Chapter 5 – You Just Close Your Eyes and I Just Watch You Slip Away

Diane had just twenty minutes left of her shift and, if she was being honest with herself, she didn't want to leave. It wasn't that she didn't trust the other staff with her patients, UCLA had some of the best medical personnel in the state, it was just that she didn't want to leave one patient in particular.

Evan Buckley.

It was official, she was too emotionally invested.

On her last round of observations before she clocked off the man's surrogate parents had told her he had opened his eyes again but hadn't been particularly responsive. Sergeant Grant had told her how she'd talked to him, ask him to squeeze her hand and she'd received a slight spasm of his fingers in response. Buck's levels had remained consistent which comforted them all but Diane knew that she wouldn't be able to relax until he was conscious and talking.

She rushed through her case notes, furiously typing the reports into the computer system. A shadow appeared over the file in her hand and she looked up to find Mark leaning casually over the desk.

"Why do I get the feeling you're about to pull a double just so you can stay with your rape case?" He said with one eyebrow quirked at her.

"Please don't call him that." Diane frowned at him.

"I'm sorry. Seriously though, you are clocking off right?"

The thought had crossed her mind to offer to cover the next attendings shift but she knew her husband wouldn't be best pleased. She'd been pulling fourteen-hour shifts all week and she missed her family. They'd planned to take the twins to the zoo and although they were still too young to really appreciate it she knew that it had been so long since they'd had a family day.

"Yes, I'm clocking off. Ben and I have plans with the girls."

"Good. You're back tomorrow morning so make sure you put some space between yourself and this place." He chided.

"What about you? You have plans with Jen?" Diane dropped the last file onto the stack and logged out of the system.

"Not today, I'm on until nine."

"I thought you were doing the graveyard?"

"No, I started at six, our fresh air break was my first port of call after I clocked on. I'm covering for Dr. Scott, he sprained his ankle playing badminton yesterday evening." Mark rolled his eyes at his colleague's ineptitude. "I was out watching the game with the guys last night when he called me begging me to step in."

"So you do have a heart." Diane sniggered.

"Don't tell everyone." He winked. "Anyway, fancy one last visit to our lookout before you go?" He asked tapping his shirt pocket.

"I better not, Ben would smell it on me the minute I walk in the door." Mark barked out a laugh.

"God, forbid you live a little. Well, I'll leave you to it, enjoy your family day out."

"See you tomorrow, Mark."

Diane pushed away the stack of folders, exhaustion pulling at every inch of her body. She knew Mark was right about needing to distance herself from her work but it always had a habit of invading her every thought.

Her husband, Ben, was always understanding. They'd made the joint decision early on in their marriage that when they had children he would be the one to stay home and care for them whilst she worked. Ben had always been jealous of her drive and passion for her patients, wanting to provide them with the best care. Every little progress they made or every patient she discharged was celebrated by him, proud of his wife's achievements and victories. His job in advertising had never provided him with the same validation. He never bemoaned when she would call the hospital after a shift to check on a patient and knew her claims of 'running errands' were a cover for sneaking back to the hospital to check on them herself.

God, she loved that man.

Diane slipped off her lab coat and grabbed Buck's file, she made a quick stop to hang it in her locker before heading to find Dr. Hines. Fresh out of his residency she knew the man couldn't function with caffeine most days and sure enough found him drumming his fingers against the countertop as he waited for Hildy to make his coffee.

"Morning, Bret." He jumped and spun around to face her, his face wide and alert.

"What?" He blurted out and Diane laughed.

"What's got you so jumpy this morning?" She asked as she deposited her own well-used mug in the sink.

"No! Nothing, just didn't hear you come in." She noticed the tension in his shoulders and the slight shake of his hand as he took his mug from the coffee machine.

"Is everything okay?" Diane asked him, concerned. She hadn't known Bret long but could see his work ethic from a mile away. He'd chosen critical care as his specialty and, so far, had excelled in his duties to his patients but she had noticed that he often appeared distracted.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, just had a late-night is all. Out celebrating completing my residency."

"Ah, well, let me know if you need a banana bag." She remembered her own years in med school and residency when her fellow students would slink on to shift after a bit stop in the ER for the favored hangover cure. So-called for its yellow color, an IV banana bag contained enough vitamins and minerals to sober up the drunkest of patients.

"I'm good." He laughed, somewhat stiffly. "Just need some coffee and I'm good to go. You headed home?"

"Yes," She said playing along with the change of subject. "I actually have a patient I need you to take on for me until I'm back on shift tomorrow."

"Oh?" Bret sipped on his coffee.

"It's a delicate case," Diane told him bluntly. "I need you to be on you're A-game."

