####OQ####

Josh realized he was riding in an ambulance. A siren screamed, almost hurting his ears, and the sensation of moving, rather speeding at a fast rate, flowed through him. The EMT lips moved, and he could almost hear the man as he talked, encouraging him, while he struggled to find reality.

"Come on, Josh. Stay with me. We're almost there now. Just hold on a few more minutes."

Opening his eyes, he saw Jordan strapped to a body board and secured with belts to the bench seat, as the man said, "Move it, Joe, I'm losing this one. His blood pressure's bottoming out. He's not going to last."

Voices, he heard lots of voices. He noted the beeps and alarms sounded as bitter cold air hit his body and his clothes disappeared.

They were cutting his clothes off him, and he threw his arms out to stop them but it was too late.

"Move him on three. One, two, three."

And he felt a soft bed beneath him.

"The bed feels awesome."

Yet no one heard him.

"Move people. We've no time."

"We're losing him. His blood pressure's dropping."

"Roger, get me some O and then type him since we've got two that need blood. Rhonda, get his vitals stat."

He was in and out. And he couldn't think.

"Ruptured spleen. No doubt massive internal bleeding. His right arm's broken and his blood pressure's dropping."

"The second one's in worse shape. It doesn't sound like he'll last the night."

"Room three?"

"Yes."

"Move people, Kate, call surgery tell them they've got an incoming. This one can't wait. Get him prepped stat."

Then he seemed unable to control anything, lingered sometimes near consciousness but was unable to break the surface and truly wake up.

Bright lights hurt his eyes, and he was freezing cold and disorientated.

"Josh, his name's Josh right?"

"Let me look at the chart. Yeah, he's Josh Peters. He's one of those three teens that just came in."

"The ones that fell two stories and were trapped a couple of days in the old cannery. Lucky kids to be alive."

He wanted to say, not lucky, I'm smart, and I had help, but he couldn't force the words out.

"I've heard the last one they brought in probably isn't going to make it. He was buried for too long."

Wait, no, not Jordan, his mind tried desperately tried to work.

"I heard he's got crush syndrome."

Was he floating? It seemed like it.

Maybe?

He couldn't focus, couldn't wake up.

"Crush syndrome. That's bad. Where?"

"His legs. Felts wants to amputate. He's worried someone will sue him for malpractice if he tries to save the legs and things go south."

NO, his mind screamed but again he couldn't talk.

"Hey, how long was this one missing?" Something cold rubbed his side and then the middle of his stomach and he wanted to push the cold away but he couldn't lift his hands.

"A couple of days."

"Well I'd say some of his injuries are a lot older than that. Look at the coloring. Someone's been using him for a punching bag."

"I saw on his x-rays he's got some old cracks on his ribs. What the hell?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Look at his bruising pattern. That bruise on his chest has to be at least two weeks maybe older. Chest bruises heal slower."

"Maybe he's just clumsily."

"That clumsily? I don't think so."

"Crap, it looks like we'll going to have to make the call."

He groaned. And someone opened his eyelid and said, "Can you tell me your name?"

"Josh," he managed to get out.

"That's good. Now Josh, tell me, how'd you get these bruises? Has someone been hitting you?"

He barely got the word out.

"Aunt."

"What'd you say? Could you say that again?"

Reality escaped him and he couldn't answer.

"Never mind," boomed a deep voice. "Put him out. I need to do something about his spleen before he bleeds out. And he's barely stable now. Then Felts can come in and do something about his arm."

"Josh, I want you to count backwards from a hundred. Can you do that for me?"

The words refused to come out as everything merged together and a mask came down on his face.

Floating now, time went away, disappeared, and he drifted, slipped under into blessed nothingness.

His arm and lower stomach nagged every time he almost surfaced and his stomach felt like someone'd lit it on fire but then he'd fall into the painless darkness again.

"Josh, can you hear me? I need you to cough. Come on, try to cough, Josh. It's time to wake up."

"NO."

"Josh. Come on, cough for me."

"Go away. Let me sleep."

Yet, against his will, he struggled to wake up.

"I know you want to sleep, but you have to wake up and cough. You've been under a long time. Try to cough and clear your lungs."

He coughed a little then silence followed as the blackness called and once more, he slipped beneath and embraced the quiet oblivion.

But the damn voices continued pestering him, continued insisting he wake up, pulling him back out of the darkness.

"Come on, Josh, time to rejoin the living. Time to wake up."

Pain lay in consciousness' edges, and he'd had more than enough pain lately. He didn't want to wake up and hurt again.

"STOP." He growled.

"No, there you are. Come on, open your eyes, Josh."

Struggling, he blinked repeatedly against the blinding white light.

"How are you feeling?" Asked a nurse in bright yellow scrubs.

His tongue seemed too thick, his mouth too dry. "Like shit. And that light's hurting my eyes. Can you turn the damn thing off?" He slung his good arm over his eyes to block out the light.

