Chapter 13
*Readers who have watched the "E" episodes multiple times will definitely recognize the doctor who appears in this chapter, or at least his name!
The water he was splashing over his face felt good even though the rest of him was saturated with it. He was beginning to hate water rescues with a passion, especially ones that involved being in the water instead of on it. Or perhaps it was more the fact that it hadn't been a rescue at all, merely an exercise in futility. He hadn't missed Chet's stealthy movements to turn down the radio; he wondered briefly if they had found the occupant of that car. Of course, the last time he had felt this way, he had joined the paramedic program. Now what was he going to do, join up with Coast Guard or the Navy, or maybe even the Marines? Nah, been there, done that…..
Shrugging his shoulders in a defeated gesture, he used his finger as a makeshift toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth trying to eradicate the awful taste that throwing up filthy canal water had left. Johnny sighed, and using his cupped hands filled his mouth with the clear liquid, swished and spat. Bracing his arms against the top of the sink, he forced himself to look in the mirror.
"Gack," he muttered in dismay. That had been a mistake, almost enough to heave up his stomach lining since there was nothing else left to spew up. Under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom his colorful bruises were shockingly vivid against the pasty white of his skin; his eyes were demon like since they were so blood shot. And to top it all off, his newly shorn hair was standing up all over his pounding skull and had unidentified stuff interlaced throughout it. He gingerly ran a hand through the tangled mess and watched little pieces of twigs, leaves, mud, and who knew what else tumble into the sink. "Start a garden with that…"
He ran both hands through his short locks several more times and turned on the water again to wash the debris down into the sewers of Los Angeles. A fitting end to it – he just hoped it didn't clog up the drain on its journey. Now if only he could wash the rest of his misery away so easily. He was pretty sure that if he hadn't dunked half of his body in the drink, he could have gone home and simply slept away his soreness and the remnants of the flu. But now his stomach was rebelling violently, his head was beating a rhythm that would make a drum major proud, and his body ached so bad he had some doubts as to whether or not he was going to be able to sit upright in the squad for the ride back to the station. Definitely would make it kinda hard to drive home, lying flat on his back across the seat.
John grimaced as a grin escaped his tightly drawn facial muscles at the vivid image and the discomfort slid right to his cramping stomach. He leaned back over the sink, holding an arm tight against his belly to hopefully forestall any more close contact with the porcelain. Taking slow, deep breaths alleviated some of the discomfort and he was able to loosen his binding grip. Just in time, too, as the door swung open and someone barreled through; Johnny skewed his eyes sideways, not quite willing to turn his head that far and take the chance of it falling off his shoulders.
Chet Kelly came to a stop beside him and reached out a tentative hand to lightly touch him on a hunched up shoulder. "Hey Gage, I found a doctor and he's getting a room set up for ya so we can get in and out; ya know, maybe get to the station in time to taste that casserole of Marco's?"
He withdrew the hand and stepped back to give the paramedic a moment to straighten up and turn, wondering if maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the food. After all, the guy had probably lost every ounce of liquid left in his body by the side of the driveway back there. Judging by the expression on his face only minutes earlier in the hallway, he had most likely dug down a little further and dry heaved his toenails up. He was relieved when Gage turned slowly and gave him a tiny smile.
"That's good, Kelly, thanks."
"Hey, no problem man! I'm getting the hang of this, second time today I've hunted down a doctor. You can't believe how fast they change their minds when they find out you're on county time, and overtime at that," Chet explained, holding the door open and patiently waiting for Johnny to precede him. "After all, this is a county hospital, right? So technically we're all fellow employees working for the same man, John Q Public, or whatever they call him."
He directed Johnny towards the treatment room the obliging doctor had commandeered, smiling a little at both his success and his timing at catching the doctor just as he had arrived downstairs to help out. They had almost reached their target when a friendly shout halted them; Johnny leaned into the wall with a shoulder for support and watched as a dark haired man approached, waving an arm in greeting. His other arm hung limply at his side; a cast encased most of his hand and ran up to the middle of his forearm.
