Episode 18:

 

Time of Death

 

Risha drove down the street, yawning as she turned left into the employee parking lot at the hospital.  She was still puzzled about the phone call from Chris earlier.  Did Lance say something?  Did he move his arm?

 

As she parked the car, Risha looked up at the sky.  It was still dark.  She rushed inside, knowing that it must have been really important if she was called before sunrise.

 

When Risha walked into Lance's room, she wasn't shocked to see Chris, Holli, and a few staff members and Lance's parents there.  What shocked her was that instead of happy, smiling faces, she saw tears in their eyes.  In that moment, Risha knew why she was called.

 

Lance was dying.

 

She looked at Lance and felt tears in her eyes as well.  Why had he chosen that path?  He had so much to live for.

 

Before she could dwell on that thought, she heard it.  The one sound that had caused her nightmares for the past ten years.  The one sound that she could never forget, no matter how hard she tried.

 

It was the manic sound of a person flatlining.

 

She distantly saw people running to Lance with defibrillators, trying to revive the fallen ER nurse.  She also saw Mr. and Mrs. Bass being whisked away from their dying son, most likely to a special waiting room.

 

"I'm sorry, but there wasn't much we can do..."

           

"Too much damage to the brain..."

           

"Code Blue!  We have a Code Blue!"

 

“The helmet didn't do much to help.  Even if the car had hit him at a slower speed, he wouldn't have survived..."

 

"Lost his pressure!"

 

"It was a head-on collision.  The driver didn't see your fiancée or his motorcycle, and even admitted to not stopping at the stop sign..."

 

"We're losing him!"

 

"I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Veers..."

 

"Just hang on, Lance!"

 

"I'm afraid we lost him, Risha..."

 

"Risha..."

 

"Risha?"  Risha looked up at Holli.  When had she zoned out?  Holli was staring at her and had put her hand on Risha’s shoulder.

 

“It’s over.  We have to go now…” she said.

 

Risha gave one final look at Lance.  The attending doctor and one nurse were draping a white sheet over Lance’s body, while another nurse was unhooking Lance from the machines that were keeping him alive.  All the monitors were blank, just like him.

 

“Goodbye, Lance,” Risha said as she walked out of the room.

 

+++

 

Ivory tried to focus on the chart in front of her and forced herself to write down what needed to be done for the patient with the broken rib.  She hadn’t been able to focus since she’d arrived at work and heard that Lance Bass had passed away.  True, she hadn’t known him that well, but he was one of the nurses, one of the team.  And now, he was gone.

 

Before she could think about Lance’s death any further, the doors at the end of the hall burst open and a flurry of movement caught her attention.

 

“We need a doctor! Assault victim, female, mid-thirties!” Kylie called out as the paramedics wheeled a woman on a stretcher into the ER.

 

Ivory hurried over and helped guide the profusely bleeding woman on the stretcher into one of the trauma rooms, where she was hooked up to machines that would monitor her vitals.

 

“What happened?” she asked Kylie as she began to examine the wounds. 

 

The woman was unconscious, but her blood was staining everything.  Kylie rattled off the injuries, including possible broken ribs, which could have punctured a lung.  One of the ribs had broken skin and looked dangerously fatal from its position.  From the amount of blood pouring out of the woman, Ivory knew they’d have to work fast if they wanted her to live.

 

“My car…” Ivory looked down into her patient’s gray eyes, open now and clouded with pain and shock.

 

“Hold on, ma’am.  We’re going to help you,” Ivory assured her as they began hooking her up to different monitors and X-rays were taken.

 

As she called out orders for one of the nurses to call radiology to schedule a MRI, then call surgery, a police officer entered the trauma room and greeted her.

 

“Is she awake?” he asked Ivory, gesturing to the woman.

 

Ivory looked over at him and nodded.  “We’re trying to stabilize her right now, so if you’d like to wait a bit…”

 

“No, I can talk to you now,” the woman spoke in a scratchy, breathless voice.  “Please.”

 

Ivory shrugged, and the officer stepped up and took out a pen and pad of paper. 

 

“Mrs. Lowell, I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened earlier today,” Officer Henry spoke to Ivory’s patient while Ivory stood by, keeping an eye on the woman’s sats. 

 

Though she was currently more stable than critical, there was a strong possibility that there was blood leaking into the woman’s lungs, which could internally suffocate her.  Ivory needed to get an MRI done to see the full extent of the damage, but she knew from the woman’s low blood pressure that there was bleeding somewhere.  And the rib looked disturbingly dangerous and in immediate need of treatment.  Being an ER doctor, Ivory had been able to pop it back under the skin, but Abie Lowell needed a proper surgeon to ensure everything was going to be okay.  Unfortunately, the police needed Abie’s account of the car-jacking she had been a victim of earlier before anything could be done.

 

“I was… waiting at the… traffic light,” Abie spoke, gasping a little.  “All of a sudden… a man broke open the window.  He had dark blonde hair to his chin, kind of curly… brown eyes… He was wearing a brown shirt… with the word Fubu on it… um… I think he was wearing jeans.”  She paused to try to breathe easier, and Ivory adjusted the tube for her.  “Thanks, doctor… Could you call my husband please? His number’s in my cell phone.  It says Dan.”  When Ivory nodded, the woman turned back to the officer.   “He told me to get out, but I refused.  I just remember pain… lots of pain… and being thrown out of the car… then I woke up here.”

 

Henry jotted everything down then smiled at Abie.  “We’re going to do everything we can do to find the man who did this, ma’am.  Thank you for helping.”

 

Abie nodded.  Then her hands flew to her throat as she began to gasp.  Ivory looked up at the monitors.  Her heart rate was tachy, and she realized a rib really must have punctured a lung.  “We need to get her stabilized, now!  She needs to get up to surgery!  Let’s intubate her; she can’t breathe!”

 

After five minutes of frantic intubation and yelling at the morons in radiology who were putting her patient in line to be examined, Ivory managed to stabilize Abie and get her a priority slot for the MRI.

