Chapter 8 – Just One More Step, We're Getting There

Athena gave up trying to sleep somewhere around 2 a.m. Slipping out from the warmth of the bedsheets she threw on her robe and padded barefoot into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Her phone had been silent all night and she glared at it as though it personally was responsible for the lack of updates. As much as she wanted to know what was happening back at the hospital she hoped that Bobby was at least trying to get some rest. She had left him with food which she was sure he would only eat part of but it had been the bags under his eyes and the sheer exhaustion that lay within them that had worried her most.

Bobby was a quiet man, understated, always thinking. He had come so far from the man who relied on alcohol and pills to get him through the day. But every now and then something would happen, some dramatic or a traumatic event in their lives that threatened to shatter their peaceful existence, and Athena would find herself on edge, returning home from a shift and expecting to find him propped over a bottle of whiskey or vodka.

On one occasion, after the bombing of the ladder truck, she had found him on the patio, an unopened bottle of bourbon on the glass table in front of him. He had bought it on his way home from the hospital after visiting Buck. Full of blame for himself for Freddie Costas' actions.

He hadn't protested when Athena had picked up the bottle and walked straight back into the house and poured it down the sink. When she had returned to his side she enveloped him in her arms and she held him tight as he cried, muffling the sounds against the fabric of her sweater.

The next day he had attended an early meeting before his shift and one after too.

To the best of her knowledge, other than the laced brownies which Athena insisted did not count, it was his only relapse since the night of the plane crash. Although he hadn't opened the bottle he had still given in to the temptation to purchase it, and it still weighed heavily on Bobby.

Athena would do everything in her power to stop the situation from repeating itself this time.

Leaving the percolator to brew, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the half-drunk bottle of white wine, yanking out the cork she upended it over the sink. The liquid glugged from the bottle and swirled down the plughole. Next was the bottle of red, a gift from Michael for her birthday the previous month, followed by the three bottles of spirits in the cabinet next to the dining room table.

If she was being honest with herself, a part of her had always felt guilty for having any form of alcohol in the house. Bobby had protested that his demons shouldn't affect her life, but it still felt awkward, cruel even, to drink in his presence.

Athena dumped the empty bottles into the trash, the glass clinking together as they landed. The coffee was still dripping into the jug on the warming plate and she scratched a nail at a dried splash of tomato sauce on the edge of the stovetop from her hastily prepared dinner when she'd returned from the hospital earlier that evening.

An itch settled under her skin and she delved into the cupboard under the sink, retrieving an armful of cleaning supplies. Two hours later the coffee was forgotten and the kitchen was spotless and Athena had moved on to the front room, she had pulled out every piece of furniture she could and vacuumed every inch of floor space she could access.

It was how she coped.

She had done the same after the discovery that Jeffery Hudson had been in her home, taken her son. She had scrubbed and cleaned until her nails were chipped and her cuticles bled. It had been the only way she could think to attempt to regain some control.

With Buck lying hurt in a hospital bed, violated the same way Hudson had violated his victims she was thrown back into that feeling of everything around her spiraling out of her grasp.

Flashes of her own assault at his hands darted across her vision and the vacuum slipped from her grip, clattering to the floor with the motor still running. She closed her eyes, willing the images to disappear. The second he had pounced on her she had feared facing the same fate as those women. She recalled how his hands had groped at her in between punches, grappling for purchase on her body. If she hadn't managed to fire her weapon he may well have succeeded. She had been dizzy, vision spinning as he loomed over her, her hands shaking in pain as she pulled the trigger.

Athena reached for the vacuum, shutting it off, and all but collapsed into the nearest chair. Many times, she had agonized over how differently the situation could have turned out. It had taken weeks for her to feel comfortable in her own skin, let alone allow Bobby to touch her. She hadn't told him every detail of her ordeal at Hudson's hands, all he knew was that they had fought. The first few nights after she was released from the hospital he had retreated to sleep on the couch, insisting his return to their bed should be on her terms, when she was ready. Just two nights in she had called out for him in her sleep, nightmares plaguing her and he had run to her side, holding her through the tremors that wracked her body for hours after she woke.

She had only felt Hudson's fists, she couldn't begin to imagine Buck's trauma.

