Hellooooooo! :D! First ER fic so be nice 2 me!
Spoilers: none
POV: Dr Carter's
Season: 8-ish
"What's next?" I asked. Abby looked at the charts in her hand and handed me a random one. "Suspected nose fracture, curtain area 3." "Thanks," I walked off, whistling. "Abby, have the x-rays come back on my patient yet?" "Which one?" "Nosebleed in 3." "Ah," she searched through the pile on the desk. "Here it is." She handed it to me. I took it and held it up to the light. "Oh my god!" "What?" she walked anxiously over to me. "There," I pointed to a spot on the x-ray. "He has a bullet up my nose." She stared at me in disbelief. "What the hell.....?" "I don't know. Call the OR for a consult stat. Actually, call Dr Matthews in ENT." "Yeah sure," she walked off, shaking her head. I went off to talk to the patient. I walked into the room. "Uh, Mr Thompson-" A man I didn't know turned around. He lifted a gun and pulled the trigger. I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I collapsed to the ground. I saw the man turn around and kill my patient. The pain in my chest increased. My last thought was: Why? Then everything went black I woke up. Where was I? I bed beneath me was lumpy. I tried to sit up, but found myself tied to the bed. A petite, brown haired doctor I didn't recognise stood next to my bed. "How are you feeling, Jack?" she asked. "Jack?" I asked, confused. "I'm not Jack. My name's John." "No, it's not. Jack, please don't do this again." "My name's not Jack, its Dr John Carter! I'm a chief resident at Chicago Coun-" "No, you're not!" she yelled, suddenly angry. "Your name's not John, its Jack! You're 42, you're married to Samantha O'Neill and you're in San Francisco memorial hospital for the mentally insane!" "What?!" "You're schizophrenic, Jack. Remember? All that stuff about John, the hospital in San Diego, it's all a delusion." "No it's not," I insisted. "Fine. Don't believe me. But next time you're in the hospital, look at the colour of your hand. If it's the right colour, it's real." She walked off, leaving me to contemplate what she'd just told me. "Carter, we could use some help here!" Kerry yelled. I ran over. "Young male, GSW to the chest. BP- shit, he's getting peoples! Charge to 60!" I grabbed the paddles. Suddenly I remembered what the doctor had told me. I looked at my hand. It was green. That meant.......I gasped. No! She was wrong! It couldn't be true! NO! This was real! Then it hit me. I'd been shot in the chest. I should be dead. Instead, I was standing here, staring at my green hand. It wasn't possible. It had to be a delusion. Then I realised: the hospital, Abby, Lucy, everything, was a delusion. My whole life was merely a dream.........
"What's next?" I asked. Abby looked at the charts in her hand and handed me a random one. "Suspected nose fracture, curtain area 3." "Thanks," I walked off, whistling. "Abby, have the x-rays come back on my patient yet?" "Which one?" "Nosebleed in 3." "Ah," she searched through the pile on the desk. "Here it is." She handed it to me. I took it and held it up to the light. "Oh my god!" "What?" she walked anxiously over to me. "There," I pointed to a spot on the x-ray. "He has a bullet up my nose." She stared at me in disbelief. "What the hell.....?" "I don't know. Call the OR for a consult stat. Actually, call Dr Matthews in ENT." "Yeah sure," she walked off, shaking her head. I went off to talk to the patient. I walked into the room. "Uh, Mr Thompson-" A man I didn't know turned around. He lifted a gun and pulled the trigger. I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I collapsed to the ground. I saw the man turn around and kill my patient. The pain in my chest increased. My last thought was: Why? Then everything went black I woke up. Where was I? I bed beneath me was lumpy. I tried to sit up, but found myself tied to the bed. A petite, brown haired doctor I didn't recognise stood next to my bed. "How are you feeling, Jack?" she asked. "Jack?" I asked, confused. "I'm not Jack. My name's John." "No, it's not. Jack, please don't do this again." "My name's not Jack, its Dr John Carter! I'm a chief resident at Chicago Coun-" "No, you're not!" she yelled, suddenly angry. "Your name's not John, its Jack! You're 42, you're married to Samantha O'Neill and you're in San Francisco memorial hospital for the mentally insane!" "What?!" "You're schizophrenic, Jack. Remember? All that stuff about John, the hospital in San Diego, it's all a delusion." "No it's not," I insisted. "Fine. Don't believe me. But next time you're in the hospital, look at the colour of your hand. If it's the right colour, it's real." She walked off, leaving me to contemplate what she'd just told me. "Carter, we could use some help here!" Kerry yelled. I ran over. "Young male, GSW to the chest. BP- shit, he's getting peoples! Charge to 60!" I grabbed the paddles. Suddenly I remembered what the doctor had told me. I looked at my hand. It was green. That meant.......I gasped. No! She was wrong! It couldn't be true! NO! This was real! Then it hit me. I'd been shot in the chest. I should be dead. Instead, I was standing here, staring at my green hand. It wasn't possible. It had to be a delusion. Then I realised: the hospital, Abby, Lucy, everything, was a delusion. My whole life was merely a dream.........