Chapter Five
"Boss."
"What?"
"It's me."
"Really."
"Yeah. Listen, there's been a particularly strange development that I think you'll find very interesting."
"I'm listening."
"Gas station on Roosevelt. A blonde girl pulls up in a badly busted car. Takes it into the alley. I was getting gas, and I saw her pull in."
"Fascinating."
"She goes inside the gas station. I needed coffee anyway, so I went in after her. She gets another phone call. This time she raises her voice. I caught snippets of the conversation – it sounded like she was in a big mess. Anyway, she calls a cab and waits outside and that's when I left."
"And how exactly does this interest me?"
"She was Sonny Corinthos' baby sister."
The man on the end of the line smiled. He knew this was exactly the kind of opening his boss would need.
"Really."
"No joke. It looks like a good one."
The man smiled into the phone, pleased at what his informant had just told him.
After months of searching for a way to weaken Sonny Corinthos and his stronghold, he finally had gotten a hold of something that had marvelous potential.
"Follow her. Search the car. Trace phone records. Do anything to find out what happened and how it can be used to our advantage."
"Sure thing, Mr. Alcazar. Consider it done."
Dr. Mulrow raced towards the Ambulance gate. A swarm of paramedics had assembled around a stretcher and were hurriedly rolling it in.
"What happened?" he barked, motioning for a group of doctors behind him to hurry.
"Car accident victim. Hit and run," came the answer.
John Mulrow bent closer trying to examine the victim more carefully. He sucked in shallow breath when he caught sight of the blood flowing from her face and appendages.
"Which position?"
"Slumped over the wheel."
"The cuts on her head – did you use the neck brace right away?"
"Yes, sir." The young orderly recorded down the details while he ran, following the stretcher and the group of doctors down the hallway into the Emergency Room. "Neck brace was fitted right away, but her cuts seem to be superficial. Most likely from crashing glass. Windshield fragments had fallen onto her."
"Did you do the spinal test?" Dr. Mulrow's sneakers squeaked as he ran, his caramel eyes anxiously trained on his newest patient.
"No, sir."
"Why not?"
"Victim was unconscious upon our arrival."
"All right. Have you at least been able to gauge the extent of her spinal injuries, if any?"
"We don't have a very good idea yet, sir. But the damage seems to be minimal. Her cervical and spinal region seem sound."
"What of head injury? Does it seem critical?"
"Seems to be that the victim hit her head on the steering wheel when she slipped into unconsciousness. No evidence of whiplash or other serious cephalic injury."
"Chances are, she's suffering internal bleeding."
"Yes, sir. That's what we thought also."
"I'm going to prep quickly for surgery. You," he ordered, pointing quickly at a young blonde nurse. "Call the anesthesiologist. We'll need him. You," referring to another nurse, "call the Drs. Quartermaine. I'll need them during surgery. I want cc's of morphine injected accordingly, and I want her condition gauged as accurately as possible. Keep the neck brace on; there's still a chance for spinal defects and I'm not risking anything. Have the orderlies clean as much blood up as they can in the few minutes while I'm prepping."
The group barreled through the double doors, coming to a stop in the ER. Nurses and orderlies immediately descended, and the young doctor backed away quickly. "Send for her blood type. Most likely, she'll need a transfusion."
With that, he ran into the prep room. Discarding his coat quickly, Dr. Mulrow dropped his watch with it and ran for the sink. Immediately he was lathering his hands up to his elbow, scrubbing until his brachium was covered in the delicate suds. He rinsed quickly, holding his hands upright and allowing two prep nurses to slip on the surgical gloves.
Nodding gratefully as they tied him up in his blue surgical coat, he impatiently waited while they snapped buttons and tied the sashes. He obediently stepped into the surgical pants, instructing that the elastic at the cuffs be pulled under the heel of his sneakers.
John sighed deeply as the nurses fitted his surgical cap and mask. He closed his eyes, wanting to drown out all the chaos of the ER. But he couldn't.
He knew them so well they sometimes haunted him in his sleep.
His sun-kissed brown locks disappeared under the offensive cap, and he felt his mask slipped in place. He heard a nurse fumbling with goggles, swearing when she dropped them. He watched as she deposited the pair in the washing bin and unwrapped a sanitized pair for him.
John knew the ER like the back of his hand. Ever since Med school, he had dreamed of this job. The trauma, the excitement, exhilaration. The importance of it all. The rush of adrenaline, the harsh orders, knowing that every life in the room depended on your training.
He thought he'd love it all. But seven years of experience had taught him otherwise.
He hated it now. Hated how the ambulances always pulled, sirens screeching, up to the gate, offensive lights blaring. Hated the alarmed look on the faces of the EMT. Hated the stretchers and the cervical collars. Hated the impersonal charts and clipboards the orderlies carried.
