief..." Malucci had backed
up and run from the room, audibly getting sick into one of the nearby
hazard bins.
She'd finally backed away from the scene playing out in front of her,
sitting on the floor across from the doors, keeping guard. Malucci
joining her shortly after. Helpless to do anything except listen to the
flatline and the electrical charges as they shot through Weaver's body.
Malucci reached over, gripping her hand tightly. "The chief's strong,
she'll make it."
Carter stood in the middle of the trauma room, staring at the empty
table. She'd crashed three times, each time it had taken them longer to
revive her. Each time he had nearly broken down.
He slowly peeled the blood-soaked gloves off, letting them fall to the
floor. He should go upstairs, he should be there when they brought her
out of surgery. Then who'd cover the ER? Both Malucci and Lucy were too
shaken up to be of any help.
He jerked off the protective glasses, letting them join the rest of his
scrubs on the floor. His clothes felt heavy, clinging to his body from
her blood. He paused just outside the doors, feeling the bile fighting
to rise.
The ER was silent except for the soft murmurs of the detectives.
Everyone was in shock. Even the normally racy Randi was just sitting
behind the desk. The nurses and other doctors were standing around
waiting, now wearing various scrubs.
There was nothing else to do. The police were only letting in patients
brought in by ambulance. Carter watched as Lydia dropped her head. It
was probably better that way. No one here was up to dealing with
anything, at least until they knew what was happening with Weaver.
"Here..." Carter took the scrubs that Malucci handed him. The younger
man was staring at the blood on Carter's clothes, looking like he was
going to get sick again.
Carter numbly made his way toward the locker rooms, stripping off his
expensive clothes as he made his way towards the showers. He turned on
the water, letting it heat the suddenly cold room, steam surrounding
his tired body.
He pushed his palms against the chilly tiles and let the first sobs
retch through his wet body. Each sob came harder than the last. If he'd
only trusted his instincts and gone into the exam room maybe he could
have stopped the attack. If he'd only paid more attention to Lucy then
it would've been him lying there instead.
He just couldn't shake the image of her lying there in a puddle of her
own blood. Gazing at him in pain and confusion. Carter slipped to the
floor, curling up and let go of all of the emotions he'd tried to hide.
The wounds shouldn't have made her crash so many times. She was strong,
strong enough to fight this, to fight death. Why wasn't she trying
harder? Carter leaned his head and felt his panic rise.
The week he started moving out, he'd lost a patient. He'd spent four
hours working on her trying to save her. Her wounds had been bad enough
to be life-threatening, but not bad enough that she shouldn't have
died.
Kerry had sighed heavily. "When I was first starting out, I lost a
patient. There was no apparent reason why. One of the doctors at the
clinic was a shaman. You know what he told me?"
John shook his head without any real interest.
"Sometimes the soul is too sick for the body to be saved."
John stood up at the loud bang that echoed around him. Someone had just
come into the shower room, letting the door slam. What if it was the
guy responsible for Kerry's current problem? His breathing sped up as
the fear became rage. Not caring about his nudity, he glanced around
for some sort of weapon with which to defend himself. If he could get
his hands on the bastard who'd stabbed Kerry...
Nothing but his towel came to hand, but he held it under the water,
letting it gain weight as it soaked. It wasn't the most effective of
clubs, but swung hard enough, it could still stun an attacker. He
inched into the locker room, spotting the dark-haired man bending over
to pick up his clothes.
A loud scream ripped from Carter's throat, the improvised weapon
swinging in his hand. The man spun around to him, blocking his wrist
before the towel could connect. Carter pushed forward. How dare he
hurt his friend? How dare he come into this haven and hurt her?
A torrent of Croatian filled his ears, pain exploded across his face,
and he fell back. Kovac's hand pulled back, ready to slap him a second
time. "Jesus, Carter, what are you doing?! Are you trying to kill
someone?"
Sanity returned as it sank into Carter's head that he was assaulting
one of his colleagues, an attending, no less. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Dr.
Kovac. I...I thought maybe it was...after what happened to Dr.
Weaver..."
Luka nodded, releasing Carter's wrist. "Okay, I can understand that.
Just next time, look before you leap, all right?"
"Sure, I'm really sorry." Mortified more for his unprovoked attack
than his nakedness, Carter wrapped the sodden towel around himself.
"Were you looking for me?"
"We've got MVA's in route. A man wearing a hospital gown ran out into
the interstate. I've sent Lucy upstairs and with Kerry... I've paged
Mark."
"Okay, I'll, uh, I'll be there in a minute," Carter said, nodding
mutely.
"Don't be too long, they'll be here shortly."
"Yeah, just give me a minute, okay?" Carter could feel himself
starting to shake as the adrenaline rush subsided.
Kovac met his gaze, then left the locker room. Carter could see how
much effort it was taking for the older man to keep going.
Carter sat on the bench next to his scrubs, trying to pull himself
together. There was no excuse for losing it like that, he told
himself. Even if you are worried sick about Kerry. What would she
think of you for that? And people need your help.
He reached for his scrubs, uncaring that he wasn't dry yet.