There were many things Ned loved about his hometown. Weather sadly wasn't one of them. If he could've chosen, he would be spending his days in sunny California, offering his services to the rich and famous. But that wasn't something he could achieve easily... or maybe ever. Not with getting his doctorate from a state university, barely passing and loaded with student debt.
Ned didn't much enjoy the never-ending shifts at the hospital where he got his accreditation. Perhaps he could've stayed there for a few more years and gained enough experience and financial backing to go into private practice, but in all honesty, the job was giving him constant anxiety. He was still in his late twenties, yet he was chugging Tums and acid reflux medicine like teens chugged Red bull or beer. In a way, returning home because of family emergency was a blessing. Being offered the job of the county physician under Doc Bernice's tutelage was something he could not refuse.
Ned didn't even mind that most of his days were spent with the most boring cases the locals could offer, interspersed by an occasional sprained ankle or a tick bite that tourists came in with.
If the injury or illness were too serious to handle, they could just send them off to the nearby hospital in Franklin. Ned loved that, because that meant his chances of killing someone by incompetence were drastically lower than back in the city. The fact he was supposed to be at the back and call of Dr. Bernice, watching and learning from her, made his job even easier.
Point in case... right now, he was supposed to be with her, assisting with the birth of Elise Hillbury's baby.
And he would have been... if not for the stupid weather.
The wind had blown some debris onto the road and he got a flat tire. By the time he changed it and arrived at the clinic for his afternoon shift, Bernice was gone, leaving only a message. He headed out after her, but was quickly turned around at the bridge. To make this day even better, the copper at the bridge mentioned that some tourists went missing at the camp.
Ned groaned, his mind already conjuring up a catastrophic scenario.
Missing tourists, lost in this weather? That didn't bode well. Especially not with the bridge closed down.
Feeling a heartburn coming on, Ned drove the car back to the clinic.
He couldn't leave now, not with clear conscience. All he could do was wait and hope that the tourists would be found unharmed. He walked around the small office, checking supplies idly while casting glances at the door. Hoping it would stay closed.
There wasn't much work to do, besides checking inventory. A loud crack of lightning hit uncomfortably close, startling him. He was being lulled into calmness by the sound of rain hitting the windows and he didn't expect such a loud noise. Grimacing, Ned closed one of the cabinets, wondering whether it would be better to get a chug of Pepto Bismol or grab some tea. Both could be helpful in soothing his irate stomach. The thought of holding the warm cup won over and Ned stepped out of the office into the hallway, which served as a sort of waiting room. There was no desk, only a couple of chairs and a vending machine offering the most basic of selections. No fresh food, just warm beverages and snacks that most likely shouldn't be anywhere near a doctor's office. Ned didn't much care, as long as the box didn't eat his money without reward.
He was just fishing for some coins in his pockets when there was a rapt knock on the front door.
Ned yelped, the coin falling from his hand. He cursed, seeing it drop and roll under the machine. Grimacing, he was of half a mind to just pretend he wasn't there, but the knocking returned and his sense of duty kicked in.
Grumbling, he headed for the door.
"I'm coming, hold your horses," he called out, knowing the door was locked. It was past the normal office hours for the weekend, though with Bernice being stuck out of town and the phone lines being possibly cut off by a fallen tree, one never knew when some sort of emergency would pop up.
Like right now.
With a feeling of dread, Ned unlocked the door only to be faced by Mike. They weren't exactly friends, but in a town like Franklin it was impossible not to know everyone after a while. Next to the paramedic who liked to volunteer for mountain rescue stood a red haired stranger. His clothes were drenched but he didn't look injured or sick. Of course that didn't mean there wasn't someone in need of help waiting in the ambulance parked in front of the clinic, Ned realized with a grimace.
"Mike? What's going on?" Ned asked, shooting a troubled gaze at the ambulance. Its lights were blinking and he could see Pete behind the wheel. He was fervently hoping this was just a friendly visit, but the look on Mike's face said otherwise.
"Hey Ned. I take it Bernice didn't make it back from Elise?"
It was more of a statement than a question and Ned numbly shook his head. Mike grimaced then glancing towards the ambulance, gave the man next to him a short nod.
"We have a patient here who needs some help."
Ned frowned.
"How serious is this?" he asked, still blocking the entrance to the clinic. It was one thing if they brought a minor injury they picked up along the way... but judging by the serious look on Mike's face, Ned knew that was unlikely.
"Serious enough that we don't have time to stand here and argue," the red haired man snapped.
"Sorry, who are you?"
"Dr. Will Halstead. And the man in the ambulance is my friend and colleague, who has already lost a lot of blood and went through hell. So can we come inside?"
Ned opened his mouth, for a second unsure of what to say. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a critical patient alone, in some backyard office that was barely equipped with anything. But before he could formulate that reply, the door of the ambulance opened harshly and Pete was pulling out a stretcher, followed by two more strangers. They were all wet and rugged, wearing equally concerned looks. Ned clenched his teeth, his stomach churning.
