The world spun around Brooke as she dashed back into the house. Thank goodness I'm the levelheaded one, she thought to herself, dialing 911.

She automatically responded to the questions that the calm voice on the other end of the line asked. Then, as the voice instructed, she ran outside, kept talking to Nick, heard the siren thank goodness the siren, and then the super squad, oh so they were on duty, and Hank was calm and so was Jamie, Val was upset and Tyler was steadying her, Val's training took over, Nick was in the ambulance, Brooke was allowed to come along, and suddenly the world was speeding by and she couldn't hear the siren for the ringing in her ears.

The ambulance stopped, they were at the hospital, Brooke was shown to a waiting room, Val called their parents and explained. The room spun around Brooke. Everyone was moving so fast, and Brooke was covered in tar, shock slowing her actions, her thinking, the very firing from neuron to neuron in her brain.

Brooke realized vaguely that she was shaking. she could still hear Nick crying in the ambulance- "Owwwwwwwww..owwwwwww.." A deep moaning. "It hurts.oww."

Hey. her face was wet. Why was her face wet? Tears.

So. Nick had been hit by a car. A car hit Nick. How badly he was injured, she didn't know. Hey, there was Val.

Almost before she knew it, Brooke was running over to Val, who was approaching. Val started to say something. "How bad is it?" Brooke cut her off. "How bad?"

Val blinked. Val blinked several times. Val quickly blinked repeatedly several times. "Well?" Brooke demanded. By Val's silence, Brooke assumed the worst. Tears streamed down her face. "WELL?" She was nearly shouting now. Good thing the waiting room was empty.

"IS NICK OKAY?" Brooke's shouting drew stares from the hallway. Val was startled.

"I-I-I-it."

"It what, Val, it what?" Brooke asked. She was the traumatized one, Nick was her friend, and here she was, coaxing it out of Val. It was bad, had to be bad, if it was okay, Val would be saying, 'he's fine, he's fine, just a broken rib or two, a broken arm or leg maybe, he's fine, he's fine, or at least he will be.' But no. Val had to have the answer coaxed out of her, by her twelve-year-old, deathly afraid younger sister. The sheer absurdity of it struck Brooke. The tears had nearly stopped in Brooke's quest for answers, but now she broke down, sobbing.

"I.I." she started, tried to start. "I'm the one whose friend is hurt. I know it's bad, okay, I know it's bad. If it were okay, you'd have no problem telling me, right? Right?" She took a deep breath.

"It isn't my place to disclose that information." Val had to force the words out of her own throat. She felt her own heart break as a shocked expression crossed Brooke's face. "Patient Confidentiality Code. I can't disclose anything. it's all up to the doctors." Val felt a burden had been lifted. Brooke sagged. A new burden replaced the old one.

Val had forced out the words, and by doing so, shifted blame to the doctors, stalled for time. But by doing so, she now had to deal with Brooke's reaction. Val steeled herself for the equal possibilities of tantrum and wheedling. But to her surprise, Brooke merely said, "Oh. Right." She said it in a small voice, but almost relieved. Maybe part of her wasn't ready to deal with the information right now. It's better to have hope that it could be okay balanced with terror that it may not, than to have the sheer terror, no it's not okay, he's partially paralyzed, fully paralyzed, comatose, dead. Brooke chose hope.

*

Brooke chose hope.

But not for long. Half an hour later, Brooke's parents and Nick's family and other friends were assembled in the waiting room. A doctor walked in. Brooke was surrounded by Nick and her other friends- they knew how close the two were. Had been, possibly. Brooke shook her head- don't think like that!

The doctor cleared his throat, checked his clipboard, looked up. "Regarding Nick," he said. "Regarding Nick." He looked down at his clipboard. He was a nice-looking doctor, sandy-blond hair, short beard and mustache. He wore glasses and was the kind of doctor who you'd think had a nice smile, if he wasn't frowning all the time. "Regarding Nick. he's awake now. Room 211, just down the hall. Only three visitors at a time, please." The doctor smiled as Nick's parents automatically got up and walked down the hall.

*

Nick's parents returned several minutes later. "You go, Brooke." Her friends all nudged her. Grabbing Amy's shirt, she said to Amy, "Come with me?" How could Amy refuse? Brooke had her by the shirt collar. Shrugging, she okayed and followed Brooke down the hall, attempting to match her erratic pace.

All down the hallway, Brooke would walk quickly, wanting to see Nick, then pause, slow down, and trudge the next few paces. It was as if she couldn't wait to see Nick, but couldn't bear the thought of the horror the sight may bring. The doctor was so unspecific; had Brooke her wits about her, she would've asked the doctor how bad Nick's injuries were.

They reached 211. The number had such significance: horror and hope, combined- no, smashed together- and embodied in the plain numbers above the door.

Brooke pushed open the door, not knowing what to expect. Amy was right behind her. Brooke bit her lip and walked further into the room. Her stomach tumbled with anxiety.



"Hi, Nick." She said. Her voice was small.

"Hey, Brooke!" He replied enthusiastically. Another step and she'd see him, she decided. She took a deep breath. Amy, not wanting to be forgotten, simply gave Brooke a little shove and Brooke was in. Amy quickly walked in, "Hey, Nick," filling in behind Brooke, so Brooke couldn't get out.

"Hey, Amy," Nick said.

Brooke looked Nick over. The grin -he must be on painkillers- the few stitches above his right eye, the cast on his right arm. Brooke took a deep breath, and suddenly the room exploded with noise.

"I've been so worried!"

"I'm not that bad, really!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Me too!"

"Huh??"

"I just got hit slightly, on the side!"

"Aren't you in pain?"

"Sorry? Huh?"

"Painkillers are my new best friend!"

"I'm so sorry!"

"About what?"

"Sign my cast?"

"Did I miss something?"

And so it went on; one would've thought there were thirty kids in there, not three, for all the noise they made. Amy was lost, Brooke was sorry, and Nick was. well, probably more himself than the other two combined. Amy and Brooke signed the neon green cast, the third and fourth signatures, after Nick's parents. As they did, Brooke and Nick told Amy all about the amusement park.

After Amy understood what happened and Brooke (and Nick, to a degree) finally stopped apologizing profusely, Brooke asked, "So. when can you leave?"

"They want to keep me overnight for observation, so the doctors say. I'll most likely be free to go tomorrow."

*

Brooke and Amy returned, as the other kids took turns saying hi and signing Nick's cast.

After their shift, Tyler had driven Val over to the hospital and offered to stay in case Val needed him. Val, never wanting to decline being with Tyler, had said sure, and now they waited together to go home. Val leaned her head on Tyler's shoulder. "I'm so glad Nick's okay," she murmured.

"I know," Tyler said. "I know."

* * *

The next day, the Laniers went with Nick's parents to get Nick. He was allowed to go, everything was fine, the arm should heal properly. He had to go back soon to get the stitches removed.

"I," remarked Brooke, "am glad to be mostly back to normal."

**End**

Author's Note: I made up the Patient Confidentiality Code to suit my purposes. Didn't Hank mention something like that with the whole French teacher thing, in that episode? Anywho. I found yet another IaHb fic that wasn't finished and I felt the need to finish it. Hm.. lots of emotional distress, isn't there? Anyone know what happened to Ivy Leaves? I think she'd approve.