 

“Okay, people!”  Ivory turned to those in the trauma room with her.  “She’s next in line up in radiology, and then she’ll be examined by a surgeon.  I’m calling surgery so they can send a doctor to meet you up at the end of the MRI.”  She looked down into Abie’s pain-filled eyes.  “Mrs. Lowell, you’re going to be treated and prepped for surgery.  We’re going to do everything it takes to get you back on your feet, okay?”

 

Abie began to nod, but her eyes rolled back in her head.  At the same time, the heart rate monitor began beeping wildly. 

 

“She’s coding!  Get me the crash cart,” Ivory called to one of the nurses, who hurried off to get one.  “Come on, Abie, don’t die on me,” Ivory muttered as she pressed on the woman’s chest.

 

The heart monitor continued to beep while her blood pressure bottomed out, and Ivory glanced over as the nurse wheeled in the crash cart.

 

“Charge it,” Ivory ordered and grabbed the paddles.  As she pressed them to Abie’s chest and watched it rise, she noted that nothing changed on the monitor.  “Again!” and then, “Again!”

 

After nearly thirty minutes with no heart rate, Ivory sighed and looked over at the clock.  “Time of death, 12:23.”

 

As she left the trauma room, leaving a dead woman behind her, Ivory couldn’t help but think that death was filling the hospital today.  First Lance, now her own patient.  When she spotted Brian, she pasted a smile on her face.

 

“What happened?” he asked immediately.

 

She shrugged.  “I lost a patient.  A woman, assaulted during a car-jacking.”  She looked over at one of the nurses that had worked with her on Abie.  “Susan? Did you get through to Mrs. Lowell’s husband?”

 

Susan nodded.  “Yeah.  He’s on his way in, but he doesn’t know what happened.”

 

“Guess I’m the lucky one who gets to tell him, huh?” Ivory murmured.

 

Brian rubbed her arm comfortingly.  “You can do it.  I’m sorry that you couldn’t save her, though.  After Lance…”

 

“Yeah, I know.  I was just thinking about how death, doom, and gloom-filled today has been,” she told him.

 

He gave her a small smile.  “We must be crazy to want to work here, then, huh?”

 

“Must be,” she responded dryly.

 

“Dr. Harnett?” one of the nurses called out to her.  “Mr. Lowell is here.  He’s in the waiting room around the corner.”  The nurse gestured in the direction of the room.

 

Ivory nodded.  “Thanks.”  She turned to Brian.  “I hate this part.”

 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, sensing she needed comfort, too.  “I have faith in you,” he murmured.  “We’ll go see some comedy tonight, after work.  You know, to forget all about today.”

 

She smiled.  “I’d rather just stay in.  With you.”  When he nodded, she sighed and squared her shoulders.  “Well, here I go.”

 

Brian watched her go and mentally wished her luck.  Telling a patient’s family that they had just lost a loved one was one of the only parts of his job he could do without.  Remembering his dream, he frowned and rubbed a hand over his heart.  Don’t think about it, he reminded himself and headed off to find his own patient.

 

+++

 

Ivory entered the waiting room and spotted a man pacing the length of the room nervously.  She pegged him to be around forty and watched as he ran his hand through his dark brown hair. 

 

“Mr. Lowell?”

 

He turned and hurried over.  “My wife.  They said my wife was brought here.  Is she okay?  Are you her doctor?  What happened?”

 

Ivory gestured to a chair.  “Mr. Lowell, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll explain why your wife was brought here today?”

 

“Dan, call me Dan,” he told her and sat.  When Ivory took the seat next to him, he looked at her expectantly.  “What’s going on? Where’s Abie?”

 

Ivory took a deep breath and steeled herself.  “Mr. Low—Dan.  When Abie was brought here, she had broken ribs and a punctured lung.”  She heard his breath suck in sharply and continued, knowing she couldn’t stop.  “She was a victim of an armed carjacking this morning, and, when they brought her here, we had stabilized her respiration and were getting ready to send her up to be scanned for internal injuries.  She was to head to surgery afterwards, to repair her lung.  Unfortunately, there was probably internal bleeding that we were unable to be certain of before she coded.  I’m so sorry, Dan.”

 

Dan Lowell was trembling, his eyes full of tears, pain, and shock.  “She’s… gone?  Oh, God.  Abie… my Abie’s gone?” 

 

As the newly-widowed man broke down and sobbed, Ivory sat by his side, unable to prevent his grief from affecting her.  After several moments, he lifted a tear-stained face to hers.

 

“What do I tell our kids?  How do I tell them that their mother is gone?”

 

He turned away to stare blindly at a wall.  Ivory could tell he wasn’t really seeing anything, except maybe his once-intact family.  She knew he didn’t really want an answer to his questions, just someone to sit with him.

 

“Katie’s only three, and Jamie’s a year-and-a-half.  We waited to have kids, you know,” he told her, his voice wavering.  “We’ve been married for thirteen years, but we wanted to wait until she was established in the courts.  So we had Katie and then Jamie, but now…” He began to sob again and buried his face in his hands.  “How am I supposed to make it through without her?  How are Katie and Jamie going to handle not having Abie around?  How do you raise your kids without a mom?”

 

Ivory didn’t know and couldn’t tell him, so she continued to sit with him.  In her head, she tried not to think that, if she ever got a hold of that bastard who’d hurt Abie Lowell, he was a dead man.  Of course, that wasn’t the type of comfort Dan Lowell needed at the moment.

 

“Dan, if you have any more questions or simply need someone to talk to, I can give you the number for a very good grief counselor here at the hospital,” she told him when he seemed a bit more calm. 

 

He wiped his face and nodded.  “Yeah, thanks.  Thank you, Doctor.  You tried to save her, so I have to thank you for that.”

 

Ivory stood.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

 

“But you tried.  That’s all that counts.” Dan turned to stare at the wall across from him again, and Ivory left the grief counselor’s card on the table next to him and hurried out.

 

+++

 

As Risha sat down at her desk, the shocking event of that morning still played in her mind.  She couldn't believe that Lance had died.  He had seemed so much better the night before.