Athena felt a sudden yearning to be by the boy's side. Bobby would need to sleep if hadn't managed to at the hospital. Like a tornado she flew around the room, shifting furniture back into place and stowing away the array of cleaning sprays, cloths, and dusters. Moving to the bedroom, she threw on the first set of clothes her hand's pulled from her draws, before pulling out a few pairs of Bobby's sweatpants, a couple of well-worn t-shirts, and a brand new pack of boxers, hoping they might offer Buck a little more dignity than a flimsy hospital gown and she stuffed them into a spare LAFD duffle bag. She spied the book she was halfway through on her bedside table and added it to the pile, something to occupy her mind while she waited for Buck to wake would help quell the thoughts in her head.

Forty minutes later she stepped out onto the still and silent ward on the fourth floor and trod the memorized path to Buck's room.

The room was dark save for a single light on the panel behind the bed, it cast deep shadows across Buck's face which did nothing but enhance the bruising littered across it. It made him look worse than she had last seen him. The bed was now reclined and the blankets had been pulled up to his chest, his arms tucked underneath.

A quick glance to the chair stationed by the bed showed the hunched form of Bobby, even in the dim light she could see his hands clasped together in prayer, he hadn't heard her come in and she move silently so as not to interrupt. She soundlessly placed the duffle bag on the vacant chair opposite and moved to Buck's side. His face was slack and she felt a pang of disappointment mixed with apprehension, it had been over thirty hours since the attack, surely Buck should have shown some indication of regaining consciousness by now.

She gently brushed her fingers over his cheek and leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead. "Hey, Buckeroo," She cooed softly in his ear. "It's time to wake up now, baby."

"He did," Athena started slightly and looked up at her husband. He sat straight up in his chair and looked at her.

"He did? When?"

"Around 9:30 last night." His eyes drifted to Buck. "I told him." He added, sadly.

"Oh, Bobby." Athena sighed. "I'm sorry you had to do that alone. How did it go?"

Bobby shook his head and she could see he was struggling with his emotions. "Not good." He told her, his voice breaking. She reached down to lay her hand over Buck's where it rested tucked under the blankets. Her fingers were met by a hard lump resting over the top of the cast. She tugged at the edge of the fabric and pulled it up, exposing his arm.

"What the hell?" She exclaimed when her eyes fell on the white leather strap affixing his broken arm to the bed. Athena looked up at Bobby in horror.

Bobby's eyes were full of tears and they spilled over and down his cheeks. "He, he tore out his IV, tried to leave. Dr. Hines had to sedate him."

"And the restraints? Does he really think Buck is at risk of hurting himself?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"He was lashing out, clocked me with his cast." Bobby pointed to the spot on his cheek where a fresh bruise was forming. "It didn't hurt that much, just caught me by surprise." He said when she winced. "Dr. Hines said if I tried to take them off he'd have me removed."

"That man!" Athena seethed. "I'll be glad when Dr. Woods is back on shift."

Waking from a second drug-induced sleep to find himself restrained was not going to help Buck's situation. Looking back at her husband she took note of the bags under his eyes, his shoulders were hunched and he looked exhausted.

"Go home, Bobby. I'll stay with him. No arguments!" She held up a hand to halt the words of protest he had opened his mouth to deliver. "You need to sleep. Buck need's you to sleep."

"That's a low blow." He remarked with a wry smile.

"Did it work?"

"Yes." He told her with a weary sigh. Athena knew he didn't want to leave their kid but she also knew that Bobby was well aware of how little use he'd be to Buck if he didn't rest.

"I'll take good care of him." She promised.

"I know you will." He stood, grabbed his jacket and phone, and wrapped her in his arms. She held tightly on to him, rubbing her hands up and down the length of his back.

"Eat, shower, sleep." Athena pulled back and looked him pointedly in the eye. "I'll call you if anything happens."

"I love you." Bobby leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was chaste but full of meaning.

"I love you, too." She whispered against his lips.

With one last look at Buck, Bobby left the room. Athena opened the duffle bag, pulling out the clothes she set them on the side table before grabbing her book and pushing the chair closer to the bed. She crossed her legs and balanced the book on her knee flicking through it until she found the page with the turned-down corner. She read but not a single word sunk in as she worked through the pages, but it did what she had hoped, her mind had gone blank.

