Chapter Thirteen: Sunrise, Sunset
Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is the first part of the finale! The good news is, The Night Shift got renewed for a third season, so at some point, there will be a third installment of Pumping Blood! Also, just like the first installment, this will end on a cliffhanger that you all will probably hate me for.
Rachel tapped her fingers on her bedspread. It was two in the afternoon in San Antonio, meaning it was almost midnight in Kandahar and she still hadn't heard anything from Finn. She was really hoping that they'd get a chance to Skype – or at least talk on the phone – for a little before she went to the doctor's for a check up with the baby.
Thinking about the baby caused her to smile and her heart to beat a little faster, just like it did whenever she thought about what was in store for her and Finn's future.
She heard her phone start to vibrate and she reached out and grabbed it. "Hello?" she said breathlessly.
"Rachel?" she heard Finn say on the other end.
She let out a sigh of relief. "Finn. How are you?"
"We made it. We're—" Finn said as the line went dead.
"Finn?" Rachel asked, feeling her heart drop. She forgot how frustrating it could be to make calls overseas.
It was definitely one thing Rachel didn't miss.
"It's just another day," she whispered to herself as she got out of bed. Santana was going to show up any minute to go to the appointment with her and she didn't want to make her best friend wait for her.
In Afghanistan, Finn swore and resisted throwing his phone at the wall. All he'd wanted to do was tell Rachel him and Puck made it to Afghanistan without any issues and that he hoped her doctor's appointment would go well.
But, same as when he did his tours, the signals were weak and he could barely get through a phone conversation with her.
That night at the hospital, Kurt, Mercedes and Artie were walking around during some down time on their shift. "Look, there's my man being a badass," Kurt said, showing them a video on his phone.
"No way, that's Blaine?" Mercedes said.
"Yeah, training to be a combat instructor. He runs the course tonight to see if he makes the cut."
"I couldn't run that course with two legs," Artie said.
"You couldn't drive that course with a car," Mercedes said with a laugh. "Just face it, Artie. You know you're just a house cat."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you don't go out into the field and that you get thrown if you don't have the perfect conditions to practice medicine."
"I thought Puck told you to cut it out with the competition," Kurt said.
"Oh come on. He can handle it," Mercedes said as they walked to the nurses' station.
In another part of the hospital, Rachel was walking when she saw Brody come into the hospital. "Sorry about everything you're going through," she said.
"I'm not going through anything. I got off easy."
"Brody, it was an accident."
"And because of that accident, a 16-year-old boy is looking at life in a chair. He can't move his right arm and he was a musician. He's not going to be able to do that anymore."
"Well, what do your lawyers say about their lawsuit?"
"I don't know. A bunch of stuff. Depositions and discoveries and I know I should care about that but all I can think about is Malik."
"But you still have to take care of yourself," Rachel said, cutting him off. "Are you going to meetings?"
"Yeah, every day. And no, I still haven't had a drink although, I'm not gonna lie, it hasn't been easy."
"If there's anything I can do…"
"I'll be upstairs if you need me," Brody said as he walked off.
Rachel walked to the nurses' station and got her coworkers' attention. "Okay everybody, listen up. You guys all know that Finn and Puck are still in Afghanistan, so that means we are short two attendings. But, lucky for us, we have a new doctor to help us out." She picked up the blue scrubs and stethoscope sitting out on the desk. "I would like to introduce you to Doctor Jesse St. James!" she said, handing him the scrubs as everyone started clapping. "I just got the email. You passed your boards! Congratulations, Doctor."
"Wow, thank you," he said, looking at the scrubs.
Sam hung up the phone. "Alright guys. Sorry to break up the celebration, but here's the deal. Dispatch just called. We have a big pileup on 90 west. Drivers are pinned inside vehicles and we need docs on site, stat."
"Kurt, you're up. Take, um," Rachel said, looking around.
"Me. I got this one," Artie said.
"Really?" Rachel asked. "It's yours. Go for it."
"Who's the house cat now?" Artie whispered to Mercedes as Rachel pulled out her phone, feeling it vibrate in her pocket.
Rachel smiled when she saw a message from Finn.
Wow, 120 degrees in Kandahar. Makes Texas seem chilly!
Her smiled grew wider as she sent him a video. We miss you! she added.
Finn and Puck pulled up to the tents in Afghanistan and looked around, unbelieving that they were back again. "Damn it," Finn said, looking at his phone. "I just lost my signal again."
"I'm amazed it worked this long," Puck said. "So, Rachel's gonna be showing in a few weeks. When are you going to spill the beans?"
"I don't know. It's her call. Pretty soon, though, I guess."
"Just as nasty as I remember," Puck said, looking around the camp again. "Thanks again for coming with me, Finn."
"No problem. We'll be fine," Finn said as he started fishing around for something in his pockets. "I brought Lucky," he said, pulling out a poker chip.
"I can't believe you still carry that around."
"Hey, don't hate on Lucky, pal. She got me through three tours."
"Hey, you must be Smalls' doctor buddies," someone said, coming out from one of the tents. "I'm Riley."
"Noah Puckerman and this is Finn Hudson. You can call me Puck."
"Hey, a fellow Irish," Riley said, shaking Finn's hand. "You boys are a long way from Texas."
"Yeah, we're here for Ali Noristani. He was our unit translator. He has a heart failure so we brought a pump to keep him alive until we can get him to a transplant station," Puck said.
