Episode 10:

 

White and Black

 

White.

That was all Lance Bass could see. 

Just white.

It surrounded him, a bright white light, growing increasingly brighter as he grew closer to it.  And yet, it did not make him squint.  It was not blinding, but comforting and peaceful.  He walked towards it, yearning to be in that light, where his pain and suffering would vanish forever.

All around him, he could hear voices.  They faded in and out, distorted murmurs, unrecognizable.  Every once in awhile, he could make out a phrase or two.

“… pressure’s crashing…”

“… cardiac arrest…”

“… charge the paddles…”

Somehow, he managed to ignore these voices.  They did not affect him.  He did not realize that they were pertaining to him at all.  Not until he heard his own name.

“Come on, Lance… don’t die on me now…”

Die?  Lance jerked to a stop, as if suddenly realizing what was happening.  What was happening?  Was he dying??

It was a woman who had spoken his name, who had pleaded for him not to die.  He did not recognize her voice.  Who was it?  Who was saying his name?

The voices continued, confusing Lance, keeping him frozen in place as he tried to make out what they were saying.

“… not responding… shock him again…”

“… come on, Lance…”

Come on and what? Lance wondered.  He had no idea where he was or what he was supposed to do.  Was this Heaven?  Or was he on his way to Heaven?  He did not know.  He stood still.  In one direction, the bright white light shined welcomingly.  In the other, he saw nothing but blackness.  He wanted to go to the light.  Was that where Heaven was?  If he went to the light, would that mean he was dead?

On the other hand, where did the blackness lead?  Back to Earth, back to life?  Or to Hell? 

“… still in V-fib… charge again…”

All of a sudden, through the vortex of voices, one familiar voice stood out crystal clear.  A girl’s voice.  A soft, familiar girl’s voice.

“Lance?”

Lance’s head shot in the direction of the light.  Squinting, he saw a misty figure approaching him.  As the figure got closer and closer, Lance blinked, his mouth dropping open as he recognized it.

“Stacey…”

It was his sister.  Stacey.  The older sister he had lost years and years ago.  The sister who had committed suicide one night when she was sixteen, leaving him suddenly an only child.

“Lance.”  She said his name, her voice sounding young and sweet. 

Tears rose in Lance’s eyes as he stared at his sister.  She looked exactly the same as when she died; she had not aged at all.  While he was now a grown man, she was still a pretty, young sixteen-year-old girl.  But it was a relief to see her, looking happy and vibrant again, not pale and lifeless, as she had been when he had seen her dead body in the hospital morgue.  That was the last time he had glimpsed her; they had had a closed casket at her funeral.  He knew that although she was talking and moving in front of him now, she was not alive.  But then again, neither was he.  Or was he?  He did not know.

“Stacey, I…”  Lance was at a loss for words.  After all, what do you say to the dead sister you haven’t seen in over a decade.  He had always told himself that when he was reunited with Stacey in the afterlife, he would ask her why she had done such a horrible thing to herself.  But now here he was, in the exact same position. 

With a start, he realized he had done the same thing Stacey had.  He had committed suicide.  He had done what he had resented Stacey for doing for many years.  He suddenly felt very guilty and very selfish.  What were his family and friends doing right now? What were they thinking?  They were in horrible pain, no doubt, like the pain he had been in after Stacey’s death.  His poor parents… the thought of how much grief they must be in pained Lance. They had to be hurting something awful, and he was the cause of it.  How could he do such a thing to the people he loved, especially after Stacey had done it?  Why hadn’t he realized what he was doing until now, when it was too late?

“It’s not too late,” Stacey said softly.

Lance jerked his head up.  “How did you-“ he started, but Stacey smiled gently.

“I have my ways,” she said.  “Listen, Lance, it isn’t your time yet.  You’re still needed down on Earth.  You have wonderful parents and great friends there who are beside themselves with misery right now.  Go home to them, Lance.”

“But… but I thought I was… dead,” Lance stammered, looking towards the white light Stacey had come from.  “I thought this was Heaven.”

“You’re on the way there.”  Stacey motioned back towards the white light.  “But if you fight to live, you can go back to Earth again.”  She pointed to the blackness behind Lance.  “Where you belong,” she added.

Lance glanced back at the darkness.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back there.  He sensed pain and suffering in the blackness, while the light brought nothing but a sense of peace and happiness.  Did he really want to go back to Earth and fight to live when he could go on to Heaven and live an eternity of happiness?

But, thinking again of his friends and family, Lance knew he had to go back.  Stacey had gone into the light, but he had to go into the blackness.  The Bass family could not lose two of their children.  He had to go back to them.  He had to live.

“That’s right,” Stacey said.  “Go back home, Lance.  I’ll be waiting for you in Heaven when it is your time.”

Her words had a sense of closing to them, and before he knew it, she had turned, and her shimmering, translucent figure started slowly back towards the light.

“Stacey, wait!” Lance cried, running towards her.  “No, wait, come back!”  He chased after the spirit of his sister, begging her to come back.  He hadn’t even had a real chance to talk to her yet.  But Stacey kept walking, and before he knew it, she had disappeared.

“Stacey…” Lance breathed, staring in despair at the place where she had stood.  He had been so close to her, and yet, he had not touched her, not told her he loved her.  Not told her goodbye, something he had never gotten to do when she had died.  But he would do it now.  Maybe she could still hear him, even though he could not see her. 

