Chapter Two
Jaime moved as quickly as possible (still floating, since her bionics didn't seem to work here), trying to snatch the little girl to safety, but she was too late. At the very moment she reached the catastrophic scene, she felt herself jerked abruptly away, and her vision and awareness faded to black.
"She's back," one of the younger physicians on the team sighed with relief. The high-pitched wail on the heart monitor flipped back to a steady reassuring beep, and the entire team began to breathe a little more easily.
Everyone, that is, except for Rudy. "I've got almost full blockage here," he announced, trying to gently ease the blood clot from its stubborn, threatening position in Jaime's brain. "A little more retraction, please, and have suction ready – she's gonna bleed." He leaned even closer, making sure his angle was perfect, and removed the clot in one fast, skilled motion, leaving behind no added damage. His work was spot-on, but Rudy was barely able to prevent a full hemorrhage. "Get that suction in there now – easy; don't hit the artery. That's good."
Rudy sighed, his body completely tensed and ready as he eyed the monitors. When the blood had been cleared out to his satisfaction, he moved back in to stitch the artery and remove the tiny clamps. Only then did he allow himself to begin to relax.
It didn't last long. "Her pressure's dropping fast!" the assistant noted with alarm. "Respiration's shallow – she's struggling."
Don't do this, Jaime, Rudy pleaded silently.
Jaime opened her eyes and was startled to see the boy and girl back at the edge of the playground, seemingly starting their quarrel over again. She blinked in confusion, and tried to call out to them, but found she had no voice. Moving fluidly to a spot directly beside them, she placed her hand gently on the little girl's arm. There was no reaction; the girl ('little Jaime'?) appeared not to notice.
"I did not!" "Yes, you did too!" What the hell was happening to her? Jaime closed her eyes and 'saw' herself lying on an operating table with the entire medical team engaged in frantic activity around her.
Was she...dead? Jaime couldn't make out the readings on the monitors or hear the team's conversation, but it was obvious from their pace and the expressions in their eyes that things weren't going well.
Where, exactly, was she? Heaven? Hell? Was she somehow fated now to watch the miniature version of herself run out in front of that car over and over again? Strange that she didn't feel frightened...only curious. She opened her eyes just in time to see the girl stomp her foot once again and run blindly toward the street. Jaime turned away, unable to bear seeing it a second time, but her mind's eye gave her a vivid picture. The horrible screeching and the scream began to echo even louder than before, when Jaime was abruptly yanked back into the darkness of oblivion.
"Tube her," Rudy instructed, assigning one technician to the sole task of forcing air into Jaime's lungs.
"Pressure's still low," the assistant said urgently, "and it's dropping."
"No sign of spontaneous breathing," the tech added.
"It's another clot," Rudy announced, peering into Jaime's skull with the magnification lens over his eye. A second artery, very close to the first one, had suddenly begun to bulge, threatening to burst. "I need more clamps."
"She's not stable, Rudy," the technician warned. "She's already shocky. It's just too much..."
Rudy shook his head, reading the tech's implications but refusing to give up. With a steady, practiced stroke, he carefully opened the second artery and began to remove the clot. "It's a bleeder!" he called out to everyone at the table. "I need suction, more clamps – another pair of hands; hurry!" His well-trained team rallied around their patient with swift, efficient movements. They kept moving without pause or interruption, even when the line on the monitor went flat.
Jaime's mind gave her the picture of the medical team working so diligently to save her, and this time, she saw the monitor. When she opened her eyes to make it go away she was no longer surprised to see the boy and girl squaring off on the playground. She wondered how, if she was back there on the operating table (dying?), her tiny alter ego could be meeting such a drastic, crushing end so early in life.
Suddenly, in a moment of true clarity, Jaime understood. It was bizarre, it seemed impossible, but she knew with complete certainty it was true: if she didn't find a way to stop the fight, calm the children and keep 'little Jaime' from running in front of that car, then she – the Jaime on the operating table, the one Steve was praying for with his entire being at that very moment – would die.