"You'll be watching your mouth while under my care, young man."

"Sorry, but those damn lights are hurting my eyes and I've got cotton mouth."

"You need to watch your mouth but I've got you. Here I'll dim the lights."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome and considering you came in beyond majorly dehydrated and on the verge of dying, that's to be expected."

Groaning, he tried to turn on his side and felt the pull of wires and tubes on his body, which ceased all his movement instantly as pain filled him.

"Careful there, you need to be still. You've got a lot of tubes in you right now." She added a piece of tape to the tube on his arm. "And it wouldn't be fun for either of us if I have to stick you repeatedly to get your IV back in. I'm amazed Joe managed to get a line in you to begin with."

He squinted as the room slowly came into view. "Yeah, that'd be a bitch. I don't want you to poke me over and over. I'll be still."

"Now, you're waking up. Hey Josh, my name's Becky, and I'll be your RN tonight. And again watch your mouth, since I don't put up with a potty mouth and you and me are gonna be besties at least for tonight."

She wrote her name on a dry erase board that hung on the wall, and he tried to understand her words, as he processed that the sheets beneath him were pleasingly cool.

His good hand clutched the white blanket then the sheet. They were white and crisp and wonderful, maybe blissful after spending months sleeping wherever he landed and especially after the last few days.

Monitors beeped and he saw he had three IV's tubes feeding into his arm.

One held clear fluid.

Probably saline, he thought, as he eyed another small bag that held no doubt held an antibiotic.

The third bag hung dark red, and he knew it must be blood. Good, he had a feeling he'd needed blood.

"Now you're awake." Said the woman as she adjusted his tubing.

"Guess I lived."

"By a dangling thread."

"Yeah, my spleen was doing it's very best to kill me."

Biting his lip, he realized that his aunt had done her best to kill him and this time she'd almost succeeded.

"That it did. Now, I'm here for you until my relief comes in at seven. How's your arm feeling?"

"Hurts and it weighs too much." Squinting, blinking repeatedly, he opened his eyes to find a new white cast on his right arm and a device clipped on his pointer finger.

"That's the cast. You'll get used to it. And just think your friends can sign it."

The thought that he didn't have any friends crossed his mind but then he thought of Stan and Jordan.

Memories rushed back, intensely flooded back.

They'd been trapped, dying and he, no, they'd done it. He'd finally figured it out how to get out of that damn room. Stan had managed to make the old phones work. But, it hadn't been his hands that'd finished making those dinosaur phones work. No, it had been Stan who'd skinned the wires back, and Stan who'd tapped out their SOS, since his broken right arm had made it nearly impossible for him to do. They would have all died if they'd have had to depend on him to tap out the SOS. And Coach must had finally came and gotten them help. His eyes swept the glass room he was in, while his fuzzy brain attempted to come up to speed.

"I'm in intensive care?"

"Well, we call it Critical Care, but yes, you are. And I need you to be as still as you can be. You've had a hard last few days, and you need to keep your spleen if you can. It's a major part of your immune system. And what are you fourteen?"

"Fifteen, almost sixteen and I'm wicked thirsty. Can I have a drink? And maybe some chap stick? My lips are chapped. And I'm aware I need my spleen. It recycles my old red and white blood cells and my platelets are stored there." Licking his dry, chapped lips, he clutched the smooth sheets and tried to stay awake but he found that he couldn't help but almost nod off.

He startled awake to the words, "Most people don't even know they have a spleen let alone what it does. And are you planning to be a doctor?"

"No, computer tech, but that doesn't mean I can't know things."

"Smart are you? Well your right and your spleen also fights the bacteria that causes meningitis and pneumonia. And if they remove it, you'll have to go on a daily antibiotic, which also puts you at risk for autoimmune problems. So, don't thrash around because no one wants that to happen to you."

"About that drink?"

Opening his eyes, he watched as she adjusted his tubing with the words, "Sorry, your doctor left orders that he doesn't want you to eat or drink for a few hours since you could easily end up back in surgery. All you can have are a few ice chips. Enough to wet your mouth, but I can get you some chap stick."

With a plastic spoon, she fed him a few ice chips and the cold burst of wet ice tasted heavenly, but then memory struck him, nudged him, and he attempted to sit up.

"Wait! What about Jordan? Where's Jordan? Is he okay? Did he live? And what about Stan?"

"Whoa, calm down. I'm serious about you not moving around. How about you just worry about you right now? Can you rate your pain?"

"Jordan was bleeding and unconscious the last time I saw him. He was dying. Did he make it? Is he alive? There were three of us trapped together. Then I swear I heard something about his legs. Someone was talking about taking his legs? Did they take his legs? Something about crush syndrome? I need a laptop, a tablet or a smart phone. I want to look something up."

