In a cold corner of her brother's workroom, Georgiana Darcy sat curled with her school books. It was a wintry Saturday afternoon in late November. With her newly-colored blue hair trimmed short and spiked erratically around her head, the heavy silver hoop in her nose, and the thick black liner tracing her round blue eyes, one would expect that her headphones blasted angry Disturbed songs into her ears, but they didn't. The music of Mozart soothed her into concentration as she worked on her English homework, writing an essay. The topic of her choice was urban sprawl – something she had chosen without knowing what it was. Now, of course, the assignment was due in three days and she had not counted on having to do research for a three hundred word essay. She had work to do, and she took all of her schoolwork, whether she liked it or not, quite seriously.

Will was working on the shoulder blade of a man who looked so young, Will had asked to see his driver's license twice before he had consented to do any work. Pausing in her writing, Georgiana gazed up at the man's back. It was bright red and he was clearly uncomfortable; Georgiana smirked. The design was absolutely beautiful – Will's work, of course – a bright orange sun, palm trees, and two colorful parrots. It made her feel warm to look at.

Shielded from the main lobby in what she considered her own place in the shop, she usually couldn't hear what was going on beyond Will's workroom, and especially with headphones on, but a loud thump caught her attention. Will looked up from his work, as well. She saw him rumple his brow, cough, and mumble something, and then he returned to his work. A moment later, Owen pulled the shade up on the window into the workroom and gave him a look. Georgiana looked up at Owen, pulling off her headphones.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Owen ignored her and whispered something to Will, who apologized to his customer, set his needle down, and pulled off his gloves.

"You stay there," he instructed his sister as he left the room.

Georgiana turned her palms up and made a face. "Oh, like I'm gonna," she replied to his back, tossing her books aside. She paused to inspect Will's work. "Looks good," she smiled at the man, who clearly needed a break from the needle anyway.

When she reached the main lobby, her heart caught in her throat. Will was desperately trying to get a loud and heavily intoxicated Dave Wickham out of the shop. "Shit," she muttered.

"Dave, I'm with a customer. You gotta go."

"No, Will," he slurred, looking at his old friend, "no, I gotta talk to ya. Look, I'm really sorry-"

"Dave, now's not the time. You're drunk and I'm working. You can call me later; now get out."

"No, but I'm real sorry about George," he said emphatically, taking several breaths. Then he spotted Georgiana herself. Before she could turn around, he approached her, practically gasping for air. "George! Good that you're here. I'm tryin' to tell Will, I'm real sor- . . . sorry about what happened."

"Damn it, George, I told you to stay put," he spat. "Look, Dave, I hate to be blunt, but get the hell out."

"Noo," he said as he turned around, and stumbled toward Will again. "I just . . . you gotta . . . you know what? I don't feel so good."

"Oh, Jesus Christ. David, if you blow chunks in my shop, I'm going to make you eat it, I swear to God. Now get the hell out."

Georgiana, however, having observed that Dave was truly having difficulty breathing, managed to say to her brother, "Will, I think he's really-" just as Dave collapsed in a heap at Will's feet.

Fear gripped Georgiana and her feet seemed frozen in place. Will knelt by Dave and tried to wake him. Owen dropped next to Will and felt for breathing and a pulse, and when he found none, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call 911. Georgiana watched for what seemed an interminable moment, and then, without knowing where she was going or why she was running, she turned and flew down the stairs and out into the street.

She had not taken four steps onto Washington Avenue when her body slammed into someone else's, spilling hot coffee everywhere.

"Oh, shit!" she muttered as she stopped to collect herself. The woman she had run into was brushing the hot liquid off of her thick winter coat. "I'm so sorry!" she cried as tears filled her eyes. "Are you all right?"

The person she had run into looked up. There was no anger in her eyes, only confusion. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, and looked down to brush more coffee off her coat with her mitten. "Are you?"