 

Risha opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out a small picture frame.  She twirled her ring as she set the picture on her desk and looked at it.  It was of John and her, a few days before John's accident.  They looked so happy then... why couldn't it have stayed the way it had been?

 

"I'm sorry, John... I couldn't save him... just like I couldn't save you..." Risha muttered to the picture.  She continued to look at the photograph.  They were so young back then.  The past ten years had been rough, and she had changed so much. 

 

"Risha?" she heard a voice say.  She instantly threw the picture in the bottom drawer and closed it.  When the drawer was closed, she looked up toward the voice.  It was Kevin. 

 

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

 

Risha nodded.  She hated lying, but she would have felt uncomfortable if she said everything she felt to someone she barely knew. 

 

"Are you sure?”

 

By looking at his eyes, Risha knew that Kevin wasn't buying her act.  Risha brushed the excess hair from her eyes.

 

"Yeah... I'll be fine.  No need to worry," she said, forcing a smile.  She knew that it wasn't working and could tell that Kevin felt the same way.

 

"Well, okay.  But if you ever need to talk to someone, I'll be here to listen.  Okay?"  Kevin gave her a comforting smile and walked out of the door, leaving Risha to the emptiness that she wasn't sure she needed.

 

When the coast was clear, Risha opened the bottom drawer up again, and checked the picture frame for cracks.  There weren't any.  With a sigh of relief, Risha looked at the picture again.

 

"I'm sorry, John, but I'm not ready to open up yet..."

 

+++

 

Nick sighed as he went to check a little girl’s vitals.  She was a little Hispanic girl with curly black hair and big brown eyes, a bit of what he figured Isabel had to have looked like when she was younger.  She was calm for now.  Her parents, however, were yelling frantically in Spanish.

 

Brian looked at Nick.  “I’ll take care of the little girl.  See if you can get from them specifically what’s wrong.”

 

Nick nodded.  “Do you understand English?”  He watched the parents, who were frantic and arguing amongst themselves.  Arguing - that was something he knew better than he ever wanted to, no matter what language it was in.

 

“Ayude a mi hija tomó también muchas píldoras durmientes porque ella pensó eran caramelo que ella tomó también muchos y hará que su enfermo por favor ayuda a mi hija! (Help, my daughter took too many sleeping pills because she thought they were candy!  She took too many, and it will make her sick!  Please help my daughter!)” the mother yelled frantically. (AN: Sorry about the rough Spanish; all I had were the online translators that don’t work all 100% well.)

 

“Can you say that in English?”

 

The mother and father stared at him in confusion, and the young blonde medical student looked to Dr. Littrell for help.  “You know Spanish?”

 

“Not since high school.”

 

“Shit, all I know is some German.”

 

“Nick, go get Isabel!  Maybe she can translate.  From the mother’s tone, the child swallowed something serious.  I need to run a few tests, but I can’t if I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

 

Nick nodded and ran off down the hall.

 

+++

 

Isabel sat at a table in the café, enjoying her lunch break.  She wished Nick could enjoy it with her, but she’d heard he had a patient with Brian to take care of.  She yawned tiredly; she had pulled an all-nighter and was definitely feeling the results.  She looked like she felt - worn out and exhausted.  She had heard the news that Lance had died as well, and although she did not know him terribly well, it had hit her hard.  He had shot himself cause he felt he couldn’t handle it all.  She knew all too well how overwhelming that could become, the only difference being that she hadn’t let it consume her like he had.

 

“Izzy!”

 

She looked up and raised a brow at Nick with a small grin as she saw her boyfriend run up to her.  She definitely needed to talk to him about working on that nickname.

 

“Hey,” she smiled, brightening a bit at his appearance.  “Your patient taken care of?”

 

“No, Iz, how fluent are you in Spanish?”

 

“Pretty well, growing up with it-”

 

He grabbed her and pulled her along behind him.  It would almost have been comical if she hadn’t sensed it was important.  Still, Nick was such a dork sometimes that it was endearing.  “Good, I need you to translate for us.”

 

They headed for Trauma 1, where Brian and the family were waiting.  As Isabel went to talk to the parents, Mariah came up and pulled Nick aside.  “You have a call on line one, Nick.”

 

Nick stared at her.  “I have a child to-”

 

“It’s your mother; she sounds frantic.”

 

He sighed, “Alright, I’ll take it.”  He could hear Isabel translate to Brian that the little girl had taken too many NighQuil capsules as candy.  Her parents had found her as she was finishing them and rushed her here.  Nick went to the phone as Brian nodded at him in understanding as he took care of the little girl, Gina.  Nick felt himself become tense and unconsciously started humming Nirvana’s “All Apologies,” a habit he had picked up to calm himself a long time ago.

 

Isabel smiled at Brian as he thanked her, and she waited for Nick, also staying in case she needed to translate anything else for them.  Her eyes gazed upon the young blond man before her.

 

“Hi, Mom…”  She watched his demeanor shift into one of hurt and frustration in seconds.  “No, I don’t know where Aaron is… or where your glasses are…. why would I know?  Mom, I don’t even live in Florida with you guys now, how would I know?  I can’t talk right now..”

 

“She’s coding!” they both heard Brian cry.

 

“Mom… Mom!  I can’t talk right now; I have a trauma!”  The look of sadness in those ocean eyes was heartbreaking.  “Mom, of course I still love you… I’m not abandoning you!  Mom, remember I’m interning at a hospital… yes… yes, I have to go now… bye!”  He hung up, but before she could say anything, he just sighed and said, “I’ll call you tonight, Izzy; thanks for the help,” before rushing to help Brian pump the stomach of the little girl.

 

But anyone with eyes could see there was something darker seeded within the seemingly happy and content young man before her, something that caused him a pain he chose to hide from everyone.  Including her.

 

+++

 

When Joey Fatone walked into the ER that afternoon, he could tell instantly that something was wrong.  The waiting room was its usual mass of chaos, the seats full of people waiting to be triaged and taken to rooms.  But the main desk area was unusually quiet.