She put her hands on him, trying to lay him back down. "Calm down, Josh, I need you to calm down. Chill out, you just came out of surgery. Talk to me about your pain. If you're going to rate your pain between one, being no pain and ten the worst you have ever felt what would you rate it?"

"A seven maybe an eight. But, I don't care. I can do pain but I need to know about Jordan. Did they take his legs? Did they amputate his legs? Please tell me NO. And Stan's leg was broken, but he wasn't dying. But what happened? What about Jordan? Please tell me, I want to know now!"

"I heard there were three of you, but I'd have to ask about the others. You're the first one to come up so others must still be in surgery. Now stop thrashing around or you're going to end up back in surgery yourself. You've got stitches on the inside and outside you know?"

He realized that the middle of his abdomen had a large bandage because he could feel the tape pulling on his skin.

"Now, you need to calm down, Josh. If you don't, I'm going to put you back to sleep."

"I don't want to go back to sleep. I want to know about Jordan."

"Okay, I get it. He's your friend. I'll find something out for you. Now about you lay back and rest, and I'll get you something for your pain and try to find out what is going on with your friends."

"I'll be okay. I can handle pain. I'm used to it. But I need you to find out about Jordan. I promised him I'd save him. You don't understand. I have to know."

"Okay, just rest, Josh. Now, I want you to shut your eyes and rest. Come on. Calm down and shut your eyes." She'd moved and he saw her stick a needle in his IV.

"No, I don't want to go to back to sleep."

And the world went away.

He must of slept for a while but when he woke up, a woman wearing a nice business jacket was standing beside his bed, and he knew even before she opened her mouth who she was.

"Hi, Josh. My name's Kim Reed"

"Go away. I don't feel well and I don't want to talk to you." Shit, he thought, I should have kept my mouth shut.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Can't we do it later? Where's my nurse?" He shut his eyes, hoping that she would think he'd fell asleep and go away.

"Josh, I know you don't feel well, but I'm from Child Protective Services, and we've had several reports of bruises on your chest and back, and we have to investigate." She pulled a small tape recorder out of her bag.

"We always record these types of interviews."

Figures, he thought, his normal bad luck, he'd lived long enough for the state to show up. Now, Ruby would freak if he talked. Oh, why had he told Stan?

"Well, I don't want to talk to you right now. I don't feel well. And could you talk in first person? You're creeping out me even if I'm kind of high since I'm on pain killers. Can we come back later?"

The woman gave him a slight smile but shook her head. "No, I'm sorry we can't. I'm required by law to make this visit. Now I'd like to see your chest, Josh, and your back. I see old bruising on your forearms too. We've had several reports of suspicious bruising areas on your body, and I'm going to need to take pictures and some video."

"Don't bother since I look like I fell through two stories and that's just what the lawyer will say. Okay, I'm pretty beat up. And she's just going to say I fell off my board before that. All this is going to do is get me in more trouble. Now, I want you to leave. Get out of my room." His voice was rising.

"I can't. We've had several calls about the suspicious bruising areas you have. Did you fall off your board, before your accident, Josh?"

"No," he said softly. "I'm better than that. I only wreck when I try to do something stupid. But now I still want you go. Leave."

"I'd say the some of the bruising on you forearms is over a week old. Come on, Josh, tell me the truth were you protecting your head when you got those bruises? They look like kick marks."

He could see himself down on the ground and her kicking him, repeatedly kicking him, while he tried to protect his head. The rage within him burned brightly at the hopelessness of his situation. He was damn if he did and damned if he didn't.

If he told he went to foster care, and Ruby would hate him because they'd get split up. If he lied and covered then they stayed together, and he could find a new place to sleep.

"Josh, are you listening to me. I want you to tell me how you got these bruises?"

"And I want you to get out! I want you to leave me alone?" He screamed at her.

His nurse slid the door open.

"Make her go away. I don't want to talk to her." He tried to sit up, and he groaned as he pulled on his tubes and his stomach muscles complained. "I mean it go away. I'm not talking to you. You're just going to make everything worse. I fell through a roof. I got in a fight at school. I bruise easy. That's all I'm saying, now go away." He groaned and clutched his stomach.

Becky rushed over and scolded him, "You are going to pull something loose if you keep thrashing around. And you're upsetting him, so you need to leave. Josh, come on lay back down and be still."

"I want all of this to all go away." He groaned as his nurse pushed him back against the pillows as his stomach tightened, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

"Kim Reed. I'm from Child Protective Services, from the state. We have received a complaint concerning suspicious bruising areas on his body, and I have every right to be here. I need to interview him, and I want to take pictures."

"You're not taking any pictures of me. I won't let you." He knew he was being unreasonable but he didn't care. He had to find a way out this problem, needed to figure out how to cover this up. "I think I'm going to throw up."

The nurse moved to hand him a pink dishpan with the words. "You out. You're just upsetting my patient, and I'm telling you to leave. This is a Critical Care unit and you will have to wait until my patient is feeling better."