"Bad news. His wife, Farah, showed up here earlier. Said he was too sick to make the trip. They took him to a clinic about 50 clicks down the road."
"Okay, well, let's go get him," Finn said, sharing a look with Puck.
"Sorry, clinic's in the Taliban hot zone. We're ghosts here."
"Listen," Puck said. "This might seem crazy to you, but Ali, he's one of us. One morning, locals brought a boy with a fever to my cash tent. I examined him and lifted the blanket off and he was strapped to a bomb. Ali heard him say a martyr prayer, grabbed the detonator—" Puck said, starting to get choked up.
"He saved hundreds of Rangers' lives that day," Finn finished. "And we traveled halfway around the world to return the favor. If we don't implant the LVAD pump, he'll die."
Riley looked at the two of them and nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Let's ride," he said. "Saddle up," he said, handing them guns.
"We're doctors now. Not soldiers."
"Okay, doc. But the Taliban doesn't care who you are. If this goes south, we all end up with our heads cut off on CNN. Come on," he said, leading them towards a humvee.
The crash site scene was pure chaos. Kurt ran around with a flashlight in his hands, trying to find victims to get to the hospital. "I told you this was a bad idea," someone said, getting wheeled away on a gurney.
"What's going on?" Kurt asked.
"Jordan and Devin Lawson, brother and sister. They got sandwiched at 80 miles an hour. Stable and ready to transport.
"Please! Over here!" someone else called out.
"Who's out there?" Artie asked.
"Haven't gotten to him yet. We're a little swamped," the paramedic said.
"I'll go," Artie said. He ran over to where some of the crashed cars were and saw someone sprawled on the roadside. He bent down to check for a pulse.
"Finding anything?" Kurt asked, running over.
"Faint pulse but he's alive."
"Let's get him packaged up and to the hospital ASAP."
"Someone help me!" the same person from before yelled.
"I got him," Kurt said, looking down at the pavement. "He's critical. Go help him."
Artie ran over to the car. "Stay calm, I'm Doctor Abrams. What's your name?"
"Sid Baines. My seatbelt's jammed. I think I smell gas."
Artie turned the flashlight on and looked around the inside of the car, noticing a child's seat. "Do you have a kid in the car?"
"Just dropped him off at my ex-wife's. You gotta get me out of here."
"Yeah, okay," Artie said. He pulled open the car door and grabbed the scissors from his medevac bag and started cutting off the seatbelt. "Let's get you out of here," he said, pulling Sid from the car.
"My leg!" Sid said as they started hobbling away.
They got a few feet away from the car and then it went up in flames, sending them both crashing into the pavement, Artie's head thumping against the road.
In Afghanistan, Finn and looked around, still trying to take in everything that was happening as Riley drove them to where Ali was. They got out of the humvee when they got to the medical tent and looked around, trying to find him among the bloody bodies. "Where are the clinic docs?" Finn asked.
"Taliban put a price on their head. They had to scatter," Riley said.
Puck kept looking around for Ali. "Hey. Ali, it's me," Puck said, walking over to where Ali was laying in bed.
"Puck?" he asked weakly. "You're here. You saw Farah? Is she safe?"
"She's fine. She's at the base. She told us where to find you."
"I didn't think you would come."
"I told you I would," Puck said, getting ready to treat Ali.
"People say a lot of things. But I shouldn't have doubted you," Ali said, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Puck turned around and gestured to Finn. "This is Finn."
"I figured. Puck told me a lot about you. Real pain in his ass. Or maybe that was lost in translation."
"We brought you some medicine," Finn said, walking over to Ali's bed.
"Try to stay quiet and save your strength," Puck said.
"Puck, looks like they had trouble getting IV access. We need to get his pressure up before we move him," Finn said, taking off his backpack.
"We'll start a central line."
"Hey, we got a welcome wagon," Riley said, coming over from the entrance to the tents.
"Maybe they need help," Puck said.
"No. If the good guys know we're here, the bad guys do, too."
"He needs fluids running first. 15 minutes."
"You've got 10," Riley said, going back over to the tent entrance to keep an eye out for any trouble.
Back at the hospital, Kurt was bringing Artie in on a gurney. "Multiple victims coming in from the pileup. First is one of ours."
"Don't worry, sweetie. We'll take care of you," Rachel said, meeting up with the gurney.
"What the hell happened?" Mercedes asked.
"He tried his best Finn impersonation and almost got blown up by a car. He's got altered mental status and a second degree burn on the right hand."
"You'll be fine, Artie," Brody said, meeting up with them. "Let's get you to CT to clear your head and neck and get you some pain meds for that burn. We'll have someone drive you home."
"I'm fine, Brody, I really am."
"No, Artie—"
"We're understaffed and I just want to help. Better than me sitting at home looking at my burn all night."
Rachel sighed. "If the CT is negative, it's fine."
"How's the mummy man?" Sam asked one of the paramedics coming in.
"Ejected through his windshield. Multiple lacerations to his face and scalp. We lost pulse on scene and he's been down for 30 minutes," she said as Sam started doing chest compressions. "Pupils fixed and dilated."
"What's your assessment, Doctor St. James?" Rachel asked, helping them bring in the gurney.
"Down for this long? Sounds like DOA."
"Most likely," Rachel said. "Continue CPR and give another round of meds. If that doesn't work, call it," she said, taking him to a trauma room.