Chet raised an enquiring, thick eyebrow as a fast paced, friendly sounding dialogue ensued. The majority of the words were emitting from the stranger with Gage adding low, scratchy voiced comments in between pauses. Whatever jargon they were speaking, Kelly did not understand a word of it; he couldn't even figure out what language it was. As he studied the fellow with open curiosity, though, he was pretty sure he could hazard an educated guess. It wasn't the clothes he was wearing, the worn jeans, the blue denim shirt tucked in, and the scuffed work boots that were throwing off obvious clues. It was the man's bronzed skin and the jet black hair that hung to his shoulders, as well as the thin band of silver with a hint of turquois in it that encircled his good wrist. The guy appeared to be a few years older than John, was several inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier, and carried himself with an easy confidence and an almost cocky assurance that reminded Chet of…..
His mouth dropped open as his brain jumped to a conclusion. This guy was an older version of Gage, which meant that they were brothers, which meant that Gage was an Indian, which meant that… holy mackerel! He had better rethink the whole station prank thing. If John really was an Indian, he was liable to seek revenge by tracking him through the firehouse and scalping him while he was sound asleep! He had just watched that in a movie the other night, and it sure didn't look like a pleasant way to leave this earth. But then again, the paramedic didn't really look like he had a lot of native blood in him. In fact, eyeballing the grey white skin of the kid right now, Chet figured that he, Irish Kelly, looked more like an original inhabitant of America than Gage. Of course there was Gage's name too; both John and Gage were pretty generic sounding, nothing special like Sitting Bull, or Geronimo. Now the name Geronimo, that sure was a fierce sounding handle….
"Chet?"
He snapped his gaping hole closed and realized both men were staring at him; had he just spoken his thoughts out loud? He hazarded a cheeky grin and placed his hands on his hips ready to snap out a witty explanation but realized his acting was for naught. Johnny had already turned his attention back to the older man and was eyeing him warily; the friendly and welcoming demeanor he had displayed only moments earlier had curiously disappeared.
The man didn't seem to notice the change and clasped his good hand on Gage's shoulder. "Take care, little brother."
Johnny simply nodded and watched as he released his grip and turned towards Chet, flashing him a smile before striding off. This time Kelly caught the slight limp and wondered if that was an old injury or one tied in with the shiny new cast enveloping his wrist and arm.
"Hey, John?"
The paramedic didn't bother hiding the weary sigh that escaped him. He turned and planted his back against the wall, letting the plaster absorb his weight, and crossed his arms across his chest. "What is it, Chet?"
"Is that your brother?" Chet queried, stepping quickly forward as it seemed that John was starting a slow slide downwards. The question seemed to revitalize him however; he straightened up and for a moment his eyes brightened and a smile flashed.
"No, no, not related in any way, just served with him….."
The brief energy burst dissipated as rapidly as it had appeared; Johnny leaned his head back and closed his eyes, effectively shuttering the emotions that seemed about to burst from him. He cut off the beginnings of the fireman's next question with a dismissive wave. "Not now, Kelly…just something I wish I'd never done. Too young to know better, mebbe…"
This time Chet purposely stepped up to the wobbly legged paramedic and grabbed him by the arm, on the side with the fewer bruises. He bit back the questions threatening to spill from him, the foremost ones being "were you in the army" and "what did you do that you regret" as well as the one that was really tickling his curiosity, "are you really an Indian?" Although since that guy wasn't his brother, that question had already been answered, hadn't it? But that language they had been talking in…..
Ignoring the halfhearted attempt John made to pull away, Chet pulled the younger man towards the treatment room. While he would throw him into a fireman's carry without a seconds thought, he would much rather drag the damp medic into the room on his own two feet. Plus there was the fact that Gage was liable to leave a trail of nasty liquid down his back if he tossed him upside down. He wasn't about to chance that, especially without the protection of his supposedly waterproof coat. He bumped open the door with his shoulder and smiled at the doctor, who was scrubbing his hands vigorously at a double basin.
"Dr. Estrada, this John Gage, one of our paramedics," he introduced, waving a hand between the two men of medicine. Jos Estrada shook his hands out over the water and twisted to grab a paper towel out of the dispenser before turning back to nod at both firemen.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gage. I've heard of the paramedic program of course, but didn't have the opportunity to be in on those first training classes. Hopefully down the road I will have that chance…..now what's the problem? Mr. Kelly said that you ended up head first in the canal and swallowed quite a bit of water." He patted the exam table, encouraging the younger man to sit on it. "I sent the nurse for some warm blankets."
"Oh, he stopped shivering Doc," Chet supplied helpfully, coming over to stand by the table as John awkwardly hoisted himself onto it.
