Sorry for the delay . . . Work was crazy, and as a result my sleep schedule was heavily disrupted. If you hadn't heard by now, I can't write when I am tired. Seriously - it sucks! I had only needed to do some editing yesterday, but even copying the changes that I had already made was too much for my poor, sleep-deprived, overworked brain. Anyway, here it is . . . I hope it is worth the wait!
WARNINGS: VERY STRONG LANGUAGE, SOME VIOLENCE, and GRAPHIC IMAGES . . . (If you cannot read the sight of blood, you may want to rethink this one.)
"I found her!"
In the excitement of his discovery Tim yelled instead of using his comlink. Dick clawed his way through brambles, its thorns tearing at his jacket and snagging his jeans; his hands were bleeding by the time he reached the other side. Where was his legendary grace now as he clambered over rocks in his desperation to reach her?
Red Robin was hovering protectively over her, but didn't touch her as he waited for Dick to arrive.
"She's not conscious," he told Dick, worriedly.
"But she's alive?" He had believed this, just moments ago; that she was alive, but not conscious . . . Now, kneeling next to her, he needed the extra reassurance.
Red Robin nodded. "She's breathing," he said. "A bit labored, but that's to be expected if she has broken ribs."
Elle lay on her side, one hand extended out into the water. No wonder it had been so hard to see her lying there. She was half hidden by knee-high, winter grass, and covered in mud and blood; even the still visible bits of her white robe could have been confused with a patch of snow. Dick was suddenly worried about hypothermia. She was out here in nothing but that damned silk robe that only hit her mid-thigh, and as he and Tim slowly rolled her onto her back; he saw that beneath it was just a thin tanktop and matching underwear. She had obviously been dressed for bed when the hitman broken in.
"There's ice in her hair," Tim announced. He grimaced. "And blood," he added, when his hand came away damp and sticky.
Dick felt the injury. It was already clotting, but then Elle healed so quickly and so well, that he wondered about the initial severity of it. His heart had skipped a beat when he had finally pushed back her tangled hair and caught a glimpse of her face. It also was streaked with mud and covered in blood.
Dick tore a strip off of his shirt and soaked it in the icy water; using it to clean off her face enough that he could determine the damage. She flinched away from the cold, but didn't awaken. The damage wasn't as bad as he had guessed. There were cuts that were already scabbed over, and he thought that maybe her nose had been, if not broken, at least bloodied. Most of the blood had come from that particular injury. Mottled bruises along her jawline looked over a day old, but he knew for a fact it had been received over the course of the night.
The worst of it was her fractured cheekbone. It was still swollen and a deep blue-black color. It had been received too recently and was too severe for her amazing healing abilities to have done much for it. He tugged up the edge of her tanktop and glimpsed blue-green mottling that began on her side and extended onto her back. She had rolled away at the point of impact, and likely lessened the potential damage. Her left wrist and pointer finger of that hand were swollen and bruised as well. The wrist, Dick judged to be sprained, but the finger he suspected was broken.
Other than that, she had fading bruises on her arms and legs. Unless there was something hidden, or the head injury was more severe than anticipated, Dick thought she should be all right . . . eventually.
There wasn't a word to describe the relief that flooded his system. She would live!
Now, to get her to wake up . . .
He tapped her face, and lay a portion his wet shirt over the swollen area. Elle moaned this time; turning her head away from the cold cloth.
"Elle? Baby, can you hear me," Dick crooned. "Open your eyes for me."
Eyelashes fluttered and suddenly her eyes popped open in a panic as she remembered the events of the night. Dick caught her wrists as she flailed in an attempt to protect herself. He didn't want her to injure herself further by accident.
"Elle! It's me! It's Dick," he said loudly. "And look, Red Robin, too!"
"Dick?" She blinked; dazed, and struggled to sit up.
"Easy, baby," he cautioned her. "You have broken ribs!"
