In Amanda's view, pathology was most certainly the superior branch of medicine. Although, she realised, she could probably be considered a little biased. But what other speciality was so intriguing or so quiet? No back chat from the patients. No rushing around trying not to trip over nurses, equipment and relatives. She didn't crave the adrenaline rush that a trauma brought in nor the buzz of performing major surgery. She liked being secluded away here, getting on with her own thing at a more sedate pace. Investigating, exploring and discovering. She got enough noise and raucous excitement when she went home to her two small children.
At the moment however her peace was being disturbed by the steady tap of Steve's impatient foot, occasionally punctuated by some pacing. She knew he wanted the autopsy results but she wasn't going to rush herself.
He needed her report so he could finish his. And it was quite clear he was going to hover around her until he got it. She couldn't even get rid of him by grossing him out as she did with some of his colleagues. Steve had a more than strong stomach for a little - or in this case, a lot of - blood.
"Want me to tell you how he died?" Amanda asked, finally straightening up from the examination of her latest 'patient'.
Steve, standing a few feet away in his serious, arms-crossed position, raised a rather sarcastic eyebrow, "Thanks, but I think I can take a fairly educated guess. Even my limited medical knowledge stretches that far."
Amanda had to agree that this hadn't exactly been her most challenging case ever. As means of death go, a bullet wound to the frontal lobe was pretty conclusive. Even so, she'd run every test that was appropriate just in case things weren't quite what they seemed. In a way she kind of hoped she'd find something amiss. She liked the feeling she got when she discovered something unexpected - it meant that she'd been instrumental in solving the case.
No such surprises this time though.
"Hmm," she said with a slight smile, placing the last part of her preliminary report into a folder so Steve could take it away, "Definitely an example of when you can judge a book by its cover." She signed the report with a small flourish and handed it to him.
Out of habit, Steve flicked through the pages, ignoring most of the medical jargon and heading straight for the conclusion. He didn't get a chance to read it however before its contents were spoken aloud in a rather too enthusiastic voice.
"Oh, now that is a nasty one. Looks like a .45 at point blank range."
Steve looked up to see a young, dark haired woman peering closely at the bullet wound in rather gross fascination.
"Oooh, big hole."
The stranger appeared to be in her late twenties, her dark hair lay a few inches below her shoulders in stylishly messy waves. Steve summed her up as 'five foot four, medium build, no distinguishing features' before he wondered to himself why he always described people the same way he did suspects.
"Excuse me," Amanda said in sharp indignation, "But what the hell do you think you're-"
Fortunately for the newcomer, Amanda's forthcoming angry rant - borne from a protectiveness of her work area - was interrupted by Mark's timely entrance. "Here you go," he said, handing a lab coat to the dark haired woman, "And guard it like gold dust. Those things tend to vanish around here."
She thanked him with a smile and tugged it on.
"Dad?" Steve asked, noticing Amanda still silently simmering, "Are you gonna introduce us?"
"Ah, yes of course," Mark said, realising that he had neglected to do so. He turned to the woman, "This is my son Steve - he's a homicide detective, and Dr Amanda Bentley, our chief pathologist." He looked up at the other two, "This Dr Eliza Harvey. She's the new ER attending."
Steve tucked the folder under his arm and shook her hand with a 'Hi', and Amanda did the same after removing her other glove.
"Eliza?" Amanda asked.
The woman smiled, "Call me, Ellie."
She had dark green eyes, Steve realised and she was good looking. Not a pretty, girlie way. It was more of an aggressive, dark beauty. She had what the kids at the gym would call 'that rock chic vibe'.
"Nice to meet you," Amanda said with a smile, before giving Mark a sly look, "Maybe I won't get high-jacked to the ER so much now."
Mark smiled in return, "It's only because we like you."
"Hey," said a rather harried and irritable voice, "Am I the only one actually working here at the moment?"
The four of them turned to see Jesse Travis standing in the doorway looking a little worse for wear. Dark circles under his eyes and his sandy blonde hair all over the place. He'd been working since nine o'clock the previous night and apparently it had been a busy one.
"No," Ellie said, immediately, "Hi. Eliza Harvey, new attending. Tell me what to do."
"Oh," Jesse said, his abrupt attitude suddenly changing, "Well, hi. Jesse Travis. Why don't we....?" He nodded towards the door and Ellie followed him out.
Steve saw his dad's satisfied grin and smiled too. What better way to keep Jesse in line than a pretty doctor?
