Ethan didn't realize how soaked his clothes were until they stepped into the clinic and he could see water on the floor, left behind by Natalie and Will. He looked back and saw that his own shoes were leaving muddy footprints. He didn't much care about the mess, but the feeling of wet clothes against his skin just became more uncomfortable as they stepped into the relatively warm room.

He shook off the sensation however, as there were much more important things than his miniscule discomfort.

Like for example the man lying on the stretcher in the middle of the room. Mike had pushed it inside, past the feebly protesting doctor. Ethan gave one look at the examination bed located by the wall and shook his head.

"We better leave him on the stretcher. I'd rather not move him yet." There were several reasons why he didn't want to move Connor unless absolutely necessary, especially not to a bed that didn't give access from both sides. There was a chance they would need to use the ambulance after all and head for the hospital. And lastly... the stretcher had restraints.

Mike nodded in agreement, parking the stretcher in the middle of the room.

While Ethan didn't want to admit it out loud, he was pretty sure keeping Connor still would be naught to impossible once he woke up again. Ethan assumed it wouldn't take long. While the painkillers Mike gave Connor helped knock him out, they would do nothing to keep Connor from the discomfort once they started taking care of the multiple injuries he accrued. The last thing Ethan wanted was for Connor to start trashing around while he was busy fixing his arm.

"I don't understand why you brought him here," Ned muttered with discontent, glaring at the stretcher while Mike was giving him the rundown of Connor's injuries.

Ethan felt a wave of irritation over the callous man. What the hell kind of a doctor was he that he did not care for a patient?

"We are barely equipped for more than skinned knees or drunken tourists... and Beatrice took most of the supplies with her for the birth."

Well, perhaps it was fear more than callousness, Ethan thought, even though that didn't endeavor him Ned any more.

"We will take care of him, don't worry. There are supplies in the ambulance we can use," Ethan said, his tone clearly saying he was taking charge.

Ned frowned, stepping forward.

"Now wait just a second. I don't even know who you all are... I can't let you treat a patient here."

Ethan raised a brow, opening his mouth to say something that would most likely not help, when Mike stepped in between the two.

"Relax, Ned. Those are all doctors from Chicago. They were at the team building in Roger Statham's camp for the weekend, when they got into this mishap. I can assure you, they all have their licenses in order."

Ethan wondered just how would Mike know that, and Ned of course asked the same.

"We got the call through Gaffney that they folks were missing. Roger called us while we were on route from another call. The hospital gave us the green to join the search. All those folks work at their emergency department, so I'm sure they can handle the situation better than you or me." The last was delivered with a pointed look that didn't go unnoticed.

Ned made a face, looking still doubtful but he didn't protest anymore. He didn't try to help Connor either however, taking Mike's words as clue to keep off.

Ethan decided then and there the man wasn't important right now and thus could be ignored. What could not was Connor.

There was a grimace of pain on his face and it took the luminescent light above to show just how pale he really was. Even though Connor seemed to be asleep, there were subtle signs that he was close to the surface and growing more and more restless. His breathing was shallow and Ethan could see his eyes moving under his eyelids rapidly. He was also shivering despite being covered with blankets.

"Do you have an x-ray at least? Surgical kit? Bandages?" It was Will who asked, and Ethan recognized the frustration in his voice.

"No X-ray. Why would we need one when the hospital is twenty minutes away?"

"Across the bridge?" Will asked, his tone rising. "The one we can't get to right now?"

"Will, that's hardly his fault," Natalie spoke, trying to calm the situation down. "It doesn't matter. We need to focus on Connor and make sure he is stable until we can get him to a proper hospital."

Will clenched his jaw, obviously biting down some retort, but then just nodded and stepped to the stretcher. He took in Connor, checking the numbers on the portable EKG that was now resting on a small table just above Connor's head. Thank God for the ambulance and its equipment, Ethan thought. He also checked the numbers and while they weren't ideal, Connor was holding his own so far.

"We need to check him out properly," Natalie said, pulling off the blanket that was wrapped around Connor to keep the hypothermia at bay. Ethan saw the man's brow furrow in discomfort and his shivering took up a notch.

Ethan himself felt more than a bit chilly all of a sudden and he rubbed at his arms to help keep the circulation running.

