The hospital was buzzing and Derek felt sorry for the ordinary people who had sick relatives because the press was all over the entrance hall and the receptionists were struggling to cope with the volume of people all clambering for information on Casey. He glanced at the lifts and the stairs and noticed security guards at both. Getting into see Casey via the back door was going to be hard. He looked back towards the receptionists. It would take half an hour to get even close the official way and his family couldn't cope with that kind of delay. Then he spotted a small gift shop in the corner of the reception area and made for it.

Five minutes later, he emerged from the shop with his purchases and left the hospital.

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The hospital security guards/bouncers were having a field day. They liked nothing better than to flex their not inconsiderable muscles and grind heads against brickwork. In particular they liked paparazzi – preferably hot and served on French toast. A couple of the beefcakes had already discharged four enterprising specimens for thinking that they could sneak past them and get up the stairs. Two photographers had tried the old doctor's uniform routine and one dedicated bloodsucker had persuaded his colleague to break his nose for him so that he would end up in triage, behind the initial security cordon.

The reception area was full but they had a fairly easy job recognising their prey that spend long periods of time in the cold and the rain, drinking coffee and scoffing doughnuts, so they all tend to look alike after a while. Currently, the large waiting area was swarming with large, sweaty men of about fifty with cameras around their neck. Otherwise, apart from their own colleagues on the security team, it was mainly normal looking people trying to get help for their own problems.

So when a solid, good-looking guy in his mid-twenties with a plastic ear piece, walkie-talkie, dark shades, a leather jacket and a Canadian accent arrived talking loudly into his cell, the security team knew he was someone.

"I don't give a flying fuck! I want the press out of the reception area now! Have you seen the chaos down here?! Who've you got working for you? Yogi bear?" The shaded guy was shouting into the cell now. "Nah. It can wait an hour or two – OF COURSE I MEAN NOW!" He hung up and walked over to one of the security guards.

"Listen sweet cheeks, if you still want your job tomorrow morning, I suggest you get every one of these vultures out of here in five minutes. And I don't want to hear about anyone's granny getting mowed down in the process, comprendez? Sheez! Am I going to have to do this myself?!"

The security guard wasn't blessed with the largest package of brains, but he knew how to follow orders – and to give them. He barked at his men and they immediately surged on the reception desk in a chain, wiping the whole area clear of pressmen. The disgruntled photographers were herded out of the electric doors and into the parking lot like a mass of lost sheep. The security guard ordered his men to form a line across the entrance, prohibiting the return of said vultures, smiled at his handiwork and returned to the reception area to get the shaded guy's approval.

It wasn't possible. The nurses on reception told him he had had to go and deal with another incident further into the hospital. But they were grateful to have their reception area returned to calm, and one of the nurses was so impressed she gave the security guard her personal cell phone number.

Halfway up the stairs, Derek smirked into his cell phone. "Thanks Lizzie. Sorry if I gave you earache. Tell Nora I'll call as soon as I hear anything." And he closed his cell phone, pulled the plastic key chain from his ear and pushed the children's walkie-talkie further into his pocket.

When the guards had cleared the reception area, Derek had managed to get Casey's location from one of the nurses, so he headed straight up. To his relief it appeared she wasn't in the emergency room, although she was in a high dependency area. That didn't bode well.

He found her corridor easily and saw there were again a collection of security guards waiting outside of her suite. This time he played it by the book and approached the nurse's station.

"I'm here to see Casey McDonald." He announced.

"Isn't everyone?" said the bored nurse.

Derek leaned across the desk. "That may very well be the case, but I'm the one that counts!" he stated firmly. The nurse looked up.

"Name?"

"Derek Venturi." She glanced down a list.

"You aren't on here."

"I don't give a damn. You are going to let me in."

"I'm sorry Mr Venturi but no one goes in without being on the list."
"I'm her brother. Who compiled a list that doesn't include her family?" The nurse looked taken aback.

"I'm sorry. You need to be on the list."

Derek could feel the anger growing in him. "Look. My family are pacing the floor in Canada because no one will tell them what the fuck is wrong with their daughter, so you are going to let me in that room either willingly or I will call the person in charge of this miserable hospital and threaten to sue the fucking pants off him – or her! I can do that. Casey's step-father is a lawyer."

A more senior nurse hearing the commotion approached. "Is there a problem?" she asked, her manner hostile.

"Yeah. I'll say there's a problem. I want to see my sister but apparently because I'm not on some 'list' I'm not allowed."
"You sister is?"

"Casey McDonald."

"And you are?"

"Derek Venturi." Derek saw the look on the nurse's face. "She's my step-sister. Her mother is in Canada but as I live in LA, she asked me to come."

"The list please?" The senior nurse asked her colleague and taking it, glanced down.

"This list came from her management?" she asked. The junior nurse nodded. The senior nurse looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps if we contact Miss McDonald's next-of-kin and ask them for their permission?" she suggested. Derek beamed at her, unleashing the full Venturi charm. "Yes…please…do."

The junior nurse swung round on her chair and pulled Casey's file from an in-tray behind her.

"Who is the next of kin?" The senior nurse said as the other nurse began reading. She looked up.

"Derek Venturi." She said in disbelief.

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Getting past the nurses was one thing. Getting past the security guards was something else. They pulled Casey's manager from the room, a small, fat guy of about forty dripping with gold and heavy on the attitude.

"I gave instructions that Casey was not to be disturbed." He stated when informed that Casey's brother was waiting to see her.

"Let me tell you what you can do with your fucking list and 'instructions'." Derek said ominously. Milo the manager stepped back.

"You need to make an appointment." He said, trying to regain ground.

"Look ass-hole. What kind of manager lets their star's family find out she is ill by watching it on CNN???? What kind of insensitive jerk still hasn't phoned them to tell them how Casey is doing two hours after she is admitted to hospital? And what kind of moron thinks that you can keep her brother from seeing her?" Derek pushed past Milo and stormed through the door. Milo sighed and followed close behind him.