Thanks for the reviews and for reading.
Title: Anniversary
Rating: T
Warning: None
Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: My stories are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. This is a work intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.
Reviews appreciated and welcomed
Drunk Tank
Chapter 3
G rolled to his right side. It hurt less than where Sam had pummeled his left side with swift punches. He moaned and pulled what he thought was a blanket over his upper body. His head pounded, feeling as if someone was beating a bass drum between his ears. Too much alcohol. The pizza was excellent as usual. He groaned this time, the pounding more insistent. G opened his eyes and stared at the space between him and the far wall. Bars. Vertical metal bars divided the space off from a hallway. He shot up straight on the bed and scanned the single cell. What in the hell? G dropped his head to both hands and mumbled to himself. This was not good, not good at all. Worse, he had no idea how he got here and where here was. G rose off the most uncomfortable mattress he had ever slept on and steadied his wavering body with the concrete block wall to his right. And he thought sleeping on the hardwood floor in Hetty's office was uncomfortable. When he reached the bars he glanced to his left and saw his partner in the cell next to him.
"Sam."
"Yes?"
"Head hurts."
"Me too."
"Hetty's gonna kill us."
"Not necessarily so, Mr. Callen."
G flipped on his heels and grabbed the aqua blue, painted steel bars to steady himself. "Hetty."
"You two have some explaining to do before I bail you out of jail."
"G was hallucinating—"
"On my 200 dollar a bottle Gran Patrón Platinum Silver Tequila."
"200 dollars," G said, his jaw dropping.
"Yes, Mr. Callen."
"Had I known—"
"It was your idea to drink my tequila, Mr. Hanna?"
"Yes, sorry."
"I'll add that cost to the damages and the extra work you are both doing to make up for the fines and bail I'll pay."
"Fines?" G's jaw lowered again.
"Yes, Mr. Callen, fines and bail."
"Both?"
"Yes."
"Fines for what?"
"I assume you both have no memory for what transpired last night."
"Just him," Sam said, standing up for the first time and staggering toward the bars. He steadied himself with his left hand on a cold steel bar and rubbed his right temple with his right hand.
Hetty faced her lead agent. "The officer who wrote the report said you were hallucinating on my precious tequila."
"Yes, thought an escort service was chasing us down the PCH." Sam grasped both hands around the bars.
"Need to go lie down." G stumbled toward his bed, holding his head with one hand. "Never again with tequila." Before he reached the bunk, he made a quick detour to the toilet, vomiting up chunks of pizza. After wiping his face, he staggered back to his bunk and climbed into bed, pulling his jacket over his shoulders.
"The report said you told the officer the helicopter was giving you orders."
"Yes, but I don't remember much else besides taking the Jag out for a spin."
"Joyriding. Reckless evasion of an officer. DUI. Possession of an open bottle of alcohol in a vehicle. Driving without a license and registration, not to mention no insurance card."
"Hetty," G sat up and quickly laid back down again. The room spun and his head pounded.
"First things first, let's get you both out of here, and Mr. Callen to the emergency room."
"I just need to rest—"
"Promise me you won't fight this or I'll allow them to keep you another day or so."
"You wouldn't."
"You want me to press this?" Hetty asked, flipping on her heels and leaving the hallway.
"She didn't even wait for an answer," he said.
"Don't push it, G, you are walking on her wild side now," he said, stumbling over to his own bunk and lying down again.
"Hetty has a wild side?"
"Don't even go there, man."
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Thirty minutes later, Sam and G eased themselves into the back seat of the black SUV, and Hetty and Deeks settled into the front seat.
"First the hospital for Mr. Callen," Hetty said.
Deeks started the SUV and drove toward the hospital.
"Stop the car!" G rolled down his window and vomited.
"Motion sickness?" Sam asked.
"No, tequila sickness if there is such a thing."
"One can have an allergy or sensitivity to agave, Mr. Callen."
"Great, just what I don't need right now."
"That's why the hospital."
G leaned his head out the window again and retched hard. He pulled his head back inside and settled against the door frame.
"You're bleeding," Sam said.
"What?"
"Your nose."
Hetty handed Sam a handkerchief and dialed 911 on her cell phone.
G grabbed the handkerchief from his partner's hand before the man could dab it on his nose. "I'll do it." He held it tight against the end of his nose.
"Just trying to help."
"Mr. Callen, head tilted backward and apply pressure to the nose."
"Got it." He leaned out the window again, spewing pizza chunks against the side of the SUV. After settling back onto the seat, he asked, "Who did you call?"
"911, Mr. Callen."
"What?"
"I know a reaction to agave when I see one."