“Goodbye, Stacey,” he whispered.  “I love you.”

Then, knowing he could go no further into the white light, he turned and headed back towards the blackness.  As he got nearer and nearer to it, he became more and more uncomfortable.  A dark fog swirled around the blackness, making it look even darker and more foreboding.  The calmness he had felt when he was close to the light was replaced with a sense of panic and pain.  But he kept going.

As he reached the edge of the blackness, the fog parted, and something appeared below it.  Bending down to look, Lance found himself peering down into a large room, which was very bright and adorned in white and stainless steel.  It was an operating room, he realized.  He saw several people dressed in scrubs, gowns, masks, and surgical caps hovering over a person lying on the operating table.

As he leaned closer, his vision seemed to zoom in on the room so that he could get a closer look.  He realized that one of the men in the room was Kevin Richardson, and he recognized one of the nurses as Hayley Aldworth.  The head surgeon was a petite woman with a few wisps of red hair poking out from under her cap.  She was busy pressing the defibrillator paddles to her patient’s chest, shocking his heart, which had stopped beating.

“… been down for almost half an hour,” he heard Kevin comment to the woman.  “Are you going to call it?”

“Not yet,” the woman said determinedly.  “Let’s shock him once more.”

As he watched the scene before him, Lance suddenly felt sick to his stomach.  He realized what was going on, why he was seeing this.  His heart lodging in his throat, Lance focused his gaze on the patient.  Although he could not see the man’s face because of the blue cloth covering it, he instinctively knew who he was.  Himself.

I’m watching myself die, Lance realized, his stomach turning, his body trembling at the thought.  He watched in awe for a few more seconds, as the woman charged up the paddles again.  Then he rose and looked into the darkness.  If she was going to bring him back, that was where he had to go.  And so, he did.

Slowly, he stepped into the darkness.  As he walked further and further, everything around him grew progressively darker.  Finally, the blackness closed in around him, all his senses left him, and he knew no more.

+++

Just when Dr. Risha Veers had lost all hope that she would ever get her patient back, the long, whining beep of the heart monitor suddenly cut short and began to blip very slowly.

Risha’s head shot up to look at the screen of the heart monitor.  Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she saw the flat green line rise and fall, slowly at first, and then faster.

“He’s got a rhythm,” announced nurse Hayley Aldworth, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Surgeon Kevin Richardson, who was observing the operation, grinned at Risha.  “Good save, Dr. Veers,” he told her.

Risha managed a relieved smile and softly said, “Welcome back, Lance.”

+++

Chris Kirkpatrick had made his way up the surgical floor and was sitting in a small, private waiting room, nervously thumbing through a magazine without actually looking at the pages. 

What’s taking so long? he asked himself anxiously, glancing at the closed door every few seconds and hoping that someone from surgery could come in and talk to him soon.  If Lance was dead, he would rather just hear it now and not have to wait any longer.  That was the worst part – waiting, not knowing whether Lance was dead or alive.  Chris knew the chances of him living were very slim, and he had prepared himself for the worst.  Not that anyone really could prepare for it, but he had tried.

Chris’s stomach suddenly growled, and he realized he had not eaten since breakfast that morning.  It was now late afternoon.  But although his stomach was empty, he didn’t really feel hungry.  There was no way he could eat in a time like this.  He felt like anything he ate would just come right back up again.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened.  Chris jumped, startled by the sudden noise.  He had been sitting in silence for at least two hours.  As nurse Hayley Aldworth walked into the room, Chris’s heart leapt into his throat.  Moment of truth, he thought.

But to his surprise, the tall red-haired nurse was smiling.  “Hey, Chris,” she said.  “Just wanted to let you know that Dr. Veers just finished up the surgery.  From what we can tell, it was a success.  Lance has been taken to Recovery.”

At first, Chris thought he hadn’t heard her correctly.  He had told himself so many times that Lance was never going to make it through surgery that he could not believe her words.  But she was still smiling.  It had to be true.

“H-he’s alive?” Chris asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes.  He had a close-call, but we got him back.  He’s very, very lucky to have made it this far,” Hayley replied.

Chris suddenly felt light-headed with total relief.  He smiled weakly.  “Yeah…” he whispered.  “He’s very lucky.  Thank you so much, Hayley.”

“You can thank Dr. Veers,” Hayley told him.  “She’s the miracle worker.”

Chris nodded eagerly.  “Oh, I will,” he replied.  “I definitely will.”

+++

“Hey, Hayley, you off?”

Hayley was just unclipping her nametag from the front pocket of her scrub shirt when Kevin sauntered into the lounge.

“Yup,” she replied.  “You?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “Just finished up Mr. Brown’s surgery.  He’s in Recovery, and I’m outta here.”

“You heading straight home?” Hayley asked.

Kevin glanced at the clock.  It was now past seven, and he hadn’t eaten since before noon.  “Nah, I think I’m gonna stop for a bite to eat somewhere first,” he replied.  “You wanna come with me?”

Hayley’s stomach grumbled at that very moment, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

“So I guess that’s a yes?”

“Sure,” Hayley laughed.  “What about Elizabeth?  Is she off yet?”

“Nah, she got stuck working the late shift tonight,” answered Kevin.

“Aw, that sucks.  Well, are you ready?”

“Yup.  Let’s go,” replied Kevin, and the two of them left the lounge together.