The woman voice was hard and brittle. "Fine, but I'll be back. Josh, maybe you should think about telling the truth. I can help you if you'll be truthful with me. I'll leave you to rest for a little while, while I go and find your aunt and siblings."

Fucked, he thought. I am fucked now. What am I going to do? He bite his bottom lip knowing that damn woman was about to reboot his entire life, and he just hoped he didn't crash, as he began to try to vomit.

#####OQ#####

A woman in teddy bear scrubs entered the waiting room, walking beside the gray-haired surgeon dressed in green. The man looked weary and wore glasses. The woman's face wore a deep frown and she held a clipboard in one of her hands and a clutched a pen so tightly in the other that her knuckles were white, and Oliver thought, this doesn't look good.

"Jordan Franks' family."

"Here, I'm his mother, Jeannie Gardner. How is he?"

Jordan's pregnant mother stood and handed the barely sleeping toddler off to an older child, who looked about twelve, as she stood and swept her bottled dyed red and black hair back from her eyes.

Watching, he saw her swallow hard as all eyes in the crowded waiting room looked on. A lot of his team were there, along with several of Jordan's street friends and what had to be other family members. Stan's parents had been called back about twenty minutes ago with the news that Stan was headed up to critical care for observation and was stable. He had a feeling the news about Jordan wasn't going to be that good.

"Mrs. Gardner, My name's Dr. Felts. I'm your son's orthopedic surgeon, and I need to speak to you privately."

She frowned before she said, "You can say what needs to be said in front of these people. Each of them were out there looking for my boy. They care about him. Go on and spit it out. I don't care if they know. What's going on with Jordan?"

"No really, I think this would best be said in private."

"Go on, just spit it out. Is he going to die?"

"That's a possibility. He's not doing well and your son's developed crush syndrome after his legs were compressed by debris for almost 48 hours." The man looked over his glasses at her. "Frankly, I don't believe we're going to be able to save his legs."

"But Stan told his coach that Jordan's legs had circulation, and they only left him buried so he didn't bleed out."

"I agree that he had some blood circulation to his feet, and yes, he' have bleed to death of those teens would have dug him out. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have crush syndrome. Parts of his legs have died from being buried under debris so long. I mean 48 hours is a very long time. Usually after four hours, there's not much hope. And frankly, he's already going downhill. He's lost a lot of blood, so much, I honestly don't know how he's still here. But since he is, I need you to make a difficult decision."

"About what?"

"I know this is appalling, but I want you to give me permission to take his legs off now."

Several people inhaled sharply and his own stomach plunged, as he tried to wrap his mind around Jordan losing not one but both of his legs.

Beside him, Felicity covered her mouth and then reached for his hand, laced her fingers with his and squeezed tightly.

"His legs? What are you saying?"

"I think the best course of action would be to take both his legs and now."

"You have to be out of you mind. There's no way!"

"I know this is harsh but if we move quickly and take his legs, he'll have a better chance of surviving this. I just need you to sign this paperwork to give us permission."

Releasing his hand, Felicity reached for her phone, texting someone. And he couldn't help himself, he stood up and walked over to Jordan's mother. And Felicity soon followed.

"Wait, you mean amputation? You want to take his legs off?"

"Yes. Both of his legs just below the hips. I'll try to leave him enough he can be fitted for prosthetic legs but I'm not sure if that's even possible.

"Both of his legs?" She shook her head savagely and held her hand up as though trying to stop his words. "Not no but hell no. I can't do that to him."

"I understand this is a hard decision but in my professional opinion his legs can't be saved, and if we take both of his legs he might have a chance of survival."

"Survival! That's not survival. Put him in a wheel chair at fifteen? Are you crazy? I refuse to do that to him. I want a second opinion."

"You're entitled to that but Jordan's legs are severely fractured in several places. He's bleeding internally, with lots of soft tissue damage and it's going to take numerous surgeries to repair the damage."

"Then do more surgeries."

"You need to understand that if we try to save his legs the repairs will be extensive to complete nerve and tendon repairs and then there's a good chance infection will set in, and he'll lose his legs anyway. What you're asking me to do is torture him before we have to take them off anyway. Taking them now will vastly increase his survival chances and be easier on him in the long run."

"No, I won't do that to him. He's only fifteen. Set his broken legs, stop the bleeding and give him a chance. I refuse to let you take both of his legs. It's unthinkable. NO, I won't even consider it.""

"Let me try to explain." The man was clearly trying to make her understand. "Mrs. Gardner, his legs were compressed, crushed in a lot of places for over 48 hours, so he's already lost muscle and has tissue damage due to lack of circulation. And that's not the worst of it. When we returned the blood flow to his injured limbs, he already had dead tissue and his broken bones were starting to break down. Think of it like meat starting to rot."