She shook her head, gasping for breath. "N-Not broken," she whispered. "D-Dislocated, I think."
Red Robin stared at her. "How can you tell?"
"I've had b-broken ribs b-before. This feels d-different," she said, grimacing. "Still hurts, th-though."
"Dislocated ribs are fixable," Dick attempted a reassuring smile for her. He pushed back her hair carefully. "Are you alright?"
"I th-think s-so," her teeth chattering with the cold. Shivering hurt, however, and she groaned. "I-I think . . . s-sooo."
Tears began filling her eyes. As the realization came that she was finally safe, Elle's adrenaline began crashing, and her emotions overwhelmed her. She reached for him, and Dick gathered her gently into his arms. Neither of them had thought they would ever have the chance to hold one another like this again. Dick buried his face into that muddy, bloody, icy mess that was her hair. It still smelled incongruously like shampoo.
Tim turned away to call up to where Bruce and Damian stood at the top of the embankment as the couple clung to each other and quietly "lost" it for a few moments.
Elle pulled away first; her tears creating clean streaks along her cheeks.
"You came!" She slapped at his shoulder with her good hand; weeping. "What w-were you th-thinking? I t-told you not to c-come! He could have k-killed you!"
Dick laughed at her upset; wiping his eyes. "I told you . . . I will always come for you!"
Now she stroked his face. "You d-didn't have to," she told him, seriously. "Y-You could have s-survived it."
Dick's relieved laughter died away. "No," he told her. "No, Elle, I wouldn't have."
"Poppa did," she reminded him.
"Cedric survived because he had you," Dick replied. "If you . . . died." The last word came out as a whisper. "I had no one capable of holding me here. As much as I love my family, I've come to love you so much more."
Elle's breath caught in her throat. Her hand fluttered above her stomach. Dick was immediately solicitous.
"What's the matter," he asked alarmed. "Do you have pain there?" Could she have internal bleeding?
Elle blinked, and stared at him. "I . . . um, no," she stammered, looking confused and unsure.
Dick shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "What am I thinking; keeping you out here like this? You must be frozen! Red Robin flew the Batcopter in from Gotham. It should be nice and warm . . . At least warmer than it is here. We have blankets."
"I-I need to t-tell you something," she said around her chattering teeth.
"Later," he said. "After we get you home. We should swing by the emergency room," he commented as he got to his feet; squatting so he could pick her up. "This will hurt," he warned.
"You c-couldn't hurt m-me," she smiled at him.
She gasped and cried out when he lifted her. Dick grimaced as if it were he that was injured.
"I warned you," he reminded her.
"Sh-shut up," she panted through the painful aches of her body. Her ribs were the worst! "And take m-me home!"
"Your wish is my command," he teased, even as he struggled to climb the sharp, rocky incline.
Batman kneeled down. "You're going to have to pass her up," he said. "Have Red Robin help you."
Tim stepped close and the two men shifted Elle so that she was between them.
"I can help," Elle complained. "I'm not c-crippled, you know."
"Just hang on and enjoy the ride, sweetheart," Dick told her.
Elle snorted. The jostling was torturous as they lifted her up, but they were trying so hard to help, she bit her lip and endured. She made a face; tasting mud mixed in with flakes of dried blood.
Gross . . .
Tears sprang to her eyes as Bruce caught her under her arms and hauled her the rest of the way up as if she were nothing but a child. She heard Dick and Tim . . . Uh, Red Robin scrambling out of the ravine behind her.
Robin was at her side as soon as Batman set her down.
Damian . . .
"You should take better care of yourself, Hamilton," Robin told her.
Elle had to stifle a laugh; attempting to hold her ribs.
"She said her ribs aren't broken," Dick announced as he moved up beside her. "Just dislocated."
Although she really couldn't tell it, Elle thought Bruce was looking her over. She clutched her robe closed and tugged Dick's coat closer around her with one hand. She could only imagine how horrible she looked at that moment.