---
Steve pulled the car to the stop on level five of the car park. Yanking the handbrake firmly up he glanced across at the young detective sitting next to him. To say he was green was an understatement. He was certainly the youngest rookie Steve had ever worked with, but that wasn't what made him so lacking. Captain Newman had explained that while Adam McKenzie had graduated from his class with top honours academically, his field work had always let him down. Newman believed that the putting McKenzie with someone of Steve's experience for a short time, would help boast his confidence.
Steve certainly hoped so and quickly because the guy was starting to bug him. Sure, he was nice enough, he was just a little....well, pathetic. Didn't have much of a clue about field work and was lacking a severe amount of backbone.
He'd brought him here so that the kid could watch the autopsy Amanda was performing on a guy who'd died in a car accident the previous night. Not strictly a homicide case, but he had gone off the road seemingly on his own in a well lit area on a fine night. It wasn't exactly an accident black spot. According the EMTs they hadn't smelt any trace of alcohol on him either, but the pathology report would have to confirm that. Certainly a case worth looking into and hopeful a nice gently start for McKenzie.
"You ready to go?" he asked the young detective.
McKenzie nodded, but with some trepidation.
Steve raised his eyebrows, "You gonna be okay in there?"
Swallowing what looked like a mountain sized lump in his throat, McKenzie nodded again a little more assuredly this time.
Steve gave him a moment before getting out of the car and locking the doors, silently praying to whoever dished these things out for a lot of patience and understanding. He'd been a rookie once too, hadn't he? Although he was sure he hadn't been quite so 'new'.
Arriving in the ER, he saw his dad, Jesse and Dr Harvey looking over some notes at the nurses' station. He went over and briefly introduced them to Detective McKenzie who was polite if a little shy. Jesse's typically enthusiastic greeting and handshake made him get that rabbit-in-the-headlights look. Fortunately a familiar banging of the doors interrupted them and Jesse and Dr Harvey simultaneously broke away to meet the incoming EMTs.
"What have you got?" Jesse asked, moving along side them as they headed straight for the trauma rooms.
"Forty-seven year old male, deep lacerations to the left arm at the elbow. Looks like it was done with a bread knife," the EMT replied with trademark efficiency, "Heavy arterial bleed. BP is 70 palp. Pulse 140 and thready."
"Trauma one's free," Ellie said, ignoring Jesse's ever so slight glare.
"Ok," Jesse said, taking charge again as one of the nurses joined them, "I need a CBC and chem 7. Let's cross and match. We need five units of O negative."
Ellie lifted up the compression pad to take a small cursory peek at the wound and recoiled as blood spurted at her lab coat. She quickly pushed it back down, "Better make that six units. And call the OR. A surgeon needs to take a look at this." She frowned slightly, "No IV?"
The EMT looked a little weary, "Tell me about it. He wouldn't let us."
"I can handle this, you know," Jesse said meaningfully, as they went through the trauma room doors.
Ellie just shrugged amiably, "It's ok. I'm not busy."
Back at the desk, Mark smiled and turned back to his notes. Steve gave him a knowing look.
"Oh, I get it," he said with a nod, "While the attendings get all competitive, you sit back and watch them do all the work."
Mark grinned, "Why do think I hired her?"
Even if that question had needed an answer it would have been interrupted by Amanda's call, beckoning them into the path lab. Leaving his dad behind, Steve walked over there, followed by an obviously still apprehensive McKenzie.
"So," he said, leaning back against one of the desks, trying to ignore the rather wide eyed looks McKenzie was giving the covered corpse, "Any news?"
Amanda handed him the report and, from the rather satisfied look on her face, he guessed it showed something interesting.
"His blood work showed up high doses of diazepam."
"Diazepam?" McKenzie asked, moving a cautious step closer.
Steve frowned, the name sounding familiar. "Don't they use that in sleeping pills?" he asked.
"Can be," Amanda agreed with a nod, "It's a benzodiazeopine drug. They're sedatives. Used for treating insomnia and stress or anxiety. They depress the brain function. Can make you drowsy, dizzy, forgetful..."
"Not the kind of things you should driving while on."
"Absolutely not. Patient's are explicitly warned about avoiding driving and working heavy machinery while taking them."
McKenzie frowned, "Why would he do it then?"
Steve could almost cheer. That's it, kid. Be a detective.
Amanda shrugged, "I don't know. I asked Mark to chase up the guy's medical records since he has nothing to do."
"Which I dutifully did," Mark said, joining them with perfect timing, "And I resent that. I work very hard."