G tilted his head back and applied pressure to his nose again. "You are the third person to tell me that."
"You know what they say, G, three times a—"
"Shut up." Another wave of nausea pushed upward from his stomach.
"Where's that stellar sense of humor?"
"I hurled it out the window." The corners of G's mouth turned upward. "You'll find it plastered to the sides of the SUV."
"No thanks, I'll pass."
"Aw, big guy doesn't want to be humored?"
"Watch it, man."
"I'm watching right now." G leaned out the window and hurled more pizza. "I see red lights."
"Your escort service," Sam said with a straight face. "What are they saying to you?"
"They're saying it's time for a second wrestling match."
Deeks pulled over to the emergency lane on the freeway and stopped. The emergency vehicle pulled over at the same time. One paramedic came along side the passenger side and up to the front door.
"Must be the right vehicle," the man said, "the telltale signs are plastered on the SUV's side. Who's the patient?"
"Behind me in the back seat," Hetty said, pointing to her lead agent.
The average height man with sun-bleached blond hair opened the passenger door. Another taller, bulkier man joined him. "Can you stand?"
"Yes, at least I did before I got into the SUV."
They helped Callen out of the vehicle and assisted him to lie on the stretcher.
"Is this necessary, Hetty?" G asked, turning his head and waiting for an answer.
"Remember what I said back there, no fighting this."
He sighed and laid back against the stretcher. "I need to sit up, gonna be sick."
The blond haired man raised the head of the stretcher to its highest position. "How's that?"
G turned to his left and vomited more pizza. "Too late."
"We'll take care of that nausea and vomiting ASAP."
"I want to go with my partner," Sam said.
"On the condition you don't leave the hospital under any circumstances."
"Believe me, that's the last time I let G drink that stuff and I don't plan on any joyrides again."
"Go." Hetty shooed Mr. Hanna out of the vehicle, motioning with one hand.
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Sam hung back until the paramedics had placed his partner inside the ambulance. He climbed in and settled next to the blond haired man.
"Agave poisoning is rare," the man said, "seen it once before."
"Poisoning?" Sam asked.
"Yes, when someone is sensitive to it like our John Doe here."
"How much tequila did you two drink?" the bulkier man with dark brown almost black hair asked.
Sam swallowed hard, admitting how much they drank without appearing to be stupid was going to be difficult. "A lot."
"I take it he had the lion's share?"
"Actually not."
The blond haired paramedic finished taking several vials of blood and inserted an intravenous line with fluids into the tubing on his patient's left forearm. "Here's that antiemetic I promised you." He slowly injected into the IV tubing. "You are going to feel drowsy in a few minutes."
"It was the best anniversary and tequila, well, until I started to hallucinate."
"Okay, just how much did you two consume?"
This time it was G's turn to swallow hard. "I drank a half bottle of Glenlivet XXV Scotch and about one third of the Gran Patrón Platinum Silver Tequila."
"No wonder you've got symptoms," the man said. "We need to get this new information to the hospital." He eyed his fellow paramedic, who disappeared into the front seat. "And we need to change the IV over to dextrose because of what you just shared. This is what we initially suspected, alcohol poisoning. You said you hallucinated."
"Yes, thought a helicopter was talking to me," G said, slurring his words. He declined to tell them about believing the police chasing him was an escort service. That hallucination was too embarrassing to share.
"Any seizures?" the man asked, eyeing both his patient and his friend.
"No," G said.
The paramedic pulled a blanket out of warming oven and placed it over his patient. "I know it is a warm day but shock from vomiting is a strong possibility."
"My nose bled after vomiting."
"Hard retching?"
"Yes."
"That should dissipate after the nausea and vomiting cease."
"Hospital ordered a thiamin injection and oxygen by mask," the blond haired paramedic said as he settled down next to Sam again.
"No mask," G said.
"A cannula won't be sufficient if we want to be successful at preventing brain damage and worsening symptoms," dark haired paramedic said.
"Hate those things, but I'll do it."
"A cooperative patient."
"No, more like forced cooperation from the little lady in the front seat." Sam winked at his partner.
"Time to transport."
"Wait, I thought you were treating the symptoms and releasing me."
"This is alcohol poisoning and a serious condition," the blond haired paramedic said. "It can cause brain damage and even death."
"How come he didn't get it?" G asked, pointing his now shaky hand in Sam's direction.
"He's a bigger guy and you had a reaction to the agave on top of the alcohol poisoning."
"I'm not liking the sound of this," he said, "and don't you say it to me too."
"Tell you that you should not drink—"
"Just do me favor and don't say it." G closed his eyes and sulked.
Thanks for reading. More to come.