He hated the pain. The suffering. The blood. All of it in abundance in the ER.
He was good at what he did, he had to admit that. But it all took a severe toll on his own health. Many times he had considered leaving medicine all together, going back to school to study law, and then go into Consumer law, battling it out with medical insurance companies.
But while the plan seemed appealing, John never left. And he knew he never would. Because as traumatic and nerve-racking as it was, he had to admit that it had its moments, all of them extremely heartwarming.
Truth be told, John knew he lived to hear reports that his patients were in stable condition in the ICU. He loved it when they came up to him and thanked him for his work. He loved how his heart swelled with pride and good will.
He loved making people better, and he doubted that part of him would ever change.
And it was that part of him that was responsible for him being in the prep room at the moment, being carefully fitted with sterile clothing in a painstakingly sanitized environment.
He let out a sigh of relief when the nurses finished, yelling out a thank you over his shoulder.
John raced back to his young patient, finding her partially cleaned and ready for surgery.
He adjusted his goggles and pulled his gloves tighter. "Anesthetized?"
"Yes, sir," a nurse answered.
"Good. Take no chances."
"We just paged the Drs. Quartermaine, but I'm not aware if they answered yet or not."
"They'll be coming." John took a deep breath while staring down at the partially exposed young woman before him. Time was a-wasting. Even from the reported minor head injury, there was always the possibility her brain was being cut off from its oxygen supply. If they waited too long, they could risk brain damage. "We have to start."
"AJ, what-"
"Elizabeth was in an accident trying to get her. Apparently they just got her in the ER."
Lucky jumped up from his corner, knocking over the half-full glass of water. "Wait, wait, wait – what?" His blue eyes were wide and turbulent, unable to believe what AJ just said.
"Elizabeth was hurt. Badly."
In an instant, Jason was on his feet, freeing Skye's hand from his. His hands clenched into fists and he narrowed his blue eyes.
"You're lying."
AJ rolled his eyes, his voice becoming high with desperation and worry. "Why the hell would I lie about this, Jason, huh?" he demanded. "Why the hell would I come into my sister's hospital room and announce that her best friend's on the cutting table? Why?"
Jason's hands were immediately fisted in his brother's button-down shirt, and AJ's back was suddenly slammed against the wooden door. Monica squealed with fright and Alan jumped to his feet, followed by Reginald, Edward, Ned, and the rest of the Scooby gange.
AJ's dark eyes bore into his younger brother's. He seemed surprisingly unfazed by his brother's attack. "Why would I lie?" His voice came out in a low growl, his eyes narrowing. "I found her, Jason."
Jason's eyes widened at the information, and he felt as if his blood was slowly seeping out of his body.
"N-no."
"I found her. Slammed against a light post, head bent over the wheel, covered in glass." AJ raised his voice until he was practically yelling, his word's echoing in Jason's ears as blood pounded in the mobster's eardrums. "I called for help. I watched them pry her door open. I watched them fit her with a neck brace. I watched them all – seven of them – pull her out of the car and onto the stretcher. I drove here with her. I ran up the stairs and stood outside this room for two minutes, trying to work up the energy and the resolution to come in here and tell you! And you think I'm lying!"
Reginald and Ned were at Jason's sides, firmly prying his hands out of AJ's shirt. Jason wrenched himself free from their grasp, continuing to stare at AJ.
Monica and Alan's pagers went off again with the same alarming urgency. The two parents exchanged glances, both fearful of their eldest son's revelations.
"We have to go," Alan stated, his voice low and firm.
Monica blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes of tears. When she spoke, her voice was soft and tremulous. "Alan? Alan, how do we – how do we o-operate on her?" Her eyes turned towards her husband, wide and full of confusion and remorse.
Alan reached for her hand, taking the first step towards the door. "I don't know, honey. But we have to."
Without a word, the two doctors strode firmly out the door, leaving the rest of its inhabitants to deal with the news.
Nikolas was the first to question AJ. "When?"
"I found her twenty minutes ago. I called the police, and then the ambulance came and we got here."
Lucky appeared next to his brother, his eyes wide and pained as he registered the information. "How did it happen?"
AJ's shoulders slumped as he remembered. "Hit and run," he managed to get out.
Zander joined the brothers, uttering one furious word. "Who?"
Tears crept into AJ's eyes once more. "I don't know. The person got away."
From behind Jason, Skye closed her eyes.
Jason's head whirled and the ground swirled at his feet. "N-no," he stuttered, his breath coming in short gasps. "It's not possible."
Ned and Zander were instantly at his side, each one placing a hand on his arm in case he should fall.
Sucking in a deep breath, Jason stared at the floor, willing it to stop moving. AJ looked away from his brother's disoriented grief, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. It was all his fault. He never should have let his need for revenge take him over. Not when the young woman who seemed like an almost-sister to him was lying unconscious in a smashed automobile.