"Yeah, yeah," Amanda said, disbelievingly, taking the notes from him and looking through. The joking smile she had worn quickly faded away as she scanned the pages.
"What is it?" asked Steve, when his patience wouldn't allow him to wait any longer. So much for praying for more.
Amanda shook her head, "He was never prescribed diazepam and it's only available through prescription."
"Couldn't he have gotten it from somewhere else?" Steve asked, suggesting the first logical conclusion that came to mind, "It's habit-forming, right? He could have been addicted. Buying it illegally."
Mark had that frown on his face, the one he wore when a mystery seemed to be presenting itself. "Yes, that's true. But he was never prescribed any type of benzodiazepine he could have become addicted to in the first place. And besides, I spoke to his family doctor - he was a happy man, with a good job, a wife and two children. Not your typical addict to an antidepressant."
"So what?" Steve said, frowning also, "You're saying he was drugged? Without him knowing?"
"Well, it's certainly a possibility," Mark said, clearly convinced of the matter.
"And if you're right, that makes this a murder." That realisation made him turn to Amanda, remembering he'd forgotten one crucial point, "What exactly did kill him? It wasn't the drug was it?"
Amanda shook her head, returning to the autopsy table, "Crushed skull and massive internal injuries. It's amazing he even made it to the ER."
She whipped back the sheet so that Mark and Steve could take a look for themselves. As soon as they leant in though, there was a thud from behind them. The two Sloan's turned back, Amanda peering over the table to see an unconscious McKenzie lying on the floor. He'd fainted at the sight of the corpse.
"Oh hell," Steve muttered, going to check if he was alright, "Come on, kid. You're embarrassing me here."
"Problem with your new charge?" Mark asked, slightly amused by the whole thing.
Steve was about to answer that when heard by a mixture of voices coming closer. He smiled a satisfied grin. "Sounds like you've got a problem with yours too."
Jesse and Dr Harvey were indeed arguing about something as they entered the room, only stopping when they saw McKenzie's crumpled form, the sight momentarily shocking them into silence.
"Well," Ellie said, blinking in surprise, "He certainly chose the right place for it."
"He's not dead," Steve explained, "He just seems to have a little problem with blood. It's probably just as well then that he went before you two got in here."
Jesse and Ellie simultaneously looked down at themselves. Yes, arterial bleeds did tend to get a little messy, but in the heat of their argument they neglected to get rid of their aprons. They looked like they'd been at work in a slaughter house.
Neither was apologetic however, the sight only serving to remind them why they were there. They immediately began talking to Mark at the same time, speaking animatedly. Not that either of them could be heard clearly over the other. Mark tried to reason with them, telling them to speak one at a time but they weren't listening.
Chaos reigned for a few moments until a piercing whistle split the air. There was immediate silence as they all turned and looked at Amanda. She shrugged.
"Works with my kids."
Mark smiled gratefully, filing that one for future use. "Now then," he said in a calm voice, turning back to the two wound up doctors, "What's the problem?"
They both opened their mouths to speak but Mark held up his hand, and they paused. "One at a time, please. Dr Harvey - ladies first."
Jesse pouted slightly but held his tongue.
"We've got a forty-seven year old male with partial amputation of the left arm," Ellie began, moving slightly in front of Jesse, "It was self inflicted. He had a stroke six months back, suffered some paralysis down the left side of his body, which has mostly disappeared in time. He says that since then, however, he's felt uncomfortable with his left forearm. He feels like it isn't his."
Mark nodded. "Medical neglect," he confirmed.
He'd seen cases of it before of course, but never one where the patient had actually tried to removing the offending body part.
"What exactly is the problem then?" he asked, clearly at a loss to see how this had caused such conflict.
"The problem," Jesse said irritably, shoving back forward again, his tone clearly stating what he felt about the whole thing, "Is that she wants to help him finish the job!"
Ellie glared hard at him, taking a firm voice, "All I'm saying Dr Travis, is that I believe if the arm is reattached he will do it again, and he could bleed to death next time."
"If he goes up to surgery now," Jesse said, returning her glare with one equally as fierce, "the arm can be saved."
"What?" she said, allowing sarcasm to get the better of her, "So he can have another go at do-it-yourself amateur surgery?"
That was a low blow and Jesse's reaction was plainly written all over his usually friendly face. If she was going to resort to a verbal sparring match... "Oh okay, I'll tell you what," he said, turning sarcastic too, "We'll advertise, shall we? Hey, don't want that pesky limb. Come here and we'll chop it off for you!"
