Request Fill 19: Part 1 of Crash, in TBoPE/LAWG verse
Title: Request Fill 19: Part 1 of Crash, in TBoPE ‘verse
Author: Caera1996
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: G
Summary/Notes: This is a Request Fill for McRaider in TBoPE/LAWG 'verse. It can be read as a standalone, however. The request was: Jim is in a car accident on his way to work. He's seriously injured but still for the most part coherent, but whatever his injuries are they need to be addressed quickly and because of this Jim is forced into an almost identical situation as the one from when he was a child. He keeps calling for Bones in fear.
Don’t follow so close, Jim.
How many times had Bones said that to him? And it was weird, how those words had time to repeat themselves in his brain - in Bones’ voice, nonetheless - as he watched it happen in front of him…watched it, and knew he was powerless to do anything to stop himself from becoming part of it.
He watched as the silver sedan ahead of him on the left veered off the road, towards the guardrail. The driver overcompensated, yanking the wheel to the right, causing his car to lurch to the side, and hit the red car in the middle lane. That car hit its brakes, swerved to the left…directly in Jim’s path.
And there was nothing he could do. He slammed on his brakes, but there wasn’t enough time to stop.
Don’t follow so close, Jim.
The collision was shocking in its violence. Metal screamed as wheels and brakes screeched, working against forward momentum. The incredible force of inertia threw bodies forward into steering columns and dashboards and, for the extremely imprudent, windshields. Seatbelts compressed soft tissue and soft organs, rupturing capillaries, cutting into skin. Airbags deployed, cushioning the impact slightly, for those lucky enough to have them.
Jim braced himself, gripped the wheel, squeezed his eyes closed, and didn’t register any of that.
-------------------------------
“Sir! Sir, can you hear me?”
“We’re gonna get you out, Sir. Can you tell me your name?”
Jim…it’s Jim. I need Bones…hurts…I can’t breathe…
He couldn’t see…couldn’t take a deep breath…wasn’t sure if he anyone heard him…if he even said anything out loud. And then there was nothing, just darkness…and darkness was good, cause there wasn’t any pain.
And then there was motion, and incredibly loud noise he tried to flinch away from…and he surfaced more this time…like looking up through a murky pond at diffused light. And he hurt…through his whole body he hurt…but he held on this time, forcing himself up and into the noisy, bright, confusing, waking world.
“Sir…can you hear me?”
Jim squinted, the person hovering above him finally coming into focus. He blinked, and everything slowly came into focus.
“Yes,” Jim whispered. He tried to take a deep breath, and couldn’t. “Can’t breathe…what…”
He tried to raise his head, and a gentle hand on his forehead held him down.
“Sir, you were in a car accident. You have some injuries, but you’re going to be okay. I’m Phil, and this is Casey. We’re getting ready to get you to the hospital, and you’re gonna be fine. I just need you to be still.”
Jim swallowed hard, tried again to sit up, and was again pressed down.
Phil left his hand there, stopping him from raising his head. “Sir…you need to be still.”
“No…no…let me up. Stop…where’s Bones? Bones…please…”
“Bones?” Casey repeated, looking at her partner as she took the patient’s blood pressure.
“He’s altered. Let the hospital know he may have a closed head injury,” Phil said quietly.
“Heart rate and bp are rising.”
“Ok, let’s pack him and transport.”
“No!” Jim said again, as forcefully as he could. An oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he immediately moved to take it off. “Please…I - I can’t.”
“Sir…you need to stay calm. We’re going to put this collar on you, to protect your spine….”
“No!” Jim gasped out, his chest heaving for air as he raised his arms to deflect the collar.
“Sir…you need to stay still…”
“Stop, please, stop…let go…let go of me!”
Concerned about what he could hear in the patient’s chest, and seeing that he was panicking, Phil made a quick decision. “Restraints,” he said quietly.
Weakened as he was, it took almost no time to secure Jim’s arms and legs, and then secure the c-spine collar as well, despite the patient’s protests. He replaced the oxygen mask as well, and finally, they were ready to go.