"That can mean two things, Fireman Kelly. Either Mr. Gage has indeed warmed up due to your solicitous efforts," he paused as he grabbed the silent patient's hand and felt the skin, and then moved his fingers up to his wrist to check his pulse. "Or he is moving through the stages of hypothermia; his body has tried shivering to raise the core temperature, failed, and so is beginning the process of diverting blood flow to the vital organs to protect them. Has he been disoriented?"
Chet gulped audibly and stepped forward to touch the bare skin of Johnny's arm, alarmed and curious at the same time. "No, not at all. Geesh, sorry, I didn't know that."
"Most people don't, sir, especially in Los Angeles. Mr. Gage, let's start by getting those wet clothes off and getting you wrapped up in the blankets; nurse, please get a temperature and let's get a blood draw….."
The lineman moved out of the way and stood by the wall as the activity seemed to increase around Johnny. He fisted his hands at his waist and turned his head, not wanting to watch as clothes were removed. When the wet uniform was tossed up over the privacy screen, he turned back in time to see his crewmate reluctantly extend a bare arm out of the cocoon of warmed blankets he was swaddled in. A thermometer was clasped between Gage's lips; he was reclining against the half raised bed and seemed almost amused at the attention he was receiving from the young nurse. To Chet's eyes, the nurse appeared either extremely nervous or flustered by the half lidded gaze she was getting from John.
Kelly quirked his eyebrows upwards, forced all his previously unanswered questions to the back of his mind, and considered the opportunities Gage now had for getting dates. Here there was a whole school of fish to choose out of, from the candy striped minnows to the old trouts swimming valiantly upstream hoping to snag a doctor. Or were those salmon? He was sure that even though some of them wouldn't look twice at a lowly paramedic who would probably rank low on their food chain there still had to be an an ocean of possibilities to fish from.
"Smarter then he looks, ol' Gage. There's gotta be a hundred nurses working in this hospital, and at least half of them must be single and under the age of thirty….ok, so subtract about twenty more for being unavailable or over the age of, say, twenty three maybe? Or would he date older women? How old is he anyways? So that still leaves at least a pool of thirty chicks to choose from….."
He abruptly stopped his mental math when his mindless, wandering gaze sharpened and focused in on a sudden movement in front of him. Dr. Estrada has his back to them, busy with something at the counter, so it hadn't been him. It was the unexpected backward step of the pretty nurse that had startled him, the needle in her hand that still looked suspiciously empty, and a frustrated, scared look on her face.
Chet's brain made the sudden, brilliant leap to what was about to happen; he jumped forward and caught Johnny as he tilted sideways. The young women regained her composure and helped him right and settle back the unconscious paramedic. Chet, his arms full of blanket and a limp Gage, glanced up to see the doctor pull the stethoscope ends out of his ear and release the pressure on the BP cuff. He tucked John's right arm back under the blankets and held out his hand to the nurse.
"How many times did you attempt to draw blood out of Mr. Gage's arm, Miss Levor?"
Kelly wondered if Dr. Jos Estrada practiced that intimidating stance in the mirror before he left for work in the morning. Because it was working pretty well with the nurse, whose hand was shaking slightly as she handed over the syringe and the empty tubes.
"I, uh, I'm sorry, Doctor. It was eight sticks, I can't seem to…"
"That's because Mr. Gage is severely dehydrated. Please limit your attempts to two in the future, and ask for assistance or clarification after that." The doctor pushed up his thick, black rimmed glasses with a knuckle and moved down to the end of the bed, fishing under the warm wraps and removing Johnny's bare foot.
The lineman made a little noise and hastily turned his head away from the vein puncture that was about to happen. He didn't know if the blood was coming out of Gage's foot or his ankle and really didn't care if he ever gained that particular knowledge. Being in the dark about some medical procedures was a good thing, especially right now.
He looked down at the damage the inexperienced nurse had done to the paramedic's arm; he made a face and averted his gaze from the skin she was gently swabbing at with a cotton ball. Another thing to add to his list…. Now he was staring at John's face from which slitted eyes were staring right back at him. Realizing he was still holding the now awake man, Chet quickly extracted himself and grinned sheepishly.
"Whoops!" He uttered, slightly embarrassed but even more worried about the confusion on Johnny's face.