On their way down the hall, they met up with Risha, who was just coming out of her office, wearing a jacket over her scrubs, her purse slung over one shoulder.

“Are you off too, Dr. Veers?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah,” Risha replied.  “And you can call me Risha if you want.”

“Okay, Risha,” Kevin said with a smile.  He preferred calling his colleagues by their first names, but having known Risha for just over a month, he wasn’t sure they knew each other well enough to be on a first-name basis.  But all it took was the near-death of a co-worker to bring strangers together, and after working side by side with Risha, he felt a connection that had not been there before.  “Hayley and I were headed out to grab a bite to eat.  You wanna come with us?”  He gave Hayley a sidelong glance, and she nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, come with us,” Hayley added.

Risha glanced at the two of them hesitantly.  “Oh, I don’t know…” she said slowly.  “Three’s a crowd, you know.”  She eyed them again.

Hayley and Kevin exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

“Oh no, it’s not like that at all,” Kevin said quickly.  “Hayley and I are just friends.”

Hayley nodded, although with not as much certainty as Kevin.

“Oh,” Risha said, smiling slightly.  “Sorry.  I’ve just seen you guys talk to each other so much up here that I assumed…”  She shrugged, blushing.

Kevin laughed again.  “Nah, Hayley’s just my buddy.  I’m dating Elizabeth O’Brien, one of the ER docs.  Do you know her yet?”

“No, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Risha replied. 

“I’ll introduce you guys sometime.  You’d probably get along well,” Kevin said.  “So… about dinner… are you coming with us?”

“Oh… no, I don’t think so,” Risha said.  “I really need to get home.  I’m exhausted.”

“Oh. Okay then.  Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Kevin said.  “Goodnight.”

Risha gave him a small smile.  “Goodnight,” she echoed.

The three of them took the elevator downstairs to the ground floor and went out into the parking lot, where they parted ways. 

“Where do you want to eat?” Kevin asked, as he walked Hayley to her car.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Hayley replied with a shrug.

“What about Capretti’s?” Kevin suggested, naming one of Atlantic City’s best Italian restaurants.

“Sounds good,” said Hayley.  “I’ll meet ya there in a few.”

“Alright.  See ya.”  Kevin left her at her car and went off to find his own in the large lot.

+++

Risha came home to a pitch-black apartment.  It was seven-thirty at night, and now that it was well into fall, it was getting darker earlier in the evening. 

Fumbling around, Risha found the light switch near the door, and the living room was flooded with light, making the apartment look warm and cozy.  Risha headed straight back to her bedroom, where she changed out of her scrubs into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a large t-shirt. 

Risha then went into the kitchen, where she took a can of tomato soup out of her cupboard and began to heat it up on the stove.  As she absently stirred the red liquid, her thoughts drifted to Lance.  The high she had gotten after the surgery was gone.  She had saved his life, brought him back, but at what cost?  Would he ever have a normal life again?  Would he ever be his old self?  Would he ever even wake up from the surgery?  When she had left the hospital, he had just been moved from Recovery into the NeuroICU, where he could be monitored closely. Tests showed he was in a coma, but how deep of one, Risha did now know.  But she was afraid that he might never wake up from it, that he might be a vegetable for the rest of his life.  And what kind of life would that be?  It seemed to Risha that death was the better choice.  Better than being a vegetable.

Like John would have been, Risha thought suddenly.  A sudden rush of emotion ran through her body.  The spoon she had been stirring the soup with slipped from her hand and sank into the small pot with a clatter.  Unexpectedly, stinging tears filled her eyes.

Why am I doing this? Risha thought miserably.  Why am I reliving this again?  It happened over ten years ago.  I have to let it go.

But she couldn’t.  Sliding down to the smooth linoleum floor, she began to cry, for John, for Lance, for what she could have been, and for what she had become.

+++

The headlights from the approaching car lit up the Miller living room. Jaela set down the novel she was reading and walked over to the window, peeling back the curtains to take a good look. She sighed in relief as the Sentra her husband drove pulled into the driveway. She quickly ran to her favorite chair and picked up the novel, trying to look as occupied as she possibly could. The back door opened slowly, and footsteps were heard quietly creeping through the kitchen.  

“Paul?” Jaela called out. 

The footsteps stopped suddenly, and a quiet “shit” was heard through the silent house. Jaela turned around as her husband entered the room. The caring man she had married was now an angry man she didn’t want to be around anymore. 

Setting down her book and taking her glasses off, Jaela placed them on the small coffee table and walked over to her husband, hugging him to cover up the uneasiness she felt. She was shocked as Paul forcefully pushed her down. What shocked her even more was the strong smell of women’s perfume that lingered on Paul’s clothes. She watched with wide eyes as Paul turned around and stormed up towards their bedroom. Jaela quickly followed and entered the room before her husband could slam the door shut. 

“What do you want?” Paul sneered as he removed his tie and dress shoes, part of the outfit he wore to work each day.  

“Where have you been?” Jaela demanded, her courage she had only gained in the moment deteriorated as she met Paul’s cold, blue eyes. 

“Why is it any of your business, bitch?”  

Jaela gasped at the obscenity she heard from her husband. Not once in all their years of marriage and through all their arguments had Paul ever called her a name. 

“You are my husband,” she began lamely. “I was worried about you.” 

“I’m a big boy now; I can take care of myself. Why don’t you go play Mommy to those brats of yours; they sure need it.” 