"Yeah, sure." He nodded convincingly and stood up straight as she leveled him with a firm gaze. She held the file out to him and he placed his mug down behind him before opening it, his eyes scanning the pages and notes contained.

"It's a sexual assault case, the patient was drugged with ketamine, beaten, and raped."

Bret's head snapped up. "Shit."

"What?"

"Uh, just, uh, that suck's, you know?"

"If you can't handle this I need to know," Diane demanded fighting down the temptation to just stay and work the double shift. Bret was a good doctor but still relatively young in his tenure. "Do you have any experience with rape victims?"

"Uh, a few, in the ER during my early intern days." He seemed flustered and Diane could feel herself starting to get frustrated.

"What about male rape victims?" He winced and his gaze dropped from hers back to the file in his hands before uttering a quiet 'no'. "Look, he's still coming round from the effects of the ketamine, it's unlikely he's going to be fully conscious before I'm back on shift. All I need you to do is check in on him, monitor his breathing, and if he's lucid enough to talk to then help his parents explain what happened to him. Everything you need to know is in the file."

Bret nodded and seemed to steel himself with a deep breath before looking back up at her. "Which room?" He asked.

"Room eight, I'll introduce you." Diane led him down the hall and knocked on the door to Buck's room. "Mr. Nash, Sergeant Grant, this is Dr. Hines, he's going to be taking over Buck's care for the next shift," Diane said introducing them to Bret. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. If you have any questions or concerns Dr. Hines will be available at all times."

"Thank you, for everything." Bobby said standing from his chair and reaching out the shake her hand.

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow." She cast one last meaningful look to Bret, trying to convey how much she was relying on him before slipping from the room.

The overwhelming urge to protect her patient halted her feet and she stood stuck for a moment outside the door, she heard the faint, muffled conversation from within as Bret talked to the occupants. She shook herself from her stupor, Bret was a professional, she had to trust in his abilities.

Her phone dinged and she opened the text smiling at the picture from Ben, two beaming faces smiled up at her from the screen, eyes wide and mouths smothered in chocolate.

Ben: They wanted pancakes…I may regret adding the chocolate chips! ;)

Casting one last look back at the door to room eight she made her way off the ward and home to her family.

Bobby startled awake, his head snapping up from where it lay against his chest. Looking across the hospital bed he saw that Athena had also fallen asleep, her head propped against the wing of the high-backed chair. He scrubbed his hands down his face trying to remove the residual sleep and looked at his watch. It was nearing 4 p.m. and he was exhausted.

Bobby pushed himself out of the chair stretching his arms above his head and wincing at the popping and cracking in his spine. He grabbed his jacket and moved to drape it over his sleeping wife and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She shifted in her sleep and he left the room closing the door quietly behind him so as not to wake her. Walking down the hallway he weaved between hospital staff and visitors to the bathroom. He ran the water and cupped his hands beneath the stream splashing it on his face, it dripped down his neck and under the collar of his shirt and he grabbed a handful of paper towels to dry himself off.

Bobby was sick of hospitals. He was sick of the all too well-known feelings of dread, fear, and panic. Too many times he had sat vigil at the bedside of a member of his team, his family, waiting for them to wake or even to live.

Too many times it had been Buck.

He couldn't remember when his relationship with Buck had changed from Captain and subordinate to father and son, the thing that cemented it, however, had been the disastrous visit from the Buckly parents. Bobby had always known his relationship with his parents had been strained but after he heard the full story it had taken everything in him and restraining words from Athena not to go to their hotel and give them a piece of his mind.

They had this son, this wonderful, loving, generous, and good son, and they had ignored him to the point where he felt he had to put himself at risk just to gain a slither of attention. It had explained so much about Buck, why he constantly rushed headfirst into any situation with no regard for his own safety. He'd been conditioned to do so.

Bobby wondered if that was what had happened this time, had Buck stepped in to help someone, had he unknowingly put himself in danger, or had it simply been a case of wrong place, wrong time?

There was no way in hell he was going to contact Philip and Margaret Buckley to inform them of what had happened, not without Buck's express consent. He could just imagine the shame they would place on him.

You should have protected yourself, Evan.

The world is an uncertain place, Evan.

He snorted to himself and balled up the paper towels, launching them into the trash can beside the sink. That had been the final nail in the coffin of his dislike of the Buckley parents.

Ambling back down the hallway he found himself looking at the closed doors he passed and hoped that the patients within weren't facing the same turmoil as his kid.

He stepped quietly into the room, glad to see Athena still asleep. Whilst he had at least managed a few hours of sleep before he was called to the hospital, she had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

Bobby's eyes made their customary flicked to examine Buck's face, as they had done repeatedly since he had first sat by his side and flicked back again in would have been a comical double-take had the situation been vastly different.