"Did I just…" After speaking his first words since he had entered the room, Johnny closed his eyes and seemed to be joining Chet in the embarrassment room. He startled, visibly jumped in his reclined position, and his eyes flew open; Chet refused to turn his head and look again in the direction of the very quick and efficient vampire sucking out Gage's blood. Apparently a very successful blood sucker, as they all heard the glass vials being set on the counter.
"Yeah man, keeled right over, we would have had to scrape you up off the floor if Nurse Levor and I hadn't swooped in and saved ya. " He winked at the nurse who looked to be on the verge of tears. She gave him the crinkle of a tiny smile and pulled the blanket up and around the medic's arm. Was she trying to cover up the marks before Johnny saw them and passed out again, or was she just trying to keep him warm? Chet couldn't decide and guessed it didn't really matter.
"Nurse, run these to the lab and I'll call in the orders. Oh, and see if Mrs. Jacobs is available to assist me further." Dr. Estrada stepped up beside the pair and handed her the tubes. She accepted them meekly, her eyes downcast.
"Yes Doctor." She hastened out of the treatment room, shooting a frightened glance backwards before the door completely closed.
Chet worried his bottom lip between his teeth, now wondering how much trouble she was going to be in. Surely just a reprimand? He skewed his eyes sideways in a covert peek, noting that the swarthy physician was even shorter then himself; how in the world did he pull off that formidable appearance?
He shifted out of the way as Dr. Estrada moved closer and did the thing with his glasses again, regarding Johnny through the thick lenses. "How do you feel?"
The answer was succinct and what Kelly was beginning to think of as Gage's defense mechanism to cover conversation that annoyed him. "Cold and wet."
"Cold and wet…." The doctor repeated back in a thoughtful voice, reaching up and placing a finger on the paramedic's neck. "You appear to be a man of few words."
"Carrot, carted, no, no, that's not right," Chet thought, trying to recall the word for where the man's finger was positioned. He'd only heard it once or twice, but felt pleased that he knew what the doc was doing even if he couldn't remember the word. He heard the door swish open behind him and reluctantly broke off his musings.
"Doctor Estrada, I didn't know you were the physician coming down to fill in for a bit," the older nurse said, surprise evident on her face and in her voice. She glanced at the patient and did a beautiful double take, reaching out a hand and lightly touching Johnny on the shoulder. "And here's another pleasant surprise. Johnny, Roy has been patrolling the halls waiting for you…"
A little groan escaped Gage but Chet couldn't decipher the reason behind it. Dismay, unhappiness, pain, what was it? Geesh, he wasn't doing a very good job of figuring anything out; this lack of mental clarity appeared to have started the moment he stepped into the hospital. He had to admit, though, there had not been a dull moment yet. He must have a made his own little noise, because Nurse Jacobs turned and looked at him as if noticing the blue uniform for the first time.
"Mr. ah, Kelly," she began, tilting her head a bit to read his crooked nametag. "Would you mind catching up to Roy? He's by the supply counter with Dixie."
"Sure," he replied amicably. "Be right back, Gage."
Not waiting for an answer, he scooted out the door. He strolled purposefully down the short corridor, turned, and headed towards what he guessed was the supply counter/base station. It must have been, for both Roy and Dixie were huddled at the counter, looking down at something. At Chet's hail, both heads turned towards him; Roy leaned outwards and bent his neck awkwardly in several different angles in what Chet guessed was a futile attempt to locate his new partner.
He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "Gage is back there in the treatment room with Dr. Estrada. He says he's ok, just cold and wet, but he did pass out and he stopped shivering, so…"
An understanding look passed between the head nurse and Roy before both veered around the still forward moving lineman and disappeared down the hall. Kelly shook his head and turned around.
"Give a guy a chance to finish his story, would ya?" He grumbled good- naturedly, smiling cheekily at two candy stripers. The young ladies scowled in displeasure and detoured around him, putting plenty of room between them and the wolfishly grinning, talking to himself man.
~eeeEEEeee~
Roy paused before opening the door to the room Johnny was supposedly in; Dixie had no such qualms and brushed right by him, her face somber and worried. He followed, turnout still draped over his arm and his own concern ratcheting upwards as he took in the dimmed lighting and noted the still figure on the bed. Nurse Jacobs met their shared apprehension with a smile and a finger to the lips; she made a shooing motion towards the medic and he obliged, walking backwards to the door. She followed him out.