"And get all of us out of our wet clothes," Natalie added, casting a quick look around. Besides Ned and Mike, who did have a proper water resistant jacket on during the rescue, they were all more or less soaked. "Do you have anything dry here we could use?" she asked Ned. The man huffed but turned to one of the cabinets, pulling out several clean towels. "I might have a pair of scrubs in my office, but that's hardly enough for all of you."

Ethan stepped up to him and took the towels.

"It will do," he grunted, using one of the towels to rub his head dry, while he threw the rest to Will. He grimaced, seeing a bloody streak on the towel, only now remembering the cut on his cheek. It stung when he brushed it with the towel, most likely starting it bleeding again. Ethan didn't much care. He watched as Natalie ran her hands over Connor's bruised chest and stomach, making sure there was no internal bleeding (as far as they could tell) or cuts and breaks they haven't noticed.

Connor subconsciously reacted to the touch, letting out a moan of discomfort, his face scrunching up in a pained grimace. His body tensed, trying to twist away.

"Easy there," Natalie said calmingly. Connor's brow furrowed and there was an attempt to open his eyes, though it fell through. Still, Ethan was relieved to see that he was aware enough to track the source of sound as his head tried to turn towards Natalie.

"Connor, are you with us?" she asked and this time he did make eye contact with her.

"Hey," he muttered and Ethan sighed. In part, he was relieved Connor was responsive, especially after suffering a head injury and mild hypothermia. On the other hand, he knew the worst was yet to come and Connor would not be a happy camper.

Ethan kept to the sideline for the moment, letting Will and Natalie handle the care. He watched as Will cut through the pants and grimaced upon seeing all the bruises littering Connor's legs. While most of them looked uncomfortable, he knew that the worst was the broken ankle. Connor looked about dazedly, his shivering picking up upon being exposed so blatantly, but he seemed to be handling the situation well.

Until he wasn't.

Ethan couldn't really tell what set him off, but all of a sudden Connor's eyes widened and he started tugging at the restraints.

"Take it off!" He shouted and the bed rattled as he moved his right arm, or at least tried to. Ethan was glad they had the security of the restraints... with the fervor Connor presented, he wouldn't put it past him to somehow manage to ease the tourniquet before any of them would've reacted. Though he had to cringe at the panic that being restrained brought.

Ethan didn't even realize that he had pushed Will out of the way as he suddenly stood by Connor's side, trying to calm him down. The man was working himself into a proper panic attack, which would hardly help anything. Ethan looked around and spotted the previously discarded oxygen mask. He put it on, giving Connor a chance to take control. He was relieved when it worked, even though it meant Connor got back enough stamina to try and negotiate with him instead. Which was a total waste of time, seeing as Ethan was already on board. While he harbored doubts about proceeding, he mostly just didn't want to mess up. The conditions weren't ideal and the lack of proper equipment could cause an issue. But there wasn't really an alternative and finally, Ethan realized that the easiest way to stop the barrage of arguments and pleading would be a simple yes.

So that's what he said.

While it did what was intended, as in calming Connor down, it also brought a new source of annoyance in the form of Ned. The doctor who so far didn't even hand them a pack of bandages. Yet the man felt entitled to disparage the man lying on the gurney, hurt and scared for his life and livelihood.

Ethan saw red.

He was pretty sure Ned was lucky there were other people around, because the moment Ethan's hands wrapped around the man's clothes, slamming him against the wall, he was about ready to take out all his frustration and anger on that pale looking face.

Will had pulled him back, and Ethan turned away, feeling equal parts angry and ashamed over the outburst.

Ned just looked about ready to crap his pants. There was a moment of stunned silence from all, interrupted only by the sound of their breathing, when there was a small knock on the door.

Mike peered in, raising a brow at the strange atmosphere and the look of apprehension on Ned's fade. It was clear he thought there had been a fight of some sorts, because his eyes went from Ned's face to Ethan's knuckles, but seeing as there was no blood anywhere, he let it go.

"Doc, old Barney just arrived with Jimmy. Looks like the kid took a spill. Do you have time to look him over or should I?"

Ned was already shaking his head, shooting one look at Connor, studiously evading Ethan.

"N-no, I will do it. If you need anything..."

He didn't finish, just shrugged, pointing at the cabinets. "Help yourself."

With that, Ned beat a hasty retreat. Ethan let out a huff, shrugging at the questioning gaze from Mike.

"That went well," Natalie muttered and Will snorted.