Panic tore through Jim, flooding his system with adrenaline and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. His lungs screamed for more oxygen than he was getting, and he tried to arch, gasping at a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, as he pulled against his arms and legs against the restraints…tried to scream but couldn’t get any sound out…tried to plead again for Bones…I need Bones! I need Bones, please!
The EMTs quickly loaded the patient into the ambulance, trying to reassure him the whole time. But he was inconsolable, and obviously in the grip of a panic attack. They were helpless to do anything, but provide all the supportive care they could until they could get him to the hospital.
------------------------------
“Not---altered,” Jim pressed out, a gasping breath between each word as he desperately tried to communicate with the e.r. doctor. “James---Kirk. Wednesday ---- morning ---April ---third.”
“Sir - Jim…you’re going to be okay, but one of your ribs has punctured your lung…we need to…”
“No! Withhold --- consent. ---No ---consent…no…”
Dr. Tavarkian watched the monitors, while listening to Jim’s chest. His heart rate was through the roof, he was shaking, tear tracks were evident on his face. The man was completely panicked, and injured, and withholding consent. So he did the only thing he could do.
“Hands off,” he ordered. “Everyone! Hands off, now. Smith and Petit, you two stay. Everyone else…out. Let’s give Jim some room.”
Jim watched with wide eyes as everyone who’d been surrounding him, hands all over him, cutting his clothes, readying procedures…as he struggled to communicate through the pain and fear and breathlessness that made him feel like he was dying and drowning and sending him into a claustrophobic tailspin of panic exacerbated by the collar and the mask and the restraints…until he thought his heart was going to explode and he was going to die. Right then. Without ever seeing Bones or hearing his voice again.
And where is he? Bones, please, Bones… He pulled against the restraints on his wrists and tried to turn his head, desperately wanting the collar and mask OFF. His breath whooshed in and out so loud in his ears, he could hardly hear anything else. The pain in his chest was getting worse, and every movement felt like a knife in his side.
Dr. Tavarkian had Smith and Petit carefully monitoring the patient’s vitals. This was an emergency situation that could get a lot worse very, very quickly. He had to get him to calm down enough to give them permission to continue. He rolled a stool to the bedside, sitting down and trying to make eye contact with him.
“Jim…tell me what I can do to make you feel better. You’re hurt. We want to help you…but we need you to let us.”
With everyone gone, and everything they were doing stopped, Jim felt less frantic. It still hurt to breathe, and he still felt like he wasn’t pulling full breaths, but he was able to breathe better, and he didn’t feel like he was dying anymore. Focusing for the first time on the face of the doctor, Jim felt tears he couldn’t control slip down the side of his face. “Take the collar off. Please. I can’t stand it…I c-can’t…”
Pressing his lips together, Tavarkian weighed the risks of that. “I have to do a quick exam first…to make sure you’re ok…and then we’ll have to send you for x-rays. Can you agree to that?”
“Yes…yes…just…take it off.”
Tavarkian spent a few minutes testing Jim’s reflexes and strength, asking him to squeeze his fingers, push with his feet against his hands, and a couple of other checks as well, all of which indicated the collar could be removed. So, making the final decision for the good of the patient, Tavarkian did.
And immediately, Jim breathed easier. The pain was still there, in his chest, to be sure…but having that collar off of him made such a huge difference to him.
“Okay, Jim…can we continue with treating your injuries now?”
“No…no consent for treatment,” Jim said immediately, his voice shaking. “I need to talk to Bones. To…to Leonard McCoy. Can you call him?”
“Yeah we can do that…” he raised his hand, keeping his eyes on Jim, and his voice gentle, and Petit put a cellphone in his hand. “Who is Leonard McCoy?”
“My husband…amazing doctor…neurologist. Please…I need him here. I can’t do this…I need him. Please…”
“Okay, Jim…can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“No…please just…” he stopped and his lower lip trembled as his tried to keep himself under control.
“Okay...just try to stay calm. What’s his number?”