Paul said nothing else as he walked out of the room and slammed the door to the guestroom across the hall.  

Paul’s hurtful words still ran through Jaela’s mind, as she got ready for bed minutes later. She hoped this would be the only time Paul was like this, but deep inside her heart she knew it was just the beginning. 

+++

The next morning, Chris staggered into the ER, only half-awake.  He had come home from the hospital very late the night before (or very early that morning, actually), exhausted after his trying day at the hospital, but unable to sleep.  Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Lance, unconscious and bloody, as he had been when they brought him into the ER that afternoon.

 

Lance’s parents had arrived shortly after the surgery was over, and Chris had filled them in on everything that had happened.  Lance’s surgeon, Dr. Veers, had give them a more detailed account of the operation and allowed them to see Lance in Recovery.  He hadn’t looked much better there than he had when he was first brought into the ER, except for the fact that his head was not bathed in blood.  Dr. Veers had been very honest in telling Chris and the Bass family that although Lance had made it through surgery, he was by no means out of the woods yet, and it was not sure whether he would ever be the same person he once was.

 

Chris had finally gone home, at Mrs. Bass’s insistence, but he might as well have stayed at the hospital, for he did not get to sleep until very early in the morning and was awakened just a few hours later by his alarm clock.  He got up, got dressed, and decided to go to the hospital to work his shift.  He knew he could easily call in and get the day off, but he was determined to keep himself busy, knowing that if he didn’t work, he would do nothing but worry about Lance all day, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

 

“Chris!” Melissa Ruffino gasped as he appeared at the nurses station.  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.  “You look like hell!”

 

“Thanks,” Chris replied dryly, giving her a tired smile.

 

“No, seriously, Chris, are you actually planning to work today?” Melissa asked, looking at him in concern.

 

Chris shrugged.  “Got nothing else to do,” he said.  “I need to take my mind off things.”

 

“But Chris, you look like you haven’t slept at all!”

 

“I haven’t,” Chris said flatly, chuckling ruefully.

 

“Go lie down in one of the exam rooms then,” Melissa said.  “Get some sleep.  You can’t work like this.”

 

“I couldn’t sleep, even if I tried,” Chris told her.

 

“Alright, fine.  But you’re not seeing patients today, not like that.  You can have set-up duty.”

 

“Oh, come on, Mel,” Chris started to protest, but stopped, realizing she was right.  He was in no state to be treating people, not on the few hours of sleep he had gotten.  “Okay,” he relented. 

 

“Have you been up to see Lance yet this morning?” Melissa asked.

 

“No, not yet. Do you know where he’s been moved to?”

 

“He’s in NeuroICU,” Melissa replied.  “I called up there earlier and talked to Alana Hill.  She said she’s taken over his case and that there hasn’t been any change in his condition since last night.”

 

“Oh,” Chris said with a frown.  Shrugging, he added, “Well, I guess that’s kind of a good thing.  At least he didn’t take a turn for the worse.”

Melissa nodded.  “I’m sure everything’s going to be alright,” she said, but Chris could see through her false bravado.  She was just as uncertain about Lance’s future as he was.

 

+++

 

“Good morning, Dr. Littrell.”

 

“Morning, Nick,” Brian Littrell said to his med student, Nick Carter, as he passed her on his way to the nurses station.

 

“Hi, Mel,” he said to Melissa.  “Do you know if Blair Cartier has been taken up to pedes yet?  He was supposed to have been sent up last night after I left, but the ER was crazy yesterday, so who knows…”

 

“Blair Cartier… oh, you mean the four-year-old poisoning victim?” Melissa asked.

 

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

 

“Yeah, he’s in the PICU,” Melissa replied.  “Dr. Moore has been overseeing his case.”

 

“Okay, good.  Thanks, Melissa,” Brian said and headed straight for that floor.

 

Upon entering the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, Brian found Blair’s father sitting beside his son’s bed.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Cartier,” Brian said quietly, approaching her.

 

Brad Cartier turned and gave him a grim smile.  “’Morning, Doctor,” he said dully.

 

Seeing the dark circles under Brad’s eyes, Brian asked, “Were you here all night?”

 

Brad nodded.  “Carrie took the kids home to sleep, but I just couldn’t leave him here alone, just in case he woke up.”

 

“Did you talk to Dr. Moore at all?” Brian asked, referring to pediatrician Julianna Moore, who had been on call during the night.

 

“Yeah.  She said he’s in a… in a coma.”  Brad’s voice cracked on the last word.

 

“It’s probably a light coma,” Brian told him.  “Blair will most likely wake up from it very soon, within a few days at most.  It’s just a way for his body to recover.”

 

“So he’s not going to die?”

 

“I can’t promise that.  Poisoning cases like this are very serious.  But the odds are in his favor.”

 

Brad nodded emotionlessly.  He let out a sigh.  “I can’t believe something like this could happen.  My step-daughter… Meg… how could she accidentally leave a cup of detergent sitting on the washer?  How could anyone be that irresponsible?”

 

“She’s only a kid,” Brian said gently.  “Kids make mistakes.  I’m sure she’s very sorry about what happened.”

 

Brad looked doubtful.  “She doesn’t like Blair.  She doesn’t like me or any of my kids.  She’s picked on them constantly ever since Carrie and I got married last year.  I thought she just needed some time to adjust, but it’s been months, and she hasn’t gotten any better.  And when it comes to Meg, it’s like Carrie’s blind, like she doesn’t see what Meg is like.”