"Me? Pronounce him?"
"He's your patient," Rachel said as she ran off. "Kurt! What's up now?"
"Sid Baines, restrained driver from the head-on collision that caused the pileup. Likely mid tibia fracture, closed. Passed a breathalyzer on the scene."
"Okay, Mercedes, trauma two," Rachel called.
"This is Jordan and Devin Lawson. The sister has head trauma, scalp laceration. No LOC," Kurt said, helping to bring in more victims. "Brother has facial trauma with a seatbelt sign. Vitals are stable."
"I'll take the sister in trauma one. Kurt, I want you to manage the floor and any new incoming. You might as well step into those chief resident crocs now," Rachel said, putting on surgical gloves.
"I like the sound of that."
Rachel smiled at him as she walked into the trauma room. "Hi, I'm Doctor Berry and you must be Jordan. So, tell me what happened tonight?"
"My brother and I are moving to Orlando from Hondo."
"Hondo?" Rachel asked, listening to Jordan's heart. "Is that a real place?"
"It's a two stoplight town down I90. Guy in front of us slams on his brakes. I hit him, someone hits us. We just kept spinning. It was scary."
"I can imagine that it was. Alright, let's take a look at this," Rachel said, peeling back the bandage. "Looks like you're gonna need a couple of stitches but you are gonna be just fine. Who's in Orlando? Your parents?"
"My uncle Tim. My mom died giving birth to Devin and my dad died last year. Lung cancer. So I dropped out of school and became his guardian."
"That's tough. You're what, 18?"
"I was flunking out anyways. I'll just take the GED sometime."
"Still, that's a lot to take on."
"I need to, uh, I need to check on my brother," Jordan said, trying to get up. "Ow!"
"Slow down," Rachel said, gently pushing her back into bed. "Your brother is with one of our best doctors. We're going to worry about you, okay? Jocelyn, let's get her set up for a head CT."
"No. Thank you. I'm fine."
"Jordan, you took a really bad blow to the head. This is just going to give us a snapshot of your situation."
"My situation is I have 80 bucks on me. Half of that is in quarters and I don't have any insurance. So no tests, okay?"
"Okay. Why don't you just let us suture you then, alright?" Rachel asked. "I am going to see what I can do though. Jocelyn, can you set us up for irrigation?"
Across the hospital, Devin was getting an ultrasound down. "Freaky. What is that?"
"That's your liver. Your belly looks clear. Were you driving an older model car?" Brody asked.
"1971 Ford Maverick. How can you tell?"
"Lap belt injury. They phased those belts out in the 80s. They were ripping people in half."
"What do you drive? I'm guessing a Beemer? Or maybe a Lexus?"
"Rental," Brody said. "a '71 Maverick, huh? Must be a car guy."
"My mom had it in high school. I kept the car running, rebuilt the transmission, brakes. I guess it's totaled now."
"You did all that yourself? You're 14."
"So? I looked it up on YouTube. I like to tear cars down, see how they run, put them together again."
"That's how I got my start too," Brody said. "Only I didn't have YouTube. We had to actually read a manual and figure it out for ourselves."
"Okay, grandpa."
"Grandpa?" Brody said with a laugh.
"Hi there. I'm Doctor Berry," Rachel said, coming into the trauma room. "I've been taking care of your sister. I just wanted to see how things are going."
"Eyelid laceration and corneal abrasion. Other than that, pretty lucky," Brody said.
"That's me, lucky," Devin said sarcastically.
"Well, your sister's pretty worried about you."
"Worried her plan got ruined? She's dumping me on my a-hole uncle in Florida."
"She mentioned that things have been tough and I'm sorry to hear that," Rachel said.
"So what's her solution? Bail on my ass? To hell with her, then."
"I will let her know you're okay," Rachel said.
They watched her walk out and Brody turned towards Devin. "You always this angry?"
"Just since I was born."
In another trauma room, Sam was still performing CPR on the patient brought in. "Hold CPR," Jesse said. "He's been down for 30."
"Still pulseless," Sam said.
"No heart beat, either. 11:57, time of death," Jesse said, looking at his watch. "Through a windshield. What a way to go out.
Sam nodded as a dog barking ringtone went off from somewhere in the room. "Real funny, Sam. Real damn funny," Jesse said sarcastically.
"I didn't do it. It's his – it's his phone," Sam said, pointing to where it was sitting on a chair with his other personal belongings. "Medics must have missed it." He clicked on the message and read it. "Do we need eggs? Where are you? Call me. Oh," Sam said, handing the phone to Jesse.
"Damn. It's his wife. She doesn't even know he's dead. And I have to call her."
Kurt walked in to another trauma room. "Next thing I know, the other guy crosses over and swerves right into me. I never saw it coming," Sid said.
"Ortho's coming down to set that broken ankle," Kurt said.
"How's Artie?" Mercedes asked.
"He's got a nasty burn on his hand thanks to you," Kurt said, typing something on one of the computers.
"You're blaming me?"
"You pushed his buttons. He's like a little brother. He had to prove you wrong. And he almost got himself killed doing it." He glared at Mercedes before walking over to the hospital bed. "Okay, Sid. Anyone we should call? Boss, girlfriend, wife?"
"Ex-wife. And god no. Unless you want to make her day."
Kurt started doing an exam on him and Sid winced. "Belly pain?"
