Title: Finding yourself
Summary: Paramedics do everything at 60 mph: their jobs and their life. They spend their lives taking care of others, but who takes care of them? Can one paramedic save another or will their job take its toll on them?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Saved. I do own Christine 'Chris' Morgan. But if she's real, my apologies, I don't own her. Please don't sue; I'm a poor high school girl.
A/N: I've only seen one episode of the show so far, so I'm basically making this up as I go along.
A/N: This is probably a little different than any part of the show. I don't care. When an idea pops into my head, I type it out on paper; sometimes the ideas give way to stories, and sometimes they don't. This is just an idea. It's not meant to be an episode of the show or anything. My apologies to those who I offend, but I don't care.
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"That was a daring move, Miss Morgan. I'll be taking this up with your supervisor."
I had just royally gotten yelled at by the head of the E.R. for shocking Marissa three times, risking her life. Giving her the medicine would've been worse, and that's exactly what I told the doctor, but when does a doctor listen to a paramedic? Looking off to my side, I see Quentin looking up at Wyatt and myself.
"Quentin, buddy, we need to talk."
I pick him up, and set him on top of the desk so we can, while Angela, Sack, and Wyatt all watch. The whole time I'm talking to the boy, Wyatt is standing against the desk, smiling at the scene in front of him.
"Oh no."
"Oh no, what, Angela?"
"I think Wyatt's found his next girlfriend, Harper
"Who would that be?"
She gestures over to me, and Harper just nods his head, agreeing with Angela completely.
"Look guy, Chris is my partner, not my lover. Alright? I don't think we're ever going to have anything together. I don't like to dip my pen in company ink, per say."
"Whatever you say, man."
Wyatt shakes his head, and goes back to watching me with Quentin.
"Next time you want to talk to Mr. Cole or myself, just call this phone number. Just tell whoever answers that you want to talk to Paramedic Morgan or Paramedic Cole. They'll let us know that you want to talk to us."
"Anytime I want to talk?"
"Anytime you want to talk."
"Thanks, Christine."
I give Quentin a hug, and then take him off the desk, releasing him into DCFS' custody. The four of us paramedics walk outside, still talking about my miraculous save of Marissa.
"I still can't believe that worked. You had skills out there, Ms. Morgan."
"Well, Ms. De La Cruz, it helps to have a pre-med degree and two years of med school under my belt."
"That would help, Angela."
"Oh shut up, Wyatt."
Wyatt and I give Angela and Harper a ride back to their ambulance, then the four of us make our way back to the firehouse. I changed into my normal clothes, and walk back out of the locker room.
"See you later, Angie."
"Bye, Christine."
"John, Harper. I'll see you tomorrow, Wyatt."
"Hey, wait! Where are you head, Chris?"
"My house on Abbott street, why?"
"I live like two blocks down from that. I'll walk home with you."
"Alright."
As we walk out, Angela and Harper sit at the table, giggling about what was said earlier in the emergency room. Wyatt and I walk along in the refreshing spring air, until we reach my place.
"Wow, so this is where you live?"
"Yep. What can I say? I used to bring in a lot of money from my poker matches. I fell in love with this place instantly."
"So, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yep, see you tomorrow, Wyatt."
I gave him a kiss on the cheek, saying thanks for walking home with me. Who knew? Wyatt Cole wasn't such a bad guy after all.
