In Which Catherine Is Underqualified
"Hello. I'm Spider-Man's nurse. I'm here to see him."
The words felt alien coming out of Catherine's mouth. It was as if they had a physical presence with each symbol pulling on her. Contractually, she was never supposed to tell anyone about this. It was private information. Information that made her valuable and vulnerable.
The twenty-something-year-old secretary popped her chewing gum.
For being a lab experimenting with alien organisms, the Intervention of Ecology presented itself nicely. The lobby was clean and modern. The front window was filled with orchids and abstract art was hung on the walls.
They were alone. Catherine was even more nervous than she had been. Something about the isolation made everything feel worse.
The teen blinked finally. "Yeah and I'm Thor's lover. What's your purpose of your trip to our facilities?"
Catherine forced herself to breath slowly.
"As I said, I'm Spider-Man's healthcare provider."
Tony's crazy scheme wasn't going to work. She should have said no. She should walk away now. Instead, she slid her ID and a copy of her certification across the desk.
"We handle ecological experiments here." Tris, as the name badge said, smiled painfully and ignored her papers. "I think you are most likely able to find your superhero anywhere else."
"Can you call back to your science department and let them know I'm here?"
"I can call security for you instead?"
She looked past Tris and wondered how many layers of security were between her and Peter. She had to get through every single one. There was still a chance to walk away. The door wasn't locked behind her. She couldn't do that. Peter meant too much to her. Later she could dwell on the ramifications of that.
"I'm not trying to cause any problems. I want to help. He's still internally hemorrhaging. Can you call someone?" She leaned forward. Her actual medical uniform felt strange against her skin. Stark didn't require her to wear in in her day-to-day job unless she needed it. For this, she thought any extra shred of credibility was going to work in her favor.
"Yeah. Sure. I'll call someone." She picked up her phone. "Security. I've got a lady here who claims to be a nurse to Spider-Man. Yeah. I know. It's only Tuesday. Can you come out? What's her name?" Before she had a chance to put them back, Tris grasped her ID. "Catherine Crow."
Catherine could feel that she was blushing as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Hmmm?" Tris' eyes snapped to her face. "Yeah. What?"
Catherine let her fingers fall back to the desk. She forced the flicker of a smile off her face before it had a chance to catch. Tris listened on the phone for a long time, the voice varied but unintelligible in her ear. It ended with a "yes, sir."
The phone slammed into its cradle. Tris sucked in breath, straightened and then pointed to one of their chairs.
"Take a seat. I'll be making you a guest pass with your ID."
Catherine smiled. "Thanks."
"It's my pleasure doctor."
It was the closest she felt to being flipped off in years. Well, if she erased every moment with Tony Stark from her mind.
As two large security guards took her through the sterile offices, Catherine couldn't help but remember her last conversation with Tony. He had looked her straight in the face and told her the only way to break Peter out was for her to go undercover. She had about lost it.
"About" was the key word in that phrase.
The freshly printed guest pass flapped against her stomach. The office looked normal enough. People dragged around like it was the middle of the week with coffee mugs in their hands. Nothing suspicious looking here. At every corner, she thought it was going to turn into a high tech nightmare.
Instead they left her in a conference room with a poster of a serene lake framed on the wall. It smelled like all purpose cleaner.
She wasn't doing this because the walls were too thick or the security wasn't encrypted enough. It was a simple equation that if Iron Man busted in, then he would smash through the entire lab, opening everything in pandora's box. If Spider-Man could accidentally unleash Venom, what could a high tech suit with an extremely pissed off man inside do in a science lab full of goodies?
So here she was.
A scout, Tony had insisted.
A spy, Catherine had countered, and a very unqualified one at that.
The door opened and three people filed in. They all wore lab coats and looked like they hadn't slept last night either. All of them were male and white. God she hated occupational disparity.
The main fellow, who looked like all he did in his spare time was pump iron and chug kale smoothies, sat down in a chair that barely fit him. The other two stood behind him like guards. If it was supposed to be intimidating, it didn't work. She was used to this.
She folded her hands on the table and waited.
"Give us one reason not to throw out a Stark Industries employee after Iron Man attacked our asset." He started seriously.
Asset. Catherine held air in her lungs before forcing the fury down.
"I'm not here as a representative of Stark Industries," she moved through the phrase clinically, "He doesn't even know I'm here. I've come because I care for the kid called Spider-Man."