"Not from the accident. It's my Crohn's flaring up."
"Are you kidding me?" Mercedes asked, looking at his blood work. "You were driving high."
"No way. I'd never drive high."
"Well, your tox screen says you tested positive for THC," Kurt said, taking the results from Mercedes.
"Well that was because of my Crohn's. that flare up I was telling you about. I go to Colorado to get medical marijuana for pain. Otherwise I couldn't work. I just do enough to get by."
"Look, I know it helps. It got my sister through chemo. It's just that she used it at home. Not while she was driving. You may have caused the accident which killed a man and our friend was hurt saving you."
"Doctor Jones!" Kurt said. "I need a quick word."
The two of them walked out of the room for a second and she crossed her arms. "What?"
"You're a doctor. Not a police officer or a DA."
"He shouldn't be driving high."
"Even if that's the case, it's still not your job. Your job is to finish working on Sid. Clear?"
"Crystal," she said, taking back the clipboard.
In the dead man's room, Jesse rang out a wash cloth and started trying to wipe away some of the blood. "Is this the windshield guy?" Artie asked, coming into the room.
"Yeah. His wife had no idea. Still doesn't. I had to call her to come in."
"Use these," Artie said, handing Jesse a pair of scissors. "No one should have to see their loved one like that, you know?"
"Yeah. How do you feel?" Jesse asked.
"A little woozy. But all things considered…" he said, trailing off.
"Look at that," Jesse said. "That's a bullet wound."
"This guy was shot. Stop wiping. I need to go call 911," Artie said as he walked to the phone set up in the room. "This is Doctor Abrams from San Antonio Memorial. I need to talk to someone in homicide. That DOA from the pileup. I think it's a homicide."
In Afghanistan, things weren't looking good for Ali. "Puck, his pulse is weaker. I can't access the vein. Any luck up there?"
"No good. Too collapsed from dehydration."
"If we don't get his pressure up, he'll never make the LVAD. No chance they have an ultra sound or an IO drill?" Finn asked, looking around.
"They're lucky to have a working stethoscope here."
"Let's go old school and do a venous cut down."
"Dissect down to the saphenous vein directly. Good call, Finn," Puck said.
Riley watched as an enemy truck pulled up. "It's time to go, docs."
"I'm saving his life," Finn said.
"No, sorry. We're out of time. We need to go. Now."
"We're not ready," Puck said as gunfire ripped through the tent, bullet bouncing off the metal on the beds.
"We're under hostile fire," Riley said into his walkie talkie. "Requesting drone backup at coordinates Bravo Mary Charlie."
"You okay?" Puck whispered as he checked Ali's pulse.
"Yeah. You?" Finn whispered back.
"They retreat?" Puck asked when Riley came back into the tent.
"Yeah, for now. We're pressing our luck being here."
"See? Lucky saved us," Finn said, taking the chip out of his pocket.
"You and that stupid chip," Puck said.
"Stupid chip? Before my first tour, my brother took us to Atlantic City. I won five grand playing craps. This was from my first pot."
"Good story. I don't care. You have five minutes."
Back at the hospital, Rachel kept looking at her phone, hoping to hear something from Finn about her message from earlier. She sighed and stepped out of the elevator, seeing Jordan walking around. "What are you doing up?" she asked.
"I just had to go to the bathroom. The nurse said it was okay."
"It's fine. I got some good news. I spoke with accounting, and they've agreed to do your scan pro bono. So it's probably going to take another 20 minutes or so."
"20 minutes? That was fast."
"Well, I told you I'd work something out. Jocelyn, can you get her prepped for CT?" Rachel asked.
"You got it," Jocelyn said, smiling.
"Hey, Rach, more incoming," Sam said, looking out at the ambulance bay.
"What happened?" Rachel asked Jesse, who was bringing in someone.
"Turns out my DOA was shot in the head. These two were shot a few miles from there. GSW to the abdomen on this one and GSW to the shoulder on that one. Kurt assessed them and we're taking them to the OR," Jesse said.
"And the cops think we have a sniper on our hands," Sam said.
"Sniper?" Santana asked, coming into the hospital. "No way."
"I thought you had the night off?" Rachel said.
"I just got called in. A flu bug hit the company really hard. Now I think I know why."
"Rachel, curtain three," Jocelyn said.
"Be careful out there," Rachel warned Santana before going to check on her patient.
"I will," Santana said, watching her walk off.
"You know, I think you might have caught some of that sniper flu too. Why don't you go back home tonight?" Sam said to Santana as they started walking together.
"I can't. There's calls all over the north side."
"Santana listen—"
"Don't worry. All the shooting incidents are on the south side. The cops are setting up roadblocks. Sick people need me, babe. I gotta go," she said, blowing him a kiss as she left the hospital.
Artie walked into Sid's room. "Hey, how do you feel?"
"There's the doctor who saved my life. Thanks for that. Did you hurt your hand?" he said, noticing the bandages.
"It's not that bad, I hope. Anyway, I just wanted to come in here and see how you're doing."
"Not great. That hot doc is a hard ass. The cops were in here, asking me questions," Sid said as he started coughing. "I told them that sniper dude drove right into me. I'm sorry for him, but you know—" Sid stopped talking as his coughing increased.
"Hey, what's going on?"
"I can't breathe," he wheezed.