 

“Have you thought about seeing a marriage or family counselor sometime?” Brian suggested, not wanting to get dragged in the middle of his family problems.

 

“No,” Brad said quickly.  “We don’t need anything like that.”

 

“Alright.  Well, if you do want to look into it, I can give you some referrals,” said Brian.

 

“Thanks,” Brad said.  “Well, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee now.”  He stood up quickly and hurried out of the room like a caged animal who had just been set free.

 

Brian just shook his head and turned to examine Blair.

 

+++

 

Justin Timberlake looked up as the double doors of the ER burst open, and a hysterical old woman came running in, screaming.  He set down the chart he was filling and hurried over to her.

 

“Ma’am?  Ma’am, what’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“Mein Ehemann! Mein Ehemann! Er ist im Auto... etwas falsch mit ihm! Er kann nicht atmen!  Helfen Sie ihm, bitte!” 

 

(AN: Sorry if the German isn’t quite correct.  I’m in my third year of German right now, but I’m certainly no expert, and the Altavista translator doesn’t always translate things right.)

 

Justin gaped at her.  “Uh… what?”

 

“Bitte!  Er benötigt Hilfe!”

 

Justin looked around desperately for someone who could figure out what she was saying.  Something was obviously very wrong, but he couldn’t understand her.  He saw Jack Palmer walking out of one of the exam rooms and shouted, “Dr. Palmer!  Dr. Palmer, c’mere, quick!”

 

Jack hurried over.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking from the sobbing woman to the panicked Justin.

 

“Bitte Doktor, können Sie meinem Ehemann helfen?” the woman asked pleadingly, reaching out to Jack.

 

“Can you understand what she’s saying?” Justin asked.

 

“It’s her husband,” Jack said after a moment’s hesitation.  Noticing the astonished expression on Justin’s face, he added, “I took two years of German in high school.  Don’t remember much of it anymore, but I understood ‘please’, ‘doctor’, ‘husband’, and ‘help’.”  To the woman, he asked, “Wo ist dein Herr?” 

 

The German came out rather brokenly, but it got the point across.  An expression of relief came over the woman’s face, and she cried, “Im Auto!”

 

“He’s out in the car,” Jack told Justin, and the two men followed the woman outside, where an old, beige car was parked right outside the door.  The woman flung open the door to the backseat, and they peered inside to find an old man slumped across the backseat, breathing in ragged gasps, his chest heaving.  His skin was clammy and pale, and his whole body was shaking.

 

“It’s alright, sir, we’re going to help you,” Jack said, leaning into the car.  He doubted the man couldn’t understand him, and he didn’t know how to say the words in German, but he hoped his tone of voice was at least reassuring.  “Justin, run back inside and get a gurney.  Hurry.”

 

Justin ran off, and Jack crawled into the car.  “Wo… wo…”  He tried to think of how to ask the man where he was in pain in German.  “Um… wo… wo hast du… Schmerz?” 

 

He doubted that was correct grammar-wise, but the man understood him and gasped out, “Mein Herz!”

 

Justin returned a moment later with Melissa Ruffino, wheeling a gurney.

 

“Justin, he’s having a heart attack,” Jack said.  “Let’s get him inside.”  He climbed back out of the car, and together, he and Justin eased the man out of the backseat and onto the gurney. 

 

They rushed him into the ER, his wife tagging along behind, still sobbing and crying, “Was ist mit ihm los?  Was ist mit ihm los?”

 

“Hey, Mel, you know German?” Jack asked as they pushed the man into one of the rooms.

 

“Spanish. Sorry,” she replied.

 

“Do you know anyone who can speak it fluently?” Jack asked.  “I’ve had two years, but I don’t remember enough to really talk to these people.”

 

“Um…” Melissa racked her brain.  “No… not that I can think of.”

 

“Get Addie then.  She had four years in high school; she might be able to help.  Justin, go track down Addie Burke, will you?”

 

Justin nodded and took off looking for the nurse, while Jack and Melissa hooked the man up to monitors.  He was still conscious at first, but almost immediately, his eyes rolled back into his head, and the heart monitor went wild.

 

“Sir!  Sir, can you hear me?” Jack called, while Melissa inserted an IV into his arm.  Turning to his crying wife, Jack asked, “Wie heisst er?”

 

“Peter.  Was ist mit ihm los?  Stirbt er?”  She watched her husband with wide, frightened, tear-filled eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand you,” Jack said apologetically.  Turning back to the man, he called his name.  “Peter!  Peter!”  Peter did not respond.

 

“Dr. Palmer, Addie’s with a patient right now,” Justin said breathlessly, as he made it back to the room.

 

“I don’t care, go get her,” Jack ordered.  “The wife’s freaking out, and I don’t know what to say.”  Justin nodded and darted back out of the room.

 

“He’s in V-fib,” Melissa said, directing his attention back to the heart monitor.  “Paddles?”

 

“Yeah,” Jack replied, and she hurried to get a crash cart.  “Charge to 200… clear!”

 

Peter’s wife cried out as Jack shocked his chest.  “Peter!” she moaned.  “Bitte retten Sie ihn!”

 

“No response.  Charge to 300… clear!’

 

“Bitte!  Bitte!”  The woman’s pleas rose over the whine of the heart monitor, as Jack desperately tried to bring her husband back.