He cursed himself inwardly, calling in every foul name he could think of. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he felt Skye's long fingers on his shoulders. Before he could fully straighten, his sister had wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.
AJ shuddered in her arms, partly from the horror of the ordeal and partly from his omnipresent guilt.
Skye looked over AJ's shoulder at Jason. The mobster was half bent over, hands braced on his thighs even as Zander and Ned struggled to hold him upright. His face remained free of tears, and Skye thought he was going to be sick.
Zander grunted under the weight, concentrating on holding Jason up. Concentrating on the man that had always hated him just so he wouldn't have to concentrate on the woman that had always accepted him.
Regardless, his thoughts flew to when he first met Elizabeth. It was at an illegal rave, and even though he had come off slightly overbearing, she had been polite to him, although he could see her uneasiness. Later, when Emily introduced him to the Scooby gang at Kelly's over brownies, Elizabeth was the only one extending a warm welcoming smile while the guys got their digs in. She had been a very loving, very kind presence in his life, and Zander was always grateful for that.
And now the two most important women in his life were in the hospital.
On the other side, Ned was having similar thoughts. Tears crowded his eyes, blurring his vision, as he pictured the lovable, energetic brunette that used to put in late hours with Chloe for Chloe Morgan designs. The girl that would be on the phone with their distributors in Venice for hours at a time, trying to straighten out any glitches in production. The young woman that had tied up loose ends at the fashion company after Chloe's death.
He thought of the young woman that used to come over almost every day during the summer, spending the entire day by the pool with Emily. The one that played poker with Reginald and painted landscapes for Lila. He smiled when he remembered the one Thanksgiving dinner they all shared together. Cook had been in a good mood for the entire week afterwards, simply because the young girl had complimented her cooking so profusely.
Lucky and Nikolas stood in mute silence, unable to move or even think, while Reginald sank into a hospital chair. Edward knelt on the floor beside his wife, tears flowing freely down both of their faces. Their hands were clasped, and Skye could tell her grandmother was whispering a prayer for both of her ailing granddaughters.
AJ gently pushed her arms away, stepping away from his sister. He stumbled back into the wooden door, his eyes trained on his younger brother.
"J-Jason?"
The blonde remained unmoving, barely held upright by a straining Ned and Zander.
"Jason? C'mon, man."
His quiet pleas brought forth no response, and Ned exchanged worried glances with the young man on Jason's other arm. He nodded his head towards Emily's bed, silently suggesting that they help him over there.
Zander nodded and struggled to lift Jason's arm over his neck, preparing to drag him across the room. Ned's hand tightened at Jason's waist, and he almost swore under his breath. This was the worst possible hand that Fate could have dealt his cousin. First Emily…then Elizabeth.
Ned was never really clear on the bond between Jason and his young artist friend. He knew that Jason helped her through Lucky's passing, much to his surprise. He didn't know how it was therapeutic to talk to a living block of concrete, but it always worked for Elizabeth. He thought he had seen the beginning flames of a romance between the two, but then Jason left immediately for business and remained absent for several years, the most crucial in Elizabeth's young life.
He had come back when his sweet little friend had matured into a full-grown woman. A sad smile flickered on Ned's face as he shook Jason slightly, urging him out of his almost catatonic state. He remembered wondering if Jason Morgan could handle his little friend at that point.
He had heard rumors; giggling conversations between Zander and Emily, grunts of disbelief from the Spencer/Cassidine brothers, disapproving murmurs from his grandfather and uncle. But he never knew if they were legitimate. When Elizabeth moved in with his cousin, he assumed they were. But she moved out soon enough and AJ's ex-wife moved in. And Ned had to admit he wasn't the least bit surprised; he'd had a wager going with Reginald that the ex-Q had long had her designs for Jason Morgan.
But the man he was struggling to support proved his theories wrong. If Jason didn't care deeply for her, he'd be taking this the best out of all of them. But he wasn't. He was taking it the worst.
"Come on, Jase," Zander muttered. "You need to sit down."
The two men began to sit him down on the bed, but all of a sudden Jason showed signs of animation. He sat only long enough to suck in a deep breath before leaping to his feet and striding over to his brother.
AJ winced when Jason stalked forward, almost unable to bear the swirl of emotions on the younger man's face. Even though he had long since lost any communication with his brother, he could still see what Jason was feeling. The man's normally steely and stoic eyes were an open book to anyone who cared to read.
Jason narrowed his eyes at AJ, causing him to cringe again. Within the icy depths AJ could still see lingering disbelief. But the shock and horror seemed to mask everything else, and he knew Jason was still struggling with the numbness from the news.