Artie lowered the bed as his monitors started beeping. "Sid, your airway is closing up. I need to intubate to help you breathe, okay?" Artie tried to get the supplies open with one hand and cursed. "Kurt! Mercedes! Someone get in here please!"
"He's coding!" Heather said, walking into the room.
"I can't bag him."
"What's going on?" Kurt asked, putting on gloves as he walked in.
"His throat's closing up and I can't intubate with one hand."
"If he burned his trachea, intubation wouldn't have worked anyway," Kurt said, listening to his heart and lungs.
"His pulse ox is down to 84. I'll grab a crike kit."
"Too risky, he may be anticoagulated from Crohn's meds. Heather, get me the fiber optic. Artie, you're injured. We got this. Someone get me a six-oh ET tube," Kurt said.
Artie stepped to the side and watched them work. "Come on guys, stats are dropping."
Kurt glared at Artie and kept working. "Got the tubes in," he said as he started pumping air into the tubes.
"Stats are coming up," Artie said. "92 percent. Nice save Kurt."
"It shouldn't have even come to this. Where the hell is Mercedes?"
Across the hospital, Rachel went into Jordan's trauma room. "Hey? What are you doing?" she asked, seeing Jordan getting dressed to leave. "You're up next for CT."
"I told you I didn't want it."
"No, you said you couldn't afford it and now you can."
"I can't, okay? Devin and me, we're taking the last Greyhound to Atlanta and it leaves in 30 minutes. I'm fine. Really."
"Well, we need to be sure. It'll take an hour tops."
"But I told you, the bus leaves in a half hour," Jordan said, grabbing some stuff and throwing it into her backpack before slinging it over her shoulder.
"So catch another one. Jordan, I will put you both up in a hotel if your CT is clear. What's the rush?" Rachel asked.
Jordan sighed. "Devin? Where are you going?"
"Why do you care?"
"I got us bus tickets to Atlanta."
"Well I'm not going," he said, trying to leave the hospital.
"Devin, wait," Rachel said, going after him as Jordan screamed out in pain.
"Stop yelling!"
"She's in pain," Rachel said, going over to her. "Look at me."
"Is she going to be okay?"
"Can you tell me your name?" Rachel asked.
"I can't. I can't."
"Can you tell me his name?" Rachel asked, pointing to Devin.
"I don't know. I don't know at all."
"She's having a brain bleed. Call CT and tell Brody to prep the OR," Rachel said to Sam. "I need a gurney please!"
Across the hospital, Artie left Sid's room and Mercedes ran after him. "Hey, I just heard about Sid. I can't believe I missed a burnt airway."
"Well, Sid is stable but I'd avoid Kurt if I were you."
"Well, that's pretty much impossible. I just…thank you for covering my ass."
"It was all Kurt. I couldn't really do much with my hand wrapped up," Artie said, holding it out to show Mercedes as he grabbed a pen with his good hand to write something down.
"I'm so sorry. I feel responsible. I forced you to—"
"How? You don't control me. I went out, I got hurt. That's what happens."
Kurt came out of one of the patient's exam rooms. "Mercedes, I need to speak with you." Artie nodded and walked away. "Where were you?"
"Kurt, I'm sorry. I was with Blaine and—"
"What? Blaine?"
"He's fine. He came in because his just broke his blade."
"So what about before Blaine? Your patient was pulled from a fire. Checking his airway is first-day intern stuff and you're supposed to be a resident in a couple of weeks?"
"I screwed up, I know."
"And you were pissed because you thought he caused the accident and you were wrong. And even if you were right, we treat everybody who comes through those doors the same. No matter what. You got that?"
"I got it."
"Now, his labs show a metabolic acidosis. Be a doctor, run the labs, figure out why," Kurt said as he walked off.
Across the hospital, Brody stepped off the elevator with Rachel. "The craniotomy we performed on Jordan was routine. There were no issues and post-op imaging show no new bleeding. But check this out," he said, holding up a tablet with Jordan's scans on them. "Diffuse atrophy in her cerebral cortex."
"She's 20 with the brain of an 80-year-old."
"This has to be genetic which means she's had it her whole life."
"Her cortisol levels are barely detectable," Rachel said, looking closer at the scans. Maybe that's why she didn't want a CT. She didn't want us to know she was dying."
"Why would she want to hide that?"
"It's a good question."
Brody felt his cell phone start vibrating and he pulled it out. "Hello? Thanks for calling, sir." He nodded at Rachel and walked off. "I wanted to speak with you directly about your son."
Rachel looked up from the tablet and saw Artie staring at his phone. "You alright, Artie?"
"Yeah, I mean, I can't intubate, I can't practice, but other than that, I'm all good."
"What you did was pretty stupid."
"I wanted to save the guy."
"And that's the firefighter's job. You save your patients by what you do here in the hospital. And if you ever want to be a surgeon, your hands are your franchise. You can't be rash in the field."
"I guess I did get a little overzealous."
"Well, sometimes we need to be shaken back into reality. I'm glad you're okay," Rachel said, grabbing a book as she started flipping through it.
Kurt pulled back one of the exam room curtains and saw Blaine in the hospital bed with one of the nurses. "Thanks for the heads up."
"I didn't get hurt, I just busted my blade in the race. Mercedes already called ortho to get a new one and I didn't want to bother the chief resident," Blaine said.
"Busted, huh? How'd you do?"
"Well, I finished the course. Ropes, tire, belly crawl…left it all on the field. Including my leg."
