auther's note: I am not by any means an expert in the medical field... if you are, please overlook my ignorance... hope you all enjoy.
Everyone was working franticly around him but Peter sat still, as if suspended in time … his eyes on his friend's face... The construction workers moved the debris that held Neal on his side first … hoping to ease the strain on his hips, they turned him carefully to his back… now they tried to work a jack under the slab of rock without letting it shift… even unconscious Neal cried out when the stone moved even slightly…their movements tense and nervous. They weren't used to lives depending on their actions.
The paramedics' actions were no less rapid and tense but their faces were calm. They lay an oxygen mask over his face, inserted an IV, and slipped a brace around his neck and a splint on his arm, called out numbers as they rapidly checked vitals… In the midst of the controlled chaos around them…Peter sat unmoving, Neal's head resting on his knee. He held the young man's head between his hands, watching the ashen face tense and relax as pain swept through his body in waves. He murmured soft words of encouragement, hoping the young man could hear him. Neal tensed again and opened his eyes. Peter almost laughed when the kid forced a half smile, his gaze surprisingly clear.
"If you are planning to tell me you're fine… don't." To his relief the blue eyes sparked with a hint of humor, before a wave of pain drove it away. Then Neal's attention left his face… searching for something "Don't try to move…we're working on getting you out. Hang in there… ok?" The nod was miniscule
"Where's… em...mily?"
"She's safe…" the feeble smile widened in relief. "She's with Reynolds" he ground the name between his teeth. The medic, a blonde, blued eyed kid that didn't look more than 20, swooped in then.
"Sir, can you give me your name?" he shone a small light in Neal's eyes causing him to flinch away. "Can you understand me? I need you to squeeze my hand if you do." Neal's turned his eyes away from the kid, giving Peter a look…is this guy serious? That look…it gave Peter hope for the first time since they found him.
"I know it's difficult for you, but try to be cooperative." Peter's voice was far from light but he tried.
"Can…n't" he whispered. Each syllable punctuated by a small wheezing gasp "Squeeze… your… hand" the words startled the kid
"Why not?" he asked warily but he looked pleased with his patient's responsiveness…
"Brok...en…"Neal struggled for air… "Felt… it" the kid smiled gently...
"What about this one?" he took the right hand, smiling, obviously trying to distract him from his agony. The look Neal sent the kid was resigned… and sad. His friend answered for him…
"That one was injured before…"
Neal choked, a pitiful strangled sound…and the hands were immediately forgotten as the kid pressed a stethoscope to his chest muttering about breath sounds, oxygen levels and pulse rate… he glanced at Peter and said softly "keep him as quiet as you can." All teasing gone from his voice. The young man turned away demanding how much longer from the work crew, his voice tense.
Peter regarded his friend… Neal met his gaze, shivering. The older man tucked the emergency blanket closer around his shoulders. Then he took his right hand… "Just try to rest" a nod, his eyes almost drifting closed… Suddenly they flew wide open, his face twisted with fear.
"G...got to…tell… him...g-got to…" he wheezed harshly "Em-emly…tell him…keep her…keep her...safe."
"Shhh… its ok… Neal... remember I told you, she's safe with her dad."
'No. Wil…Wilson …said…" he gasped…fighting for air in tiny rattling breaths… "Pet-Peter…he…sai-d … teach… him…lesson" he forced the words out before succumbing to another fit of coughing.
The medic was back now... "Sir… Mr. Collins… I need you to try to take some slow deep breaths…don't try to talk any more…"he glanced at the O2 monitor in his hand… then to his partner "he's at 74%... I'm going to give him one minute to come back up then we'll have to intubate…" his attention came back to his patient… "That's it stay calm… just breathe." Peter couldn't move…as their movements became frantic. He caught snatches of their hurried conversation "Bp is dropping… pulse 140… I keep losing radial pulse" Peter kept his eyes locked on Neal's frightened stare… to his surprise the hand in his shifted slightly…
"Peter…name…Wil- Wilson…"
"The man who brought you here?" a tiny shift of his head before his eyes slid shut.
"We got the slab up!" someone shouted triumphantly. Then "we need bolt cutters over here!"
Peter risked a look… a sliver of rusted iron nearly an inch wide was wedged though Neal's right knee, bent where it struck the floor underneath testifying to the force with which it had been driven through the flesh. The sight of it was bad…sickening, but it was his left leg that made his friend gag… it was definitely broken…splinters of bone protruding from the flesh in several places… The medics cut away the pant swiftly revealing skin that was a horrible patchwork of black, blue, green, red and grey-white, blood spilling out of ragged wounds around white edges of bone. They wrapped a pressure bandage around the crushed limb before sliding a splint in place…
Then he was free and Peter was pushed away as they prepared to move him.
