AN: Okay wow I didn't realize how much shorter this chap is until I uploaded it and saw the word count was 1000 less than last chap. Anywho...

Warning: Some serious Perry angst and rage goes down in this chap, so the swearing gets a little intense at one point and there is one use of the F word. Sorry if that offends anyone, but I kept it all really low key and not overly-excessive. In fact I probably don't need the warning, just doing it for safety's sake... Done rambling now...

Chapter 17 – His Flash Bang Rage

Anger is a funny thing. Sometimes anger isn't even really anger at all, but other emotions being disguised as something easier to cope with. Everyone has their own way to deal with anger, be it venting it out of their system or drinking till it becomes something happier or burning it out in aggression and violence. But on top of that anger, there is that anger that is a genuine rage, and when you climax in that you find that area where everything seems to disappear and you blow up like a military grade flash-bang grenade: a blinding light and then that earth-shaking boom that could actually blast the muffins out of Bobbo's greedy death grip.

Maintaining my composure at the time was one of the most difficult things I had ever attempted. I had to do it, there were people watching. My reputation had been damaged enough already in the past month, I was not going to jeopardize it worse. I was sure that the fact I had run down here practically stroking the kid like a puppy, with a look of terror I had only half been able to hide on my face, was already circulating in the hospital's gossip rings. Damn Newbie, this was his fault.

Despite my overwhelming desire to be pacing a hole in the floor of the corridor, I stayed standing perfectly still. My feet were planted apart and my hands were tucked deep into the pockets of my slacks, my expression one of blank seriousness as I stared vacantly ahead. The fact that my hands were tinted scarlet and that there were brilliantly crimson spots shining against the fabric of my dress shirt went completely ignored. As was the growing compulsion to express myself in the only way I could: through destructive anger and the haze of alcohol.

The sheet of Plexiglas in front of me made me feel like I was on display. I knew it was exactly the opposite, since the people on the other side were paying me no heed while my attention was fixated on them. Still I felt like I was in a cage and on the other side of the glass was the entire world, watching as I fought to keep myself in control. It was normally not this difficult, I could take it. I hadn't even been this unstable the last time I had looked through this glass onto a very similar scene less than a month ago, even with the guilt and horror riding on my chest. This time was infinitely worse and I knew why. Because this time I couldn't deny the fact that I was terrified. Or that I cared. Damn Newbie, all his fault.

As hard as I tried to prevent it, in this last month things had changed. I hated change. Life had been easy and comfortable before, everything typical and tolerable in its normality. I had worked to keep things that way but somehow the scales had tipped. Even while I was pushing the kid away to protect him, and me, I had found myself slowly growing more attached to him. The irony of it all was that while Newbie still could not remember me and the memories of our last seven years together were missing, we were undoubtedly closer than ever before.

I had gotten soft. That was all there was to it. It had started with Jack, multiplied with Jennifer, and then another stupid kid with a J name had pushed his way in too. I had tried to keep him at arm's length still – did you, really? – but somehow he had still managed to worm through my defenses. And I was paying for it.

I had let myself get close to someone. And now I was standing outside the OR waiting for the verdict.

My eyes were still trained on the center of the room where the surgeons were clustered around a figure draped in green operation blankets, streaked with that stunning red that seemed to glow off anything it touched. Why was it always so unnaturally bright? It was a deceptively cheery color, so dazzlingly lively and yet so ominously frightening. The body was completely shrouded and beyond my vision, but I could see that open cavity of the chest they were carving into like a Thanksgiving turkey. And for the first time since my internship, I actually felt nauseous at a medical procedure.

Finally I couldn't take it any longer. I turned so quickly I nearly stumbled and then set off down the halls. People all looked away and stepped out of my path as I went and it was a good thing because I might have committed murder if someone hindered me at the moment. I found myself at a familiar room and when I walked in I mercifully found it empty. So I released my tension in a way I hadn't done in a while now.

Nothing was more relaxing to me than hearing the tinkling sound of glass shattering against the plaster wall, or the crunch of a monitor frame splitting through, or the heavy thunk of tables being upended. A rolling chair broke the door off a cabinet, sending a barrage of cylinders raining down onto the linoleum like icicles. A keyboard exploded with the force that it was brought down onto the corner of a counter. A microscope landing on a computer sent chips and gears flying in every direction.

Red faced and panting with the strain, I leaned against the closed door and examined the destroyed remnants of the tech lab. It had been a few years since I had done this, and a small sense of satisfaction filled me to know that I still had it in me. Take that, old age. I had refrained from breaking through any of the windows or doors simply because it was still visiting hours meaning that the possibility of me hitting someone on the other side and causing a lawsuit was much higher. But overall, I felt steadier now that I had burned off so much anger and fear, so I was scowling slightly less as I stepped out into the hall.

"What did you - ?" I was greeted by the slack-jawed techie who seemed to hibernate in that room. He was new, (the old techie who was used to my doing this had had a complete mental breakdown the previous year and been found running around the car park naked, hugging a microscope and singing Sound of Music at the top of his lungs, and had consequently been carted off to a fluffy padded cell), and clearly horrified by the damage. "That equipment is vital. It needs to be replaced and functioning, now."

"Wayner," I said firmly, jerking him out of his mini-freak-out. "It'll be replaced by tomorrow."

"Yeah, so what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?" Wayner said half-hysterically.

I pretended to think about it. "How about, oh I dunno, go home and iron the twists out of your panties?" I suggested with heavy sarcasm. When he didn't budge I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. "I mean it, Whiner, ga-het yourself outta my face." The techie glared at me, frowning, and then with a noise of disgust he blew past me, bumping me roughly with his shoulder as he went.