"I'm proud of you," Kurt said as he sat down. "I wouldn't have expected anything less. But Blaine, just remember, the training program only take the top 10 percent. I just don't want you getting your hopes up too high."
"You know what's funny? I don't even care. I felt like a Ranger again. I think that's worth more than anything."
"So all of this had nothing to do with me making chief resident. Because I was worried – I didn't know if—"
"Kurt, you have to stop walking on eggshells around me. I'm thrilled and proud of you," Blaine said, reaching out to take his hand. "Your wins are my wins. And vice versa. We're a team."
"I know. And I feel the same way. I just…I'm sorry for hovering. Old habits die hard."
"You still don't let your sister drive and she's 37."
"She's a terrible driver. Somebody's gonna get hurt."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Blaine said with a smile.
"I gotta run. But you can crash in my office until your prosthetic is ready," Kurt said, standing up.
"Your office? Look at you."
"Perks of being chief resident," Kurt said, opening the curtains to leave.
In Afghanistan, Puck walked over to where Finn was standing. "I hate this place."
Finn looked up from where he was. "Puck, take it easy."
"Take it easy? You could stand to take it less easy."
"What did I do?"
"Aren't you scared?"
"Yeah."
"Then why don't you act like it?"
"What good what that do?"
"So I don't feel like a coward for regretting to be here," Puck said.
"You wish you hadn't come?"
"Yes. I mean, Ali, I want to save him, but I'm feeling guilty and stupid for leaving my family. Aren't you?"
"Yeah, but I came because I wanted to help you."
"I wish you would stop saying that. It puts all this pressure on me."
"What pressure?" Finn asked, feeling confused.
"You're always reminding me that I saved you, I helped you. That you would have killed yourself without me."
"Because it's true."
"Okay, but it makes me responsible for you. I can't do that anymore, Finn. I can't do that. I have three kids that I have to take care of."
"You don't have to take care of me."
"You're here because of me! That makes me responsible for you. If you die or if you get messed up again—"
"I won't."
"You don't know that. You really don't know that. Stop playing like you're a cowboy where everything's gonna be cool. You don't know."
Riley came back into the tent. "Humvee's 20 yards away. My guys will cover you. Stay low, run fast, don't trip. Let's go."
"Look, Finn—"
"No, let's get him on gurney. I want to get out of here and I want to go home."
"I'm getting out of here in 30 seconds!" Riley yelled into the tent. "If you're not out here, you're on your own.
"Please, god, get us out of here," Puck said, lifting up Ali's gurney as him and Finn ran out from the tent and to the Humvee. Gunfire rang out as soon as they opened the tent flaps.
Back at the hospital, Rachel walked into Jordan's room. "Hey, honey. How you feeling?"
"Tired. They said I can't leave for a few days."
"Well, you're gonna need some time to recover from your surgery. This shot of cortisone should help you feel better. When were you diagnosed with adrenoleukodystrophy?" Rachel asked, Jordan looking up at her with panicked eyes. "I saw the brain atrophy on your CT scan."
"My, uh, my pediatrician detected it when I was five. And my parents got pregnant and decided to have Devin for the bone marrow transplant I need to save my life someday."
"So he was a savior sibling."
"Then, you know, my mom died during labor and he was – he was just so lost. Right from go."
"I'm sorry, Jordan. I need to know if you've had any symptoms."
"Not until a few months ago."
"So why don't you ask your brother for the bone marrow transplant?"
"I didn't think he could handle it. He's so angry at the world."
"This is why you wanted him to meet your uncle, right? While you still can? Jordan, is protecting a lie worth dying for? Because, honey, that day is coming."
"I've lied to him his whole life. I can't tell him."
"So let me do it," Rachel said.
Across the hallway, Mercedes was in Sid's trauma room. "This doesn't make any sense. He should be breathing off the excess acid, but his pH levels just keep dropping," she said as the monitor started beeping quickly again. "Damn it. We lost his pulse. Get a crash cart in here. Come on, Sid," she said as she started doing chest compressions.
Across town, Santana and her partner drove to the spot where there was supposed to be someone. "Dispatch said it was a cardiac arrest?" she asked, looking around.
"Yeah, a man down in a Ford pickup."
"You sure we got the right spot?"
A few yards away, someone picked up a gun and aimed it at the ambulance. Whoever it was pulled the trigger and the glass from the windshield shattered.
At the hospital, one of the cops who was there got a notice from his radio. "Shots fired. We have paramedics under fire at north side warehouse," dispatch said over his walkie talkie as he passed by the nurses' station. "Believed to be a sniper."
Rachel heard the last part and dropped her pen, turning around to face Sam with a horrified look on her face.
"Officer, where was that?" Sam asked. "Did they say what paramedic?"
"Did they say what rig?" Rachel asked.
"Not at liberty, ma'am," the police officer responded as he started walking away.
"Look, part of our team is out there," Rachel said, following after him.
Sam pulled his phone out from a pocket on his scrubs and dialed Santana's number.
"What's going on?" Kurt asked, coming into Sid's room. "I thought everything was under control?"
"He's coded from severe acidosis," Mercedes said, continuing to pump at his chest. "I still don't know what's causing it and increasing his respirations didn't help."
"Lab just called. Lactic acid is 25," Heather said.
"25? I've never heard of lactic acid that high."
"It's like he's suffocating but his blood oxygen level's normal," Kurt said.