"I don't want to be that guy, but... he did have a point. In a way," Will added hastily at seeing Ethan's glare. "We will all be liable if something goes wrong." He paused then grinned. "Not like that can stop us, right?" He said, giving Connor's shoulder the slightest pat.

Connor blinked, looking ready to fall back to sleep.

Ethan wished it would all be so simple.

"What's the plan then?" Natalie asked, always the practical one. She cast a worried look down at Connor then at the two other doctors in the room.

Ethan looked around, grimacing. It was funny how Will let him lead for once, even though it was clear he wanted to take charge. But here he was, watching Ethan, waiting. And the clock was ticking.

Ethan shook his head, coming to a decision.

"If we are planning to do this, we need to start now. Alright. Natalie, can you check all those cabinets and see if we can put together some surgical kit? Will... get Mike and bring anything useful from the ambulance. Fluids and anesthetics would be nice."

Will headed out but paused at the door.

"You know we won't be able to knock him out properly," he noted, while Natalie was already opening cabinets and pulling out packets of gauze and disinfection.

Ethan nodded.

"Yeah. We will have to make it work somehow."

Will's brow furrowed, but he didn't voice a protest. They both knew it would be useless at this point.

Ethan waited until the door slipped close behind Will then turned to Connor. The man appeared to be sleeping, though there was a tension in his body that belied that.

"Don't worry, we will fix it," Ethan muttered giving a reassuring squeeze to Connor's good hand. The fingers squeezed back. Satisfied that the message was received, Ethan cleared his throat and started getting ready himself.

It was barely ten minutes later that they had by some miracle managed to put together a relatively decent surgical setup.

All they needed now were steady hands and a bucket full of luck.

Connor wished there were things he could forget. Like the night his mother decided to jump off the roof. The night he and his friend got drunk and crashed the car, only a heroic passerby's quick help saving them from ending up like charcoals as the car had caught on fire. There was a long string of bad moments involving his father, letting him know in no uncertain terms what a disappointment he was for making his own decisions. Those memories Connor managed to push to the back of his mind more often than not with sheer obstinacy. Then there were memories of patients and mentors suffering. Those hurt, but the pain was different. More emotional.

What he was feeling now was physical.

One could argue that physical pain was easier to handle, because once it passed, it was gone. Emotional scars stayed forever, often burning with the same passion as on the day they were acquired.

Connor would agree with that... after all was said and done.

Right now though, all he could focus on was the very real, very physical pain wracking his body.

Whatever painkillers he got in his system weren't strong enough to overcome the discomfort of broken bones or the feeling of his left arm being crushed to dust.

He tried to get it under control, or at least force his body to accept the pain and let it pass. Surely, it would have to ease sooner or later? All he had to do was trust the people around him, who appeared to be doing their best to help.

Connor wasn't sure what exactly they were doing. He thought he should know; that he should understand the processes. He was a doctor after all. But there was a rather distinct difference between being the doctor, who was afforded a clear head to think, and a patient struggling pain. His brain felt fuzzy and even though he grasped the words being flung around, it didn't make things clearer. Because all his focus was being diverted to the one place, throbbing with pain.

"This should take the edge off," Natalie's voice, sounding close to his ear, penetrated the fog and Connor blinked hazily, just as he felt the coldness spread through his veins. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, while the pain indeed seemed to dull.

"You done?" he asked, trying to turn his head to the left to see his arm, but there was still the neck brace hindering his range. Connor grunted in annoyance. He doubted there was a reason for it beyond keeping him in place.

"Sorry pal, I'm afraid we are just starting," Ethan spoke from his left side. Connor frowned, wishing he could actually see what was going on.

"Take it off," he grumbled.

"Working on it," Ethan said, sounding oddly weary. As if he had answered the same request before. Connor huffed, realizing he was misunderstood but having trouble conveying it.

"I want to see," he insisted, trying to reach up with his right arm to undo the brace himself. Of course his hand was still restrained. He tugged at it, frustrated. As if on cue, he also felt something wrap around his left wrist. It was a ghostly touch, but he didn't dare to shake it off.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Ethan noted, not budging. "Now try to stay still. I'd rather not cause any more damage than there already is."

Connor didn't know what was going on and that more than anything stressed him out. Surely, this was his body and he should have a say in whatever was happening to it.

"I can help," he muttered, feeling like perhaps that was the way to go.