Buck's eyes were open.

Not fully, but enough to see the pupils moving slowly around his field of vision. They looked tired, the way they did after a long and arduous shift but even more so. His forehead creases as his eyebrows draw together in confusion and Bobby darted to his side reaching for his hand, gently taking the bruised and swollen fingers on Buck's casted hand in his own.

"Hey." He spoke softly, he ducked his head into Buck's eye line and waited for his focus to train on him. "It's okay, you're okay. I'm here."

"Wh…" Bobby winced at the wrecked sound of Buck's voice; his throat likely irritated from the ET tube.

"Don't try to talk too much, we'll get you some ice chips." Bobby soothed as he reached for the call button. "How do you feel? Are you in any pain?"

"I don…I don't." The steady beeping of the monitor to his left increased as Buck's heart rate picked up and Bobby could see his chest beginning to heave with panic.

"Buck? Hey, Buck." He plants a hand on the side of his face, sweeping a thumb over one bruised cheekbone, and leaned in closer. "Take a deep breath for me. In, out. That's it, again. In, out."

The beeping slowed slightly and Bobby kept up the smooth motions, breathing with him, the fingers in his hand curled around his own.

The door behind Bobby opened and he turned to see Dr. Hines entering, he brushed past Athena as he approached the bed bumping into her legs and she woke with a start.

"Bobby?" Sitting upright she took in the scene before her and leapt up. By the time she was gripping onto Buck's opposite hand and Dr. Hines was checking him over Buck's eyes were flickering closed again, his energy spent from the short window on consciousness.

"Did he say anything?" Dr. Hines asked urgently.

"Not much, nothing that made sense."

"Mr. Buckley?" There was a clatter as the doctor dropped the stethoscope he had plucked from where it hung around his neck and he stooped quickly to pick it up. Bobby took in his flustered appearance, the man looked young and he wondered how long he had been practicing medicine for. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Bobby felt like his breath was stuck in his chest as Buck's eyelids twitched and slowly opened. He made to lean forward but was held back by Dr. Hines's hand on his arm.

"Mr. Buckley? Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened? Can you tell me the date?" The man fired off questions leaving no time in between for Buck to answer let alone digest in his confused state. "Mr. Buckley?" Buck's heart rate picked up again.

"Okay, that's enough." Bobby interjected.

"I need to access his cognitive function. The concussion—"

"You're overwhelming him, he's clearly distressed."

"Mr. Nash—"

"No! He's not ready," He brushed a hand gently over Buck's forehead pleased to see he had slipped back to sleep. "We wait till he's more awake."

He waited for Dr. Hines to rebuff him but the man simply nodded sheepishly and left closing to door harder than necessary on his way out.

"I do not like him." Bobby ground out as he glared at the closed door. He felt a soft touch to his arm and turned to his wife, her gentle eyes boring into him.

"He's just trying to do his job." She chided him.

"Well, Dr. Woods is better." He turned his attention back to Buck, his face now relaxed and breathing deeply.

"We all want what's best for Buck, for him to get better. It's going to be rough and long and he's going to hurt so much worse than he does now."

"I know!" Bobby snapped at her and instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I just…he didn't need to badger him like that."

"His bedside manner could definitely use some practice." She agreed with a quirked eyebrow. "But maybe he's not cared for a patient like this before."

Maybe he's not worked with a male rape victim before.

Even the vague notion of the prejudice, stigma, and shame that Buck was likely to face made him seethe with anger. Why didn't he fight harder? How could he let it happen? A man can't be raped.

Receiving it from a doctor charged with his care was unacceptable.

Bobby sank back into his chair convinced the hours he had spent sitting in it had molded the cushion to perfectly fit his backside.

"You know those pamphlets you see in doctors' offices?" He asked.

"The ones with cheesy slogans like 'Depression? Just think positive.'" Athena chuckled and he joined in for a second before the sadness returned.

"I wish there was a pamphlet for this. For family. The right things to do or say. How to help."

"If only it were that easy." Athena sighed.

He all but ran down the hallway darting around his colleagues and pushing through the door to the stairwell. His breath came in sharp pants and his heart was pounding in his chest.

Those eyes.

The bright blue orbs had only met his gaze for a microsecond but it had shot straight to his soul. He craned his head around the deserted stairwell to make sure he was alone before yanking his phone from his pants pocket he dialed a number from memory with trembling fingers. The line rang and rang before reaching the answerphone and he swore as he hung up and jabbed his thumb against the redial button. It once again went to voicemail and he waited for the pre-recorded message to end before he spoke shakily.

"It's me, we have a problem. You need to call me back immediately. I can't…it's over. I'm done."

He locked his phone and his head fell back against the concrete wall with a dull thud.

Christ. What had he done?