"That's it," Mercedes said. "He's got plenty of oxygen in his blood but his cells can't use it. Open a cyanide kit now!"
"Cyanide poisoning? From the plastic burning in the car," Kurt said, shaking his head. "We need to get this in him quick."
The two of them put the antidote's into his IV and waited. "Stop the CPR," Kurt said as Heather kept bagging him.
"Nothing's happening," Mercedes said.
"Give the meds a chance to work."
Mercedes waited a few seconds longer. "There. I feel something," she said, taking his pulse. "Monitor shows sinus. He's back."
"That was being a doctor," Kurt said as he walked out of the trauma room.
In the lobby, the TV was turned on to a news station and the anchor was reading the most recent information about the accident. "We are hearing that a paramedic has been shot by the sniper on the north side. No news on their condition at this time."
"Dispatch is saying that one of them got hit. They don't know who but they're heading in now," Sam said to Rachel.
"How can they not know?"
"I don't know. I can only tell you what they told me."
Artie watched from afar as Jesse told the first victim's wife that her husband didn't make it. He offered a few words of condolences and left the break room. "Hey, uh, is that the first sniper victim's wife?" Artie asked as Jesse started walking away.
"Yeah. They were married two weeks ago. Postponed their honeymoon because of his job. They're supposed to be in Hawaii right now."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I just feel weird and guilty about being upset."
"Don't. Telling the families is the hardest part of the job."
"Does it ever get easier?"
"I wish I could tell you yes."
One of the ambulances pulled up to the hospital and unloaded the newest sniper victim.
"Santana!" Sam said.
"I'm fine."
"What the hell happened?" Rachel asked.
"We got called into a setup. Son of a bitch coward shot Sara, blew out our windshield."
"Let's get Sara to CT and call into the OR," Rachel said.
"I'm fine. It's just my arm," she said as the other paramedics started taking her there.
"Wait, are you okay?" Sam asked, taking Santana's hand.
"I'm fine."
"Because I—"
"Not now, Sam. I have to debrief the cops. We'll talk about it later, okay?" she said as she ran off.
In Afghanistan, they made it back to base safely and were working on Ali's surgery. "How's Riley?" Puck asked.
"He's good. It was a through and through wound," Finn said, getting the surgical gown put on. "He'll be limping for a few days but he'll be okay. How's Ali?"
"Getting there. I'm suturing in the outflow graft now."
Finn nodded and walked over, accepting the tools from one of the nurses and Puck looked up at him. "I'm sorry about before. You know, I was scared and I didn't want to die. I don't wanna be here."
"I don't wanna be here, either. I'm sorry I wanted to help you."
"That's not what I'm saying," Puck said.
"It's exactly what you're saying. Puck, I get it. I came back from the war. I was drunk, I was a mess. I was out of my mind."
"You don't have to—"
"You asked me if I was scared. You know what I'm scared of? I'm scared of hurting Rachel again. But I'm just not sure if I'm helping or ruining her life. I love her. She's my family. And yet, I came here. I'm about to be a dad. If I die…that's what I'm scared of. Not being there for Rachel and the baby. I just wanna go home."
"Yeah, me too. You wanna help me with this drive line?"
"Oh yeah."
"Okay, let's start at 6000 RPM," Puck said.
"It's all hooked up," Finn said as the machine beeped. "Flow is four liters. You did it, Puck. Nice job. Glad you came back now?" he asked, bumping fists with him.
"Now let's close his chest and get the hell out of here," Puck said as the electricity started to falter.
Back at the hospital, Rachel was talking to Devin about Jordan's condition. "So she was born with it? She's had it her whole life?"
"Yeah. It's a rare genetic disease that attacks your brain, your adrenal glands, your bones. And it's only gonna get worse."
"Why didn't Jordan tell me she was sick?"
"Because your mom died. She thought it would be too hard on you. She didn't want you to worry about her."
"Why does everybody lie to me?"
"It's not a question of lying. It's protecting," Rachel said.
"They told me my mom died when I was little. Then later I found out she died having me. When my dad was sick, he said he'd be fine. And six months later, he was dead. Jordan said she'd take care of me, tried to dump me on my uncle and then hide the fact that she's dying. That's not lying?"
"Devin, I am so sorry. I know that this must be—"
"No you don't! Screw this family. Screw everyone," he said, pushing himself out of the chair.
"Devin, wait. Listen to me. Your sister needs your bone marrow or she will die."
"Yeah? Well then she should have asked," he said as he walked out of the hospital.
Rachel sighed and Brody came up next to her. "He's not gonna give Jordan the bone marrow?"
"He's too angry. And if we don't get through to him, he's gonna lose her," Rachel said as she walked away.
Brody followed Devin outside. "You waiting on a ride?"
"Don't even talk. I'm not doing it."
"Okay. If that's what you want."
"You have no idea what this is like," Devin said.
"Yeah, but I do know what it feels like to question who you are. That part I get. I was adopted and my parents were really great. Told me about it, talked to me about it. I even had pictures of my birth parents so I knew what they looked like and had a sense of them. But…anyway," Brody said as he started walking back into the hospital.
"But what?" Devin asked.
"You wonder about your mom, what she was like, what your life would be like if she was still here?"
"Of course."
"Me too. Me too," Brody said, moving to sit down next to Devin. "Don't get me wrong. I love my parents. I couldn't feel happier or luckier to have my family but still, I can't help but wonder…what would my life be like if I'd grown up with my birth mother."