"Easy, big guy. No one likes a backseat driver," Will commented from his left side as well. Connor felt oddly hurt by that. Especially seeing as Will must've been having a first row seat to the show. It all just seemed unfair.

"Don't listen to him," Natalie said with a sigh, running a hand over Connor's hair. "He is still sore about not being the one climbing down a hill," she added with a smirk. Connor blinked, confused, but at the same time somehow reassured. Natalie and Will bickering, and Ethan being his gruff self. It all seemed so familiar. Comforting in a way. He could almost forget where they were, just close his eyes and pretend they were back at Gaffney.

Of course, that worked only for a short moment. Until hot white pain erupted from the direction of his left arm.

Connor hissed and tried to pull back on instinct as he felt liquid fire trickling down his skin, but his arm had been trapped and his struggle was in vain.

"What-" he hissed out even as Natalie laid her hand on his chest to keep him down. Not like he could have gotten up if he tried, but the touch served its purpose and caught his attention.

"It's okay, it's just water," she explained and Connor's brow furrowed in disbelief. Since when did water feel like liquid fire?

"What?" he repeated and Natalie pursed her lips.

"We need to clean up the site so that Ethan can see what he is doing," she explained and Connor blinked. Realized she was talking to him in the simplest of terms, instead of the usual jargon. What startled him was the fact it still took a moment to sink in properly, because his mind was too sluggish to comprehend. Perhaps there was some merit of not letting him get involved in his own surgery.

Connor swallowed a curse as Ethan kept flushing the wound with what must've been acid. But he could still feel the touch on his wrist, so his hand hadn't melted away yet. And however ghostly the touch was, the fact he did feel it, and even the pain itself, was a sign that perhaps his arm wasn't a lost cause yet.

He closed his eyes and attempted to take in a deep breath. His ribs twitched and he grimaced, but let the air out as slowly as possible. This was just the start. He knew that he had to get a handle on himself, because things that would follow would most likely cause even more pain.

He wasn't mistaken.

There was something to be said about the sensation of having his arm worked on while in this state. The numbness caused by lack of blood flow was both a blessing and a curse. Connor could still feel Ethan messing around inside his arm. Like ants crawling through his veins, staging a surprise attack on the enemy army. His fingertips tingled painfully, while anything above his elbow still screamed from being crushed by the tourniquet. And he couldn't do a thing but lie still, grit his teeth and try to keep silent, hoping that time would start moving again and skip ahead.

Natalie kept up a soft commentary of what was happening, along with reassuring words of comfort. Connor had a fleeting thought that she was tasked with keeping eye on his vitals and try to stop him from getting too anxious. Or curious. Will had somehow been delegated to assisting Ethan, which he oddly did without much of a fuss. Connor found it strange, almost eerily so, because he couldn't really remember a moment when Will was content of stepping back and letting others do what was needed. Either Connor had Will pegged wrong, or this whole situation had some effect on the man. But Connor couldn't really ponder that, beyond a notion that Will was standing somewhere to the side, most likely being the one keeping his injured arm restrained from movement, however unintentional.

What Ethan was doing was pretty clear. While Connor couldn't really turn his head to look at his arm, he had a clear view of Ethan's face. He saw the concentration and caught the occasional glance his way. Every time Ethan noticed he was being watched, his face seemed to lose some of the tension, as if he was trying to portray an air of assurance. While Connor knew it was mostly for his own sake, he did find it oddly calming.

There was a moment when Connor wanted to ask Natalie to hold up a mirror, so that he could see what was happening. Especially when Ethan started working on the nicked artery itself. The man was in deep concentration and Connor thought he could feel every tug of the needle, even though it was unlikely. After all, his whole arm seemed to fall numb, except the biting pain of the tourniquet. Connor had opened his mouth but no words came out. The last thing he wanted was to startle the man in the middle of the procedure.

What would he even tell him?

To use a different sewing style? Give directions?

Will's words about backseat drivers hit him back and Connor closed his mouth. Who was he even kidding?

His sight was blurry and he felt shaky all over. And he knew that even if his arm was numb, seeing the wound would convince his brain he could feel the pain of every movement.

Sub-consciousness just worked in such sadistic ways. Sometimes being ignorant of things was the better solution.

Thus he forced himself to do what came so hard.