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Thomas sat in the Emergency Room cubical holding his daughter…waiting to see a doctor. Emily nestled against his chest, sleeping contentedly, one arm wrapped around a teddy bear the paramedics gave her. Her right arm sported a bandage…the cut would most likely need a couple of stitches, another bandage adorned her left calf... covering an ugly scrape the size of her daddy's palm. She had a few smaller scrapes and some bruises. As far as anyone could tell that was the extent of her injuries. Her father's gratitude for that was immeasurable… he sighed at the thought of the object of that gratitude.
The glimpse into the trauma room as he and Emily were escorted from the ambulance to the cubical lingered in his mind…ten or twelve people huddled over a terrifyingly still figure…torn dirty pieces of clothing scattered across the floor… blood dripping from the table… at the center of the storm a bruised impassive face… and that bloody wrist that would stay with Reynolds until the day he died. He kept walking… he didn't want to see anymore…
He could still hear the commotion down the hall as the emergency response team fought to keep the man alive… a fight that he doubted they would win. Sitting on the curb earlier he witnessed the paramedic's dash to the waiting ambulance. They paused a moment just shy of the vehicle to slide a vent tube down the young man's throat and inject something into the IV line. He looked like he was already gone. Worse, was the look Reynolds got of his fellow agent's face …pale and set like stone, watching them work, a look of terrible grief in his eyes.
How many times in the early hours of the morning had Burke told him his friend would not kidnap a child… begged him to consider Caffrey might be in danger…how many times over the last weeks had he tried to reason with Thomas that there was more to Caffrey than he had read, urged him to at least read the rest of the file… or better yet just talk to him. Pleaded with him to treat him like a person…? Now he let this happen… Now he would probably never know the kind of man he really was.
That wasn't true…Reynolds shifted to look at his baby… he knew the kind of man Caffrey was. This precious gift in his arms told him everything he really needed to know. Their brief conversation played through his mind in an endless playback
"Why did you protect my baby?"
"She's… thr-three… an' …daddy … needs …her…" What did that mean? It couldn't mean the man did it for him, could it? After all he did … all he said to him… about him. Wearily he closed his eyes…the broken arm fumbling over the stone…blood dripping from the torn wrist…Thomas snapped his eyes open. It would be a long time before he could close his eyes without seeing that.
The doctor came in then, gently examining Emily's arm and leg. He smiled at her, and patted her head. He gave her a mild sedative before administering four stitches and ordering a CT scan …just in case, he said.
When they were released an hour later the trauma room down the hall was silent and empty.
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"Family of Nicholas Collins?" the doctor's look was tense when Peter stood. She shook his hand curtly giving him a doubtful look.
"Different fathers" he answered her look. It wasn't a lie, he told himself and he didn't have the strength to argue with her. She nodded and directed him to the conference room.
She regarded him a moment before she began "I am sorry… we have been unable to stabilize Mr. Collins…" Peter took a deep breath steadying his voice
"What does that mean?"
"His injuries are extensive… several broken ribs resulting in critical damage to his lungs and the soft tissue around them, his left lung is the worst…suffering severe bruising and crush trauma as well as puncture injuries from the ribs . His liver and kidneys are significantly bruised as well. There is considerable internal bleeding. His left humorous is broken… his right knee has serious cartilage damage and the tendon is severed, but the bones are intact… both hips are dislocated and the soft tissue around the left one is in bad shape, muscles and ligaments torn loose from the joint … his left femur is shattered and the leg was badly crushed…blood loss is, of course a life-threatening concern as is the trauma to his left side… including his lung…Fortunately the head injury seems to be insignificant." she paused, her motherly face softening at the expression in Peter's eyes... "I'm sorry… I know this is a lot to take in."
He swallowed hard "so… all of this means…? You said you haven't been able to stabilize him… what does this mean… for N-Nick?" she sighed deeply…
"I'm sure his previous doctor mentioned the stress the injury put on his heart…'
"Yes…" he wasn't sure he wanted to hear
"With the further damage to his lungs, they are not processing oxygen effectively even with the aid of the ventilator… add the blood loss and the incredible level of pain….the stress is increased dramatically…" she lay her hand on his arm gently "His heart is failing…"
"So he's …"
"He is fighting…harder than anyone I've ever seen… trying his best to hang on…" she smiled sadly "given his injuries he should be in coma … or…" she shook her head in wonder " he has briefly regained consciousness three times since he's been in my care… but despite his will to live and our best efforts…his blood pressure has repeatedly dropped to extremely dangerous levels… and his oxygen concentration is far too low and will not come up, even intubated… I'm afraid he may already be suffering from significant oxygen deprivation" she looked Peter straight in the eye at the sharp intake of breath "I want you to understand that while his condition is very grave, I am not willing to give up on him just yet, not when he is fighting so hard, however the only chance I see of saving him will require an incredibly drastic action… not one I suggest lightly…and the decision needs to be made immediately."
"Ok?"
"I recommend putting him on a cardiopulmonary bypass." She hesitated… "This decision requires a family member's consent… it is not without significant potential complications, normally we only use it during surgery but… it will allow his heart to rest… his lungs to heal a little…"
"And if we don't do it."
"He will be dead within the hour."