"He has a known psychological condition," Ellie said through gritted teeth, "It's not like he needs it anyway. He's right handed. And, if he wants, he can get a prosthetic."
Jesse screwed up his face, "'It's not like he needs it'? It's his arm!"
Mark raised his eyebrow at the venomous looks passing between the two, but decided not to comment on it. It was good that they were so passionate about their work. He just hoped that they weren't going to always disagree. His sanity and his blood pressure probably couldn't take it.
"Right," he said, after a moment's thought thankful for the silence, "He's stable, yes?"
They both nodded, awaiting his judgement.
"Okay. Jesse, get a surgical consult down here," he said, quickly continuing before Jesse's smug grin grew out of human proportions, "Ellie, in the meantime, you arrange for a psych consult a.s.a.p. The surgeon will be able to tell you how long the arm's got before it will be no longer viable. If psych can't certify this as a definite case of neglect before then, then he can go into surgery and have it reattached."
"And if they can certify it?" Ellie asked triumphantly, seeing some hope.
"He can go into surgery and have it removed. He can live without it and he'll only be a danger to himself otherwise," Mark reasoned.
Jesse and Ellie looked at one another, a definite sense of competition passing between the two. Neither had quite won yet.
"You'd better call a surgeon then," said Ellie to Jesse, bright and confident. "And you might as well get him to look at it in view of an amputation," she added, before she turned on her heels and promptly left.
The glare returned to Jesse's face, and he looked about to say something but somehow prevented himself, balling his fists as he followed her out.
Mark shook his head wearily and went out after them.
Amanda smiled at Steve, "And you think you've got problems."
Steve rolled his eyes.
"I'll get some smelling salts," Amanda said, indicating McKenzie's still prone form, "I'm sure I've got some ammonia round here somewhere. Should do the trick."
"Might wanna cover that up first," Steve said, pointing to the body.
Amanda nodded, "Good idea."
---
Jesse left bay one, jotting down the relevant information on the clipboard as he returned to the desk. Ellie was there, her hair tied back in a messy clip and a deep frown on her face.
"Paperwork's a killer, huh?" he sympathised, perching on a stool to attend to his own.
"Yeah...", she muttered distracted. In her brief glance up, her eye caught the clock. "Libby?" she asked, addressing the nearby nurse, "Mr Driscole's IV is gonna need changing by now. And he'll need a fresh shot of antibiotics."
Libby smiled, "Yeah, I'm on it. Just as long as you and Dr Travis promise not to start bickering again until I get back."
Ellie looked at her dryly, having gotten used to a number similar comments throughout the day. "I think we've torn each other's throats out enough for one day," she said with a look that said 'okay we deserve it but stop rubbing it in'.
Libby's grin widened as she moved off. Jesse and Ellie's rather stormy start had been a favourite topic of conversation amongst the nurses all day. They had felt quite superior, rolling their eyes in weary patience as they'd watched the two doctors resort to squabbling like children. Even Mark's calm demeanour had grown tired of it eventually, telling them to either get on or he would arrange their shifts so they didn't have to work together. At the time they would have both quite cheerfully agreed to this before realising just exactly how many more night shifts they would have to do in order for that to work. So, they had both bitten their tongues and tolerated one another. Silence it seemed though was a great healer and the hostility between them had dissipated. Not that either had actively apologised. In fact, this was the first time they'd spoken in hours.
For his part, Jesse now regretted being so pig-headed earlier. In hindsight, the guy was probably better off having the arm removed. Especially since psych had confirmed it was a case of neglect. It was the first time Jesse had seen someone actually happy to be told they were having an amputation.
Jesse was tried though. The previous night's on-call had be rough, and Ellie's energetic enthusiasm and unreasonably rubbed him up the wrong way.
He moved over to the stool next to hers.
"Look, about earlier..." he said quietly, out of the ear shot of a couple of nurses who were straining to hear what they were arguing about now, "No hard feelings huh?"
"About what?" said Ellie with a wry half-smile, continuing with her paperwork "Disagreeing with my diagnosis, or making sure I had to do everything because you had all the nurses doing stuff for you, or telling that cute fireman not to ask me out because I'm a total witch, or purposefully tipping coffee down my decent trousers?"
Jesse's smile was an embarrassed one, "I know. I acted like a four year old most of the day. In fact, I know a better behaved four year old..."
"Don't worry about it," Ellie reassured, "I did wind you up something chronic. You were just doing what you thought was right for that guy. So, no. No hard feelings. I'm just sorry I got so..." she frowned, "Well, I wanna say 'passionate' but I think 'argumentative' and 'psychotically obsessive' are closer to the truth."
"Hey," Jesse said with an easy shrug, "You were just arguing your point of view. I would've done the same thing."
"Oh, don't worry, you did," Ellie replied brightly.
"But I didn't have to get quite so worked up about it though," Jesse said, still clearly feeling bad about the way he'd acted, "It'd been another long night shift."
Ellie finally properly looked up pushing her paperwork aside. He did seem like a nice guy. Mark had reassured her that Jesse was friendly, welcoming and helpful. It had been a bit of a shock when he'd snapped at her. That was probably why she'd been so defensive.
"I'm gonna get some coffee," she said "You want one?"
It was obviously a peace offering and he had no qualms about accepting it.
"Sure," he said, as she moved off towards the staff room, "I'll be in in a minute. Just gotta put my signature on a few of these". He indicated a stack of charts sitting on the desk, ready to be handed over to the on-call guy as soon as he arrived.
"Ah," Ellie said with knowing look, "That wonderful end of shift feeling, huh?"
Jesse grinned in agreement as she walked away. It took him just a moment to decide to call her back. "Ellie?"
She turned to him with a questioning look.
"You were right," he said, rather solemnly, "About that guy. It was the best thing to do."
She shrugged, "Yeah, but I'm not gonna gloat. And I want you to remember that when you're right and I'm wrong."
"Okay," said Jesse, deciding that despite a rocky start it looked like they'd be all right after all.
"Hey, look at it this way," Ellie said, grinning before she rounded the corner, "Now, he's 'armless'"
"Oh, ha ha," Jesse said with a look of disgust at the bad joked.
Ellie's smile widened, "And by the way - that gum on the chair that you sat on? That was me."
"Is that an apology?" Jesse asked with a comically raised eyebrow.
"Absolutely not," she said clearly unrepentant. Coffee and the finish of shift on her mind, Ellie moved to go to the staff room when the emergency entrance doors clattered open. She sighed, planting her stethoscope firmly around her neck. She knew she shouldn't have thought about going home. Now she'd jinxed it.
---
Mark walked out of the lift into the ER just in time to see Jesse and Ellie walk passed, dressed in coats and looking tired. He frowned a glance at his watch.
"I didn't think you two would still be here?"
"Neither did we," said Jesse miserably.
"RTA," Ellie explained, "One DOA, a head injury and an abdominal trauma. She's up in surgery now. Prognosis is pretty good. Head injury's not doing so well though."
"What happened?"
"Ask Steve," said Jesse with a half-hearted wave, "He's still hanging around somewhere."
"Okay," Mark said nodding, forgiving them their tiredness. He turned to Ellie again, "First day been okay then? How are you finding it here?"
Ellie nodded, "Not much different from Chicago, actually. Just sunnier. Not that I've seen much of the sun..."
Mark smiled rather paternally. He had a good feeling about her. He had done since he sat in on her interview. He considered himself an excellent judge of character and had known from the moment she'd walked in to greet them that she would fit in perfectly. Although he had almost been given reason to doubt that diagnosis earlier.
"And I won't have to separate the pair of you?" he asked, grinning at their expense.
Jesse and Ellie shared a weary look.
"I think we can behave ourselves," Jesse confirmed, dryly.
With that, they both headed for the door before anything else happened. Mark chuckled, and spotted Steve.
"Busy night?" he asked, crossing over to him.
"Two car smash," Steve explained, "The guy who caused it managed to bail out before his car fell down an embankment, but he was dead before the ambulance got there. McKenzie is covering it so I thought I'd better come out and check how he's doing."
Mark frowned. It all sounded like a nasty accident. "Do you know exactly what happened?"
Steve shrugged, "The only witnesses were the driver and passenger of the other car. Driver's comatosed and passenger's still in surgery. They reckon it'll be a couple of days before we can talk to either."
"Where was it?"
"Not far from where our corpse today met his," Steve said in an offhand manner.
"Oh."
Suddenly Steve's eyes snapped up, "'Oh'?"
"Hmm?" said Mark, distractedly, having turned back to his notes.
Steve scowled slightly, recognising that tone, "You think they're connected, don't you?"
"I didn't say a word," said Mark innocently.
Steve shook his head, "Some people would call you paranoid, you know."
"Perhaps," said Mark, heading back towards the lift, "But how often am I wrong?"
---