 

+++

 

Justin turned the corner and started to run down the hall where nurse Natalie Spade had claimed to have seen Addie working.  Not seeing the yellow sign marked “Wet Floor”, he immediately slipped, skidded across the freshly-mopped tile, and fell flat on his backside.

 

“Ohh…” he groaned, lying there for a moment, wondering if he had broken his tailbone.  He squeezed his eyes closed in pain.

 

“You okay, dude?”

 

Justin’s eyes instantly opened, and he looked up into the amused-looking face of a young blonde man.  Nick Carter, fellow ER med student.  Glaring and avoiding Nick’s laughing blue eyes, Justin scrambled his feet, trying his best to ignore the throbbing in his butt.

 

“Ya might wanna pay attention to the sign next time,” Nick said, pointing out the yellow sign.

 

“Thanks,” Justin spat dryly, his cheeks growing hot.

 

Nick smirked.  “What do you need?”

 

“I’m looking for Addie Burke,” Justin replied, remembering why he was there.

 

“I think she’s with a patient right now,” the man said.

 

“Yeah, that’s what Natalie told me.  We need her in Trauma 2.  It’s an emergency.”

 

Nick frowned, but shrugged and nodded.  “I’ll go get her.”

 

He disappeared down the hall and returned a few minutes later, followed by the short brunette nurse.  “Here he is,” he said to her.

 

“Thanks, Nick,” she replied.  To Justin, she asked, “Did Jack send you?”

 

“Yeah,” Justin said.  “How’d you know that?”

 

Addie smiled.  “Trust me, it wasn’t too hard to guess.  Tell him to save his ‘emergencies’ for another time; I’m a little busy right now.”

 

Confused, Justin said, “No, really, it’s an emergency.  There’s this German couple downstairs, and the guy’s having a heart attack, and the woman’s hysterical, and none of us know German well enough to talk to her.  Dr. Palmer said you do.”

 

“Ohhh.”  Addie’s cheeks grew pink.  “Sorry, I thought he was just making up excuses just to get me to come in there.”  Seeing Justin’s face grow more confused, she laughed and added, “He’s my boyfriend, you know.  He’s notorious for inventing ‘emergencies’ that I need to come down for.”

 

“Oh.”  Justin laughed slightly.

 

“Nick, do you happen to know German?  I’m probably a little rusty; I haven’t had it since high school.”

 

“Um… ich liebe dich?” Nick said with a shrug.

 

Addie laughed at his bad pronunciation (AN: Anyone who knows German and has seen the “Backstreet Boys Live in Concert” video that was filmed in Frankfurt in ’97 will probably know what I’m talking about LOL) and replied, “I love you too.”  To Justin, she said, “Well, let’s go then.  Nick, can you finish up with Mr. Germaine?”

 

“Sure,” said Nick.  Dr. Burke hurried off down the hall, and Justin tagged along behind her, rubbing his tender behind.

 

+++

 

“Mel, can you please take her out of here?” Jack asked, shocking Peter’s chest for yet another time.  Lowering his voice, even though he knew Peter’s wife couldn’t understand him, he added, “I don’t think we’re going to get him back.”

 

Melissa nodded and lay her hand gently on the woman’s shoulder.  She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped and looked at Jack.

 

“Geh mit ihr,” said Jack, motioning out the door.

 

“Aber…” the woman started, then stopped and nodded.  She let Melissa lead her out of the room and to the chairs across the hall.

 

The pattern on the heart monitor changed as Melissa came back in.  “He’s in asystole,” Jack said, putting down the paddles.  They would do no good at this state.

 

“He’s been down for at least half an hour.  You gonna call it?” Melissa asked.

 

Jack watched the flat green line run across the monitor for a moment, then nodded.  “Yeah.  Time of death: 10:19.”

 

Just then, Justin came in, followed by Jack’s girlfriend, Addie Burke.

 

“You lost him?” she asked sympathetically.

 

Jack nodded.  “Looks like a massive coronary.”

 

“There was nothing you could have done,” Addie said.  “There was probably just too much damage done.  Is that his wife out in the hall?”

 

“Yeah.  Could you go tell her?” Jack asked.

 

“Yeah, hopefully, if I can remember enough German to get it right.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” Jack said.

 

“Me too,” Justin added, and the three walked out into the hall.  Peter’s wife sat in a chair across the hall from the room, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.  She reminded Jack of his grandmother, and he dreaded having to give her such horrible news.  She and her husband had probably been married for at least fifty years.

 

“Entschuldigung, Frau?” Addie asked gently.  (Excuse me, ma’am?)

 

The woman looked up.  “Wie ist er, Doktor?” she asked plaintively.  (How is he, doctor?)

 

Addie pursed her lips.  “Dein Mann hatte einen Herzanfall.  Er war sehr…”  She searched for the right word, wishing her German were better.  “… schlecht.  Es tut mir leid, aber… er hat gestorben.”   (Your husband had a heart attack.  It was very… bad.  I’m sorry, but… he died.)

 

“Nein!  Nein, nicht meiner Peter!  Peter!”  (No!  No, not my Peter!  Peter!)  The woman began to sob again, her frail shoulders shaking.

 

Justin didn’t have a clue what Addie and the woman were actually saying, but German or English, the grief was the same.  He swallowed hard and bowed his head in sorrow as the old woman cried.

 

+++

 

Around noon, the little string of bells hanging from the door of Sully’s jangled as JC Chasez walked in, followed by Isabel Rivera.