"Good morning, Dr. Woods."

"Morning, Samuel." Diane held her ID card through the open car window. Samuel Okorie had manned the booth of the staff parking lot since before she had started working at the hospital. He knew every member of the medical, janitorial, and housekeeping staff by name and greeted everyone with his trademark million-watt smile. A refugee, he had fled the Namibian war of Independence with his parents in 1968, his thick African accent had stuck despite growing up in America.

"You are early this morning, yes?" He took the card and swiped it through the electronic reader that would log Diane's car into the lot.

"Lots of worms to catch." She joked. The man boomed out a laugh and handed the pass back.

"You are always working too hard." He told her.

"Tell me something I don't know." The barrier in front of her rose and she lifted her foot from the break. "Have a good day, Samuel."

"You have a great day, Dr. Woods." He pointed a finger to punctuate his words as she pulled away. Her usual space on the second level was empty and she reversed the car into it. It was a little after 6 a.m., Paige had woken from a nightmare around five crying out for her, after getting her settled Diane hadn't bothered trying to get back to sleep herself. She left a note for Ben who was still soundly snoring and slipped out of the house making her way to the hospital. Her shift didn't start for another two hours but the pull to check on her patient had been too strong.

Bret Hines had transferred to the critical care ward two years ago, it was rare for a doctor to switch their specialty halfway through their residency, he'd started in obstetrics and gynecology. Diane had never asked the reason for his change in direction but Mark had mentioned a rumor about a love triangle between Bret and two midwives that had caused a huge ruckus. She didn't know the man well enough to ask if there was any truth to it. He didn't tend to mix with the other staff on the ward, he moved in a different social circle so there hadn't been an opportunity to get to know him better than a handful of rushed conversations over the Hildy in the breakroom. She always thought Bret had a sort of far-off look in his eye, like his mind was elsewhere, on a ward like critical care, on any ward for that matter, distraction could mean the difference between life and death.

As an attending, Diane somewhat ran the ward when she was on shift, along with the other attendings she had the final say on medications, procedures, and treatment methods. Fellow's like Bret could order procedures or change drug paths but would have to get these signed off by an attending. Diane knew there was only one attending on shift last night who would be stretched to capacity and Bret would have had to act off his own training and instincts.

She just hoped that Bret had done his best.

Diane clocked in at the nurses' station and headed to the locker room to change. Like the majority of doctors, she preferred to wear scrubs under her white coat, pulling the freshly laundered pair from her backpack she stripped in the deserted room and pulled them on, the familiar scent of her favorite laundry detergent wafting from the fabric was comforting.

Diane pulled on her lab coat as she made her way towards the door and headed to find the ward nurse to get a rundown on the night shift. As keen as she was to check on Evan Buckley she wanted to be prepared.

She found Cindy exiting a private room and waved to catch her attention. "Morning, Cindy."

"Diane, early as always." Cindy smiled as she approached her juggling several patient files and an IV tray. "Thanks." She said in response to Diane taking the tray from her hands.

"How was the shift?" She asked eagerly.

"Pretty quiet, Mrs. Frampton was transferred to ortho around nine and we had a new admittance from the ER, heart attack. The lady in room twelve is scheduled for surgery at three so she's now nil by mouth and her son is flying in sometime this morning. Room eight is in restraints and Mr. Harper will be—"

"What?" Diane interrupted her report, stopping in her tracks. "Restraints?"

"Yeah, Dr. Hines said you had advised it before you left in case the patient woke up agitated." Cindy relayed with a face full of confusion.

"Oh, for the love of…find Bret, tell him I want to see him. Now!" She dropped the tray onto the nearest cart and flew down the hallway. Her hands shook with rage as she opened Buck's door and shook them in an attempt to expel the negative energy before she entered.

Buck was still and asleep, the blankets were drawn up to his chest. Underneath she could see the shapes of his arms and legs pulled taught to the edge of the mattress where they would be tethered by the restraints. Grabbing the file from the box on the foot rail she opened it and leafed through the papers, Bret's scribbled handwriting notated that Buck had woken and become violent, striking out, the added ROH indicating he had considered the man at risk of harm indicating a need for sedation.

"I take it from your expression that you do not agree with Dr. Hines' assessment." A wry voice to her right startled her and she turned to face the woman.