Shaking my head, I headed back to the OR. It had been an hour since I'd left so I wasn't horribly surprised to see that the room was empty when I stopped at the window. However I was a little anxious that the reason it was now empty was not a good one. The lead surgeon spotted me and came over quickly. "He's still hanging in there," he said and I gave a curt nod, touching my nose with my thumb and crossing my arms again. "He's in post-op."

"Did you get him fixed?" I asked bluntly.

"Well the anaphylaxis responded to the medication and he's free of the bronchial edema, and we've drained the fluid from his lungs," the surgeon explained. And here comes the 'but'… "However because of the seizing, his ribs were seriously moved and had to be realigned. Also the pressure from his ribs collapsed his right lung. We were able to re-inflate it and it is working again and should be fine." He paused here and I braced myself. Oh God no, not a second round of inevitably worse 'buts'…

"Go on," I prompted sharply when he didn't speak right away.

"The medication given to him to treat his arrhythmia is what set off the allergic reaction, as we found out on pumping his stomach, but because it was not allowed to do its job his heart was still really weak. As we were closing up the surgery he went into cardiac arrest. We saved him, but now he's unresponsive. He's gone comatose."

I think the surgeon might have still been talking, but I zoned out there. Unresponsive. Comatose. Between the stress of the previous head trauma and being cut off from oxygen for almost two minutes and his second heart failure, his brain hadn't been able to hack it any longer. It didn't take my superior intelligence to realize that the chances of coming out of this coma were a lot slimmer than last time. This time I may very well have lost Newbie for good.

No, no, not this way. This can't be how Newbie goes. He wouldn't give up now. He was a stubborn, persistent little girl. That much was obvious by the fact that after years he still tailed me, expecting me to acknowledge that he was like a surrogate son to me even though I had never given any hint of complying with that inclination. Newbie was a fighter. He would come out of it.

Right now there was something else in that information that had caught my attention and I knew where I needed to go. Without bothering to see if the surgeon actually was still talking to me, I walked away. I went up to the next floor and stood at the nurses' station until I saw my target appear at the end of the hall. Once he spotted me he tried to turn and run but I stopped him with a whistle and approached with the purpose and attack of a bull.

"What in the hell were you thinking?" I shouted, making the intern shrink back slightly. "What sort of moronic, incompetent, asinine imbecile are you? I leave you a patient for twenty, I repeat twenty minutes, and you still almost killed him."

"How was I supposed to know?" the intern said and I could hear the hint of defensiveness in his voice. Ooh, this one had the semblance of a backbone.

"How? Well there are those pretty, colorful papers we hang on that clipboard at the end of the bed. Us doctors call them 'charts.' And if you had taken the time to just peruse through them you would have realized that your patient was severely allergic to the medication that you stuffed down his throat."

The intern straightened up a little. "Well he should have said something. He's a doctor, he should know."

"He has amnesia, ya fuckin' dumbass!" I snapped, screaming at him before I could get a hold on myself.

Apparently swearing really got on this guy's case because he was quite suddenly squaring off with me, his face inches away from mine and angry, although nowhere near as angry as I was still. One of his hands pushed against my shoulder with a sneer. "So it's my fault that his attending took him out of the hospital all day in the middle of autumn and then brought him back horribly sick, before dashing out and tossing him off on the first intern he could find?" he snapped back bitterly. This time his palm landed on my pectoral. I was just begging him to go for a third and see what happened, especially after what he'd said. "It must be my fault, 'cause God forbid the great Dr. Jackass Cox make a mistake. Especially when it comes to your lil whippin' bitch, Dorian."

The second those fingertips met with my chest the world vanished. Everything was bleached white and silent. It was hard to tell how much time had passed because time seemed to be non-existent in this place, but eventually I returned. The first thing I was aware of was the fact that my head felt like it was splitting. Then the loud noises of clustering people, which contributed to my headache. And then there was a stinging pain radiating through my hand and wrist.

Vision was the last thing to clear up and I was still standing in the middle of the hall at Sacred Heart. There were a few people gathered around, although they were still keeping their distance, and they were staring at my feet. I glanced down and saw the intern huddled in front of me with his hands clasped over his face, blood pouring between his fingers from his clearly broken nose. Growling as understanding came to me, I met the guy's watery gaze. "Internship suspended. Take a year off to learn how to read the damn charts and if you can get that down then maybe you can give this doctor thing another shot at another hospital."

I made to walk away, pausing to point at a nurse and then at the curled up ex-intern. She nodded and hurried over to help him up and down to the ER where he could get his face fixed up. Then I headed for my office, Ted falling into step beside me, scratching at the hair on one side of his head with the opposite hand. It was a completely ridiculous position that made him look like some sort of clueless ape. Of course for Sweats, that might be considered a step up.

"Uh, Dr. Cox, you know he could–"

"Another word and you're joining that intern," I said. The sad excuse for a lawyer shut up instantly, wiping at the sweat on his forehead with his jacket sleeve. "He's not going to sue because he knows that he could be hit with malpractice charges for what he did and be blacklisted if this thing ends up in court. Now leave."

Ted wandered off and I managed to get to my office without any more interruption. I needed a break from all this or I was going to honestly kill someone this time. I snatched up my jacket and keys, and then dashed out to the car park while ignoring the shouts I recognized as Carla's that were aimed at me. Throwing myself into my car, I flew out of the park and made for the safety of home.