"Yes," she practically sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

The woman looked up again. "No, you're not," she replied, putting her hand on Georgiana's arm. "What's wrong?"

Georgiana looked up, and paused in surprise as she recognized the nurse who had attended her in the emergency room. "Lizzy! Oh, God – I need help! Come with me!"

Before Lizzy knew what was happening, she was being dragged up a flight of stairs, and before her lay a long and unconscious man. She shifted immediately into nurse mode and tore off her coat, hat, and mittens.

"What did he take?" she asked, feeling for a pulse.

Kneeling on the other side of Dave's body, Georgiana replied, "He's drunk."

Lizzy flipped his eyelids back and peered into his eyes. "How long ago did he pass out?"

"A minute or two."

"How long's he been drunk?"

"We don't know."

Lizzy looked up to meet Georgiana's eyes. The younger woman was frightened, she could tell, but she had no time to soothe her. "Did you call an ambulance?"

"Yeah, Owen did. Is this bad?"

"It ain't good. Do you know CPR?"

Petrified, she shook her head.

"You're about to learn."

Tilting Dave's head back, Lizzy administered three breaths, and then, without asking, took Georgiana's hands and laid them on his chest. "Compressions," she instructed, as she performed them with her hands over Georgiana's. "Don't be a wuss about it," she barked as she bent to administer three more breaths to Dave. "Go!"

Without time to think, with the full weight of her small body, Georgiana did what the nurse had instructed her to do with tears running down her cheeks.

"Five compressions, three breaths, till the paramedics get here."

And then the cycle started, with absolute silence in the shop, and all eyes watching them work. Neither Georgiana nor Lizzy knew how many times they repeated it before they noticed that a stretcher was being hauled up the stairs. A six-foot-six bald paramedic more or less picked Georgiana up and moved her aside to take her place. She clung to her brother; he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

A dialogue passed between Lizzy and the paramedics as they took over. When one of them declared that he could feel a pulse, Lizzy leaned against a wall, breathless, as they carefully took Dave to the ambulance. The bald paramedic who had moved Georgiana aside smirked at Lizzy.

"You get a pin, Liz," he said as he walked backwards down the steps. "Even I don't have one of those."

"Yeah," she smiled back at him. "Tell 'em I'll be late, Phil. I think I'm a little drunk. That dude is soaked."

Phil winked. "See ya, Lizzy," he said as he disappeared through the door.

Lizzy looked around. "Now where the hell's my coat?"

Mechanically, Georgiana walked over to where Lizzy's discarded coat lay. She picked it up and dusted it off, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said as she stood. She looked around again. "Um . . . I think I had a hat and mittens?"

Will appeared before her, with her mittens and hat in his hands. She froze, and her heart started thumping loudly in her chest "Oh," she said, her face flushing. She turned to Georgiana. "Oh," she repeated. "I didn't recognize you with that hair. I was wondering how you knew my name." Georgiana smiled a little and looked away. Without knowing what to say, she put on her coat and mittens, and tucked her head into her hat. "So," she said as she gestured toward the door, "someone you guys know, or just a customer?"

Will coughed. "He used to be my best friend," he replied.

After an uncomfortable pause, Georgiana asked, "So . . . what kind of pin do you get?"

Lizzy looked down. "Oh . . . you, ah . . . you get a pin when you administer CPR to someone and save their life. Most of the time in the ER, by the time we get to someone in need of CPR it's too late."

Will looked toward the door. "It isn't too late for Dave?" he asked.

"Well, I don't think so, as long as he quits drinking," she replied, looking at him earnestly. "But, you know, I'm not a doctor or anything."

He nodded, looking around a little before he met her eyes. They were bright; no doubt from adrenaline, and she looked just as beautiful covered with a layer of wool as she had a few months ago in her uniform. "I'm glad," was all he could think to say.

Lizzy blushed and felt warm, but she was not sure whether it was her heavy coat or the look Will was giving her. She smiled a little at him. "Well . . . are you guys OK?"