Without a word, AJ watched Jason stride out of the room, his leather jacket flapping with his long gait. His chocolate eyes met his sister's emerald ones.
"Where's he going?"
Skye shook her head slowly. "You should know. Where would he go?"
Jason raced through the halls, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as if it were about to leap out at any moment. The bustling noises of the hospital were muted to his ears, and the only sound he heard was his rushing blood. Ignoring the heat on his face and the sting in his eyes, Jason rounded the corner and sprinted down the hall, slowing only to push through the large double doors.
"Sir, where are you going?" A voice called out to him, but Jason barely heard. And if he did hear, he wasn't about to stop.
He kept going, not aware of the strange looks he was receiving.
It couldn't be. It just wasn't possible. Elizabeth was the most careful driver he knew. It wasn't fair if what his brother said was actually true.
The thought struck him once more, bringing him to a crashing halt.
It wasn't fair.
Or was it?
What if Elizabeth's accident was another punishment? Could it be? Could he be punished again by not only his sister's illness, but now Elizabeth…
He shook his head briskly, jarring all such thoughts loose. No. He and Skye had decided…what had they decided? That they weren't to blame for what had happened?
He snorted, his formerly warm heart-to-heart with his half-sister fading away into borderline stupidity. Just because they had decided that they wouldn't make any more mistakes, carpe diem style and all that, didn't mean that they weren't…that he wasn't…
Responsible.
Was he? Could this be fate's cruel way of striking him down?
Jason clenched his fists as he ran, almost piercing the skin of his palm with his neatly trimmed nails. He was almost at the end of the hallway; the two ominous double doors at the end held his answers.
"Sir, this is a restricted area-" A surprised orderly's warnings were cut short as Jason strode by him, his shoulder slightly jostling the young man as he passed.
He neared the T at the end of the hallway and was about to step up when a nurse and an elderly doctor rushed past him, anxiously pushing through the doors and running over to a nearby work table.
Jason finally stopped and put his hand up to the still slightly swinging door the two had entered. He closed his eyes, sucking in a long breath and trying to find the courage to look through.
If AJ was wrong, he'd personally slit his throat.
Hands trembling, Jason raised them to the slick wood. He shuddered slightly as a gust of cold air blew down on him from the ceiling vent. Hearing the rise in voices behind him, Jason knew he'd better end this before he was seized by hospital security.
He slowly pried open his eyes, blinking at the unwelcome fluorescent light. Like a child, he stood with his nose pressed against the glass, no doubt smudging it.
Dr. Mulrow looked up from the operating table to glance at his colleagues before continuing. But a pair of intense blue eyes, straining around the room, caught his attention.
He paused, sterile swab in hand, as the pale orbs met his own. He stared for a moment, jarred out of his trance only by movement at his side.
"John? What are you waiting for?" Alan's voice almost caught him off guard, but the young doctor recovered nicely.
"Nothing." He bent down to his work, nodding in the direction of the doors. "But isn't that your son?"
Alan's warm brown eyes looked up to meet the dazed blue ones of his son. What he saw almost made his heart stop.
Jason was standing in his direct view, hands on the door, nose against the glass. His shoulders sagged in defeat, in his eyes a mixture of horror and pain.
Alan pursed his lips and nodded gently, looking away before tears assaulted his son.
"This isn't what you need to see, Jason," he murmured before bending down to the task at hand.
Outside, Jason slumped against the door, allowing his entire body weight to fall against it. It was real. It was all happening.
And for once, he wasn't in a position to do anything about it.
"Sir, we'll have to ask you to leave this area," came a stern voice from behind him. Even as he sagged against the glass, Jason could feel strong arms pulling him back roughly.
His eyes were glued to the narrow glass panels, and he barely heard the quibbling voices around him.
"Wait, wait," exclaimed a flushed Edward, walking briskly over from the other hallway. "Wait, let him go."
The security guards immediately released Jason, who found himself suddenly praying his legs would support his weight.
Edward turned slowly to his shaken grandson. He dismissed the guards with a flick of his wrist, keeping his eyes on Jason.
Jason shuddered softly, his head bent as tears crowded his eyes. He felt Edward's hand smooth up the leather on his back until his grandfather had him enveloped in a tight hug.
Even though the old man had to stand slightly on his toes to reach Jason's towering height, his arms gave Jason a surprising shelter and strength that the hardened mobster had never dreamed possible.
"Ed-"
"Shh," his grandfather whispered in his ear. "Let it go, Jason. Just let it all go."
Body almost numb with grief and shock, Jason found himself tightening his arms around his grandfather, allowing his head to rest on the elderly man's shoulder as a flood of tears claimed him once again.
Edward patted his back comfortingly as Jason sobbed and shuddered, lightly rocking him back and forth within the bear hug.
"You don't have to be so strong all the time, my boy."