No expression change from Mr. Muscle.
"I am having a hard time believing that Catherine."
This man was full of bullshit.
"I would prefer Ms. Crow."
Silence. She gave her best good girl sweet smile.
It worked. He squirmed.
"Alright Ms. Crow. I'm still not convinced."
She smiled. "Alright. Let's talk about Spider-Man's physiology. Have you gotten reports on him? He's different than us and I know he is in physical distress."
"Perhaps." Mr. Muscle shrugged noncommittally.
She spread her her hands out on the table trying to not gauge how quickly her blood pressure was rising. "Let's talk vitals. We all need to breath. What's his respiratory rate? I bet he is either in single digits or skyrocketing into the twenties. He could be going into cardiac arrest or shock. I am the only one that can look at those numbers accurately."
One of the back scientists' faces told her that this was what was exactly happening to Peter.
That expression gave her an ounce of confidence. "As for Stark, call his office. They think I'm home puking into my toilet."
One of the lab attendants slipped out the door.
"This is a big risk you are taking."
She nodded. "I've worked with the kid for half a year now. I got attached. He came to my apartment last night before Iron Man tracked him down. He told me about you. I…" Peter bleeding on her floor made the smoothness of her pretended cool catch in her throat. "I think something is wrong with him."
Mr. Muscle let out a breath and leaned back against his chair, making it crackle under the pressure.
She met his eyes.
"Am I right?"
He was chewing on her words. She was the one under the knife, the scalpel digging in and the bright light washing everything flat.
She wanted to keep going, to pile phrase after practiced phrase on top of what she had said. Instead she concentrated on her folded hands on the table. A scar ran across the top her hand, a narrow white line. It was from playing baseball with her father. Ten stitches. Her first ten.
He tapped the table decisively. Her attention snapped back to him.
"Fine. You're going to sign a NDA. I'll take you into the back after you go through security. One wrong step and you are out the door."
"I'll sign away but I'll do whatever I need to save the kid."
"You play by our rules now. You will work with our medical staff in a purely supervisory role."
"I need to work with him personally. He knows me. He'll be comfortable with me."
"He'll hear your wonderful voice through the intercom." The snide touch on the adjective made something snap in her.
That wouldn't do. She pushed out of the chair and addressed the shrimp behind the guy. "Hey. You. Yeah, you look you look like you might know this. What's your asset's resting BPM right now?"
The scientist shrunk as Mr. Muscle twisted in his seat.
"Ummm. I don't know."
Catherine smiled. "I bet you do. Is it 120?"
He shrunk further away brushing into the wall.
"130?" She straightened, taking up the space she needed.
"I'm not sure."
"140?" Her voice got louder.
"It was a resting 138 BPM last time we were able to check. He was still unconscious." The phrase came squeezed out of him quietly as her glare.
Jesus. Catherine's breath oozed out of her, leaving her in a vacuum. Peter's heart was beating twice every second while laying down. He was one stressed teen.
"You don't need a master's degree to know that is bad." She gave Mr. Muscles one more look. Her voice softened even though she felt her own heart beating hard. "Frankly, we don't have time to talk. He's dying. Now let's sign the paperwork and get this over with. I'm probably the only one who is crazy enough to come here unasked and even crazier to want to step in the same room as that monster."
His face tightened. She may have pushed this too far. She could have been too much herself. Tony, the crew, they were all used to her but this was someone else, someone she didn't know. He stood.
"Let's get that paperwork signed."
Maybe she wasn't so underqualified for this after all.
Why is it when Catherine stories roll into the third act, I get to work with EMTs and paramedics in my real life? I worked with both yesterday. It is truly bizarre. While I won't say where I work, it has absolutely nothing to do with the health industry.
Everything that I write Catherine knowing has been researched. I got a few weird looks for having the book "EMT: Emergency Medical Technician Cram Course" sticking out of my purse today. I also had a note on this chapter just called "tachypnea". I think my coworkers are thinking I might be wanting a change in career. Hardly. I don't think I could give up writing.
Catherine is going toe to toe with Venom again next chapter. What do you think? Are you excited? Nervous? I was very nervous to write the next chapter and I knew what happened.
Thank you for reviewing and reading. It means a lot to me. In Stitches has 40 reviews. Do you think In Pieces will be able to beat that?
Thanks as always and sorry for the longer author's note. I guess I feel chatty. -Quin