Poor Ryan. Lots of angst in this chapter.
Note: I am not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. If I have medically mistreated Mr. Wolfe, feel free to let me know in the comments.
My thanks to everyone who has faved and/or followed. It means a lot. There should be at least one more chapter. I can't leave Ryan like this!
Not mine, don't own. I suspect that Ryan is happy about this at the moment.
Mac was escorting Ryan down the hall, leading him to a quieter part of the lab, when the young man spoke.
"Rest room?" he asked.
Mac nodded. "This way." He guided Ryan down another corridor and nodded at him once more when they arrived. "I'll wait for you here," Mac said, leaning against the wall just outside of the men's room.
Ryan felt like he was five again, but he recognized that Mac did need to escort him - his visitor's badge would only get him so far. He pushed into the room, feeling grateful for a moment of solitude.
After using the bathroom, Ryan stood in front of the mirror washing and rewashing his hands. The ritual was comforting, and he could almost forget about the nightmare that was unfolding around him. Almost.
The purple welts encircling his neck were only partially hidden by the jersey he wore. Ryan touched the bruises gently. This hurt more than expected, and the sudden pain brought memories surging to the forefront: the feel of a plastic cord tight against his neck, the dank smell of the old sugar refinery, the snap of his neck when a fist hit his jaw, a taste of blood.
Involuntarily, he opened his mouth to look at the tooth extraction site. The blood-tinged wad of gauze made him think of Danny's words: "And then those bastards tore out one of his molars using rusted pliers!" He began to rinse his mouth out over and over. Just the thought of rust, of such filth, inside his mouth was overwhelming. He needed to get clean.
His OCD went into overdrive, leading him to rinse and spit repeatedly. But nothing seemed to help. He could still taste metal. As Ryan began to feel faint, he wet some paper towels and scrubbed at his cheeks. He couldn't get clean. He would never be clean again. Bile began to rise in his throat until it consumed his thoughts and he was rushing back to a stall to vomit away the memories.
"Ryan?"
"Ryan!"
The young man in question didn't realize that Mac Taylor had entered the bathroom until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Mac knelt down to meet Ryan at eye level in front of one stall, where he found the younger man seated on the floor, curled into a ball, breathing heavily with his eyes wide.
Pulling out his cell phone, Mac never took a hand off of the trembling young man. "Danny! Get Horatio down here. Bathroom near the back entrance. Call Hawkes for me." He patted Ryan on the shoulder. "Talk to me, Ryan. What's going on?"
The young man appeared dazed, but managed to focus on Mac. "Can't ... breathe," he wheezed out. He continued to tremble violently.
Mac placed the tips of three fingers on Ryan's nearest wrist. Pulse was definitely elevated. He did a quick inventory: Ryan's pupils were slightly dilated, his skin clammy, cheeks flushed. He appeared to be going into shock.
"Ryan, I'd like to move you out of that stall, all right?" With Mac's help, Ryan soon found himself propped against the far wall of the bathroom, slumped against the cold tile. Mac draped his dark suit jacket over the trembling form. "Help's on the way, Ryan," he said, rising to stand guard over the fallen CSI.
Ryan nodded, images of bloodied sugar and mangled body parts filling his mind. I can't get warm, he thought. Why can't I get warm?
The door opened and three people entered at once. Horatio and Sheldon both rushed to Ryan, one dropping on either side of him. Danny hesitated in the doorway, folding his arms at his waist, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"What's happening, Mac?" Sheldon asked, kneeling at Ryan's side. He pulled out his stethoscope and started to listen to Ryan's heart and lungs.
Before Mac could answer, Horatio replied with surety, "He's having a panic attack." The redhead grabbed both of Ryan's hands and held them in his own. "Look at me, Ryan." When the young man complied, he added in a gentle tone, "You're safe here. I need you to slow down your breathing, Ryan. Focus on your breathing. That's it. Look at me. Breathe with me."
There was near silence in the bathroom as four men concentrated on Ryan's breathing, while the fifth completed a quick medical exam.
"Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Good," Horatio said.
After a few minutes, there was a noticeable drop in the rate at which Ryan was panting. Danny sighed in relief. Dropping his arms to his sides, he leaned against the nearest wall.
Hawkes held a thermometer to Ryan's ear and frowned. Nodding, he removed his stethoscope. "Bilateral breath sounds. His lungs are clear. Normal heart rhythm. He's running a fever, though, which I don't like." As Horatio continued to divert the patient's attention with breathing exercises, Hawkes asked the room at large, "Does anyone know what medications he's currently taking?"
"Percocet and some antibiotic," Danny replied. "I don't know his regular meds, though." He folded his arms and met Mac's gaze. His boss came to stand by him in the doorway, giving the other two men more room to work on their patient.
Sheldon caught Horatio's eye, and the redhead gave a slight nod. "Ryan," Horatio said, calmly and slowly. "The doctor here -"
"Hawkes," Sheldon supplied.
"Doctor Hawkes needs to know if you're taking any other medications."
With four men staring at him, Ryan's frantic eyes flitted from Danny and Mac in the doorway, to Horatio and Hawkes at either side of him, before settling on the redhead. He shrugged, panting heavily again. "I think ... I think I'm gonna ... pass out," Ryan got out. Hawkes and Horatio lowered him so that he was lying flat. Horatio pillowed his suit jacket under Ryan's head and rearranged Mac's jacket on top of him.
Hawkes looked at Horatio. "I'd like to administer a sedative to calm him, but I need to be sure we don't make things any worse."
Horatio nodded. "Mr. Wolfe," he ordered loudly, and Ryan's eyes popped open. "Mr. Wolfe, I need you to list your medications. Now."
Danny leaned forward at the harsh tone, but Mac grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"H?" Ryan replied, weakly.
"Yes, Mr. Wolfe. Your regular medications. This is time critical."
"Just ... just some allergy stuff," he panted. "And Zoloft sometimes ... when my OCD acts up." Ryan looked at Danny. "What did ... they give me ... at the hospital?"
"We got that already," Danny replied. He gave Ryan a sad smile.
Hawkes nodded and prepared the shot. "This might sting a bit, Ryan."
"Look at me, Mr. Wolfe. Breathe in. Breathe out. Good."