 

“There they are, over there,” Isabel said to JC, pointing to a four-person table, where Nick Carter sat across from Mandy Smith, JC’s girlfriend, who was a surgical nurse.

 

JC smiled and strode over to the table, wrapping his arms around Mandy from behind.  “JC!” she giggled, turning around to greet him.  He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, Isabel going around to the other side of the table to sit next to Nick.

 

JC had taken Isabel under his wing while Jack Palmer had been supervising Bianca Parker’s med student Justin.  After all, Isabel was the smart, enthusiastic one that didn’t need to be told what to do all the time, and Justin was an insecure, awkward moron.  Since he and Mandy met at Sully’s for lunch nearly every day, and Isabel and Nick did the same, the four of them had eaten together the day before and had decided to do the same thing again.

 

While they waited for their food to come, they talked about their day so far.  Nick amused them all with a story about Justin Timberlake slipping and falling on his ass in the hall, while Isabel told them about the sweet old man who had suffered a stroke that she had taken care of that morning.

 

“So how’s Lance Bass doing?” Mandy asked after awhile.  She did not know Lance well, but the nurses in the hospital often got together for things, and so she was acquainted with him.

 

JC sighed solemnly.  Having done a neurology round with Alana Hill, who was now Lance’s doctor, he was familiar enough with her to go and ask about Lance’s condition earlier that day, and she had told him the hard truth.

 

“It’s hard to say at this point,” JC said.  “He’s in a coma, and his Glasgow scores don’t look too good right now.  If he does pull through, he’s going to have a huge recovery to make.  It’s unlikely he’d ever be normal again.”

 

The four of them lapsed into silence, sobered by the harsh reality that one of their own was in such a critical state.  At that point, their waitress arrived with a large tray of food, and they started to eat quietly, glad for the distraction, the break from their world of injury, sickness, and death.

 

+++

 

“Someone help!  My wife’s in labor!  Please, someone!”

 

ER Physician Elizabeth O’Brien quickly dropped the chart she was filling out and hurried over to the young couple that had just staggered through the ER doors.  The man was practically holding up his panting wife, who was obviously very pregnant.

 

Addie Burke appeared with a wheelchair, and she and Elizabeth eased the woman down into it and took her into one of the exam rooms.  They helped her up onto the table.

 

“What’s your name, ma’am?” Elizabeth asked, as Addie inserted an IV into her arm.

 

“Brooke Calley,” the woman gasped, grimacing in pain. 

 

“And how far along are you, Mrs. Calley?”

 

“Thirty-three weeks.  And it’s triplets.”

 

“Triplets?  Well, how exciting.  Addie, can you page OB?”

 

“Sure.”  Addie got on the phone right away, while Elizabeth fit Brooke’s legs into the stirrups at the end of the bed so she could examine her.

 

“Okay, Brooke, you’re almost fully dilated already, so it won’t be much longer,” Elizabeth told her.  “How long have you been in labor?”

 

“Only a few hours.  I thought we’d have plenty of time, but it just happened so quick.”

 

“You’re lucky then,” said Elizabeth with a smile.  “Some women spend whole days in here in labor before giving birth.”

 

Brooke nodded, trying to smile weakly, but she was obviously in pain.  “Can I get an epidural or anything?” she asked.

 

“Sure.  Addie, can you take care of that?”

 

Addie, who had just hung up the phone, nodded.  “Sure,” she replied.  “Oh, and just so you know, one of the OB’s will be down soon.”

”Thanks, Addie,” Elizabeth said, and Addie left the room.  She returned a few minutes to administer the epidural, as Elizabeth ran an ultrasound.

 

“Your babies look perfectly fine, Mr. and Mrs. Calley,” she said to Brooke and her nervous-looking husband, Bryan.  “Have you been told the sexes yet?”

 

“No.  We don’t want to know until they’re born,” Bryan said, smiling widely.

 

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile back.  “Are these your first children?” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” Brooke said, relaxing a bit as a contraction passed.  “We’re so excited.  We tried for years to get pregnant, but we couldn’t, so we ended up using fertility drugs.  It cost a fortune, but it’s worth it.”

 

“Is this the triplets?” asked a deep voice.  Elizabeth turned to see OB Melanie Reyes sweep into the room.

 

“Yes,” she said.  “This is Brooke and Bryan Calley.”

 

“Good to meet you,” said Melanie, shaking Bryan’s hand.  “I’m just going to examine you real quick, Mrs. Calley.”  She sat down in Elizabeth’s chair and repeated the examinations Elizabeth had given Brooke.  “Everything looks great,” she said when he was done.  “We should be ready to head up to the delivery room within a couple hours at the latest.”

 

Brooke nodded, grinning nervously, and grabbed her husband’s hand. 

 

+++

 

An hour and a half later, Brooke had been moved to a room on the maternity floor and was moaning in agony as another contraction hit.  They were coming only minutes apart now, and the pain was bad, even with the epidural.  Brooke couldn’t imagine trying to give birth naturally, with no drugs.

 

“How are we doing, Mrs. Calley?” asked Melanie, coming into the room.

 

“I think they’re close,” Brooke gasped.

 

“Let’s check.”  Melanie sat down and examined her again and nodded.  “Yeah, I think we’d better head down to delivery now.”

