Oscar looked at his watch, and realized that he was already more than late in dropping by Rudy's lab as he had promised. He didn't bother taking his jacket with him, nor did he roll down his sleeves, button them, or straighten his tie. He turned to Callahan as he walked out of the wooden doors of his office, heading toward the glass ones leading to the corridor. He failed to notice her raised eyebrow at his disheveled appearance.
"Callahan, I'm going down to Rudy's lab for about fifteen minutes."
"Yes sir, I'll transfer any urgent calls."
He nodded at her and walked through the glass doors. Callahan watched him head toward the elevators, and noted the fatigue in his posture. She shook her head; Rudy was right, if the terrorists didn't get him, the stress would.
Oscar walked into the lab to find Rudy hunched over a microscope.
"I hope it's better than that picture playing at the Dupont...."
Rudy looked up at Oscar, a smile on his face, "Only if you're a science geek.... and don't try and pretend that you've been to the movies; I'll bet you haven't seen one in a theater since you were a kid." The doctor's eyes twinkled slightly. "They have sound now you know...."
Oscar chuckled slightly, "Yes, I'd heard that somewhere." He pat Rudy on the back, as he looked around the lab, noting the absence of his bionic agent. He unsuccessfully tried to keep the alarm out of his voice, "Where's Jaime?"
"Relax, Oscar, she's working off some steam in the basement gym."
Goldman nodded, "Tell her I need to see her before she leaves for the night, okay?"
Rudy nodded, "Sure. Now, come over here and sit down for a few minutes, and let me have a listen."
"This is so unnecessary--"
"--After you earn your medical degree, I might listen to your opinion on this subject, but until that time, Oscar, I'm the doctor. Now sit."
Reluctantly Goldman sat in the chair Rudy offered, his timbre showing his irritation, "If you hadn't convinced the Secretary that I need to have a babysitter for my blood pressure, I wouldn't be here."
Rudy untied Oscar's tie and unbuttoned the front of his shirt. "Just settle down, I'd prefer that you not have a coronary at this moment." Wells put the stethoscope in his ear and pressed the other end to Oscar's chest. "Breathe in slowly."
Goldman rolled his eyes, but inhaled a large breath of air.
"Let it out slowly."
Oscar did as he was told, although begrudgingly. Rudy moved the stethoscope to another spot.
"Again."
Oscar complied twice more as Rudy listened from his back, then the doctor pulled the eartips from his ears, and held his hand up to the large artery in Oscar's neck, while counting the seconds ticking by on his watch.
"Roll up your sleeve higher, please."
"Rudy...."
"Oscar...."
Goldman sighed loudly but rolled up his right sleeve to above his elbow. Rudy put his stethoscope eartips back in his ears, wrapped the BP cuff around Oscar's upper arm, and placed the diaphragm on Goldman's inner arm. He pumped the bulb and listened intently, a frown creasing his brow. Oscar flinched at the tightness of the cuff.
"Ow!"
"Shh!"
After a few minutes, Rudy pulled the eartips out of his ears, tossed the stethoscope down on a lab table, and released the cuff from Oscar's arm.
"That bad, huh?"
Rudy shook his head and stepped away, his voice colored with indignation, "Yes, Oscar, it really is. Your blood pressure is 150 over 118. You're a stroke waiting to happen." Rudy began pacing, his voice rising in pitch to match his anger, "Your resting pulse rate is 103, and your heart is developing a slight murmur." Wells looked at Goldman, "I'm very concerned, Oscar. More than concerned."
Wells went to the medicine cabinet against the wall and extracted a syringe and small bottle of clear liquid. He loaded the syringe, swabbed Oscar's arm with alcohol and not very gently, stabbed the needle deeply into Goldman's upper arm.
Oscar winced and rubbed the muscle, "I'm not a lab animal, Rudy....."
Wells glared at him over his glasses, his fury tightening his vocal timbre, "I know that. I wouldn't have done that to one of my animals."
"Don't you think you're overreacting a little?"
"Overreacting?" Wells pulled the glasses off his face and angrily threw the syringe into the trash. "I'm scared, Oscar. Every time the phone rings, my stomach drops to my knees because I'm afraid Russ or Callahan will be on the other end telling me you've collapsed; or worse. I know how serious your condition is, I'm a doctor, remember? Don't tell me I'm overreacting."
Goldman stood and put a gentle hand on Rudy's shoulder, "All right, pal, I'm sorry--"
Wells pulled away, his rage escalating. "--Tell me how sorry you are when you drop dead, Oscar, because that's what will happen. We don't have to worry about any terrorists killing you, no, you're going to do it for them."
Rudy's brown eyes were overwhelmed with fear and anger, and Goldman couldn't bear to look into them any longer. Oscar glanced down and let out a long sigh of air, as much to calm himself as to take a moment to think. Rudy stepped closer, taking Goldman by the arms, his temper all but spent.