"I suppose that is something we can take care of right now," Batman murmured.
She allowed Batman to embrace her; his fist moving beneath Dick's coat and over her back to what she assumed was the correct spot. The movement was swift, but smooth, and Elle felt a pop. She gasped, as he adjusted his grip and again there followed another pop as the second rib slid back into place.
The relief was immediate, and Elle took her first deep breath in the past hour.
"Wow! How'd you l-learn to do th-that?" She moved carefully; still sore, but a thousand times better than before.
Batman looked over at Dick. "It seemed prudent to learn how," he said, and left it at that. "Robin, have you checked on our guy over there?"
Damian looked over his shoulder at the unmoving figure. "Grayson must have done a number on him," he said. "He hasn't moved from that position."
Dick glared in his direction. "I have yet to get his name or the name of his employer." He glanced at Elle. "Did he say anything to you?"
She frowned. "He didn't say who it was. J-Just that I pissed the m-man off and how he was g-going to retire and b-become a p-pirate or Conquistador."
Dick put his arm around Elle; supporting her as she leaned against him. "So, what are we going to do with him?"
"The police are already on the way. I expect them here in a few minutes," Batman told them. "Do you want to ride with us or catch a ride with your detective friends?"
"Personally, I think we'd rather catch a ride home with you," Dick said. "But I suppose someone should wait for them." He thought it should be him, but Elle needed to get out of here and he didn't think he could stand to be separated from her anytime in the near future.
"Back to Gotham?" Batman waved Red Robin back to the Batcopter. "We can arrange for Leslie to meet us at the cave."
Dick eyed Elle. "That would be a good idea. She can check Elle over and make sure she's all right."
Elle smiled against his shoulder, feeling warmer now that Dick was holding her. "I'd settle for a soak in a tub and a good night's sleep."
"You might consider getting X-rays of your cheek and that finger," Batman suggested.
She yawned. "Tomorrow . . ."
They heard the whine of the helicopter's engines starting up.
"I'll carry our hitman to the parking lot to await his ride to jail," Batman told them. "I'll meet you at home," relieving Dick of the duty.
Movement caught Dick's eye.
"Watch out," he yelled as he started to turn; pushing Elle behind him.
Multiple shots rang out, echoing throughout the park. Dick felt two impacts as he drove Elle to the ground. Batman flung a batarang that sliced the nerve in his wrist; making the assassin drop his gun. Robin had also reacted, being closer. He performed a backflip; his boot coming down hard on man's temple as he landed. He kicked the small handgun away from killer.
"He broke the zip tie," Robin announced even as he brutally kicked the stunned man over. He straddled him and pulled out a pair of metal Batcuffs. "Like to see you get out of these, you son of bitch," he snarled as he yanked the man's arms back viciously and slapped the cuffs on extra tight.
Seeing the threat being handled, Batman turned back to the couple sprawled on the ground.
Elle crawled out from under Dick, screaming, "No, No, No, NO!"
She rolled him onto his back as Batman slid to his knees on the other side of him. He ripped the torn shirt open to determine the injuries. Two bullets had struck him! One had been stopped by his body armor. It would have been a killing blow. The bullet could be seen embedded in armor and Batman knew that Dick would have a deep muscle bruise from impact. The bullet was a .38; the close proximity and Nightwing's lighter armor nearly did him in. It was the second bullet, however, that made his heart skip a beat.
The second bullet had managed to hit the vulnerable area in the seam. It had pierced the suit and Dick's chest. The younger man twisted in agony as ominous bubbles seeped from the wound. It had struck Dick's left lung. He gasped for breath.
Elle placed her hands over the wound but the bubbles continued to form around them.
Batman met her terrified gaze. "The bullet penetrated the lung," he told her. "It's created a sucking chest wound."
"I need a first aid kit," she cried. "Hurry!"
"You know how to treat this?" Batman asked. He moved to run to the helicopter, but saw Red Robin running in their direction with the first aid kit in hand.