 

Joey ran that desk; he knew better than anyone what went on there.  It was the heart of the ER; all of the doctors and nurses stopped there or passed by constantly, and therefore, it was as much a gossip post as a place of administration.  It was where the staff stopped to chat as they handled patient charts, ordered tests, or waited for lab results.  Usually it was teaming with action, people in scrubs milling around it like ants, ten different conversations flowing at the same time.

 

Today, the desk looked lifeless.

 

There was life there, of course; Joey’s stomach performed its now familiar somersault when he saw the top of Mariah’s head behind her computer screen.  She had worked the desk this morning and would be getting off now that he was there to take over.  There were a few other staff members around, filling out paperwork or erasing newly-discharged patients from the large marker board they used to keep track of them all.  But no one was talking.

 

Melissa was among them, and she spotted Joey right away.  Setting down her pen, she walked briskly over to meet him.

 

A wave of guilt swept through him as he watched her; last night still haunted him.  The phone call from Mariah.  The late night visit to Mariah’s apartment.  The lies he had told Mel.  The dream.

 

It had taken him a long time to get back to sleep after he’d woken up from that dream – long enough to think things through and come to a decision.  He had to break up with Melissa.  For her sake, not his.  She was looking for a serious relationship, someone she could settle down with.  That someone was not him.  The affair with Mariah made him sure he wasn’t ready to commit to one person, and Melissa deserved better than him.  He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew that’s exactly what he would end up doing if they stayed together.  Even if he ended things with Mariah, Melissa was destined to find out – he had watched enough movies to know that the scorned woman always did – and then she would be devastated.  He would just tell her the half-truth – that a long-term commitment wasn’t going to work for him.  And that it was his fault, not hers.

 

He’d been all set to do that today, but when he saw the look on Melissa’s face, every word he had planned to say to her erased from his brain.  She looked serious.  Too serious.  He felt his heart start to race as she walked toward him.

 

She knew.

 

His mind joined his heart, racing with worried thoughts and questions.  How could she have found out?  Had Mariah said something?  Was she coming over to dump him on the spot?

 

“H-hey,” he greeted her weakly, not knowing what else to say.  He braced himself, waiting for her hurt tirade to begin.

 

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sadness, and he felt his stomach turn again.  But the words that came out of her mouth next would make him forget everything he had been thinking about on the drive in.

 

“Lance Bass died this morning.”

 

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in.  When they did, Joey was shocked.  “What?!” he asked in disbelief, sure he must have heard her wrong.  That was about the last thing he’d expected to hear from her right then.  But when she just nodded, slowly, he knew he’d heard right.  “Oh my-“  He raised his hand to his head, his fingers brushing the gelled tips of his hair.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

Joey had known Lance quite well.  As a desk clerk, he interacted with the nurses often, and he had always gotten along especially well with the two male nurses, Lance and Chris.  In the good old days, the three of them could always be found crowded around the desk, going over the highlights of the last Carolina Panthers football game, rating the female nurses on how well their asses looked in scrubs, or debating whether or not Dr. O’Brien needed a Midol for her perpetual state of PMS.

 

Things hadn’t been quite the same around the ER since Lance’s attempted suicide that October.  But ever since Thanksgiving, things had been looking up.  Joey had heard that Lance was starting to show some improvement.  He shook his head at Melissa now, trying to understand.  “What happened??”

 

She mirrored his movements, shaking her head as well.  “I don’t know too many details,” she said, her voice a grave hush.  “From what heard, he just coded early this morning, and… they couldn’t get him back.”

 

Joey swallowed hard and reached out to her, resting his hands on her upper arms.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  The ER nurses were a tight group, and Melissa had been working with Lance just as long as he had.  In fact, she and Lance had started at Memorial the same year, when they were both fresh out of nursing school.  She had to be taking this hard.  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

 

She shook her head.  “No, I’m alright, thanks.  I need to get back to work anyway.”  She shrugged, her shoulders falling limply, and heaved a sigh.  “Life goes on, you know?”

 

Joey watched her walk away, his stomach somersaulting again.  He knew he wasn’t going to get around to that important talk with Mel today.  She needed time to recover from this; he wasn’t going to add a break-up to the grief already on her plate.

 

Forcing himself to turn, he headed towards the desk, dreading having to come face to face with Mariah.  Ever since they’d started sleeping together, he hated being around her at work.  He was constantly on edge, paranoid, afraid that the rest of his co-workers would be able to tell something was going on.  They know… they know, the voices in his head threatened.  Mariah liked to play on his fears; whenever she thought no one else was looking, she’d catch his eye and wink or waggle her eyebrows, lick her lips, do anything to make him blush and send his stomach rolling all over the place.

 

But today, when he came up to the receptionist’s station… nothing.  Even Mariah was subdued by the tragedy the ER family had suffered.  She glanced up from her computer, and when she saw him, all she said was, “Hi.  I guess you heard?”

 

Joey nodded solemnly, swallowing again.

 

Mariah pursed her full, red lips.  “Well, I’m off.  Have a good shift.”   Then she slid out of her chair, grabbed her purse from beneath the desk, and only brushed against him slightly as she walked off, her narrow heels clicking against the tile.  Joey watched her leave, astonished by her lack of flirtation.

 

Then again, the death of a co-worker had that effect on people.

 

+++

 

Ivory made her way back to the emergency room area after a late lunch and hoped that not too many more people would manage to get injured and show up at the hospital.  There were only four hours left before she could clock out, and, after seeing Chris Kirkpatrick and Dan Lowell’s devastated faces, she needed to be away from the hospital.  Spending time with Brian would be a great way to not think about work and life - or, rather, death, she mused - and she was looking forward to it.

 

“Just four hours, God.  That’s all I’m asking for,” she muttered as she made her way to the nurses’ station, hoping that they wouldn’t give her a complicated patient.

 

As she reached the desk, the emergency room doors snapped open, and she had a moment of déjà vu before she hurried towards Howie and the man he was wheeling in on a stretcher.

 

“I’m fine! Let me off of this damn gurney!”  The man appeared to be in his late twenties with dark blonde curls and angry brown eyes.  He was also covered in blood and raging.

