Disclaimer: Let's screw the disclaimer! I want Erik!
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"Just hold still…it'll be just a few more seconds…there you go," Dave said, finishing the stitches of a patient who had sliced her hand when trying to grab knife. "Next time, Jennifer, don't try to catch a falling knife. It's not exactly the brightest thing to do."
The teenage girl nodded. "I won't, Dr. Dave, don't worry," she assured.
Dave laughed. "Okay, then, if you have any problems like infections or something, just come back in and we'll take care of it," Dave told her.
She nodded again. "Thank you."
"Not a problem. Have a good day," Dave said. He stood up and walked out the door. He let out a deep sigh. He had spent half the morning explaining to all his co-workers why he was back. Sure, he had gotten a few hugs, some of the nurses gave him a welcome back kiss on the cheek, he got warm smiles…but he had gotten tired of it all. So he had been glad to see some patients. Which was a first, since he usually found patients who weren't part of a major trauma, well…boring.
He walked down the hall and stopped at the admit desk to pick up another chart when he noticed that Randi was staring at him. He tried to ignore it at first, but he finally gave him and looked back at her.
"Do you need something, Randi?" he asked.
She shook her head and blew a bubble with her gum. "Nope."
"Why are you staring at me?"
She shrugged. "No reason," she replied.
Dave narrowed his eyes and grabbed a chart. He looked down at it to find that it was a patient with a headache. Randi was still staring at him. He looked at her again.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing!" she exclaimed.
Dave sighed exasperatedly and walked away.
As he walked to Exam 2, where his next patient was, he felt his arm being tugged and he turned around. "Yes?" he said to the male stranger.
"Dude," the boy, who looked about 17, started, "I really need a fix. Can you give me something?"
Dave looked around, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Uh, dude, I can't do that. This is a hospital, we don't just give away drugs."
"Man, I really need something. You don't understand," the teenager whined.
"You're going to have to find somewhere else do get your daily dose. Now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Dave replied.
"Fine. Screw you, asshole. You'll be sorry," the teen said angrily, throwing up his hands. He ran out the main entrance to the ER while Dave watched after him. Dave shook his head. Unbelievable.
"Malucci, is there something wrong?" Kerry asked, walking up to him.
"Uh, no Chief, it was a drug seeker. I asked him to leave," Dave explained.
"Well, good. Now you can get back to work," she said, walking away.
Dave sighed and looked at his chart. He walked to Exam 2, this time without any interruptions. He entered the room and found a young man in his early twenties sitting on the bed, already in a gown.
"Hello…uh," Dave started.
"Timothy," the patient filled in.
Dave smiled. "Timothy, hi. I'm Dr. Dave and I'll be treating you today. Can you tell what the problem is?"
"Well, I've been having some really bad headaches lately. That's basically it."
"Uh-huh. Have you been under any major stress lately?" Dave asked.
"Kind of…we've been having finals at college," Timothy explained.
"Oh, that's tough. Have you been studying?"
"More than anything."
"That's probably it, then."
"Are you serious? I'm having these headaches from too much studying?"
"Well, the stress plays a much more major role. But you know, all that brain-racking doesn't help much."
"Wow. Well, are you going to give me something?"
"Uh, well, have you been taking anything yourself?"
"Aspirin and Advil?" Timothy offered.
"And they haven't been working?"
"Not much."
"Okay, well, I guess I could prescribe you something. I'll be right back."
Dave stood up and walked out the door, planning on presenting the case to the Chief when he heard his name being called.
"Dave, we need you for a trauma!" Chuny called.
"I'll be right there!" Dave called back.
"We'll be in Trauma 3," Chuny informed.
Dave ran to the admit desk. "Randi, hold on to this for me, will ya?" Dave asked, tossing the irritated desk clerk Timothy's chart.
"Okay, but you owe me one!" Randi called after him.
"Whatever!" Dave yelled over his shoulder.
He rushed to Trauma 3 and found Carter, Chuny, Abby, and two others he had never seen before working on the trauma.
"What's up?" Dave asked as Chuny helped him put on a gown. He snapped on his gloves and walked over to the body being worked on.
"Fifteen year old girl, victim of a hit-and-run. The driver's in the next room," Carter replied.
"Who're these guys?" Dave inquired, gesturing to the two African-American men.