"Did you ever meet her?"
"She sent me a letter once. I was in my residency and she wanted to see me. I was torn. I felt like I would be betraying my parents, even though they encouraged me to do it. I just…I don't know. Maybe I was scared. Maybe I didn't want to be disappointed."
"So, what happened?"
"I sent her a letter back."
"What'd she say?"
"Well, that's the thing. I waited almost a year to send it. And by then, she had passed away. You do what you need to do, Devin. It's your life. But I can tell you there are some choices that are final. And you never get a second chance. And I gotta say, I would kill for a do over.
At the end of his shift, Kurt and Blaine were leaving the hospital together. "So, you want to move out of our apartment?"
"It's stupid to rent when we could own. And it would be all ours. Chief resident doubles my salary. I've been looking online," Kurt said, handing Blaine some papers.
"I am kind of tired of our neighbors and their yappy dachshunds."
"Yeah, is there a better reason to move? I want to kill those things."
"I'm seeing a lot of picket fences. And a swing set," Blaine said, looking up from one of the pages.
"Yeah, for the nieces and nephews. And maybe one day…I don't know."
Blaine smiled and pulled out his cell phone that was ringing. "This is it. This is my commander." He looked at Kurt, who smiled and nodded. "Captain Anderson here. Really? Yes, sir. Very good news. Yes, sir. Really? No, uh…thank you, sir," Blaine said, hanging up the phone.
"You did it!" Kurt said, throwing his arms around his boyfriend as he kissed him. "I'm so proud of you. Power couple right here, right? Let's go look at houses. I'm so pumped."
"Kurt, I made the top one percent. They want me to train the trainers."
"Are you kidding? A promotion? That's even better!"
"No, no it isn't. I wouldn't work in Texas anymore. I'd have to move to South Carolina," Blaine said, causing the smile on Kurt's face to fade quickly.
In the break room, Santana was watching the TV. "The death total of the San Antonio Sniper is now at six. Police are theorizing there are two snipers working in tandem, attacking first responders and shutting down the panicked city."
Sam came into the break room and sat down next to her. "I gotta say, Santana, when I heard your ambulance got shot up, I—"
"I know," she said, reaching out to take his hand. "I was so scared. This kind of thing really makes you think about you feel."
"I couldn't take it if anything ever happened to you."
"I couldn't take it if anything ever happened to you," she whispered back to him, tears starting to form.
"Artie, where have you been? I was paging you!" Mercedes said, following him into the elevator.
"Yeah, I need to find Rachel," he said, trying to loosen the bandage on his hand.
"Artie, I'm so sorry. I know we haven't been seeing eye-to-eye, but I—"
"Stop!" he said, cutting her off. "Something's wrong."
"Let me, okay?" Mercedes said, taking his hand to unwrap the bandage. She pulled it off and gasped. "Oh my god."
Artie's hand was blistering and bubbling.
"I can't – I can't move my fingers."
"It's okay. It's gonna be okay," Mercedes said, trying to keep calm.
Brody walked into the scrub room and Rachel followed him in. "Hey," she said with a smile on her face. "I got your message. How'd it go?"
"Great. Got the marrow. Devin was a perfect match for Jordan."
"Just like her parents planned," Rachel said, breathing a sigh of relief as Brody washed his hands.
"Just not exactly how they planned. You think you can protect your children. Then life happens."
"I'm starting to see that," Rachel said, looking down at her hands.
"There's something else," he said, shaking off his hands before grabbing for some towels. "I settled with Malik's family. It's over. I gave them everything that they were asking for."
"Which was…?"
"Everything I have. My insurance only covered so much."
"Wow. So, you're wiped out?"
"Yeah. I am. And it's the best decision I ever made. I feel like I can breathe again for the first time in weeks. And it's not going to get Malik back everything that he lost, obviously. But it will help keep him comfortable."
"Okay," Rachel said with a smile. "So, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for the past few weeks, but, um…" Rachel said as she started shaking. "I didn't think it was the right time." A confused look crossed her face. "Ye….ye—"
"Rachel!" Brody said, reaching out to catch her before she could fall to the ground. "Help! I need help in here!" he said, trying to wake her up.
In Afghanistan, Finn finally had a signal again. "Finally. We got coverage," he said, clicking on the messages from Rachel. He clicked on the sonogram picture and watched the video that Rachel sent him of the baby, a smile growing on his face.
"Did you hear?" Puck asked, coming over to where Finn was standing.
"Hear what?" he asked, unwillingly tearing his eyes away from the video.
"I just talked to Quinn. There's a sniper in San Antonio. Killed six people."
"Oh my god. "
"We need to get the hell out of here."
"Hey, Riley?" Finn asked. "What's the status on that flight? We need to leave."
"Yeah, that ain't happening. Your flight's grounded. All the flights are grounded because of the storm. You aren't leaving. Looks like that damn chip isn't as lucky as you thought."
"I should call Rachel," Finn said, dialing her number as he walked off.
Back at the hospital, Brody, Sam and Santana got Rachel on a gurney and were rushing her to radiology. "I want a stat EKG, EEG and MRI. Send LFTs and co-ags."
On the nurses' station desk, Rachel's phone and bag laid their innocently and her phone started ringing as Finn tried to call her to tell her his bad news.