A/N: On the fifth day of Christmas my readers gave to me: Five great reviews (er, about that many)! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh, and do be sure to write another when you finish this chapter. Hugz & kisses. Your humble author ~ jenben
It's a Small Community After All
"I dunno," the female of two power-walking nurses huffed breathlessly. "I told her that if she didn't want to eat what the hospital has to offer, she's welcome to ask her family to bring her food. Then she got all snotty and started telling me she was going to talk to my supervisor. Like I care! Cheryl would only nod politely and then come pat me on the back."
The male nurse chuckled; they spent their fifteen minute breaks power-walking together and gossiping about any patient who had PITA scrawled on her chart.
"I think I took her some Ativan yesterday; a brunette with nails like claws?"
"Yeah, that's her! Can you imagine trying to change a baby's diaper with those nails? Anyway, the girl in the room across the hall from—oh, look at that! Somebody left the light on in the supply closet again; if I've told the orderlies once, I've told them a thousand times: Don't waste energy!"
She pulled out her key and almost had it in the lock when it clattered to the floor. "Ed! Ed, there's somebody in here; and he's unconscious!"
"Unconscious? Crap—move!"
He had the door open before his colleague could even think to pick up her key. It was rather thrilling, finally having an emergency that didn't involve the cervix dilated to ten and a screaming prego ripping the hair off his forearm.
"What's that smell?" she asked as the whiff of ether hit them.
"I dunno, but it can't be good. Help me get him out of here." As soon as they had the body moved, he knelt down to triage. "Oh my gosh! Peg, I don't have a pulse! Go call a code blue; I'll try to get him breathing."
Peg was off in a flash while Ed laid the young man flat and tilted his chin up. Anything obstructing his airway? No. It had to be the smell; not enough oxygen—nothing to breathe. So Ed did the breathing for him. He pinched the nose and exhaled forcefully into the mouth, sure to watch the chest rise. No response. He blew again No response. Another breath—
"Ed!"
"I got nothin' yet."
As if on cue, Jesse took a breath for himself while the code team ran down the hall. And that was when things really went wild. People were talking, yelling, asking questions, answering questions; somebody put an oxygen mask over Jesse's face while two others hefted him onto the gurney.
"Who is he?"
"Jesse Travis—doc down in ER," Peg answered the doctor after a quick look at Jess' ID.
"Dr. Travis, do you know what caused your arrest?"
Jesse stared in confusion. "Arrest…?"
Ed answered, having taken a moment to look at the broken bottles in the closet. "Ether! Has to be a couple gallons worth of ether in there! How on earth did that happen?"
"We still keep that stuff in the hospital?"
"Well, y'know, every hospital needs its deadly carcinogens."
"Keep him on oxygen; lets get a pulse oximetry. Are you injured anywhere else, Dr. Travis?"
"No—I—my head hurts."
"What happened?" Amanda demanded, rushing into Jesse's room ahead of Mark and Steve. She looked a little wild.
"Excuse me?" the attending doctor, Matt Dorsey, asked, annoyed. Who was this insane woman interrupting his assessment? "If you don't mind, I'm trying to—"
"Don't care. Jesse, what happened to you?"
"Don't care? This is my patient, Miss…?"
"It's doctor, and this is my friend!"
"What happened?"
"Is he okay?"
"Who are all you people?"
Jesse was sitting up in the hospital bed, calmly watching his doctor and his friends argue back and forth. He removed the oxygen mask and turned to face the surprised pregnant woman with whom he currently shared a room. "So, when are you due?"
"Um…two months."
"That's nice. Boy or girl?"
"A girl."
"Your first?"
Long pause. "Yes."
"Well, congratulations. If you'll excuse me, my friend, Amanda, looks like she's about to find a new use for that doctor's stethoscope. Guys?" Everyone stopped talking and turned to doctor-patient. "How did you get here so fast? I haven't even gone for tests yet."
Dr. Dorsey nodded huffily and turned to three of the four musketeers. "Which is exactly why I need you to not be interrupting me. I still have to get an EEG, skull and cervical CT's and x-rays, as well as an MRI. And I want to get his lungs and bronchia checked. Is that a problem with any of you?"
When Amanda was about to go ballistic at the crime committed against Jesse, and Jesse wanted to protest all the diagnostic exams, Mark put his hand up. "No," he cut them off. "We can talk while we test."
"I got paged up to maternity and the next thing I knew, I was locked in the closet with the ether," Jess explained while they waited for the test results. "We're either very close to catching Miss. Nelson or someone's got it out for overworked ER doctors. How did you guys find out so quickly?"
Amanda smiled. "Jesse, it might be Community General Hospital, but it's a small community. I'm just glad you're okay; don't you ever scare me like that again!"
"Well,
while you were busy sleeping the night away," Steve began, smiling, "I
was doing my homework on Miss. Nelson."
"And?"
"And Miss. Nelson's savings account has over $100,000—and that's what we could trace here in the States. We're working on any accounts she may have in Switzerland or the Caymans. Moreover, we have an accountant looking at the records from Lealer, Rubin, Horn, and Associates. So far, she's discovered three discrepancies. Miss. Nelson may be good at stealing, but she's not very good at covering her tracks. I think we'll be able to trace the discrepancies to accounts outside the U.S."
Jesse was ecstatic. "I knew it! I knew it! I told you!"
Mark put a calming hand on his excited friend. "We know; we believed you from the beginning, remember? Now would you please take it easy? You were technically dead a couple hours ago."
"You're not gonna make me stay here, are you? I can go home, right?"
"I think that's my decision," Dorsey responded, holding up some papers and x-rays. "Your EEG, MRI, CT's, and x-rays are clear. It's a concussion, but there shouldn't be any complications. Your lungs and bronchia are also okay, although your biggest worry with the ether is its effects as a carcinogen. Still, I want you to stay overnight for observations."
"But I'm fine!"
"Dr. Travis, you have suffered a concussion and respiratory distress. Staying overnight is a reasonable precaution for anyone under those circumstances."
"Yeah, but that's only for people who don't know how to take care of themselves."
"Says the person who answered a strange page in a deserted section of the hospital while helping to investigate a murder."
"Steve!"
"Jesse!"
"Boys!"
Dr. Dorsey folded his arms. "I'm not going to argue with you, Dr. Travis, but I'd like to see you leave here AMA with these three people's consent."
Jesse stayed the night.
While Jesse slept soundly in a hospital bed, Steve talked on the phone with one of the county's fingerprint examiners.
"Yeah, you sent me, like, fifteen different prints."
"Really, when did it become painstakingly difficult to run a few prints through AFIS?"
The lab technician rolled his eyes on the other end. "Okay, I got seven hits; Adam Holmes, Megan Walker, Rob Turner, Pete Cummings—"
"Cummings? Thanks, that's all I needed to know."
Steve was off with a vengeance. A strong, vehement vengeance.