"Sergeant Grant," Diane closed the file and dropped it onto the bed between Buck's feet. "No, I don't. I am so sorry, had I been here I assure you this," She gestured a hand toward her patient. "would not have happened." She lifted the blankets up and over Buck's feet and set about unbuckling the leather strap from the closest ankle. In her peripheral vision, she saw Athena approach the bed and reach for the man's other leg, her long manicured fingers worked the strap loose and pulled it from the prong.

"You know, in my line of work I see a lot of cases like this. In fact, I nearly was one." The officer spoke matter-of-factly, as though revealing that a near-miss at the hands of a sexual predator was an everyday occurrence.

Diane detached the strap from the tether point and moved Buck's leg back to the center of the bed, her movements were matched by Athena and together they draped the blankets back over his feet. "Do you mind if I ask what happened?" Diane asked as she repeated the process with Buck's wrist, she winced when she saw how tightly the restraint was fastened over the bandages covering his wrist. The woman didn't answer straight away, she ran her fingers down Buck's arm affectionately, allowing her fingers to tangle with his as she gazed at his bruised face.

"I'm a field Sergeant, I work alone and that's how I like it." She spoke finally. "I was following a lead on a serial rape case; found the suspect's lair and he got the jump on me. I didn't realize he had snuck up behind me until my head was bouncing off of a concrete wall."

Diane watched her closely as she spoke, her eyes never left her son and although her voice was steady Diane could hear the emotion in it.

"He beat me black and blue, broke my arm," her fingers idly skimmed the surface of Buck's cast. "and in between the punches and kicks, he would grab any part of me he could reach. You know I've never even told my husband that?" She admitted. "He knows of the attack; he was one of the first on the scene. But the way that man touched me, I couldn't tell him that, it would have broken him." Athena snapped out of her trance and unfastened the last strap.

Diane reached out and took it from her once it was unclipped from the tether point, she opened the drawer of the bedside table and dropped all four in, closing the draw with more force than was necessary. "I'm sorry that happened to you." Diane spoke honestly.

Athena smiled softly in thanks. "I accepted the risks of my job many years ago, but him, Buck's a good man. He didn't deserve this."

"No one does." Diane pointed.

"I remember lying in the hospital, confused and scared. I can't imagine how I would have felt being restrained after going through that." The officer shook her head disbelievingly.

"I'm just glad we removed them before he woke."

A knock at the door drew their attention and they both turned to see Dr. Hines poke his head in through the door. He at least had the common decency to look somewhat guilty.

"I'll be right back," Diane assured her before striding toward the door. Bret all but leaped backwards into the hallway before she could barrel him over. "You. Come with me." She barked as soon as the door closed behind her. She stalked away without waiting to see if he was following but the sound of hurried steps behind her told him he was moving in her wake.

She continued down the hallway past all the occupied patient rooms until she came to a series of rooms that were undergoing refurbishment. This side of the hospital was a little outdated and for the last two years, there had been a lot of work to get it up to scratch. New electrics, plumbing, built-in oxygen lines, and better lighting would make a world of difference but Diane couldn't wait until the construction was done. During the week you couldn't move anywhere without seeing workmen or hearing the buzz and whine of tools, with it being a weekend that meant all tools had been downed and the half-finished rooms were deserted. Thrusting open the door she waited until Bret had crossed the threshold before following him in and closing it firmly behind her.

"Dr. Woods, I—"

"What. The hell. Were you thinking?" Diane punctuated every word as she yelled, confident in the fact that they were removed enough from the main ward that her volume wouldn't disturb any patients.

Bret's mouth opened and closed in an impression that would rival a fish. "I thought—"

"You thought that drugging and restraining a man who has already been drugged and raped was an appropriate course of action to take? Are you a moron?" It was very rare that Diane lost her temper. Calm and collected by nature she never found shouting and arguing a successful measure to take when faced with conflict. She could count on one hand the number of times she and Ben had fought over their twelve years of dating and marriage.

"Dr. Woods, I assessed the situation and made a call based on—"

"Based on what? Your extensive experience of dealing with sexual assault victims? Or was it your experience of working on the mental health unit? Because as far as I'm aware you have neither!"

Bret dropped his eyes to the floor and shifted awkwardly on his feet. "I assessed the situation as best as I could in the moment." He said to the linoleum tiles.

"Do you realize the damage you may have caused, the impact this could have on his recovery?" She let out a frustrated sigh and lowered her voice. "We are here to help our patients, and yes, that sometimes means having to make difficult decisions regarding their care and wellbeing. But we have to ensure that every decision we make is accountable, we have to weigh up every option, take every factor into account."

Diane watched Bret mull something over in his mind, she could see he wanted to say something and so she waited.

"I panicked." He said finally, his voice was small and she felt a small pang of regret for laying into him so intensely.

"What do you mean?" His head shot up and it occurred that maybe he hadn't meant to say that last statement out loud.

"I just mean, you're right, I don't have much experience with these situations." Diane squinted at him and pursed her lips, she wanted to press further but she could see the man was clamming up. She sighed.

"Next time consider the history and if you can, call for an attending." He nodded. "I'll take over from here." She opened the door and he fled. Giving him a moment of grace to disappear from her sight she hung back before making her way back to Buck's room.

Heaving a sigh of relief that she had decided to come in early she smiled at the Sergeant as she re-entered and set about checking his stats. All the levels looked good and she turned to the woman who was still standing by the bed.

"I've relieved Dr. Hines." She told her simply.

"What happens when he wakes again?" Athena asked.

"Press the call button and I'll come as soon as I can. I'll arrange for a psych consult to come down, it's standard procedure following a declaration of risk of harm, and given the assault, I do think it's a good idea. I strongly recommend he see a therapist when he's discharged."

"When do you think that will be?"

"Possibly in a few days. I'd like to arrange a CT scan, just to be on the safe side," Diane assured. "We haven't yet been able to assess the severity of the concussion or see if there are any neurological effects from the ketamine. Physically, he'll be able to manage his injuries at home, but I would advise that someone stay with him for the first few days if possible. He's going to be in some pain for a while."

Athena nodded, her hand had once again found its way to Buck's head and was absentmindedly stroking his hair.

"We will need to broach the subject of making an official statement," Diane added. The conversation with Mark popped back into her head. "Sergeant Grant, the drugs that Buck was given."

"The ketamine?"

"Yes. In your professional experience, is it a common drug used in date rapes?"

"It's not uncommon," Athena answered. "Why do you ask?"

"It's the amount that he was dosed with that has me concerned. His bloodwork was showing levels consistent with general anesthesia for surgical procedures. I can't imagine that amount would be easy to slip into a drink without being noticed."

She watched as Athena pondered this for a moment. "How is ketamine usually administered in the hospital setting?"

"For general anesthesia, it's given intravenously, for local procedures it's given intramuscularly," Diane explained.

"So, in liquid form."

"That's correct. Other treatments use it in alternative forms, as an anti-depressant, it comes in pills or capsules, four or five would certainly make someone drowsy enough that they could be easily overpowered—"

"But Buck was completely incapacitated for over thirty hours." The officer finished her sentence following her train of thought. "So, you're saying his attacker had access to a large quantity?"

"Yes and no. I do think that Buck was given a large liquid dose orally, but the amount, I think it came from a hospital-grade vial, not something that I think is easily obtained on the streets." Diane took a breath. "I think his attacker is someone with access to hospital drugs."

Athena's eyebrows shot up under her bangs. "You mean a doctor?" She asked, shocked.

"Or a nurse, or a porter, it wouldn't be impossible to steal a key and have a copy made."

The woman nodded slowly. "You know that I can't be seen to be investigating this?" She reiterated. "I can't be on this case."

"I know, I just," She looked at Buck and shook her head, sadly. "If he doesn't make it official then whoever it was is going to get away with it. I know it's his decision but the thought that it could be someone who has sworn the Hippocratic oath to do no harm…" Diane couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence.

There were dozens of hospitals in Los Angeles, thousands of medical personnel, and tens of thousands of auxiliary staff, staff that she herself work with day in, day out. There was no telling, if her suspicions were correct, where the attacker worked but it made her skin crawl to think that there was a chance she could have walked past him in a hallway of this very hospital.

She wished Mark would show up with his uncanny timing of knowing when she needed a hit of nicotine.