 

“He was trying to rob a jewelry store when the cops caught him,” Howie explained to Ivory as he and AJ wrestled the man’s hands and legs down to stop his thrashing. 

 

“He pulled a gun on them and probably would have shot someone, but the cops shot him down,” AJ spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep the man down.  “I think they said he jacked someone’s car earlier today.”

 

Ivory stopped just inside the doors to the trauma room and stared while two nurses began to attach wires to monitor the man’s vitals.  She saw the brown shirt, the blonde curls, and brown eyes and remembered Dan and Abie Lowell.  This was the bastard who’d killed a mother and taken her from her family.  Katie and Jamie Lowell were out there without a mother to care for them, and Dan Lowell was without the woman he loved.  And it was all this man’s fault.

 

“Dr. Harnett!” Susan, one of the nurses who was helping with the patient, snapped Ivory out of her thoughts.  “He’s not conscious, and his heart rate is dropping.  What do you want us to do?”

 

Ivory knew she was supposed to save the man, even if he was a carjacking, mother-killing bastard.  She’d taken an oath to care for human life, but sometimes it really bothered her.  If she did nothing, she’d give Brunson a heart attack and probably lose her job.  On the other hand, it would be justice, wouldn’t it?

 

As she stood mentally debating the issue, she missed the way Susan narrowed her eyes when she noted Ivory making no move to help the man lying on the table, his life in her hands.

 

“Where’s the bullet lodged?” Ivory finally asked, making her decision.

 

An intern had been sent in to help her, and he turned from the X-ray.  “Left side of the chest.  It looks like it’s inside the pericardium.  If we don’t stabilize him and get him up to surgery fast, he’ll die.”

 

Ivory nodded and instructed the nurse to inject saline and medication to try to stabilize the heart.  She noted the copious amounts of blood that were covering her hands and asked Susan to add actual blood to the fluids being inserted into the patient’s blood stream.  Between the bullet and all the blood lost, she didn’t think they’d be able to get him up to surgery.  Maybe she had better get Brunson in here to cart him up to surgery.

 

“His name’s Carl,” Susan murmured, as she watched Ivory work.

 

Ivory turned away from the X-rays and barely glanced at the other woman as she moved to call Brunson.  “Excuse me?”

 

Susan gestured to the man lying on the table between them.  “His name’s Carl.  He’s a living, breathing human being.  I became a nurse so I could help people survive their accidents.  What’s your excuse?”

 

Ivory stared at the nurse, not sure what the hell she was talking about.  Before she could formulate a response, every monitor in the room began beeping crazily.

 

“He’s tachy,” the intern called out.

 

“Blood pressure’s dropping…”

 

“Oxygen sats’ falling… ninety one…”

 

Ivory added more meds to the dosage, but, when the sats continued dropping, she knew there was something else going on.

 

“Is there another wound we’re missing?” she wondered, running her hands over Carl’s chest.  There was too much blood, making a wound impossible to see.

 

“There’s another one!” the intern called out, as he searched the X-rays.

 

“Where?”

 

“In the third intercostal space… Shit.”

 

“What?” Ivory was seriously going to kill this intern if he didn’t stop beating around the bush.

 

He looked at her then at the heart rate monitor.  “The bullet looks like it’s lodged between the ventricles of his heart.  Heart rate’s at forty three.”

 

Ivory stared down at the blood-covered chest and spotted the small hole where the second bullet must have entered.  She was going to have to do a lot of fancywork to save this man, especially since she’d decided she’d rather let the courts punish him.

 

“All right.  There’s no time to move him up to surgery, so we’re going to have to do this here and very carefully,” Ivory began.  “Somebody call Brunson…”

 

+++

 

Still dressed in his EMT uniform, Howie Dorough sat behind the wheel of his SUV, waiting for his daughter outside of her school.  He was glad he’d made it there on time, for the last paramedic’s call he’d been out on had been particularly messy.  A carjacker, shot by the police while trying to flee.  AJ was still at the hospital, giving his statement, which was really irrelevant since the ambulance had gotten there long after the action had taken place.  But in a situation like this, the police wanted to interview everyone involved.  Howie had been lucky to get away before Danielle’s school let out.

 

He’d wanted to pick Danielle up himself that day so that he’d have a chance to talk to her.  But now that he was here, he was a nervous wreck, to put it lightly.  He didn’t know how he was going to explain to Dani his feelings for Rita and the fact that he wanted to marry her.  He didn’t want Dani to think that Rita was trying to take the place of her mother, and even though Dani and Rita got along great, he worried that she would be jealous of Rita’s place in his life.  For the longest time, Dani had been the only “woman” in his life.

 

Seeing Dani exit the school at last, Howie leaned over and unlocked her door.  “Hi princess,” he greeted her

 

“Hi Daddy,” Dani greeted him cheerfully.

 

“How was school?” he asked her.

 

Howie let the six-year-old ramble on about the events of her day; all the while, he tried to get up his courage to bring up the marriage subject.

 

“Sweetie, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” Howie said, catching a lull in the conversation.

 

“What is it, Daddy?” the little girl asked curiously.

 

“You like Rita, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, she’s nice,” Dani said.

 

“I like her too.  I’ve decided I wanted to ask her to marry me.  Are you okay with that?”

 

Howie wasn’t prepared for the reaction he got.  However, he was thrilled.

 

Dani’s eyes lit up. “Yay!” she exclaimed excitedly.  “Does that mean she’ll come to stay with us?”

 

“Well yes, honey, provided she says yes, she would move in with us.  She’ll be your stepmother.  But you’ll still have your Mommy too.  You’ll just have two mommies.” 

 

“When are you going to ask her?”

 

“I was thinking Christmas.”

 

“Can I help you pick out the ring?”

 

That caught Howie off-guard.  He hadn’t even thought about the engagement ring because he was worried about how Dani would react to the news.  But since she was fine with it, he saw no harm in letting her help choose the ring.

 

“I can’t think of anyone else I would want to help me,” Howie told her with a smile.

 

+++

 

“Time of death… 16:22.”

