disclaimers and what not in other chapters. thanks to lora and thais for their help on this chapter.

Dr. Jackson Shriver, a tall blonde man with a slightly athletic build, entered the room halting the conversation between the two of them. He looked at his patient seeing the wounds on her face and arms, the brace on her leg and the general disshelved appearance of her clothing. He picked up the chart and quickly read through it, seeing she only listed her ankle as needing treatment.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Shriver. You must be Catherine." He extended his arm in greeting.

"Hi."

"I see we think our ankle has been broken. What we're we doing when this happened?"

Philip spoke up before Catherine could answer him.

"She was working in her yard when she caught her leg on the flowerbed and fell." It was an obvious lie but Jackson understood that whatever had happened to this woman Philip was taking care of it.

"Thanks Philip." He began his examination of Catherine, immediately noticing the odor of alcohol on her breath. Then he did a cursory examination of her cuts and scraps just to satisfy him that there was nothing that truly needed treatment. Finally he removed the makeshift splint from her ankle to look at it. It was swollen and discolored and had several cuts on the outer side. There was also a small bone protruding under the skin that was obviously not where it was supposed to be.

"We're going to get you into X-Ray. This ankle is definitely broken but we need to find out how extensive the damage is. I'll have the attendant bring the chair back to wheel you down there. We'll do this as quickly as possible." Even though he referred to most everyone, including himself, in the third person whenever possible he was a caring man. At that he walked out of the room leaving Catherine and Philip alone again.

"Great. Just what I need. I'll be stuck in the lab for at least a month now." Her voice was laced with resentment. It was the last thing she wanted, weeks of nothing but pushing paper work and dealing with bureaucracy. Weeks of being hands off on any case her shift was given.

"So you don't really want to loose your job after all?" Philip suppressed a small grin. The fact that she was angry at the prospect of being stuck in the lab was a good sign that even though she was depressed she wasn't suicidal. If she were truly suicidal she wouldn't have cared.

"What? Oh I guess not. Maybe I just need a vacation. Maybe being stuck in the lab would give me a break." She sighed, running her hands through her hair pushing it away from her face.

"I think you may be right. I have a feeling that that ankle's going to get you some time off though." Philip knew she'd be homebound for a few weeks. It would give her the time needed for her physical recovery and a good start on her mental recovery.

"Probably a good idea since I won't be able to drive." It hit her that she truly would be homebound because she wouldn't be able to drive for a while. How was she going to get Lindsey to and from school? What about groceries? What about all the little annoying errands that are necessary to survive? She leaned back against the bed in frustration.

"Catherine, you've got friends who I guarantee will be willing to help you. And Louise and I can also help. Don't let transportation upset you." The attendant walked in with the wheelchair.

"Mrs. Willows, you ready?" He helped her down from the bed and into the chair. Philip opened the door for them to leave.

"I'm going to find Jackson. It's been a while since we've talked. Then Louise and I will grab a bite from the cafeteria. We should be back by the time you are done in x-ray." He watched as the attendant wheeled Catherine towards x-ray then went to find Doctor Shriver.

He found the good doctor in the lounge scarfing down a cold double whopper with cheese and some fries that looked like they had seen better days.

"You know that stuff will kill you." The two were close enough that "hello" was not their normal greeting. Philip took a seat across from his friend.

"So care to tell me what is actually going on with this woman? She looks as if she were attacked by someone," Jackson said curtly. The good doctor had grown up in an abusive environment. It was one of the reasons he had chosen to be an ER doctor. It gave him an opportunity to reach out to victims in an effort to stop the chain of abuse.

"Jackson, you're jumping to conclusions." Philip saw the discussion ahead and knew it would have to be addressed without giving too much information about what really happened.

"I think I know the signs. She's been treated here in the past, although it's been several years since the last instance. Not only that, she's employed by the city and is not using her insurance. If it looks like a duck and talks like a duck then it's a duck."

"Unless it's a swan." Philip's mind recalled the children's story.

"She's having some problems. She tripped and fell. Unfortunately if her employer found out what happened she would loose her job. A mutual friend called me to help him get her here." Jackson stared at Philip in disbelief. That was one of the most ridiculous stories he'd ever heard.

"I swear he's not that kind of man. Listen, I believe she's clinically depressed. She's not a danger to herself or anyone else. I'm going to be seeing her and we'll get a handle on it and hopefully find the cause." Philip picked through Jackson's fries trying to find one that wasn't cold and soggy.

"Jackson, you know me well enough to know I wouldn't cover up abuse. Help me help her." He looked earnestly at his friend who was inhaling what was left of his whopper.

"The ankle goes on the insurance. The story you gave me will be the story I put in the record. She's going to need therapy for that ankle; it will be better if her insurance covers it. She's going to be out of work at least three weeks during her recovery." The whole idea went against every fiber of Jackson's being but he trusted Philip.

"Acceptable."

"I'll leave the psych meds to you since you will be treating her, with the exception of a Xanax I'll give her before she leaves."

"No Xanax."

"Philip, the woman is stressed. It is a perfectly acceptable treatment."

"Not in this case. I don't want her taking anything with addictive qualities." Jackson opened his mouth to argue the point but Philip cut him off.

"She had a history of addiction. Now is not the time to risk a new one."

"Philip, the more I find out about her the more I'm against this. I'm giving the you the benefit of a doubt only because…" Jackson paused trying to think of a reason, "…well I just am."

"Thanks. Listen, Louise has been waiting patiently in the lobby during all this. I need to get her some dinner while Catherine is in x-ray." Philip stood to leave.

"Louise? Hold up, I'll go with you. I haven't seen her in quite a while." The two men left the lounge and headed for the lobby, chatting amicably about their kids the whole time.

Philip and Louise made it back to the examining room a few minutes before Catherine and the attendant. Dr. Shriver wasn't far behind. He had the x-rays in an envelope in his hand.

"Ms. Willows it looks like it was a clean break. We're going to fit you with a temporary boot until you can see your orthopedic physician. He will do more x-rays before determining the course of your physical therapy. Expect to be off of work for a minimum of three weeks, if not longer. In the meantime I want you to stay off of that leg. I want absolutely no pressure put on that foot understand? Good. Now I'm also writing you a script for Bexar. That should help with the pain and inflammation. Philip's assured me that both he and Louise will help you out during your recovery. My advice to you would be to use this time to your advantage. Philip's an amazing psychiatrist. Whatever really happened to you needs to be addressed so that you don't end up in the same situation again. If I see you again under the same circumstances you can be assured I will notify the authorities." Jackson left the room without another word to any of them.