The doctor was clearly not enjoying this discussion as he pulled his stethoscope from his pocket and began to worry it before he went on, "Now his legs are slowly poisoning his body. The proteins and potassium from the expired muscle tissue are releasing toxins into his body, and if they enter the bloodstream, he'll go into organ failure. And he's already developed acute compartment syndrome in places from the fall's blunt force so clearly amputation's his very best chance for survival."

"You're right, I don't understand. I never finished high school and you're talking way over my head. I want you to at least try to save his legs. He's fifteen for God's sake. If it comes down to him dying later then maybe I'll sign. But my boy needs his legs."

"Why don't you understand? Look, I know this is hard to grasp but the debris restricted his blood flow while he was trapped. His cells were oxygen deprived and nutrients and waste products continued to accumulate causing a very toxic environment to his cells. His body's poisoning itself right now. His legs have to come off if he has any chance of living."

"Jordan's strong. Maybe that won't happen. You said the word if. I heard you. I'm not signing." The woman crossed her arms in front of her chest on top of her belly.

The surgeon shook his head. "I can almost guarantee he's going toxic, and the contaminants will enter his bloodstream. His kidneys will then fail from the debris in his blood or his heart will quit. If we take his legs now, he'll have somewhat of a chance and even then I can't be sure he'll live."

"He's fifteen. I'LL not agree to taking both of his legs off without at least trying to save them. FIFTEEN! Do you remember being fifteen? Hormones raging? Making stupid decisions like underage drinking or drugs but he doesn't deserve this. Please, there has to be a way to save his legs?"

Jordan's mom had started to cry openly now. She wiped tears repeatedly from her face.

"It's not a matter of if he deserves this, and I understand that you don't want to take his legs, but are you willing to bury him with both of his crushed legs?" The doctor said harshly.

Felicity interrupted, "Why couldn't you put him on dialysis now? Why couldn't you help his kidneys before they fail? If you read about the Haiti and Turkey massive earthquakes a lot of people were crushed in buildings and even though they were rescued from the debris and didn't seem to be hurt a lot of them died unexpectedly later from kidney failure."

"And you are exactly?" The doctor said rudely as he stuffed his stethoscope back in his pocket.

Felicity took a step toward him. "I'm a concerned friend who understands what you're saying. Someone who's read a lot today about people who were crushed in earthquakes, and I read how they died from the toxins caused by the dead tissue clogging up their kidneys. I totally understand what you are telling her, but what if we put him on dialysis before his kidneys failed? You know clean his blood. Something has to be done other than taking his legs. I mean you have to at least try. Where's your compassion? You have to at least try."

"No and we're wasting precious time here. His muscles are swelling. Compartment syndrome is occurring because the muscle cells were deprived of blood by the debris and then he became dehydrated. And his dehydration is forcing his cells to uptake too much fluid at once, and that's adding pressure to his cells on top of other circulation problems."

"I understand that Jordan's skin's too small right now and the pressure is compromising what's left of his circulation and it's damaging the soft tissue in his legs."

"Exactly but even if we could save his legs, he'll have temporary or maybe permanent muscle and nerve damage. Regardless, I think the best option would be to take his legs now rather than later."

Felicity had her tablet open before she added, "And what if you did fasciotomy to help save his muscles? You could operate."

"Yeah, please can't we try that? I don't even know what is it but if will help save his legs, I'm game." And he thought that Jordan's mother was standing there grasping at straws. And he couldn't blame her.

"That's a lot of surgery to put him through, and he's barely stable. You're talking a lot of risks now."

"Like taking his legs off isn't major a risk?" Felicity stood ramrod as she added, "According to the internet, fasciotomy treatment relieves acute compartment syndrome. The surgeon cuts the muscle compartment open to allow the muscle tissue room to swell."

"Then do it. I'll sign for you to do that."

"I know what it is and you people aren't doctors. And sometime the internet's dangerous. It puts too much information in the layman's hand."

"Ignorance is dangerous too." Felicity quipped. "And, Jordan needs his legs. He's fifteen, barely starting life and it says here that fasciotomy will help relieve the pressure from the trauma and it could save his legs then you should at least try to save his legs."

"Please," said his mother, "He's only fifteen. He deserves a chance. Please, help him."

"I agree that the procedure decreases the pressure and sometimes it helps restores the blood flow. But complications may set in including muscle loss, infection, nerve damage, scarring and after putting him through all that, I might still have to take his legs off, and there's still the possible kidney and heart failure. No, the risks are too great. I refuse to try."

"Fine, I don't care. But I'm not letting you cut his legs off." Jordan's mother crossed his arms in front of her chest.

"You're making a serious mistake here."

Her face hardened as she said, "No I'm not. I hate it but if need be, I'll bury him with the legs he was born with. Do the fasca . . . , whatever it's called, do dialysis, do whatever you have to do, but at least try to save his legs."