 

Ivory yanked the gloves off her hands and removed the bloody gown.  Two deaths in one day lay on her hands.  She knew it was a personal record for her and hated that death seemed to be on the agenda for the day.  She avoided looking into Holli Brunson’s eyes, knowing the chief would probably berate her on something.  In Brunson’s eyes, Ivory could do no right, and here she had been unable to save a man right in front of the chief.

 

She turned to her team.  “Good work, guys.  I’m sorry we couldn’t save him.  You save some, you lose some,” she added, watching the nurses clean up around the body and cover him.

 

“You lose some if you want to,” Susan muttered, hoping Ivory hadn’t heard her.  She was convinced Dr. Harnett had wanted the man to die.  Sure, the guy had shot the poor woman who’d come in earlier, but that was no excuse to hesitate long enough for a man to die.

 

Brunson looked at the nurse sharply.  “What makes you say that?”

 

Ivory hadn’t heard Susan’s comment as she’d already left the trauma room, so she didn’t hear Brunson’s question.  She was tired of the death and was even more desperate for her shift to end.  If it wasn’t too much to ask, she hoped God was listening because she didn’t want another patient to die on her watch - for at least a week.

 

+++

 

That Saturday, Howie awoke Dani early and took her out to breakfast before dropping by his favorite jeweler.

 

“Which one do you like, Dani?” Howie asked.

 

“That one,” Dani said immediately, pointing to a ring on the left side of the case.

 

Howie directed the jeweler to Dani’s choice, and he removed it from the case for Howie to inspect.

 

He turned it, admiring how the diamonds sparkled as they caught the light.

 

“What do you think, Daddy?  Do you like it?”

 

Howie smiled. “I think it’s perfect,” he said.

 

“Beautiful choice, sir,” the jeweler commented.  “What color box would you like?”

 

“Black,” Howie replied.

 

The jeweler finished packaging up the ring while Howie finished writing the check for the payment.  Finally, he presented Howie with the ring.

 

“Do you think Rita will like it, Daddy?” Dani asked him.

 

“I hope so, sweetheart,” Howie said.

 

He then lost himself in thought at where his life was going.  If Rita said yes, he would be the happiest man on the face of the earth.  He would have everything he ever wanted.  He sometimes wondered how he’d deserved for his life to work out so well.  But, he thanked God everyday for it.

 

+++

 

“I’m being what?!” Ivory stared at Siara, trying to comprehend what the other woman had just said to her. 

 

She was being investigated for doing her job?  What the heck was going on?  Ivory couldn’t understand it at all.

 

“Apparently, someone told Brunson that your patient, the carjacker, could have lived, but you didn’t do your job to the best of your ability,” Siara elaborated.  “I just heard Brunson talking about it to one of the members on the board.  They’re going back through all of your notes.”  When Ivory’s face turned red enough that Siara was convinced she would start steaming visibly, she held up her hands in defense.  “Hey, don’t kill the messenger.  I just thought I’d let you know what’s going on.”

 

Ivory nodded, unable to speak for fear that she would regret her words.  “Thanks,” she managed through gritted teeth.

 

As she watched Siara walk away, Ivory stewed.  Who had told Brunson that she hadn’t done her job properly?  She’d done everything she could to save the man’s life, but it wasn’t her fault the heart wasn’t good at handling a foreign object lodged in it.  No one on her team had realized there was another bullet in the heart until it was too late.  They couldn’t fault her for that, could they?  Besides, hadn’t Brunson been there to ascertain what had happened? Hadn’t she been the one who told Ivory to call the death?

 

She knew she was already on Brunson’s shit list because of her “altercation” with a patient’s father weeks ago.  This was sure to move her up to the top of that list.  She had to know who had ratted her out if for no other reason than to set them straight.  She’d done everything possible, and that hesitation? It wouldn’t have saved Carl’s life if she’d jumped right in to the situation because that second bullet would have killed him no matter what the doctors—ER or surgery—would and could have done.

 

Deciding to keep her eyes and ears open, Ivory headed towards the exam room where her current patient was waiting for her.  As she passed another exam room, she heard voices.  Pausing to note that there was no patient in that room, she was about to move on when she heard her name.

 

“I had to tell the chief that she didn’t do her job properly,” a woman’s voice explained.

 

There was a sigh.  “Susan, you’re new here, so I don’t think you know exactly who it is you just put under investigation.  Dr. Harnett’s a great doctor with a stellar temper.  If she ever finds out you are the reason she might lose her job, she’s going to make your life hell.  Besides, you don’t know for sure that she meant for the patient to die.”

 

“I watched her stop and stare at the guy.  She didn’t move for over a minute! She could’ve saved the guy if we’d made use of that minute,” Susan defended her decision.

 

Ivory decided she’d heard enough.  Whoever the other woman Susan was talking to was, she was right about the temper.  It was all she could do to stop herself from running into the room and clocking the interfering nurse.

 

“Save it, Harnett,” she told herself. “You’ve got a patient to deal with.  Confrontation is for later.”

 

+++

 

Her opportunity came as she was speaking to another nurse about the medication that one of her patients needed.  Susan returned to the nurses’ station and was flipping through a chart, so Ivory quickly finished up and thanked the other nurse.  She counted to ten in her head and managed a smile.

 

“Susan?” She waited until the nurse looked up and acknowledged her.  “Hi.  I was wondering if I could speak to you for a few minutes?  Do you have time?”

 

Susan was starting to look nervous, but nodded.  “Sure.  How about right now?”

 

“Absolutely.  Let’s go get some fresh air,” Ivory suggested.

 

When the two women were standing outside the hospital, away from the ER ambulance bay, Ivory turned to the nurse.

 

“I wanted to thank you for being so professional when we worked on the carjacker,” she began.  “I know you understood that we did everything we could to save him, and I’m glad that you took in stride.  You’re new here, and the first few deaths you witness can really get to you.”

 

“His death didn’t get to me because we took all the necessary measures to save him,” Susan replied.  “It’s because you didn’t do your job the best you could and let a man die.  That’s what’s bothering me so much, Doctor Harnett.”