Jim recited Bones’ cell number, hoping against hope he’d answer. He was teaching today…
Please, Bones…please answer.
.
Author: Caera1996
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: G
Summary/Notes: This is a Request Fill for McRaider in TBoPE/LAWG 'verse. It can be read as a standalone, however. The request was: Jim is in a car accident on his way to work. He's seriously injured but still for the most part coherent, but whatever his injuries are they need to be addressed quickly and because of this Jim is forced into an almost identical situation as the one from when he was a child. He keeps calling for Bones in fear.
Don’t follow so close, Jim.
How many times had Bones said that to him? And it was weird, how those words had time to repeat themselves in his brain - in Bones’ voice, nonetheless - as he watched it happen in front of him…watched it, and knew he was powerless to do anything to stop himself from becoming part of it.
He watched as the silver sedan ahead of him on the left veered off the road, towards the guardrail. The driver overcompensated, yanking the wheel to the right, causing his car to lurch to the side, and hit the red car in the middle lane. That car hit its brakes, swerved to the left…directly in Jim’s path.
And there was nothing he could do. He slammed on his brakes, but there wasn’t enough time to stop.
Don’t follow so close, Jim.
The collision was shocking in its violence. Metal screamed as wheels and brakes screeched, working against forward momentum. The incredible force of inertia threw bodies forward into steering columns and dashboards and, for the extremely imprudent, windshields. Seatbelts compressed soft tissue and soft organs, rupturing capillaries, cutting into skin. Airbags deployed, cushioning the impact slightly, for those lucky enough to have them.
Jim braced himself, gripped the wheel, squeezed his eyes closed, and didn’t register any of that.
-------------------------------
“Sir! Sir, can you hear me?”
“We’re gonna get you out, Sir. Can you tell me your name?”
Jim…it’s Jim. I need Bones…hurts…I can’t breathe…
He couldn’t see…couldn’t take a deep breath…wasn’t sure if he anyone heard him…if he even said anything out loud. And then there was nothing, just darkness…and darkness was good, cause there wasn’t any pain.
And then there was motion, and incredibly loud noise he tried to flinch away from…and he surfaced more this time…like looking up through a murky pond at diffused light. And he hurt…through his whole body he hurt…but he held on this time, forcing himself up and into the noisy, bright, confusing, waking world.
“Sir…can you hear me?”
Jim squinted, the person hovering above him finally coming into focus. He blinked, and everything slowly came into focus.
“Yes,” Jim whispered. He tried to take a deep breath, and couldn’t. “Can’t breathe…what…”
He tried to raise his head, and a gentle hand on his forehead held him down.
“Sir, you were in a car accident. You have some injuries, but you’re going to be okay. I’m Phil, and this is Casey. We’re getting ready to get you to the hospital, and you’re gonna be fine. I just need you to be still.”
Jim swallowed hard, tried again to sit up, and was again pressed down.
Phil left his hand there, stopping him from raising his head. “Sir…you need to be still.”
“No…no…let me up. Stop…where’s Bones? Bones…please…”
“Bones?” Casey repeated, looking at her partner as she took the patient’s blood pressure.
“He’s altered. Let the hospital know he may have a closed head injury,” Phil said quietly.
“Heart rate and bp are rising.”
“Ok, let’s pack him and transport.”
“No!” Jim said again, as forcefully as he could. An oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he immediately moved to take it off. “Please…I - I can’t.”
“Sir…you need to stay calm. We’re going to put this collar on you, to protect your spine….”
“No!” Jim gasped out, his chest heaving for air as he raised his arms to deflect the collar.
“Sir…you need to stay still…”
“Stop, please, stop…let go…let go of me!”
Concerned about what he could hear in the patient’s chest, and seeing that he was panicking, Phil made a quick decision. “Restraints,” he said quietly.
Weakened as he was, it took almost no time to secure Jim’s arms and legs, and then secure the c-spine collar as well, despite the patient’s protests. He replaced the oxygen mask as well, and finally, they were ready to go.