Like Moses parting the waters, Mae walked toward them, with the solid words, "If I may interrupt, Dr. Felts, I've come to tell you that I've contacted Dr. Joel Walters in Dallas after I heard of Jordan's accident. Dr. Walters, is a Trauma Orthopedic Surgeon, who specializes in soft tissue and bone trauma. He's dealt with crush syndrome before. He's boarding a jet in just a few minutes to fly here and try and save that boy's legs. I offered to airlift Jordan to Dallas but instead he suggested that we ice his legs down, and he'll come to us."

Turning she said, "Dr. Felts, what I need you to do is call the man." She reached into her pocket and pulled a piece of paper out. "He wants to talk to you, no doubt to get your input and to get up to speed before he gets here. I think he wants pictures and maybe video."

The man snatched the paper from her fingers with the words, "Fine I'll give him a call and then I'm off this case, and I just want to say I think you're making a mistake by waiting, by not taking his legs off now."

"I'll duly note that you wanted to take his legs off. And, Robert, I understand that this is a hard call."

Turning back to Jordan's mother, Mae clearly dismissed the man, and Oliver refrained from smiling, as in normal Mae fashion she didn't miss a beat. "Now Mrs. Gardner, what we're doing right now is icing his legs, which will help with the muscle swelling, and the cold will slow the toxins from the dead tissue hopefully keeping them from entering his bloodstream and destroying his organs. Dr. Walters also advised us to start dialysis to help clean his blood, while we'll continue to closely monitor his electrolyte levels and his urine output. We're pushing blood into him and prepping him for emergency surgery as we speak."

"But you're not going to take his legs right now?"

"Hopefully not, but we'll let Dr. Walters make that decision when he gets here since he's the expert. But Mrs. Gardner if he says we have to take Jordan's legs, there'll be no other choice. I want you to prepare yourself for that possibly. And I expect you to sign the papers."

The pregnant woman nodded, sniffed, and wiped tears. "Can I see him?"

"Of course, I want you be with him before he goes into surgery. Someone will come and get you soon. I promise. And yes, it would be good for someone to sit with him until then. Let him know you're there for him. Even if he can't hear you. Just hold his hand. Help him through this. Try to give him strength."

"Thank you, Mae." The woman reached out and touched Mae, and the older woman gave Jennie Gardner a quick hug and as he watched Mae whispered something in the women's ear.

"You're welcome. Now, Oliver, can I have a moment of your time?"

"Of course, Mae."

"Walk with me, Oliver and Felicity." And the whirlwind of a woman didn't wait as she walked down the hall.

"Oh, you want me too." Felicity grabbed her tablet and large purse and followed, and he followed both of them.

"Felicity, thanks for the text," Mae said. "I was already on the phone with Dr. Walters but you made me aware that Felts was pushing for amputation, which I'm not saying he's wrong. Jordan's legs are in bad shape. God, I delivered that boy. He was one of my last ones. I hope this will pan out since this is terrible. But I agree we have to do everything possible to save that boy's legs."

Mae turned and opened a conference door, and he frowned wondering what she was up to. Moving to a cabinet, she pulled out a blood pressure cuff, and he almost groaned out loud as she removed her stethoscope from around her neck and he sighed loudly, knowing what was coming.

Waving her hand at a chair, she said, "Oliver, assume the position. You missed an appointment with me this week."

"He missed an appointment?"

"Yes, he did." And Mae frowned hard at him.

"And I heard you fell through a roof today."

"Oliver!" Felicity said sharply. "Seriously and you didn't mention it?"

"Stan's got a big mouth and it's no big deal. And Mae, could you not start? Now's hardly the time."

"Are you hurt and hiding it?" He watched her eyes swept over him. Then Felicity looked him straight in the eye, and he broke eye contact and looked down at his feet. "Okay, my shoulder's not that happy right now. I might have dislocated it but it's back in place now."

Mae shook her head. "Give me your left arm, Oliver. And how are the nightmares? Do you have a headache right now?"

He bit his lip and looked down. "The same. And maybe a small one. I'm sure it's nothing. And Felicity, could you stop glaring at me like that?"

"Which means I'm going to raise the dose. What are you taking?"

"Fifteen milligrams and I'm dragging. I don't want a higher dose."

"Oliver, I swear if you don't start taking better care of yourself. Are you sure that your shoulder's alright?" Felicity said with a frown.

"Yeah, but Mae, I."

"But nothing, you'll adjust. Now shut up, and put both feet on the floor, I want a good reading." And Mae pumped the blood pressure painfully cuff up on his arm.

He frowned as the cuff's pressure squeezed hard and hurt his arm, while his own heartbeat pained him, with every beat of his heart.

"Did you take your meds tonight? You're numbers are too high."

"No, I admit I haven't been home and haven't taken any of my meds."

