Chapter Fifteen
"Head trauma. Acute knee. Jesus, what did somebody take to his chest - that looks like a heel print..."
His father's answer was unintelligible, and Steve tried to drag his eyes open to get a look at him. He wasn't in his immediate line of vision and he turned his head to try and find his face. He couldn't be far away - he had stuck to him like a shadow ever since the chopper had arrived.
"I'm gonna keep the gurney propped in sitting position until we can get some X-rays of that chest, then, just in case. Should help his breathing."
This time he located the murmur of response and managed to spot the familiar white blob of a face over his left shoulder. He couldn't see it all that clearly, and it was placed too awkwardly for him to study it for long, so he surrendered the oxygen mask for a minute and offered, "You okay, Dad?"
The face gave him an odd, lopsided smile, and he felt a light squeeze on his shoulder before a hand reached around to gently guide the mask back over his face. "I'm fine, son. Just take it easy."
Something in the tone pricked at him and he blinked his eyes slowly, struggling for a higher degree of alertness.
"What the heck are these? Looks like somebody took a razor blade to him."
"Oh. I think those are from this…"
Steve's head creaked on his neck as he tried to follow the voices.
"Fishing line?"
"I - know it looks like that, but if you run your finger down it you'll find that there's a serrated edge…"
"Huh. What does somebody need something like that for?"
"God knows."
Mark sounded so angry that Steve frowned. He fumbled for the mask again. "…Dad?"
The hand patted at his shoulder this time, firmly resettling the mask. "Just relax. We'll get you all fixed up."
"Got a nice splinter in the right hand. We can dig that out once we're down. What the heck is this on his left? Looks like a bite of some kind."
There was a silence, and Steve had a claustrophobic sense of a number of people leaning in toward him and tried to clear his vision to see.
"I don't know. Steve? Son, what happened to your hand?" He felt someone gently lift the oxygen mask again so that he could answer.
Oh. Yeah. That. Seemed like a million years ago. "Raccoon bit me," he mumbled after a pause.
He caught the lightning exchange of glances among his father, Jesse and Amanda and set his teeth hard. He hated - really HATED - when they did that - exchanged one of those, "I've got a medical secret, but I'm not going to share it with you, even though it's about you," looks, so his voice had a grating edge to it when he continued, "What? No jokes?"
There was an uncomfortable pause, then Jesse grinned with forced jocularity. "Hey, I'm saving mine until you're coherent enough to appreciate them."
Someone was trying to replace the mask, but Steve turned his head away. "No one could ever be coherent enough for that, Jess," he rasped.
Jesse's responding smile was as unconvincing as his father's had been and someone was still trying to press the oxygen mask back over his face, but he resisted, pushing at it impatiently. "Where - how is she…?"
"She'll be fine. Everything's under control." It was a voice he didn't know, and he slid his eyes around the cramped interior of the chopper, trying to put a face with the voice. "Took on a lot of water, like you, probably suffering from mild hypothermia. Got a couple of good-sized bruises of her own - those your work?"
Steve finally focused on a figure nearby, managed to identify a wide-brimmed brown hat with an official badge on the front. The oxygen was being firmly pressed over his nose and mouth now, so he just nodded. So, he had left some marks of his own. Good. He let his eyes linger on the hat for a moment, then lifted them over the broad shoulder to the gurney taking up most of the other half of the interior. His sparring partner was propped up, like him, glaring over her oxygen mask. He noticed she was also cuffed firmly to the gurney, on both sides. Good.
Things were swimming a little in front of him and he closed his eyes to settle them down. So. They had some kind of law official present and medical help - all from Jesse's 911 call? It seemed like an awful lot for way up here…He tried to push the mask aside again to ask about it, but someone was keeping it in place.
"Steve, leave it alone, please - just breathe nice and easy. Now, your hand - did you flush it out well with soap and water? You can just nod."
Steve twisted his head and dislodged the mask anyway. The oxygen was giving him strength, but all these people jammed into a small space were making him feel restless and crowded. "Used - antiseptic cream…"
He heard his father's heavy sigh in his ear. "All right - for next time, flush it out very well with soap and water - "
"Next time…?" Steve choked on a laugh. "Dad - !"
"Steve - I'll get you on a nasal canula as soon as I can, I promise, and then you'll be able to talk more freely, but for now, please keep that over your face except to answer our questions?" He waited until Steve reluctantly held the mask against his face again and breathed slowly. "Thank you." His father's hand on his shoulder became firmer. "Now, do you think that you can just take it easy?"
Steve shifted uncomfortably, frowning down suddenly at the brace poking from under the thermal blanket. He noticed that one leg of his jeans had been cut away and shifted the silvery thinsulate to get a better look.
Mark firmly replaced the blanket. "You need to stay covered - you're mildly hypothermic. I know it hurts - we'll get you something for it as soon as we have a better idea about the extent of your head injuries."
Steve dropped his head back with a sigh, caught his father's look and breathed obediently into the mask before letting it fall and responding, "My head's okay. She just knocked me around a little."
"Well, you don't mind if we do an actual medical evaluation, do you? What happened to your knee?"
Steve gave an aborted laugh again, stopped abruptly as everything in the chopper seemed to swirl away from him. "What didn't happen to my knee?" he croaked.
"All right. We'll be there shortly." A steady hand clasped his and guided the mask back to his mouth, then carefully arranged the blanket for more complete coverage. "Now, if you'll just - "
The chopper slewed slightly to one side, then bumped lightly, jouncing its passengers up and down. Steve opened his eyes again at his father's audible sigh of relief and started to drop the mask to say something, stopped at the stern look cast his way. The two paramedics checked their passengers to make sure they were secure as the helicopter stabilized and the side door slid open. The paramedics briskly positioned themselves and lifted Steve's gurney down onto the hospital roof, deftly unfolding the wheels to full height.
There was a popping sound, like a dozen small, faraway firecrackers and an overwhelming flash of strobing lights and shouting voices. Startled, Steve threw up a wrapped hand to shield his eyes.
"Lt. Sloan - "
"Lt. Sloan - "
"Lt. Sloan, if you could just tell me - "
He blinked rapidly, stunned and disoriented, trying to see past the black spots dancing in his vision, trying to separate the babble of voices into recognizable sounds. Gradually, he could make out a few words amid the cacophony of voices, reeled back against the gurney as someone thrust something under his nose.
"Lt. Sloan," The voice was a little too bright, but underlined with determined, unrelenting steel. "Lt. Sloan - can you tell our viewers all about how you managed to distract a professional killer while Lt. Peterson brought down an entire drug cartel and famed mobster Guy Trevalia?"
A/N: If anyone is curious about the Miranda Warning, here are a couple of links (there are, of course, many others available). The Supreme Court never handed down any official language for the warning, so it does vary some from place to place, and even officer to officer. The main intent is to satisfy the court that the arresting officer has sufficiently informed the perpetrator of his/her fifth (the right to protection against self incrimination) and sixth (the right to counsel) amendment rights. We selected this version because it is common to California, where the story takes place.