 

Ivory narrowed her eyes.  “You haven’t been here long enough, Nurse Roberts, to tell me how to do my job.  I did everything in my power to save that man.  Maybe I didn’t want to because he’d killed an innocent wife and mother earlier that day, but I knew I still had to do my job.  And I did.”

 

“You hesitated! That’s not doing your job!”

 

“And your job is not to snitch out every doctor that does something you may not agree with!” Ivory countered.  She could feel herself turning red and knew her temper was close to snapping.

 

“It is if a patient could have lived!”

 

“He died because there was a bullet in his damn heart, and we didn’t see it until it was too late!” Ivory failed to keep her voice low.

 

Susan shook her head, her eyes flashing angrily.  “If you hadn’t waited to begin working on him, we could’ve found that bullet soon enough to save him.  Admit it, Doctor. You wanted him to die because it was your own little form of justice.”

 

“That’s not true! That’s-that’s bullshit!” Ivory sputtered.

 

Susan raised a brow.  “We’re not supposed to pass judgment on patients, we’re supposed to save their lives. You didn’t do that when you stopped before helping him.  I had to tell the chief because I think she should know what really happened.”

 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Ivory wondered.  “Since when do nurses have self-righteous attitudes? Especially ones fresh out of the nursing program.  I’ve been here longer than you, and you can bet your ass they won’t believe your word over mine.”

 

 “Oh yeah? Then why are you sweating over this?” Susan asked with a smirk.  Shaking her head, she turned to walk back into the hospital.  “Good luck, Dr. Harnett.  I hope justice works both ways,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing inside the building.

 

Ivory saw red and turned to kick the wall.  “What a bitch.  We’ll see who comes out on top with justice,” she muttered.

 

Knowing she was useless to patients when she was this angry, she set off to walk around the building, hoping the cold air would cool her temper.

 

+++

 

Chris read the Departmental memo one more time, still unwilling to process the words.

 

 

To All Staff members, All Departments:

Today at 1:30 pm a brief memorial service will be held for Lance Bass, ER Nurse, in the hospital chapel. Any members who wish to attend will be allowed to do so as long as their duties are not neglected. Condolence messages may be left for the family at the service.

                                                - Holli Brunson

 

 

A brief memorial service... for a brief life, ended far too soon.  The words on the paper blurred for a moment, and he wiped his eyes clear of wetness.  He could still hear the words announcing his best friend's death, still feel the overwhelming sense of loss.  The look on Lance's parents faces as they, in turn, were told the news. The empty feeling deep in his gut as he realized he'd never see or speak to Lance again.

 

He'd been asked to do the eulogy at the memorial service. He'd protested at first, but then realized that no one knew Lance better.  It was the last, final favor he could do for his friend.  It was also the toughest thing he'd ever had to face.

 

Glancing at the time, he realized there was no more delaying.  With a heavy heart, he headed towards the tiny chapel, wondering how on Earth he was going to keep it together in front of his peers.

 

His journey ended quicker than he'd wanted; no one else had arrived yet.  The floral displays at the front of the chapel were tasteful and simple; a framed photograph of Lance rested on an easel on the opposite side of the podium.  Chris couldn't bring himself to look at the smiling image.

 

Luckily, people began to filter in soon thereafter.  Chris was a bit surprised, and gratified, to see the large number of faces before him.  Suddenly, it was time.  After wiping his hands on his shirt and clearing his throat several times, he stepped up to the podium.

 

“Thanks for coming,” he began awkwardly. “We're here to say goodbye to one of Atlantic's own, Lance Bass. He was a familiar sight in the ER; he was always quick to do any task asked of him, without complaint.  He thought nothing of giving his all, whether it was reassuring a worried family or working an extra shift to help out when things got crazy.  He was also a very private person, who never troubled others with his own difficulties. I think that-”  Chris stopped, the words stuck in his throat.  Emotions threatened to overwhelm, but he gripped the edges of the podium and pushed them back. After several seconds, he forced himself to continue.

 

 “I think that if he shared his life a little more, maybe he wouldn't have felt as desperate and alone as he did in the end.  Maybe that's something for all of us to think about.  I was his friend; I should have seen how troubled he was.  But I didn't.  I took things for granted, things I'll never know again.  Maybe that's a reminder for everyone here.  To not take each other for granted, and to be brave enough to open up to others when we feel there's no hope.  Maybe we should take a look at those around us... really look. Reach out a hand.  Life's too short to make the journey alone.”  He drew a shaky breath.  “If we remember that, then Lance's death won't be in vain.”

 

He stepped down, signaling the end of the eulogy.  He heard the sounds of movement and subdued voices as the attendees rose from their seats.  He looked up a minute later, seeing a few people lingering.

 

Jaela Miller and Addie Burke, fellow ER nurses, were talking quietly off to the side, while Doctors O'Brien, Parker and Littrell were at the condolences box, preparing to write notes to the family.  Dr. Richardson was waiting by the door, no doubt for Dr. O'Brien to finish.

 

Richardson caught his glance and gave him a small nod; Chris tried to return a smile but it didn't quite manifest. But he knew the surgeon understood.

 

It was then that he noticed the quiet figure in the last row.  Even in the dim light of the chapel she looked pale; he wondered at her stricken look.

 

Risha Veers had surprised him with her reaction to Lance's death.  He'd figured that, to her, Lance was just another case.  After all, they hadn't known one another.

 

Still, he knew she had fought extremely hard for Lance when he'd first been brought in; she'd literally saved his life.  It had been a miracle he'd survived; everyone said so.  In the end it had been in vain, but at least she'd tried.

 

She had been in the room when Lance had been pronounced.  He'd seen her reaction, and wanted to ask if she was okay, but she'd fled before he could say a word.  The few times he'd seen her since, she had been even more withdrawn and somber than usual.  It was a puzzle.

 

“That was a nice eulogy,” Jaela said, startling him.

 

“It was,” Addie agreed. “Simple but thought-provoking.”

 

“Thanks,” he said uncertainly.

 

“I know I'll miss him around the ER,” Addie continued. “You could always count on him to lend a hand, like you said.”