"Shouldn't you be taking him to the hospital then? You know we aren't equipped to deal with serious cases Mike-"
"I know. Unfortunately, the bridge is closed and Connor doesn't have time for the two hour drive to Edmonton. Not to mention there can be something blocking the road."
Ned wanted to argue, but Pete and one of the men had already brought the stretcher to the door. The rain picked up and there was really no way Ned could begrudge them entrance to the surgery under these circumstances. Seeing the determined and anxious looks on everyone's face, he doubted they would let him even if he tried.
Without a word, he stepped back, pulling the door open widely so as to let the stretcher pass. He caught sight of the patient and cringed.
To say the man looked to be in rough shape was an understatement, especially as he was wheeled past Ned, under the luminescent hallway light. His skin was unnaturally pale, lips slightly grey. There was a neck brace and his face was scratched up, as if he had taken a spill. The rest of his body was covered with blankets and Ned worried what was hidden beneath.
Pete headed straight for Bernice's office, which served as the main treatment room. Everyone else followed behind. Ned cast a glance at the other two strangers, feeling as if he was being ambushed. The Asian man didn't pay him any attention, his focus solely on the patient. The woman gave him a short but thankful smile as he closed the door behind all of them.
He shot a wistful look outside, hoping to catch sight of Bernice pulling a miracle and arriving just in time. But the road was dark and empty and the rain kept coming with vengeance.
Ned took in a deep breath then let it out.
"I should have called in sick and stayed home," he thought glumly as he steeled himself and stepped inside the treatment room. This just wasn't his day.
The motion stopped. Finally, Connor allowed himself to take in a deeper breath and let it out slowly. His eyes were closed and he must've dozed off at some point, because he had no idea how long the ride in the ambulance lasted. He just knew the vibrations from the engine and the ride on the uneven roads made the pain so much worse. While on the cliff all his focus went to his arm, the ambulance ride seemed to wake up every damaged nerve ending in his broken leg.
Now though as he was finally still, the throbbing of his leg once again became a dull nuisance that played a backdrop in all the other discomforts.
His head ached.
His chest felt like someone mistook him for a piñata and his arm... God! His arm felt like it was trapped in a vice that kept on tightening. More and more, until the bones would just snap-
Connor grunted, the thought making him almost physically ill.
"Easy there," a female voice spoke to him, soothing and gentle, accompanied by a touch on his face. Natalie.
Somewhere near, there were voices talking... arguing?
Connor wasn't sure. It was an unknown voice, then someone familiar, but the words were grunted and too low for Connor to understand. He had no energy to try and discern what was being said, though it all felt like a memory. Like being back home at Gaffney, doing rounds in the emergency room. Except this time he was the one in need of some help.
"Connor? Are you with us?" Natalie asked softly and Connor forced his eyes to open.
He had to squint, the overhead light burning into his eyelids. Natalie leaned over, blocking it off partially.
"Hey," Connor uttered, barely a whisper. She smiled down at him and for a moment he thought things would be alright. Perhaps this was all just a bad dream. He had fallen asleep in the break room-
But this definitely wasn't Gaffney.
Someone moved at the foot of the bed, touching his leg. There was a tug at his waist then the unmistakable sound of scissors.
"Sorry about the pants man, though they were pretty much ruined already," Will spoke and Connor felt the scissors cut their way down to his ankles. The material came off with a wet plop and the cold air hit his now bare skin with vengeance. Goosebumps rose on his whole body and he shivered violently. The movement caused a cascade of pain, shooting from his broken leg up through his spine, all the way to his throbbing skull. The pressure on his left arm seemed to reach a new height, driving away any haziness. Connor hissed, his whole body tensing. The vice tightened and he grit his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.
For a moment all he could focus on was breathing and trying to keep all the discomfort inside. He was aware that there were more people around. He acutely felt the blanket had been taken off at some point, leaving his bare mottled chest uncovered to everyone's sight. He shivered and grunted in protest once more. A warm hand touched his arm, just above the tourniquet.
Connor's eyes snapped open, his eyes roaming around desperately.
"Take it off," he pleaded as he caught Will's eyes.
"Connor-" Will shook his head and Connor's hazy mind interpreted that look as hesitation -a refusal.
He let out a frustrated groan, even as Natalie tried to calm him down with a gentle touch.
Very well. If they didn't want to do it, Connor was more than willing to try himself. The pain was becoming unbearable, but the thought of the damage that could be occurring every minute was just too much. He would take off the bloody thing and they can deal with the consequences.
The problem was... he couldn't.
Connor tried to move his right hand. He made the motion, felt his muscles tense, his arm move... until it was stopped by something.
Connor frowned, breath catching as he tried to extricate his limb from whatever was trapping it. Someone's hand? Restraints? He wasn't sure. His body felt numb and cold as he kept tugging at his right arm, growing more and more agitated.