Will nodded quickly; so did Georgiana. Lizzy turned to Owen. "You too? You all look a little shaken."

"Well, we don't really get a lot of action up here," Owen said with a smile. "It's generally pretty quiet. Until George starts playing her Mozart, that is."

Georgiana smiled and blushed at Owen. Lizzy observed her a moment; she seemed to be all right. Owen was looking at her, a bit of a longing expression in his eyes, as she excused herself to complete her homework.

"She's too young for you, Owen," growled Will when she was out of earshot.

Owen just grinned at him. "Not for long." He walked away; Will turned his attention toward Lizzy again.

She drew a breath and let it out. "Well . . . I guess I'll be going."

He grabbed her arm. "Thank you," he said, his voice gentle and rich with emotion.

"I guess I was just in the right place at the right time," she said. "See you around, huh?"

Will nodded. "Yeah."

Lizzy smiled at him and wished she could stay. He returned her smile, and when she had walked down the stairs, turning to give him one more smile, he turned back toward his workroom.

The first half of Lizzy's work shift went fairly smoothly and was relatively uneventful. She was glad that her cousin was not there that night; Jane surely would notice her light mood and quiz her about it. With everyone else, it was easily passed off as the remains of an adrenaline rush, which they had all experienced at one time or another.

During her dinner break she inquired of Charlotte, the new triage nurse, where her patient had been placed. Charlotte directed her to the ICU, and when Lizzy got there, she knocked on the door quietly before she slowly opened it. Officer Wickham sat by the patient's bedside, gazing at his face with his hands folded in front of him. Lizzy smiled at him, a little confused as to why he was there. "Hey, Wick."

When his face alighted on Lizzy, he jumped up and wrapped her in his arms. "Lizzy!"

"Hey," she said, confused, as she hugged him back. "What's up?"

Wickham sighed as he pulled away from Lizzy; there were tears in his eyes. "Did you know that David is my boy?"

Her gaze flicked from Dave's nearly lifeless form on the bed and back to her friend, a little surprised. "No, I didn't."

"Phil said you saved his life," continued Wickham as they both approached Dave's bed.

"Phil dramatizes the situation," demurred Lizzy. "I was just in the right-"

"Place at the right time," he finished for her. "Take the credit you deserve, girl."

She blushed a little. "It is kinda cool. I still have a little bit of a rush going." Officer Wickham smiled at Lizzy and then turned to watch Dave. "What do the docs say?" she asked quietly.

"Adult respiratory distress syndrome," he said, without lifting his gaze from his son. "Brought on by his drinking. He's going through withdrawals, too." He paused a moment. "He's in rough shape."

Silently, Lizzy readily agreed. She surveyed the room, making an assessment of Dave's condition, trying to find something positive to tell his father. "He's initiating the breaths on his own," she offered. "That's a good sign."

"That's what they tell me," he replied quietly. After a moment, he looked up at her. "So how did you get involved?"

"Well, I was just walking to work," she began. "Someone slammed right into me and spilled my coffee everywhere. She recognized me before I recognized her – it was that kid with the tattoo and the hot brother. Georgia, I think? Those two that you said you knew."

"Georgiana," he corrected with a smirk.

"Yeah, that's it. So she drug me up the stairs, and there was David, laying on the floor. If it's any consolation, he looks a whole lot healthier now than when I started CPR."

Officer Wickham smiled as another knock was heard, and invited the person in.

Georgiana and Will Darcy tiptoed slowly into the room, looking tired. Without thinking, Lizzy smiled warmly as her eyes met Will's. The corner of his mouth twitched in response, and then he shook Officer Wickham's hand.

Quiet hellos were said all around as Will and Georgiana took their coats off. Lizzy watched Will and thought it was odd that he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, but immediately drew her attention away from his well-formed biceps when she caught Officer Wickham watching her with a grin.