"Dave, this is Michael Gallant, fourth year med student, and Greg Pratt, intern. Boys, this is Dr. Dave Malucci. It's his first day back so don't give him any trouble," Carter said quickly.
Dave rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Counselor Carter," he said, sarcastically.
Carter smiled up at him and returned his attention to the girl. The sound of the heart monitor's quickening beeps caught Dave's attention.
"Dr. Carter, we're in V-fib!" Gallant called frantically.
"Get me the paddles," Dave said to Chuny. The response was immediate and he felt the paddles being put into his hands. Pratt set the orange pads on the girl's chest.
"Charge to 150…clear!"
"Time of death, 12:57," Kerry stated, pulling off her gloves.
Susan Lewis followed suit and sighed. They both walked out the trauma room doors.
"Kerry, everyone's been talking about that kid Dave," Susan started. "What's up with him?"
"Dr. Malucci has made some mistakes," Kerry said in an official tone. "He was fired but he is now reinstated."
"Why?" Susan asked, puzzled.
"It's confidential business," Kerry replied.
Susan nodded and licked her lips. "He seems like a nice guy."
"He can be," Kerry agreed.
"Is he a good person?"
Kerry tilted her head to the left, then to the right, and to the left again. "He can be," she said again, this time with a small laugh. "He can be good to have around. He's proved to be a very good doctor at times, but he can be very irresponsible."
"Huh," Susan replied. "Well, he sounds like everyone in this ER. Excuse me, I have to go see my patient."
Susan walked off and left Weaver standing alone in the hall. Susan didn't know it, but the last comment she made had inadvertently added to Kerry's continuing thoughts about her decision to rehire Dave.
"Nice job, Dave," Carter congratulated as the two doctors watched the hit-and-run girl being wheeled to the OR.
"What? All I did was shock her out of V-fib," Dave replied, shrugging.
"Yeah, but you've been out of practice for a while," Carter continued.
Dave shrugged again. "It's not hard to remember."
"Yeah, well…" Carter started, trailing off.
"What, you think that I'm such a bad doctor that I would forget something like that?" Dave accused.
"No, not at all," Carter stammered. "I, uh, I…I'm sorry…uh, I've got to go see some patients."
Carter quickly walked away and Dave suddenly regretted the accusation he had laid on Carter.
He sighed. Then, he remembered Timothy. He walked to the admit desk where Randi was sitting, reading a magazine.
"Hey, Randi, can I get that chart back?" Dave asked.
"Yeah, but it won't do you any good," Randi replied, handing him the chart.
"Why?"
"The guy left," Randi explained, waving her hand toward the doors.
"What?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"Is that my job?" Randi asked, annoyed. "Noooo."
Dave rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He looked at his watch. "Okay, whatever, I'm taking a break."
He walked to the Lounge and opened the doors. He gasped when he saw the person before him. It was the guy who had been asking him for drugs earlier and he was aiming a gun straight at Dave's chest.
"You yell, I shoot," the teen warned. "Get in here."
Dave slowly walked in and the door swished closed behind him.
"I told you you'd be sorry," the teen said evilly.
Dave took a deep breath. "Come on, kid, don't do this."
"Don't call me 'kid'," the boy said bitterly, dropping his gun hand down to his side. "The name's Shane."
"Okay…uh, okay, Shane," Dave stammered nervously. "You don't need to do this."
"Yes I do. I told you…you don't understand how much I need those drugs," Shane said, now panting.
"Nobody needs drugs that badly," Dave said, cautiously.
"You don't know what you're talking about! I haven't had a good fix in a week!" Shane exclaimed, waving the gun around. Dave feared that at any moment, it might end up going off.
"You can get help," Dave told him.
"You don't get it, do you? I don't WANT help, I just want the damn drugs!" Shane spat.
"Well I can't help you with that," Dave said, firmly.
Shane snarled. He ran up to Dave and grabbed the young resident's collar with his free hand. Despite his rage, Shane spoke in a calm voice. "If you don't help me, you're going to get hurt. You want to live? Get me those drugs."
Dave slowly shook his head. "I can't do that," he whispered.
Shane gave a low growl and let go of Dave's shirt. He cocked his head and smiled. "Fine," he said, aiming the gun at Dave's head. Suddenly, the door to the Lounge began to open. Dave's eyes widened when he realized that Shane was changing his aim and Dave turned to look at the person.
"Jing-Mei, get down!"
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"Just hold still…it'll be just a few more seconds…there you go," Dave said, finishing the stitches of a patient who had sliced her hand when trying to grab knife. "Next time, Jennifer, don't try to catch a falling knife. It's not exactly the brightest thing to do."
The teenage girl nodded. "I won't, Dr. Dave, don't worry," she assured.
Dave laughed. "Okay, then, if you have any problems like infections or something, just come back in and we'll take care of it," Dave told her.
She nodded again. "Thank you."
"Not a problem. Have a good day," Dave said. He stood up and walked out the door. He let out a deep sigh. He had spent half the morning explaining to all his co-workers why he was back. Sure, he had gotten a few hugs, some of the nurses gave him a welcome back kiss on the cheek, he got warm smiles…but he had gotten tired of it all. So he had been glad to see some patients. Which was a first, since he usually found patients who weren't part of a major trauma, well…boring.
He walked down the hall and stopped at the admit desk to pick up another chart when he noticed that Randi was staring at him. He tried to ignore it at first, but he finally gave him and looked back at her.
"Do you need something, Randi?" he asked.
She shook her head and blew a bubble with her gum. "Nope."
"Why are you staring at me?"
She shrugged. "No reason," she replied.
Dave narrowed his eyes and grabbed a chart. He looked down at it to find that it was a patient with a headache. Randi was still staring at him. He looked at her again.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing!" she exclaimed.
Dave sighed exasperatedly and walked away.
As he walked to Exam 2, where his next patient was, he felt his arm being tugged and he turned around. "Yes?" he said to the male stranger.
"Dude," the boy, who looked about 17, started, "I really need a fix. Can you give me something?"
Dave looked around, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Uh, dude, I can't do that. This is a hospital, we don't just give away drugs."
"Man, I really need something. You don't understand," the teenager whined.
"You're going to have to find somewhere else do get your daily dose. Now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Dave replied.
"Fine. Screw you, asshole. You'll be sorry," the teen said angrily, throwing up his hands. He ran out the main entrance to the ER while Dave watched after him. Dave shook his head. Unbelievable.
"Malucci, is there something wrong?" Kerry asked, walking up to him.
"Uh, no Chief, it was a drug seeker. I asked him to leave," Dave explained.
"Well, good. Now you can get back to work," she said, walking away.
Dave sighed and looked at his chart. He walked to Exam 2, this time without any interruptions. He entered the room and found a young man in his early twenties sitting on the bed, already in a gown.
"Hello…uh," Dave started.
"Timothy," the patient filled in.
Dave smiled. "Timothy, hi. I'm Dr. Dave and I'll be treating you today. Can you tell what the problem is?"
"Well, I've been having some really bad headaches lately. That's basically it."
"Uh-huh. Have you been under any major stress lately?" Dave asked.
"Kind of…we've been having finals at college," Timothy explained.
"Oh, that's tough. Have you been studying?"
"More than anything."
"That's probably it, then."
"Are you serious? I'm having these headaches from too much studying?"
"Well, the stress plays a much more major role. But you know, all that brain-racking doesn't help much."
"Wow. Well, are you going to give me something?"
"Uh, well, have you been taking anything yourself?"
"Aspirin and Advil?" Timothy offered.
"And they haven't been working?"
"Not much."
"Okay, well, I guess I could prescribe you something. I'll be right back."
Dave stood up and walked out the door, planning on presenting the case to the Chief when he heard his name being called.
"Dave, we need you for a trauma!" Chuny called.
"I'll be right there!" Dave called back.
"We'll be in Trauma 3," Chuny informed.
Dave ran to the admit desk. "Randi, hold on to this for me, will ya?" Dave asked, tossing the irritated desk clerk Timothy's chart.
"Okay, but you owe me one!" Randi called after him.
"Whatever!" Dave yelled over his shoulder.
He rushed to Trauma 3 and found Carter, Chuny, Abby, and two others he had never seen before working on the trauma.
"What's up?" Dave asked as Chuny helped him put on a gown. He snapped on his gloves and walked over to the body being worked on.
"Fifteen year old girl, victim of a hit-and-run. The driver's in the next room," Carter replied.
"Who're these guys?" Dave inquired, gesturing to the two African-American men.