"He's fine, Roy, just dropped off to sleep a moment ago. He's exhausted, severely dehydrated, bruised, and has a viral infection, commonly known as the flu."
"The flu," Roy finished the sentence with her, reassured but still puzzled. "But what about the fainting, and the hypothermia he experienced?"
"His temperature was only a degree under normal and it is back up now. The fainting was his body's reaction to the rather gung ho attempts by the inexperienced nurse to take blood…." She smiled again as Roy sank back against the wall and let out an audible sigh of relief.
"He was coughing earlier, what about his lungs?"
"Congested, and he swallowed a lot of water, but he managed to expel most of that. Dr. Estrada is pumping him full of fluid via IV; as soon as he's finished with that and we check his vitals again, he'll be free to go." She moved to stand beside DeSoto and peered at him. "Are you ok?"
Roy rubbed a hand across his jaw, not quite sure how to respond to the question. Here he was, a grown man who had seen and experienced the horrors of society and what they could do; he was pretty sure he had responded bravely and stoically to all the situations he had been involved in. And now he was standing in a hospital corridor, drowning in a vat of emotions simply because he had been told that his new partner, a man he barely even knew, was going to be just fine. He was embarrassed and confused, to put it mildly….
"I'm fine, Sylvia. Just glad he's all right." Roy focused his gaze on the activity in the halls, which seemed to have slowed down considerably in the last ten minutes. He waved a hand. "Seems to have thinned out a bit…"
Nurse Jacobs wasn't fooled by his stalling tactics. "Johnny kinda grows on you, doesn't he?"
She shot Chet a fierce look as he sidled up to them, heard her last comment, and added his own thought to the conversation. "Yeah, like fungus."
Roy snickered, however, and the mother of three immediately changed her opinion of what she had thought was a rather rude comment. Just as she had recognized the paramedic's feeble attempt to divert her attention, she also caught on to C. Kelly's more effective tactics. "Yes, Mr. Kelly, just like a fungus, albeit a very good one. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have some catching up to do on both patients and the bane of my existence, paperwork!"
She bustled off in the direction of the supply desk and the two men stared after her. Chet half turned to face Roy and then copied his stance by folding his arms and planting his back against the wall. "She's something, isn't she?"
"Yep, sure is."
"Isn't Dixie McCall in charge, though? Doesn't she do the paperwork?"
"Probably most of it, but I think Mrs. Jacobs takes the rest, kinda like a second in command."
There was several seconds of silence as Kelly considered this, then nodded his understanding. "Right. So how's our drowned rat doing, anyways?"
DeSoto filled him in on his partner's condition; after that they discussed the logistics of getting some dry clothes and Gage's vehicle to the hospital. Chet, remembering the bruises and the stiff legged walk he had observed, hesitatingly suggested that perhaps they should give him a ride home. Roy immediately agreed, feeling a sharp pang that he hadn't realized that, and they reformulated the plan.
"I'll go call the station and let Captain Hammer know what's going on. He's probably still there, doing exactly what Nurse Jacobs didn't want to do! Here Roy, give me your coat. Grab my coat and John's from the corner in there when you go in to talk to Ms. McCall, ok?"
"Right, no problem." Roy handed off his turnout and entered the room quietly. The doctor and the head nurse were carrying on a low voiced conversation by the foot of Gage's bed; they broke off their exchange of words when they saw his entrance. The dark haired doctor left, while Dixie waited for DeSoto to pick up the coats and cast a last brooding glance at the prone patient.
"It's really turning out to be one of those days, isn't it?" Dixie observed in a flat voice once they were in the safety of the noisier hallway. Roy studied her for a moment, surprised at the dullness in her tone.
"You look like you need the same thing prescribed for Johnny – lots of rest and fluids," he suggested kindly, hoping she wouldn't take the well-meant comment the wrong way. She arched a brow but seemed to take the words as intended.
"I'm all right, just showing evidence of my own stupidity." She shrugged her shoulders in a weary gesture in response to his curious head tilt. "It would take far too long to explain….now, tell me how you're going to spring our worse for wear friend out of this gin joint….."
~TBC~
A/N – regarding the eight attempted blood draws and the ninth successful one out of the foot – happened to me due to severe dehydration and the inept technician, and yes, I retaliated by passing out for about thirty seconds….not one of my best moments, buy hey, it happens!