“Bryan.”  Brooke reached out for her husband’s hand again.  He took it, looking slightly queasy, and walked alongside her as Melanie Reyes and two nurses wheeled her on a gurney down the hall to one of the delivery rooms.

 

“Could you page pediatrics and get two of them up here, please?” Melanie asked one of the nurses.

 

“Sure, Dr. Reyes,” the woman replied and got on the phone that was located in the delivery room.

 

“Alright, Mrs. Calley, we’re going to wait out a couple more contractions, and then I think it will be time to push,” Melanie instructed Brooke.

 

She nodded, gritting her teeth as she went into another contraction.

 

Before long, Brian Littrell and Siara Reily, both pediatricians, had arrived to take care of the babies once they were born.  Brooke had gone through another contraction, and it was finally time to deliver.

 

“Okay, Mrs. Calley, on the next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can for me,” Melanie said, positioning herself at the end of the bed.

 

The contraction hit, and Brooke pushed with all her might, clenching her jaw in pain.

 

“That’s it, baby, push hard,” Bryan coached, his voice shaking with excited nervousness.

 

“Good, good.  Keep pushing,” said Melanie.  “I can see the head of the first baby.”

 

Moments later, a shrill cry sounded, as Melanie pulled the first baby out.  “It’s a boy,” she said, as one of the nurses cut the umbilical cord, wrapped the baby in a towel, and handed him off to Brian.

 

The contraction stopped, and Brooke fell back onto the gurney, panting.

 

“You’re doing a great job,” Melanie told her.  “On the next contraction, I want you to push again, and we’ll get Baby Number Two out.”

 

Brooke nodded, and when the next contraction came, she again pushed as hard as she could.  Her energy was beginning to fail her, but she kept pushing, and finally, the second of the triplets was delivered.

 

“Another boy,” Melanie said, holding him up so Brooke could see.  “If this keeps up, you might have three identical boys.”

 

Brooke and Bryan exchanged excited grins. There were tears in Brooke’s eyes, but not just from the pain. 

 

“How are they?” Bryan asked anxiously.  “Are they healthy?”

 

“They both look perfect, Mr. Calley,” Siara answered from the corner of the room, where three clear plastic cribs sat, two containing babies.

 

Brooke and Bryan smiled happily.  But suddenly, Melanie said, “Oh no.”

 

“What is it?” Brooke asked, her head snapping back to look at him.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“The third baby’s shifted positions.  It’s breech now.”

 

“Breech?” Bryan repeated.

 

“It’s upside down, feet-first instead of head-first.  It will make for a harder delivery.”

 

“Oh no,” Brooke moaned. 

 

Another contraction came.  “Push,” Melanie instructed.  “Push as hard as you can.”

 

She pushed, knowing that this would be the last time.  But it was also the hardest time.  She kept pushing, and Melanie kept trying to get it out, but it was a struggle, for the baby’s positioning made it twice as hard as the other two.

 

Finally, Melanie pulled the baby out.  But unlike the other two, there was no cry.

 

“What’s wrong?  Why isn’t it crying?” Brooke asked, her voice trembling with panic and exhaustion.

 

The baby was not breathing.  “Come on, little guy,” Melanie said softly, massaging the baby’s tiny chest.  Natalie cut the umbilical cord and passed the baby on to Brian and Siara to work on.

 

“Why isn’t it crying?” Bryan asked, repeating his wife’s question.

 

“Your baby’s not breathing,” Melanie told them grimly.  “Dr. Littrell and Dr. Reily are working on him.  This happens sometimes, where babies aren’t breathing when they’re delivered, but most of them come around right away.  Just hold on.”

 

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Brooke and Bryan, who waited in suspense to hear the cry of their third-born.  But finally, it came, a newborn’s squawking cry.

 

“Congratulations,” Brian said from across the room.  “You have three healthy boys.”

 

“Three boys,” Bryan whispered, grinning proudly.  He bent over and hugged Brooke as best he could.

 

“Would you like to hold them?” asked Ivory, carrying the first baby over to Brooke.

 

Brooke tearfully took her son and cradled him lovingly in her arms, while Bryan sat in a chair next to her, holding the two others, one in each arm.

 

Looking at them all, Bryan grinned again and repeated, “Three boys!”

 

+++

 

While the happy couple celebrated three new lives, Chris Kirkpatrick sat in a darkened cubicle, five floors below, staring dazedly at the still, ghost white face of Lance Bass, who lay motionless on the bed, comatose.  Monitors around him beeped softly, their screens giving off an acid green glow that illuminated the dim room, creating an eerie atmosphere.

 

“Excuse me, Chris?”

 

Chris turned slowly towards the voice and found neurologist Alana Hill standing there.  He did not reply.

 

“I, uh, was just about to head out and wanted to know if I could get you anything before I left.”  Chris had been sitting there for over an hour, never moving, never speaking, just sitting there.

 

“No,” Chris said, his voice hoarse.  “Thanks.”

 

“No problem.  If there’s ever anything I can do…” Alana trailed off, shrugging.  “Well… goodnight.”

 

She left.

 

Chris remained, keeping watch over Lance.  But really, he was not sure Lance was even still there with him.  His body was, of course.  But his soul hovered between life and death, between the light and the darkness, the white and the black.

 

After awhile, Chris’s eyelids began to grow heavy.  Despite his efforts to stay awake, his head slumped to the side, and his eyes slowly shut.  And all he saw was black.

 

Black.

 

+++

 

 

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