Panic tore through Jim, flooding his system with adrenaline and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. His lungs screamed for more oxygen than he was getting, and he tried to arch, gasping at a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, as he pulled against his arms and legs against the restraints…tried to scream but couldn’t get any sound out…tried to plead again for Bones…I need Bones! I need Bones, please!
The EMTs quickly loaded the patient into the ambulance, trying to reassure him the whole time. But he was inconsolable, and obviously in the grip of a panic attack. They were helpless to do anything, but provide all the supportive care they could until they could get him to the hospital.
------------------------------
“Not---altered,” Jim pressed out, a gasping breath between each word as he desperately tried to communicate with the e.r. doctor. “James---Kirk. Wednesday ---- morning ---April ---third.”
“Sir - Jim…you’re going to be okay, but one of your ribs has punctured your lung…we need to…”
“No! Withhold --- consent. ---No ---consent…no…”
Dr. Tavarkian watched the monitors, while listening to Jim’s chest. His heart rate was through the roof, he was shaking, tear tracks were evident on his face. The man was completely panicked, and injured, and withholding consent. So he did the only thing he could do.
“Hands off,” he ordered. “Everyone! Hands off, now. Smith and Petit, you two stay. Everyone else…out. Let’s give Jim some room.”
Jim watched with wide eyes as everyone who’d been surrounding him, hands all over him, cutting his clothes, readying procedures…as he struggled to communicate through the pain and fear and breathlessness that made him feel like he was dying and drowning and sending him into a claustrophobic tailspin of panic exacerbated by the collar and the mask and the restraints…until he thought his heart was going to explode and he was going to die. Right then. Without ever seeing Bones or hearing his voice again.
And where is he? Bones, please, Bones… He pulled against the restraints on his wrists and tried to turn his head, desperately wanting the collar and mask OFF. His breath whooshed in and out so loud in his ears, he could hardly hear anything else. The pain in his chest was getting worse, and every movement felt like a knife in his side.
Dr. Tavarkian had Smith and Petit carefully monitoring the patient’s vitals. This was an emergency situation that could get a lot worse very, very quickly. He had to get him to calm down enough to give them permission to continue. He rolled a stool to the bedside, sitting down and trying to make eye contact with him.
“Jim…tell me what I can do to make you feel better. You’re hurt. We want to help you…but we need you to let us.”
With everyone gone, and everything they were doing stopped, Jim felt less frantic. It still hurt to breathe, and he still felt like he wasn’t pulling full breaths, but he was able to breathe better, and he didn’t feel like he was dying anymore. Focusing for the first time on the face of the doctor, Jim felt tears he couldn’t control slip down the side of his face. “Take the collar off. Please. I can’t stand it…I c-can’t…”
Pressing his lips together, Tavarkian weighed the risks of that. “I have to do a quick exam first…to make sure you’re ok…and then we’ll have to send you for x-rays. Can you agree to that?”
“Yes…yes…just…take it off.”
Tavarkian spent a few minutes testing Jim’s reflexes and strength, asking him to squeeze his fingers, push with his feet against his hands, and a couple of other checks as well, all of which indicated the collar could be removed. So, making the final decision for the good of the patient, Tavarkian did.
And immediately, Jim breathed easier. The pain was still there, in his chest, to be sure…but having that collar off of him made such a huge difference to him.
“Okay, Jim…can we continue with treating your injuries now?”
“No…no consent for treatment,” Jim said immediately, his voice shaking. “I need to talk to Bones. To…to Leonard McCoy. Can you call him?”
“Yeah we can do that…” he raised his hand, keeping his eyes on Jim, and his voice gentle, and Petit put a cellphone in his hand. “Who is Leonard McCoy?”
“My husband…amazing doctor…neurologist. Please…I need him here. I can’t do this…I need him. Please…”
“Okay, Jim…can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“No…please just…” he stopped and his lower lip trembled as his tried to keep himself under control.
“Okay...just try to stay calm. What’s his number?”
Jim recited Bones’ cell number, hoping against hope he’d answer. He was teaching today…
Please, Bones…please answer.
.