"You're right, Mae, he's missed his evening dose by several hours now. How high is he?" She reached and took his hand and squeezed, while her eyes found his.

"165 over 110. Both of which are too high. He's headed straight toward another hypertensive emergency."

"I am not, and remember I'm sitting right here in the room, you two. Right here. Now, stop talking about me like I don't exist." Pointing at his chest, he couldn't stop the dark growl in his voice.

"Oliver, I'm going to go get you some blood pressure medicine, right now. And, I want you to start carrying a few of your pills with you. You can't just skip a dose when you feel like it when you're border line stroke material here. Do I need to take you to meet the stroke victims again? Remember any one of them could easily be you. Or you could have a heart attack and let me tell you. Dead meat, don't beat and you'll find out that dead meat makes it hard to breathe and your being in shape days will be over."

"I haven't had a heart attack or a stroke." He said darkly.

"YET," Mae said sharply. "Believe me, you've been lucky. And you need to check your blood pressure more often. Felicity, if you want him to live then you'd better learn to nag him about his numbers. High blood pressure's called the silent killer for a reason, and a lot of people have no sign of a problem until it cripples them, but let me tell you that the reality is that it normally it doesn't kill you it just steals your life because it clearly disables you. Can you say the word 'stroke.' Oliver?"

Felicity moved and put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed and he winced.

"I saw that."

"I'm okay." Catching her eye, he tilted his head slightly, as she gave him a slight smile before she winked at him, and he gave her a small grin back, as he felt them connect, making his smile larger.

"I'm going to raise your dose to 20 milligrams," Mae said knocking the smile straight off his face. "And you're about to top out here but then you're a big guy."

"No, you're not raising the dose again, Mae."

"Yes, I am! Which of us is the doctor here? You or me?" Mae put her hand on her hip and shook her finger at him. "You'll do what I tell you to do. Who's your doctor?"

"You are, Mae, but I can barely stand the dose I'm on. You're killing me. I'm dragging. I have no energy."

"You'll adjust. I promise."

Damn, why didn't his foolish blood pressure come down? It wasn't like he wasn't trying. He'd avoided salt. He'd taken his stupid pills, well most of the time. He'd eaten more fresh vegetables. He'd done his best to lower his stress.

And none of it was working.

Alright he'd missed a dose here and there but it wasn't like he did it on purpose. What more could he do? And his blood pressure should be better by now. He wanted this problem to be over, wanted to be able to solve this and go on with his life.

"We've had this discussion. You're still having nightmares, aren't you?"

He ducked his head, refusing to answer her, refusing to admit to his nightmares.

"I'll take that response as a YES. And your blood pressure's still too high and you're tempting fate. I'm upping your dose."

"NO. Come on, Mae, don't."

"The discussion is closed."

Felicity reached and squeezed his hand with a smile. "Oliver, yes, you can do this. Your blood pressure's still too high, and we have to do something about that. Look at me." He forced himself to find her blue eyes, as she added, "I promise we'll get through this. I'm right here with you. You can do this.

He growled.

"Oliver, do you want to die and leave me alone?"

"Don't guilt me, Felicity."

"I'll do what I have to do to keep you with me, to keep beside me. I want you in my future." She caught his eyes.

"Stay put. I'll get you a dose so you can take your meds and your numbers will come down." Mae said.

Standing, he walked to the window and clutched the windowsill, staring out into a graveyard, and he couldn't suppress his frown.

"Talk to me, Oliver."

"Okay, I HATE this," he said forcefully, unable to stop his shoulders from clinching.

She moved and touched his arm, and he shrugged her hand off.

"Don't, Felicity. I'm sorry. I can't control this. I HATE this. Just don't touch me right now."

"I know you do. Come on, Oliver, I know you hate this. Look at me. I feel your pain. Please, share it with me. Lean on me a little."

He ducked his head. "Okay, I know you're feeling out of control here. But look out there, Oliver. Do you want to be in one of those graves?"

Moving, she placed her hand on his arm and unable to help himself, he shuttered beneath her touch.

He pulled away again feeling raw.

"Hey, don't push me away. I need your contact. Your arms around me. Today's been a heck of a ride. Can I have a hug? Just a small one?" She used her thumb and finger to show a tiny amount. "An itty bitty one?"

"You're silly sometimes, you know that?" He opened his arm, and she carefully inserted her warm body between him and the window sill.

"I try." With slow movements, she wrapped her arms around his neck, as she pressed her willing body against his. "You need to remember we can do this together. You and me. I know that you're trying. And I love you. High blood pressure, nightmares, OCD, quirks, master chef, love of my life," she winked at him, "and best lover ever and all the rest. And you're a awesome coach, a man who found his lost boys. Who cares about his team. Do you know that?"

He grinned. But she always managed to amuse him and had from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. "But I hate my blood pressure problems. I hate being sick."

"Everyone hates being sick. But it happens to the best of us."