"Dave, this is Michael Gallant, fourth year med student, and Greg Pratt, intern. Boys, this is Dr. Dave Malucci. It's his first day back so don't give him any trouble," Carter said quickly.
Dave rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Counselor Carter," he said, sarcastically.
Carter smiled up at him and returned his attention to the girl. The sound of the heart monitor's quickening beeps caught Dave's attention.
"Dr. Carter, we're in V-fib!" Gallant called frantically.
"Get me the paddles," Dave said to Chuny. The response was immediate and he felt the paddles being put into his hands. Pratt set the orange pads on the girl's chest.
"Charge to 150…clear!"
"Time of death, 12:57," Kerry stated, pulling off her gloves.
Susan Lewis followed suit and sighed. They both walked out the trauma room doors.
"Kerry, everyone's been talking about that kid Dave," Susan started. "What's up with him?"
"Dr. Malucci has made some mistakes," Kerry said in an official tone. "He was fired but he is now reinstated."
"Why?" Susan asked, puzzled.
"It's confidential business," Kerry replied.
Susan nodded and licked her lips. "He seems like a nice guy."
"He can be," Kerry agreed.
"Is he a good person?"
Kerry tilted her head to the left, then to the right, and to the left again. "He can be," she said again, this time with a small laugh. "He can be good to have around. He's proved to be a very good doctor at times, but he can be very irresponsible."
"Huh," Susan replied. "Well, he sounds like everyone in this ER. Excuse me, I have to go see my patient."
Susan walked off and left Weaver standing alone in the hall. Susan didn't know it, but the last comment she made had inadvertently added to Kerry's continuing thoughts about her decision to rehire Dave.
"Nice job, Dave," Carter congratulated as the two doctors watched the hit-and-run girl being wheeled to the OR.
"What? All I did was shock her out of V-fib," Dave replied, shrugging.
"Yeah, but you've been out of practice for a while," Carter continued.
Dave shrugged again. "It's not hard to remember."
"Yeah, well…" Carter started, trailing off.
"What, you think that I'm such a bad doctor that I would forget something like that?" Dave accused.
"No, not at all," Carter stammered. "I, uh, I…I'm sorry…uh, I've got to go see some patients."
Carter quickly walked away and Dave suddenly regretted the accusation he had laid on Carter.
He sighed. Then, he remembered Timothy. He walked to the admit desk where Randi was sitting, reading a magazine.
"Hey, Randi, can I get that chart back?" Dave asked.
"Yeah, but it won't do you any good," Randi replied, handing him the chart.
"Why?"
"The guy left," Randi explained, waving her hand toward the doors.
"What?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"Is that my job?" Randi asked, annoyed. "Noooo."
Dave rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He looked at his watch. "Okay, whatever, I'm taking a break."
He walked to the Lounge and opened the doors. He gasped when he saw the person before him. It was the guy who had been asking him for drugs earlier and he was aiming a gun straight at Dave's chest.
"You yell, I shoot," the teen warned. "Get in here."
Dave slowly walked in and the door swished closed behind him.
"I told you you'd be sorry," the teen said evilly.
Dave took a deep breath. "Come on, kid, don't do this."
"Don't call me 'kid'," the boy said bitterly, dropping his gun hand down to his side. "The name's Shane."
"Okay…uh, okay, Shane," Dave stammered nervously. "You don't need to do this."
"Yes I do. I told you…you don't understand how much I need those drugs," Shane said, now panting.
"Nobody needs drugs that badly," Dave said, cautiously.
"You don't know what you're talking about! I haven't had a good fix in a week!" Shane exclaimed, waving the gun around. Dave feared that at any moment, it might end up going off.
"You can get help," Dave told him.
"You don't get it, do you? I don't WANT help, I just want the damn drugs!" Shane spat.
"Well I can't help you with that," Dave said, firmly.
Shane snarled. He ran up to Dave and grabbed the young resident's collar with his free hand. Despite his rage, Shane spoke in a calm voice. "If you don't help me, you're going to get hurt. You want to live? Get me those drugs."
Dave slowly shook his head. "I can't do that," he whispered.
Shane gave a low growl and let go of Dave's shirt. He cocked his head and smiled. "Fine," he said, aiming the gun at Dave's head. Suddenly, the door to the Lounge began to open. Dave's eyes widened when he realized that Shane was changing his aim and Dave turned to look at the person.
"Jing-Mei, get down!"