"I took first aid in college in place of the normal health course requirement," she muttered. "But I-I only read about this once."
"Is Grayson okay?" Robin asked, worriedly, edging closer.
He kept one eye on the prisoner; not taking chances the man would pull another move like the last one. He checked again for any other hidden weapons and managed to locate a knife and a garrote hidden in his clothes.
"Not perfectly, Robin," Dick wheezed. He struggled to hold still, but each agonizing breath seemed to make the next one more difficult.
"Shh," Elle shushed him. "Don't talk."
Dick ignored her. "Don't worry," he rasped. "I'll make it. I won't let you die, too."
Tears began to roll down her face in response to his promise. "It doesn't matter. You know that I'd follow you anywhere."
"You won't have to," Dick promised. He touched her face; his fingers brushing at her tears.
Red Robin slid to halt beside them. "I heard the gunshots," he explained. He opened the first aid kit. "What have we got?"
As Batman explained, Elle immediately dove into the box's contents; searching out the items she thought she would need. Tim took out a batarang and slit the seam where the bullet had penetrated; cutting away the uniform completely.
As it was, every breath Dick took drew air through the wound and into the pleural cavity between the lung and its surrounding tissue. The tension the trapped air would create would cause Dick's lung to collapse and eventually put pressure on the other remaining organs within the thoracic cavity; important things like the other lung, the vena cava, and the heart.
She feared that the danger wasn't just the trapped air, however, but also that blood would fill the space. It could lead to respiratory or even cardiac arrest. The kit was thorough, but Elle's first aid training was limited to one three credit class and articles in medical journals in the doctor's office.
Elle pulled out a piece of plastic that she thought would work and medical tape. Tim helped her place and hold the plastic down over the wound. Elle taped three of the edges; leaving one side open to prevent more air from entering, but still hopefully allowing for air to escape.
"He'll need something to transfer him to the helicopter," she murmured, but discovered that it had been unnecessary.
While she and Red Robin had been busy treating the wound, Batman had already gone to retrieve a long spine board. Elle moved aside as Bruce lay it down next to Dick. He moved to Dick's head as Tim moved to his feet in preparation for transferring him.
She backed up several steps to get out of the way, swaying slightly. Robin shifted his position to stand next to her. When her hand bumped against his arm, Damian unconsciously reached out to take it into his.
"Looks like I'll still be collecting at least half of my bounty," the man behind them called out, laughing. "He said that if I couldn't get to you directly, that I should go after supercop."
Elle turned her head to stare at him.
"Ignore him, Elle," Damian instructed. "The guy's on his way to Blackgate Prison. He doesn't know shit." The boy was finding it difficult not to cut the guy's heart out with one of his batarangs, but assisting Elle deal with the man's taunts was helping him to remain in control as well.
"Language, Robin," Elle corrected, absentmindedly.
Damian returned his attention on watching his father and Tim as they moved Dick onto the board. Elle, however, narrowed her eyes at the bastard that had very nearly succeeded in destroying everything she loved; and for what? Money?
"I'll be out before noon, you know" he predicted. "I'll be rich and I'll be free," he smirked, "and he'll be dead. Think of me at night while you're lying alone in your bed."
"No," she whispered. She let go of Damian's hand.
He laughed. "While he's rotting, I'll be working on my tan on my new yacht."
Elle turned to face him, shaking in her anger.
"And when you least expect it, I'll be back for my other half," he told her, softly. His gaze landed on the boy next to her. "I'll even throw in the kid for free. He'll never know what hit him. He may even thank me. Puberty's a real bitch."
Her eyes landed on the small handgun the bastard had shot Dick with. Robin had kicked it a safe distance away from the hitman, but hadn't taken the time to recover it in his concern for his eldest brother.
Elle suddenly dove for it. Robin spun around; gaping at her in shock as she snatched up the gun and threw herself at her attacker.
She was a lousy shot; the mini-marshmallow war had taught her that much. So she compensated . . .
"You don't get to have a happily ever after," she snarled, and shoved the barrel of the gun into the bastard's right shoulder; pulling the trigger twice.
The son of a bitch wasn't laughing now! She was taking aim at his other side when Robin grabbed at her arm; spoiling her shot. The third bullet struck the man's wrist.
"Elle, stop," Damian cried, tugging her away from the screaming man.
But she was screaming now, too. "Try to kill someone now, you fucking son of a bitch!"
She kicked at the man, but Robin's efforts made her miss her mark. The two of them almost went down in a tangle. Then, Batman was grabbing her around the waist; wresting her off of her feet completely.
"Elle, stop," he yelled in her ear. "Dick needs help now or he could die!"
It was like dousing her with a bucket of ice water. She spit at the assassin and turned, shaking furiously now, toward Dick. She took one look at his pale face and burst into tears. Red Robin had to abandon his brother to put pressure on the bastard's wounds.
She realized her need for vengeance has slowed Dick's care. She ran over to the first aid kit, and grabbed a fat syringe full of miniature medical sponges. She ran back to the assassin, shoving Tim out of her way. Batman grabbed her hand, worried that she planned to finish what she started.
"Leave me alone," she yelled at him. "Go help Dick!"
"I can't let you . . ." Batman began, only to have Elle interrupt him.
"This will stop the bleeding," she snapped; attempting to jerk her arm away.
His gaze fell onto what she held and he seemed to understand. "Hurry, and follow us. The police will be here any minute. They can deal with him if he's stabilized."
She shoved the fat opening into the wound, causing the guy to cry out in pain, and she pressed the plunger. The mini sponges quickly filled the space and immediately began to expand as it simultaneously absorbed the excess blood and stopped additional bleeding. She used her robe's belt to tourniquet the wrist; tying it tight. If he lost the hand due to blood loss to it, she wouldn't cry over it.
The man slowly got control of his breathing and glared at her.
"This isn't over," he growled.
"It's over for you! He's going to live," she hissed at him. "So, maybe you can buy yourself a rowboat instead that yacht," she quipped. "Your pirate name can be Stumpy."
At this point, his days of being world-class assassin were over.
Robin slid in beside her and helped her to stand.
"Come on, Hamilton," he told her even as they spotted the beams of several flashlights heading in their direction. "The police are here now. Let them handle it."
Putting her arm around the young boy, she allowed him to lead her to the waiting Batcopter and a brisk pace. Batman and Red Robin were already sliding Dick's long board into the back and securing it as they approached.
Elle allowed them to put her into the helicopter and wrapped a blanket around her. She sat next to Dick, but looked back at the scene just beyond the bridge. Nearly all the lights focused on the killer, but a couple of them shone in their direction.
"They're going to know I shot a helpless man," she murmured. Her eyes returned to the man she loved more than life itself. She picked up Dick's hand.
His face was a grimace as he concentrated of breathing and controlling his own pain. He was caught up in his own struggles at the moment and was unaware yet of what she had done.
Would he forgive me for that?
She remembered that vow he had talked about only a couple of weeks ago; the one where you don't take a human life. But she hadn't intended to kill the man . . . Only make him wish that he were dead.
Damian had to help her fasten her seatbelt as she seemed disinclined to do it herself. Her thoughts elsewhere. He shook his head at her.
"No, they won't," Damian told her. "I wiped off your prints and put on Grayson's while everyone was busy with your drama scene. It will look like Grayson shot him with the assassin's own gun in an effort to save you."
Elle gaped at the boy. Who thinks of things like that?
"What about the evidence? The wounds won't support that," she told him. She had shot the assassin in the shoulder at point black range. There was no reconstructive surgery in the world that would be able to piece together what was left of his joint.
Robin tsked. "Hamilton, the man had beaten and kidnapped a Bludhaven police officer's fiancée with the intention of murdering both her and the officer. I would lay money that whatever evidence is found will support my theory."
"But won't Dick get into trouble for that," she worried.
She thought that Robin rolled his eyes at her, but wasn't sure. "This is Bludhaven, Hamilton. The line of ethics in this city is blurry at best."
She thought that Dick's ethics were razor-sharp. Now she worried that she had ruined everything with her lack of forethought. Was their relationship doomed to die this night after all because she had acted out thoughtlessly in a moment of anger? She stroked Dick's hand; luxuriating in the feel of his skin against her own while she knew she still could.
Bruce had already de-cowled and frowned back at the two of them. He would be having a conversation with his son about tampering with evidence, but later . . . Maybe in a year or so. He picked up the change of clothes that Alfred had placed inside the Batcopter before it left Gotham.
He didn't think Dick had the time for them to reach the Batcave before his situation turned critical. If they were to sit down at Mercy Hospital here in Bludhaven, he wanted to be able to handle things himself, and he couldn't do that as The Batman. He had to be there as Dick's father; as Bruce Wayne.
"ETA to the nearest hospital?"
Tim glanced at him. "Eight minutes," he answered him. "Wind is picking up."
"Is it going to be a problem?" Looking out at the night, Bruce noticed the snow had started. Just flurries right now, but that could change before daylight arrived.
"No, I've got this," the teenager said. "I radioed Alfred. He'll have clothes and stuff waiting for Damian and I. We'll drive back here as soon as we can."
"Only if the weather doesn't worsen," Bruce told him. "One son in the hospital is quite enough for one night."
"Is he going to be okay?" Tim asked just loud enough for Bruce to hear.
"He will," Bruce assured him. Dick would be okay because there could be no other outcome that Bruce would tolerate.
"I hope so," Tim said. "Elle wouldn't handle it well otherwise."
Elle wouldn't handle it at all, Bruce thought. Elle would follow Dick to the grave quite literally. Tim and Damian didn't know that about them yet; didn't know about the bond . . . or that Elle was anything other than ordinary. It was Elle's secret to tell.
"What are you going to do about the Batmobile," Tim asks.
Bruce grunted. "Already taken care of," he said, holding up what looked like a normal car remote. "I'm sending it home."
Dick's breathing was becoming shallower; more labored. He panted and squeezed Elle's hand. It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. He could hear her and Damian talking, but the words sounded more like buzzing. His heart was pounding.
Elle noticed Dick's increased distress immediately. He squeezed her hand, but she was already taking off her seatbelt, shrugging off her blanket to kneel beside to him.
He was scared!
She checked his blood pressure and heart rate. The blood pressure was too low! His heart rate too high!
"Dick, can you talk?"
His eyelids fluttered, but his eyes were unfocused. His skin was pale and had a sheen of sweat.
Damian had moved to Dick's other side. "What's wrong?"
"His BP is dropping," Elle said, alarmed. "He's going into shock. How much longer?"
Damian turned to ask as Elle checked his makeshift bandage. His side was soaked, and the tape was peeling away; making it ineffective anymore. The bubbles were making a reappearance. She grabbed the AED, thinking she could just seal the wound off completely using one of the defibrillator pads; it was sticky enough to handle the blood, but then hesitated.
What if his dropping blood pressure was due to tension pneumothorax? She looked, but couldn't see the distension of his jugular vein in his neck, but that could also be that the increased pressure from air and blood in the pleural cavity were compressing the heart and the inferior and superior vena cava; the large vein in the central body that brings blood back to the heart and lungs. Dick's chest was expanded, but it didn't appear to go down as with normal respiration.
Another sign of tension pneumothorax . . .
Damn it! What good was reading all those articles if she didn't know what to do to treat the problem? She remembered all the stupid details enough to know what was killing him, but nothing about how to save him!
Damian was back and Bruce was climbing out of his seat and into the back to join them. He understood that things just took a dramatic change for the worse with one look at the two of them.
"We're only a couple of minutes away. What's going on? How can I help?"
Elle dropped the pad from numbed fingers. "I-I don't know what to do!" She looked at him helplessly. "I don't know how to help him!"
"Tim's radioed ahead," Bruce tried to comfort her. "They have a crack trauma team waiting for when we arrive."
She watched as Dick's father ran a hand over his son's head, but Dick wasn't conscious enough to appreciate the gesture. Her Tears coursed down her face unheeded.
Dick was dying . . .
"Don't do this," she begged him. "Don't leave me."
The first hard contraction of her heart suddenly reminded her . . . He wasn't going to go alone! The pain shot that through her chest was powerful enough to make her flinch. One hand fluttered up to her heart as she clutched Dick's hand in the other. She sank down beside him, laying her head on his shoulder.
"I love you," she whispered and closed her eyes.
Oddly enough, she wasn't frightened anymore. She felt calm. Wherever he was going; she was going to go with him . . .
And that . . . made everything . . .
. . . Okay.
Uh Oh! What just happened?
REACTIONS? Come on, there are bound to be a few . . .
The type of gun the assassin used is a Sig Sauer P238. It is a tiny gun about 5.5 inches in length, making it perfect for concealed carry. In this case, the gun was hidden next to his groin - a place that most men tend to skip or merely graze over - enabling a man like "Nameless" to retain a weapon on his person that no one knew about.
Zip ties are actually not all that difficult to break; a lesson Batman learned the hard way. The Batcuffs are nearly escape-proof.
Pneumothorax - a condition that happens when the lung is punctured, causes the damaged organ to collapse as air becomes trapped in the pleural cavity. Inside the chest is cavity that contains important organs like the heart and lungs. Each lung is surrounded by a thin, but tough membrane called the pleural cavity. This membrane folds over on itself to form two layers and in between those layers is fluid.
When the lung is punctured (whether by a closed injury, like a broken rib, or an open injury, like in this case, from a bullet wound), air escapes into this cavity surrounding the lung every time the victim inhales, but is unable to escape when the victim exhales. As the pressure builds, it can cause the lung to collapse. (An open wound is called a sucking chest wound and is another name for Pneumothorax.)
Tension Pneumothorax (usually happens more often with a closed wound) occurs when blood and air fill the space so greatly that it puts pressure on the other organs in the thoracic cavity, such as the heart, the inferior and superior vena cava (the largest blood vessel in your body), and the other lung (possibly causing it to collapse as well and forcing the patient into respiratory arrest), displacing the trachea (your air pipe) - meaning moving it out of place, can cause the jugular veins on either side of the neck to be visually distended (unless the blood flow is extremely restricted, then no), hypotension (low blood pressure). The chest may rise as the cavity fills, but does not lower as with normal exhalations (in the case of just one lung collapse, the chest may be extended asymmetrically as one lung will work normally, but the injured pleural cavity of the second lung fills with blood and air.) Respiratory and cardiac arrest usually results if emergency medical care isn't possible.
Elle's treatment of Dick's pneumothorax is correct. And you can use an AED defibrillator pad to completely cover the wound in some cases. OH, and did you know that the pleural cavity is capable of holding up to 1/3 of the body's total blood volume! :O Yeah, I know! The body is amazing . . .
The syringe that Elle used to stop "Nameless'" bleeding is a device fairly recently approved by the FDA. The tiny sponges will absorb excess blood and expand, putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding temporarily. It usually is effective for 4 hours. It is called Xstat. The sponges are marked with an "X" that will show up in X-rays. The only problem this devise has is that the sponges are not biodegradable; thus they must be removed completely from the body.
"Murphy's Law", for those of you who have not heard of it simply means that "everything that can go wrong, will". I thought this chapter qualified.
Lots of author's notes in this one. Hope you found them interesting! The wait for the next chapter shouldn't be as long.