Georgiana and Will each took a place at Dave's bedside, and each took a hand. Without looking up, Will inquired about Dave's condition. When his questions were all answered, Georgiana looked around curiously.

"Hey Lizzy," she said, laying down the hand she held and crossing her arms, "what's all this stuff?"

"You mean these machines?" asked Lizzy, stepping a little closer. She was right next to Will.

"Yeah. Like, what's in that bag?" she asked as she pointed to Dave's IV drip.

Lizzy stood on her toes and read the label on the bag. "Well, he's horribly dehydrated," she replied. "It's fluid replacement; helps filter out the toxins. If he's on other medications – probably steroids and painkillers – they just hook them up here." She tapped on a valve in the tube. "Um . . . the tube in his mouth is the respirator. Like I explained to Officer Wickham, he's initiating breaths on his own; he just can't get enough air. The rest of this stuff is just monitoring him; his blood pressure, his heart rate, his respirations . . . all that stuff. He's probably got a catheter, too."

Georgiana raised an eyebrow and lifted her hand. "The catheter was too much info."

Lizzy smirked. "Sorry," she replied.

Silence fell over the little room again; Georgiana looked over Lizzy. She liked her, which amazed Georgiana – to begin with, she hated all manner of medical professionals, and Lizzy had scared the bejesus out of her when they first met. Also, she had never liked anyone that Will had ever liked, and unless she was incredibly off the mark, Will liked Lizzy. Georgiana smiled.

"Wick," she said quietly, looking up at him, "you wanna help me find a Mountain Dew?"

Officer Wickham looked at her, his gaze flicking to Will and then to Lizzy. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he replied, "Sure. This way."

When they had gone and the door shut behind them, Will put down Dave's hand. "Those two think they're so clever."

Lizzy smirked, and looked over at him. "We did start off on the wrong foot . .. I mean, I was crabby and tired . . . I didn't treat you very well."

He smiled down at her. "I wasn't exactly cordial, either," he replied. She returned his smile, and they were again quiet for a minute more.

"Aren't you cold?"

Will rubbed his arms and then folded them across his chest. "Yeah, a little."

"How come you aren't wearing a sweater? I mean, it's freezing out."

"Because of these," he replied, tapping his index finger on the arm band tattooed around his left bicep.

"Oh," she replied quietly, studying it. "Advertising, huh?" He smirked and nodded lightly in reply. "Does it mean anything?"

"They're triskels," he replied, "one linked with another."

"All the way around?" she asked, her brow twitching.

He lifted his arm to show her. "Yep."

"Did it hurt?"

He smiled fully. "Yep."

He put his arm back down, and she continued to study Will's tattoo. Unconsciously, she reached out to touch the larger triskel in the middle of his arm. His skin was warm and soft; she allowed her whole hand to caress it. She let out a breath and looked up at him. "Um . . . does it mean anything? A triskel." He reached out to take her other hand. "What does it mean?"

"Triskels are a particular weakness of mine," he replied quietly, stroking the palm of her hand with his thumb. "They . . ." he paused to keep the tone of his voice deceptively neutral. "They represent the three facets of a unity . . . sea, sky, and earth, or speed, strength, and agility – or religiously, the three faces of a deity." He paused to swallow. Then, with an earnest look in his eyes, he continued. "Lizzy . . . Georgiana told me she spilled your coffee this afternoon."

"Yeah," she breathed, looking down at their hands. When she looked up into his eyes again, she felt warmth suffuse her cheeks. "I guess she did."

"I'd like to make that up to you," he offered, tilting his head a little. "Would you let me buy you another sometime?"

A smile spread slowly across Lizzy's face, and her eyes darted around a little before she looked up at him demurely and replied, "I'd like that."

Georgiana and Officer Wickham slid quietly through the door. Shyly, Lizzy looked up at them and then quietly made her excuses to go back to work. She squeezed Will's hand as she stepped by him to leave the room.

(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson