08

Nurse Tate didn't care if Billy Cranston—she read his name off his file, and it was barked at her as she scrubbed in, amongst the chaos of screaming ambulances racing into the parking bay of the hospital—was tired. Didn't care if his eyelids fluttered. Didn't care if he had a long night. She needed to him to stay awake. Needed him to keep his eyes open. Needed him to stop moving around so goddamned much.

Geez, it was like people hadn't heard of what could happen if you fell asleep with a possible concussion. She had to check, wouldn't be able to live with herself if she let him walk out of the room without at least checking. One thing she had to say, though, the kid was really lucky to be walking around like that.

Billy winced, leaning his head back from the flashlight waved in front of his face. The doctor grabbed his chin and held firmly, keeping his head still. Billy slowly closed his eyes, moved to bring his hand up to rub his forehead and was admonished once more.

"You need to stop moving," Nurse Tate said gruffly. An older woman who clearly had seen more than her fair share of accidents coming through the ER. But with the look in her eyes, Billy could see she was doing her best not to become too emotional. Emotions didn't help her do her job, didn't let her keep a clear head. Her emotions were best used later when comfort was what the moment needed.

At the moment, she needed Billy to stay damn still despite how well he was testing her patience. Billy seemed to understand from the passing expression over her face, he lowered his chin, almost bashfully. Let out a quiet breath and let her continue. He rested his hands on the sides of the examining table, tapping his fingertips repeatedly.

Nurse Tate watched his movements. Watched him closely. Watched his face. He kept his eyes down. A handsome face that would let him have any girl he wants. But there was an air of innocence around him despite eyes that held a seriousness she hadn't seen many boys his age have. She wondered if he had that look in his eyes before what happened that night.

Hoped he hadn't. He seems too nice.

Nurse Tate lowered her hands from Billy's face and let out a humph, crossing her arms. "I don't see anything wrong," she said slowly. Billy lifted his head. "You hit your heat against that steering wheel pretty hard, but it's like nothing happened to you."

Billy cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. "I was knocked out," he said. His voice was quiet. Nurse Tate's eyebrows rose in surprise. She'd expected him to have a bit more of a masculine voice. Not that she could judge based on appearances. There were plenty of people she say day in and day out who didn't look like the circumstances they'd be in.

And she'd seen it all.

Still…Nurse Tate thought. There was something interesting about that boy. Something a little…other worldly. Nevertheless, her face softened as she continued to speak with him. "You've been in a terrible accident—"

Billy interrupted her. He didn't seem like the interrupting type. "I understand the ramifications of a head injury," he noted. "Especially if one is bad enough to make the person injured black out. Surely, you must need to administer an MRI—"

"—That's what I'm telling you, kid," Nurse Tate interrupted. "You suffered what should've been a catastrophic brain injury and yet I see nothing that would indicate you to need any further examination." She gestured toward his face, which showed some light bruising around his eyes and nose. "You hardly have a scratch on you. Must have a pretty hard head." Billy frowned. "I'm not insulting you, kid."

"It appears that you're insulting me medical intelligence," Billy insisted. "I have a lot of experience with medicinal remedies to my ailments and understanding when X-Rays, CAT Scans, and MRIs need to be administrated."

Nurse Tate smirked. This kid certainly was interesting. "You got family in the medical field?"

"No." He shook his head. "My father is a professor. My mother is…" he trailed off. A staccato filled the air. Nurse Jackie watched his fingers move faster, up and down, against the examining table.

Oh. That was it. He had lost his mother. It was why he was so jumpy in the hospital room. "It must've been hard to lose your mother," she said gently. Billy lowered his head even further, but didn't acknowledge her statement. "It must be hard to be back here now, after what happened last night. But, believe me, there's nothing wrong with your head, you're fine. You're as healthy as a horse. If I didn't know any better, I'd you were an alien considering how will you're responding to what happened…"

At that, Billy smiled a little. Something told her he wasn't smiling because of her comment that he was 'fine'. For all intents and purposes, he as fine. She and a doctor had looked over brain imaging and there was nothing to worry about. He didn't complain of a headache, didn't have any dizziness, no nausea. He continued to sit there and only respond when spoken to, like a gentleman.

"You don't want to keep me for observation?" Billy asked. "Not to ensure I don't have any adverse side-effects while I'm asleep?"

At that, Nurse Tate frowned. "Considering how many people you'd need to talk to before you leave here, I'm not worried about you falling asleep." She stepped toward the door. Hesitated. "Is there anything else you'd like to talk to me about?"

Billy looked at her blankly. He took in a deep breath, looked away. "How are…?" His voice trailed off, taking in a painful breath. Nurse Tate watched as his chest swelled, looking for any signs of pain in his face. He didn't show any signs of broken or bruised ribs, but she needed to be sure. "How is she?"

Nurse Tate's eyebrows furrowed together. How is she? How was who? Which she? Then it struck her. The 'she' he was talking about. At that, Nurse Tate hesitated, unsure of how to give the news. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. A mistake easily averted if the right choice had been made.

Billy lifted his chin, noticing Nurse Tate's hesitation. "Thank you for seeing me," he mumbled. He moved as if to gather his things; a coat, a wallet, keys. All taken in for evidence she was sure. Billy noticed, must have had the same thought—Nurse Tate knew he was smart—and frowned. "Am I being released to my father?"

"Yes, he arrived a few minutes ago."

Billy paused. "The rest of the parents?"

"They're on their way."

Billy nodded. He hopped down from the examining table, turned his back to her, brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nurse Tate took the opportunity to step out of the room, giving him time to process everything. It was all she could do to not start crying.

Even as she walked back to the nurse's station, Nurse Tate had a hard time keeping it together.

Billy was a kid. Those were kids that had been brought into the hospital that night. Kids whose parents would scream and curse and cry once they got the news. Once they heard what happened. Once they found out the mistake that was made.

Why did they have to drink and drive?

Zack's head was heavy, sloshing back and forth with grief as he waited in the room he was to be interrogated in. His arms and legs hurt from dancing so much, so hard, trying to feel something. Trying to make things better. It didn't get better. Nothing would be better until he was with his friends again.

Who knew when that was.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the room when he heard a knock at the door. Zack barely had time to push himself into a sitting position before the door was pushed open and Lt. Stone entered the room. Apt to his name, Lt. Stone's face was made of granite, not showing any sort of relief of Zack's being okay. Nothing friendly. As a matter of fact, as Zack watched him sit down, Lt. Stone seemed exhausted.

The older man already had little lines of crow's feet by his eyes. Now they looked like harsh lines etched into his face. Stubble spread over his chin, above his mouth. His hands shook briefly as he leaned forward and looked Zack in the eye.

Zack looked back at him.

Neither spoke.

Lt. Stone opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it again. He heaved a sigh through his nose, lowered his head, then when he lifted it again, was the Lt. Stone. Was the man that had Bulk and Skull cowering in fear—not that that was hard—was the man who looked at Zack with so much disgust and suspicion that Zack knew things around him was going to get so much worse.

"I have my guys on the scene," Lt. Stone said, voice gruff. "They're looking over everything to see if we can figure out what happened. But we already know what happened. There's been an accident that could've been avoided. You could've kept yourself from deciding to drink tonight but instead made a bad choice." He spread his hands. "I understand that. But there's another pressing matter that needs to be addressed."

Zack shook his head. "What now?" He murmured.

Lt. Stone lifted his hands from beneath the table to produce a bag. A bag Zack hadn't noticed he'd brought In. He strained to see what it was, but Lt. Stone kept it away from his gaze. Held it tightly in his large, meaty hand. He lifted his chin and looked Zack square in the eye.

"Within the wreckage…one of my officers found this." Lt. Stone held up a bag with EVIDENCE stamped on the front. Zack stared at it. His heart rammed in his chest before leaping into this throat. He wanted to throw up. Wanted to cry. Wanted to scream.

Wanted anything but to be in the same room with Lt. Stone staring into his eyes as he waved Zack's blood splattered power morpher back and forth.

A/N: As per usual, I'm back after a long absence. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'll update again soon.

~Av