He trusted that Ethan would handle it all, without his own input. The man had been to war after all. This was... nothing.

Closing his eyes, Connor tried to keep his mind off of the odd sensations coming from his arm. He found it surprisingly easy... all he had to do was focus on all the other aches and pains. His foot especially caught his attention. That and the ribs which protested every deeper inhale. He spent some time thinking about how long the broken leg itself would keep him off of work, trying to ignore the possibility his arm might make it a moot point anyway.

"Alright, let's see how this holds," Ethan's voice penetrated Connor's somehow morbid thoughts and he opened his eyes in surprise.

"Huh?"

"I've stitched up the artery, so we can try and ease the tourniquet," Ethan explained. "We do it slow in case there is still a leak so we can tighten it back up if needed, alright?"

Connor frowned, a protest on his lips but Ethan shook his head before he could formulate it.

"I'm just telling you so you don't panic if you feel it being reapplied. It would be only temporary. Do you hear me, Connor?"

"Yeah," Connor said then took as deep a breath as he could and slowly let it out, preparing for what was to come.

Ethan gave him a moment, but not too long. Without another warning, he reached for the tourniquet.

Connor couldn't see what was happening, but he felt a blissful moment of the pressure easing on his arm. It was such a difference from the constant pain he felt for the last two hours that he let out a surprised gasp.

"Connor?" Natalie asked, squeezing his good hand. He squeezed back, trying to enjoy the lack of pressure, willing it to last. Knowing it would not.

As if on cue, after what couldn't have been more than a minute, the relief was slowly replaced with something else.

Warmth flooded his arm, from shoulder to the tip of his fingers. At first it was like getting something vital back, getting life into the limb that felt dead for way too long.

The warmth however had very quickly turned into burning and he let out a hiss. He quickly swallowed it, though he was sure everyone heard. If not that then surely Natalie knew because his right hand turned into a fist. She ran her hand up and down his right arm soothingly, trying to offer some distraction. She didn't have to worry.

Connor gritted his teeth, working through the burning sensation, cataloguing every new pinch and tingling. It was as if someone released a myriad of small critters to run free inside his arm. Or perhaps it were angry little men, with sharp spears, showing them into his skin and muscles, he thought as the discomfort grew.

So lost was he in the misery and the attempt to keep it from showing in front of his colleagues that he wasn't paying attention to what was really important.

"Looks like it's holding up," Ethan spoke and there was visible relief on his face. Will let out a chuckle and smacked the man on the shoulder.

"Of course it does. Never doubted you, man," he said and Connor had to take a moment to make sense of the words.

"It works?" he asked numbly.

"As far as I can tell, there's no leakage. I will pack the site and leave it as is for now. There's a risk of infection and while the sutures are holding, you need to be seen by an orthopedic surgeon to make sure there is no nerve damage," Ethan explained, while he took off the tourniquet that was the bane of Connor's existence for the last... almost three hours.

Connor could've hugged the man if not for the fact his arm was hit by another slew of sensations. Muscles, which were until now deprived of blood flow had suddenly awoken and started cramping.

Connor's arm twitched and he couldn't contain the grunt of pain that escaped his throat. He did however clench his teeth and close his eyes and focus on one thought only.

He could feel things. Even if it hurt, even if he knew it didn't mean there was no nerve damage, the pain gave him hope that the arm would work. It had to. All he needed now was to wait for the worst of the throbbing and tingling and burning to pass. To ignore Ethan packing the wound and wrapping it in a light bandage. He could instead focus on Natalie running a wet towel over his brow, most likely to clean up the grime, blood and cold sweat that must've popped up just now.

"It's alright, it will pass," she muttered as Connor forced himself to breathe through it all. "You will be alright, Connor. You can sleep now."

The words felt empty at first, just promises made to a hurting man. But as minutes passed, the pain had started to dull. The storm inside his muscles and nerve endings calmed down to something that was bearable. A throbbing that was nothing compared to the previous agony. And as the main pain vanished, Connor's body started to relax. Spent from all he went through in the day, Connor felt himself falling victim to bone deep weariness. His eyes popped open, blinking hazily in a moment of panic, but there was a hand on his cheek and a reassuring voice.

"It's okay, Connor. You can rest. We have your back."

"Thank you," Connor managed to mutter, his eyes slipping closed without his permission. He didn't know what was happening around him anymore, but he knew that for now, he was safe.