Slowly, he traced his right pointer finger across her soft cheek, and he savored her silky skin by turning his calloused hand and brushing his knuckles across her smooth check. "Why do you stay with me? I don't deserve you, Felicity, you know that don't you? I've done terrible things, horrid things."

Leaning in, she laid her head against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed hard. "Sorry, I can't help loving you. And I've got quirks too you know?" She tilted her head and stared into his eyes. "But I guess I just love you and you deserve to be loved. Not sure why some days but you've been the one for me for a very long time. You're my hero, my man, mine."

"Always. And I love you too." He inhaled her vanilla scent.

"Now that we gotten that out of the way. I'm right here for you. But you need to do a better job taking your meds. I want you to get better. I need you to stay with me. I'd be lonely without you. Stay with me."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her with the word, "Okay."

Mae opened the door and he stepped back, distancing himself.

"Here, Oliver, take these and then do you have time to do me a favor?"

"Sure."

He frowned looking down at the four pills in a small plastic cup in her hand. Reaching out, he took the four pills and the cup of water she'd brought and quickly swallowed them down.

"I need someone to pick up Jordan's surgeon from the airport. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure."

"He'll be here in about twenty minutes and," She looked hard into his eyes as she said, "The boy's critical. Oliver, this one's special. Jordan's the last baby I delivered. And the last thing I want is to take that boy's legs when he's fifteen. There's got to be a better answer. I'm just hoping Joel can save them."

"I agree. I'm on my way."

#####OQ#####

He watched the jet land and then waited for the doctor to disembark, which seemed to take forever. Finally, a tall man, barely graying looking more like a teacher than a doctor disembarked.

"You a doctor?"

"Yeah, I'm here for a teenager named Jordan who's got crush syndrome. You?"

"Oliver Queen. I'm Jordan's soccer coach, and I'm here to pick up his surgeon."

The man carried a small bag."Dr. Joel Walters and let's move. The sooner I operate the better. Do they have a team ready?"

"Yeah, Mae said that there's a surgical team's waiting for you, and he's being prepped for the table. And no pressure but everyone is hoping you're going to be the savior here."

The man looked at him hard. "He's fifteen. I just sped across Dallas to the airport. I had my people reschedule a bunch of my appointments, and then I jumped a private jet. Trust me, I'll do everything I can to save this kid's legs, but there no guarantees when it comes to crush syndrome. I could do everything right and still have to take his legs to save his life."

"Well thank you for coming. Do you have any other bags?"

"No, just a carry on. And do you think I had a choice in the matter?"

He looked at the man. "Why would you have no choice?"

"Mae didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Mae delivered me. I knew her son. This is my hometown and when she called and said Felts want to amputate, and I needed to come try to help this boy, I didn't question the why. I just came."

"She has a flair about her. Doesn't she?"

Arriving at the Porsche, he opened the truck and the doctor stowed his bag as he said, "Mae's not like any doctor or any person I've ever met. She has a fantastic aura about her."

Climbing in the car, he said, "I agree with you on that one."

"Mae's the reason I became a doctor, then a surgeon, but then I spent two tours in Afghanistan, and I was tired of working on legs that were already gone. You don't realize how many men have lost their legs over there."

"You did two tours?"

"No, really it was three but after two I had my first experience with crush syndrome. I lost a close friend to it. He got blown up in a building from an IUD. I thought he was fine. He was a friend who'd I just shared a joke with, I mean my friend was smiling one day, and dead the next. It was a complete shock, so I decided to specialize in the field after my third tour."

Oliver couldn't stop his eyes from narrowing as a terrible thought crossed his mind. He couldn't stop the question. "Do you know Riley Clark?"

"Of course, I was his surgeon."

"His surgeon?"

"Yeah, I put him back together the best I could when he got his legs blown off. I take it you've met him? He's a great guy. Been through a lot. I'm glad he found Anna. He deserves to be happy."

"Yeah, we've met." Was all he could say.

The man opened the door to the car and climbed in, as he said, "Let's move. This kid doesn't have much time left if I'm going to be able to save his legs.

"I'll have you there in under five. Shut your eyes if you need to and trust me I'm good at this."

"You'd better be." The man said as he climbed in. "And yeah, you should move it. I'm here to do my best."

When they pulled up at the hospital he noted that there was a crowd forming outside the ER doors. As he climbed out of the car, he noticed that on the sidewalk people had lit several candles. A pile of stuff was piled on the sidewalk. He looked at the stuffed animals, and the several large cards, the helium balloons that flew and a large poster board sign proclaimed in black hand written letters, "Stan, Jordan and Josh, we're praying for you. Get well soon."

He turned toward the surgeon and said, "Okay, you better pull this one out. Looks like a few people are counting on you."

"Yeah," the man said. "Let's get this done. I'll do the best I can."

And he nodded.

#####OQ#####