"I'm sorry, Oscar, I don't want to be so hard on you. I know your plate's more than full, and the stress you've been under has been tremendous. God knows, I don't mean to add to that burden, but as your doctor I need to impress upon you the importance of taking care of yourself." Wells gently squeezed the arms he held in his hands. "As your friend, I'm pleading with you to listen."
Oscar broke away from Rudy's grip, uncomfortable with the unabashed truth, and unable to trust himself to respond. Sensing his friend's discomfort, Rudy silently turned and walked to the cabinet, while Oscar buttoned his shirt and put his tie back on. Wells pulled a bottle of pills from a shelf of the medicine cabinet and brought it to Goldman.
"I'm prescribing some beta blockers for you. You'll take one pill, twice daily." He handed Oscar the bottle, and looked hard into the dark eyes. "I want you to actually take them, understand?"
Goldman accepted the bottle, and smiled slightly at Wells.
"Stop worrying so much, Rudy, or you'll be the one with who gets carted out of here on a gurney."
"Uh-huh. Just do as I ask, okay?"
"Yeah, okay." Goldman headed toward the door, "By the way, what time are you leaving tonight?"
"I don't know, why?"
Oscar looked ill at ease for a moment, then he forced a smile at Rudy.
"Do me a favor and stop by my office before you go, okay?"
"Will do. In the meantime, try and relax....."
"Yeah...."
Rudy watched Oscar deposit the bottle of pills into his pants pocket, and walk out of the lab. He hoped the man would heed his warnings, but some part of him doubted it.
The soft knock on the large wooden door interrupted the conversation. Jaime stuck her head into the office, and looked at the two men.
"Hi guys."
Goldman stood, and Russ walked toward the door as Jaime opened it.
"Come on in, babe. Russ.....I'll see you later."
Russ looked at Oscar, then at Jaime, and then back at Oscar.
His voice was tense, "If you need something in the meantime, Oscar, let me know."
Goldman glared slightly, his voice tight with irritation, "Thank you Russ, that will be all for now."
After another long stare, Russ exited the room, closing the door behind him. Jaime turned to Goldman, a frown on her face.
"What was that all about?"
Oscar shook his head, "Disagreement regarding strategy."
She studied him, and didn't buy it, but chose not to pursue it.
"Rudy said you wanted to see me."
"Yeah."
Oscar put his hands in his pockets and began to pace, his demeanor more agitated than Jaime had ever seen it. She waited for him to continue, but he was silent.
"Oscar?"
He stopped pacing and let out a long breath, as if looking for courage. Jaime could swear that he was two shades paler than he had been when she entered the office only moments before. Her concern growing, she moved closer to him, taking his hand in hers.
"Oscar, what's the matter?"
He squeezed her hand but moved away abruptly, as though her proximity was somehow painful to him. The regret he already felt for something he had yet to do was paralyzing him. Goldman could feel his chest tightening with anxiety, and his breath was growing shallow. He turned his back to her, trying to gather his courage, and quell the guilt of his deceit.
"Oscar, you're scaring the hell out of me, are you all right?"
He turned toward her, his face almost grey in color. He grabbed his chest with one hand and reached for her with his other.
His voice was tight with pain, "Jaime, help me...."
She put her arms around him as he collapsed, her fear for him closing down her throat. Using her bionic strength, she moved him toward his desk chair. Seizing the distraction he had created, Oscar reached into his pocket, pulled out a loaded syringe, pulled the cap off with his teeth, and plunged it into her left arm. She pulled slightly away, and looked into his face, shock coloring her hazel eyes. The drug quickly affected her limbs, and he pulled her into his arms as she weakened. Jaime's eyelids began to flutter as the sedative worked its way through her body, and the premeditation of his treachery began to sink in.
There was a fear in her voice that froze his heart, "Oscar......what are you doing?"
He couldn't speak, nor could he bear to look into the eyes staring up at him with fear and disillusionment. It was all he could do to keep the tears that desperately wanted to overwhelm him at bay.
Though weak, her voice, like her eyes, was choked with the sting of betrayal, "Oscar.....why?"
Filled with a fear she had never known for a man she had loved and trusted, Jaime succumbed to the sedative, and passed out against him. Oscar gently lifted her into his arms, and carried her over to the couch, laying her carefully upon it. He covered her with a blanket, and for a moment, stared at her unconscious form. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and he turned away, unable to face what he had done. Goldman walked quickly to his desk, scribbled on a piece of paper, folded it, wrote a name on one side, and then set the paper on the coffee table by the couch. He leaned over, gently brushed a lock of hair from Jaime's face, and softly kissed her forehead. Oscar prayed that she would forgive him, but the hurt he had witnessed in her eyes was burned into his memory, and from that, he knew that even if she exonerated him, she would never again trust him. The guilt he felt made him nauseous with consumption, and he knew if he stayed there for so much as another moment, he'd never be able to leave her. With tears silently rolling down his cheeks, he took one last look at Jaime, and left the office heading toward the parking garage.
His logical mind understood what he had just done and why, but his devoted heart would never absolve it.