 

“Take care, Chris.  See you next shift,” Jaela said, touching him on the arm briefly.

 

He managed a nod as the two women left.

 

“Are you okay?” came a soft voice behind him.

 

He turned, surprised to see Risha.

 

“Yeah, I'm good,” he replied.

 

She waited a moment.  “I don't think that's really true,” she said.  “No one can do a eulogy for someone close and be 'good' with it.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably.  No one had really asked how he had been holding up, and he wasn't sure of the truth.  “I guess I'm as good as can be expected,” he answered.

 

She accepted his reply, then gazed at him with sorrow-filled eyes.  “I'm really sorry for your loss,” she said.  “I know that this is all like a whirlwind to you... but if you want to talk or anything, afterwards, well... I'm here.  It's just a shame that this ended up like it did.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.  They stood in an awkward silence for a bit.

 

“Well, I should probably get home,” she said.

 

“Home? Not back to work?”

 

“No, I'm off today.”

 

Chris blinked.  “You came in, just for the memorial service?”

 

“Yes.”

 

It touched Chris in a way he hadn't expected. “But... you hardly knew him.”

 

“He still mattered to me,” she said quietly.  “I... I really thought he had a chance.”

 

“Me too,” came the saddened reply.

 

“I'll see you later, then,” she said as she turned to leave.

 

“Risha, wait,” Chris said suddenly.

 

“What?”

 

“Will you... could you come to the funeral?  It's going to be really small, just his parents and me. I'd appreciate your company.”

 

Her eyes widened; clearly he had surprised her.  He watched emotions wash across her face, and knew that her answer would be no.  His heart sank just a little more.

 

“I don't know... I don't do well at funerals, and-”

 

“Please,” he said, a bit more desperately than he wanted.  “I don't think I can face this by myself.”

 

She searched his eyes.  For a long moment, she didn't reply.

 

“You shouldn't be alone,” she finally said.  “If it will help, then... yes, I'll come.”

 

He felt a surprising amount of relief at her words.

 

“Thanks, this means a lot.  Do you know the cemetery on Adler street?”

 

“Yes, I think so.”

 

“The funeral is there at four this afternoon.  Should I come pick you up, or...”

 

“I'll meet you there,” she said.

 

“Well I really appreciate this,” he said again.  “And thanks for coming today.”

 

“It was the least I could do,” came her quiet reply.  He watched her leave the chapel and sighed.  Even with her support, the funeral would be nearly impossible to make it through.

 

+++

 

The small group watched as the casket was lowered into the ground.  Diane Bass broke into another bout of pain-filled sobs, and her husband wrapped his arms around her.  With the final words spoken, it was over.

 

They walked silently back to the single building on the grounds which served as a gathering place for the bereaved. Jim steered his wife to a chair and sat beside her, a devastated look on his face.

 

Chris couldn't think of a thing to say.  They had lost their only remaining child; their hopes and prayers for Lance's recovery had been for nothing.  He couldn't imagine the depth of their pain.

 

It was Risha that broke the silence.

 

“I've been thinking a lot about your son,” she said, sitting across from the grieving parents.  “I'm a neurosurgeon, and I see a lot of trauma in my line of work.  When he was first brought in, I was told he'd tried to commit suicide.  But I have to wonder about how serious he was.”

 

Diane looked up, confused.

 

“If he truly meant to kill himself,” Risha continued, “he would have aimed better. But from the angle of the wound, I wonder if at the last moment he moved his hand.  If he realized that he didn't want to die.”  She looked from Diane to Jim.  “The reason I even bring this up is because of how hard he fought to survive afterwards.  A surgeon can only do so much.  A patient's will can mean the difference between survival and demise... I've seen it hundreds of times.  And one thing I'm sure of is that Lance was a fighter the entire time he was under my care.”

 

Chris raised his eyebrows at her statement but didn't interrupt.

 

“I believe that Lance didn't die by his own hand,” she said.  “That, he survived.  His wounds were healing nicely, and he was fairly stable.  It goes against medical reason... by all rights, he should have died on my table.  But he hung in there for a long time.”  She studied her hands for a moment.  “In the end, I think it was too much for him to overcome.  I think he tried.  I think he wanted to survive, but it wasn't meant to be.”

 

Diane Bass stared at the floor for several long minutes.  At last, she raised her eyes.

 

“Thank you,” she said in a shaky voice.  “Thank you for that, Dr. Veers.”

 

Jim remained silent, but there was a tiny light that rose in his eyes at the doctor's words.

 

Chris didn't know what to say.

 

Everyone stood, and Diane embraced him tightly, murmuring her thanks into his shoulder.  Then, she turned and gave a quick embrace to a surprised Risha.  Jim shook Chris' hand, did the same to Risha, then escorted his wife out of the building.

 

Chris sank back down in a chair. “Damn.”

 

“Chris?”

 

“Damn, that was hard,” he said, feeling tears starting to well. He felt a delicate touch on his arm.

 

“I know,” she said.

 

“What you said... to them...”  He sniffed.  “Did you really mean that?”

 

“Yes, I did,” she said.  “I don't know if it's true, but that's what I believe.”

 

“I wish... I wish I just knew if he's... happy now. If he's at peace, or...”  He stopped.

 

“I can't tell you that,” she whispered. “I wish I knew, too.”

 

Silent tears began rolling down his face, despite his resolve not to cry in front of her.  He turned slightly, pretending to look at the white floral display that decorated the small table to the left.

 

Suddenly, his eye caught movement.  His head snapped up as a petal broke off and began to rise.

 

What in the hell?

 

It took a moment for him to realize it wasn't a petal.  He heard a small gasp from his side and knew that Risha saw it too.

 

A butterfly.

 

A tiny, pure white, inexplicable butterfly had launched itself from the flowers and now fluttered around the room.

 

A butterfly, in December.

 

Chris stood, amazed.

 

“But that's...”

 

“Impossible,” he finished.

 

Then he realized what had happened.  He had wanted to know if Lance was all right, if he was happy. And there, fluttering above their heads, was his answer.

 

For the first time in four days, Chris smiled.

 

+++

 

 

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