He wanted to look but the neck brace made it impossible to turn his head all the way and Natalie's hand placed strategically on his shoulder made sure he stayed put.
"Easy there," someone tried to calm him down and another set of hands tried to halt his movement. Connor didn't even know who that was, all he could see in his line of vision was Natalie, Will and the overhead lamp that made his eyes water. There was roaring in his ears and all the voices sounded like trapped in a tin can.
Where the hell was Ethan? Surely the man wouldn't go back on his promise? His eyes swiveled around, looking for his friend, for the man that was there on the ledge with him but he couldn't see him, couldn't hear.
All of that just fuelled his panic and Connor could feel his chest tighten with lack of air. His bruised ribs protested loudly along with his suddenly deprived lungs.
There was a hand wrapped around his right wrist, another touching his cheek and suddenly it was Ethan, leaning over. Connor could see his lips moving, but the words didn't make it past the roaring in his ears and his eyes roamed around in panic.
Everything seemed to blur, until there was a mask pressed against his face and sweet oxygen flew into his lungs. He gasped, but a palm settled on his chest. Connor closed his eyes for a moment, trying to take back control over his body. Breathing was his priority this moment. That was all he could focus on, that and the warmth of the hands touching him. It took a bit of time, but with each breath of air the roaring lessened and the voices were becoming clearer.
The hand on his right wrist vanished but the thing strapping him to the stretcher was still there, he could tell.
Grimacing, Connor gave one more heartfelt tug, uttering a noise of protest.
"Stop that Connor," Ethan said and Connor recognized the weariness in his voice. It startled him, enough to open his eyes and look at the man.
"If we take it off now, you can bleed out. We need to repair the damaged artery first," Ethan explained, as if he was a child. As if he didn't know!
"Then do it!" Connor snapped, his fear turning into anger.
Ethan cast a look down towards Connor's injured arm then somewhere to the side. Connor interpreted it as refusal.
He shot a pleading look towards Natalie, hoping she might support him, but she had a deep frown etched into her face and wasn't paying attention to him, instead she seemed to be looking at something behind him. Will cast him a glance but looked away, asking something from the paramedic. The man nodded then quickly left the room.
Connor felt that time was running out and everyone around has suddenly turned into scared interns, instead of skilled professionals. Either he hit his head harder than he thought or he had somehow ended up in an alternate universe, because this wasn't making any sense.
Connor let out a frustrated groan. He was fed up.
"Help me up - and I will - do it - myself!" He said, the words coming out raggedly as the desperation was once again trying to steal his breath.
Ethan shook his head.
"I doubt you can see straight right now, Connor. Never mind holding a needle."
Connor closed his eyes, knowing he was right.
He felt the defeat wash over him, almost as powerful as the pain itself.
He had to try... one last time.
He moved his right arm, as much as he was able to. Not to his left, just up enough to grab hold of Ethan's hand, which was resting by his side. He clutched at it with all his might and looked the man in the eyes.
"Your word, Ethan. You gave me-" Connor's voice broke and his face scrunched up in pain.
The room fell into silence. Ethan's brow furrowed, but then it turned into steel.
Finally, he nodded.
"Alright."
He returned Connor's squeeze.
"Are you out of your mind?"
The man Connor hasn't really noticed until now yelped out, sounding outraged.
"I can't let you do that here! By your own admission, no one here is a surgeon, except the patient! We don't have any blood and if he crashes, we are screwed. I would be the one liable for this! We need to stabilize him, keep the tourniquet on and arrange transport to the hospital, with a proper surgeon."
The man barely took in a breath, trying to argue his point and Connor might have even understood his view, if not for what came out of his mouth next.
"It's his left hand, nerve damage is sure as hell more acceptable than bleeding out-" the man kept on ranting until suddenly, his words cut off.
Connor didn't realize how fast Ethan could move. But the man's words didn't even manage to register properly before Ethan was up and had the man pinned against the wall. It seemed like Connor wasn't the only one dealing with a world of hurt, as the stress of the last few hours seemingly focused on one subject.
"That man is one of Chicago's best cardiothoracic surgeons! Do you really think a little bit of nerve damage wouldn't cause him any harm?" Ethan hissed, loud enough that everyone in the room must've heard.
"I was just-" the man stuttered, clearly startled.
"Nothing. You were doing squat nothing! And frankly, I don't give a shit. You can either stay and help or get the hell out, but either way... Shut. Up!"
The last words were uttered through gritted teeth, even as Will was pulling Ethan off the now deathly pale man.
Natalie watched them wide eyed but she didn't move from Connor's side, one hand clutching the stretcher, the other resting on Connor's shoulder. Making sure he stayed put.
It wasn't necessary.
The moment Ethan said alright, Connor knew he would do it. Whatever the outcome, Connor felt some of the tension leave his body. Or perhaps it was just the adrenaline running out, he thought as a wave of weakness hit him. It didn't matter. Ethan had agreed and after his reaction to the stranger's words, Connor was sure hell would freeze over before the man let him down.