Fic: A Walk in the Park (part 2)
A Walk in the Park
part 2
over here for part 1
The first nurse gave Peter a cold pack and asked about his pain level. The first doctor agreed that it was probably broken, ordered x-rays to see exactly which bones were involved, and asked if he wanted something for pain. Peter refused, to Diana's amusement. "You're going to want those later," she said. While they had a few minutes between visits by medical professionals Peter passed his revolver over to Diana.
"Would you check on Neal for me?"
"You want me to use your weapon on him?"
Peter laughed. "Please don't."
They were both distracted for a moment by a sudden rise in activity in the open area leading to the exit. "Wonder what that's all about," he said.
"Check on Neal. Sure, Boss, but why?"
"I don't know, something just seemed off."
"Maybe he's feeling guilty about all of this."
"No, there's more to it than that. He -"
"Mr. Burke, I'm here to take you to radiology," said the young man in dark blue scrubs pushing an empty wheelchair.
"I can walk," grumbled Peter. He was beginning to reconsider his position on pain medication.
"I'm sure you can, but you may not. Hospital policy," he replied.
Peter grunted.
"I'll check on Neal," Diana said, as Peter settled into the chair.
She walked out into the main waiting area looking for Neal and Jones. She spotted Jones standing about ten feet from a crowd of people wearing scrubs and lab coats, and assumed somehow Neal was at the center of it. "Caffrey?" she asked.
"Diana, he was shot with this dart at the park." She looked at the dart, then back at the rapid response team. She and Jones caught a glimpse of Neal as he was lifted onto a gurney. They picked up a few words spoken by the petite, far too young- looking doctor who was clearly in charge - "pupils pinpoint" - "oh-two levels 84 percent" - "respiration -come on, breathe for me" -"atropine" - "have to intubate -".
"I called Hughes," Jones said, "he's going to notify NYPD and get a team out to the park. One of us needs to be there. What's Peter's status?"
"He just went for x-rays. " They watched as Neal was rushed into the treatment area. Diana's expression had gone from mildly annoyed to very concerned. "This is really bad, isn't it?" Jones just nodded. Diana looked at the dart. "The hospital's probably going to need that. I'll go to the park. Keep me posted?"
***
The hospital activated its procedures for handling a hazardous materials incident. The head of the hospital laboratory packaged and arranged for the NYPD to collect and analyze the dart and its contents. Security and maintenance cleared the waiting room. Another team made sure it was safe before it could be put back into use. An occupational health specialist helped Jones with decontamination procedures before he could enter the treatment area, but his badge would only give him access to information needed for the criminal investigation.
One of the many specialists surrounding Neal was assigned to be Jones's liaison to the medical team. "Do you know what he was hit with?" Jones asked the liaison.
"Dr. Kiley - she's the attending doc in charge of this response - she thinks it might be one of the parathions. It's an insecticide." She paused. "Do you know this man personally?" Jones nodded. "Do you know if anyone has his medical power of attorney, and is there any way to remove the device on his ankle?"
"Agent Peter Burke has his power of attorney and the key to the tracking anklet. We came in here with Peter about an hour ago because he has a broken wrist. Last I heard he was going to radiology." She nodded and made a phone call.
"Do we need additional security for Mr. Caffrey? Should he be restrained?"
Jones thought about the Neal he knew tossing a rubber band ball in the office, joking with the team about alleged and hypothetical art thefts and forgeries. He recalled Neal facing down Ryan Wilkes with a gun pointed at his chest, stalling for time so the rest of the team could rescue Lindsey Gless from her kidnappers. He remembered Neal stepping between himself and David Lawrence's gun and saving his life when Neal was undercover, and Jones was following Neal. Then he pictured Neal in the waiting room, physically falling apart from some poison, now unconscious with a ventilator breathing for him.
"No. Neal Caffrey is the most non-violent man I know. He doesn't need security, he doesn't need to be restrained anymore than he already is."
"I' m sorry, Agent Jones, I had to ask," she said, responding to the anger Jones didn't even realize he gave voice to.
He took a calming breath. "Yeah, sorry, I consider him a friend. He doesn't deserve this."
******
The rapid response team had been working to stabilize Neal for over an hour when Peter returned on his way to be discharged. He was diverted around a crowded emergency isolation area and saw Jones pacing the narrow walkway near the central work stations.
"What's going on? Hospital security said Neal had a medical emergency when they asked for the key. Where's Diana?"
"Peter, Neal was right, someone tried to shoot you and Neal's been poisoned." Peter blanched and whipped his head in the direction Jones indicated. Jones handed Peter a small hazmat bag with Neal's anklet and key and gave him a status report, beginning with finding Neal in the waiting room to the latest update from the liaison. "If you don't need me here, Peter, I'd like to join Diana and NYPD." Peter could only nod.
Peter stood just beyond Neal's treatment area. He only got a glimpse inside before he was asked politely to step away and move closer to the work stations. In those few seconds he saw Neal's legs jerking a couple times under a blanket, lots of IV tubing, wrists wrapped with padded restraints securing them to the sides of the bed, and his bare chest rising and falling steadily, the result of a machine breathing for him. Peter grit his teeth and pulled out his phone.
Another half hour passed before Dr. Kiley moved away from Neal's bed, stripped off her outer gown, booties, gloves and face mask and dropped them into a hazardous waste bag. She stepped over to Peter and gently took him by his uncast arm. "Agent Burke? Let's talk," she said, and led him to a small office with a door. Peter's stomach clenched; in his experience good news could be shared in a hallway.
"First of all, Mr. Caffrey is stable for now. The NYPD lab did confirm that the vial contained fairly high grade methyl parathion, which affects a number of organ systems and biological processes. Mr. Caffrey's most immediate problem was that his respiratory system was shutting down. Fortunately, there are antidotes, and I'm confident we were able to administer them before there was any permanent damage. We'll know for sure after we finish treatment and can watch him for a few days. We have him on a ventilator for now. I'd like to keep him on it for a bit until I'm sure his oxygen level stays where it should be."
"Do you know how long he'll be here?"
"Well, if he doesn't rebound, I'd like him here in the hospital four days at a minimum. Some individuals will have delayed symptoms up to ninety-six hours after exposure. If he's one of those people, I'd rather have him here. Mr. Caffrey was actually displaying a lot of the symptoms common to this pesticide, the respiratory issues were just the most critical."
"I need to see him. Please."
"Sure, as soon as the decon team is finished. I don't think he had any trace other than what was on his shirt, but it's protocol, just to make sure he's not having any continuous exposures. We'll have his clothes and personal items bagged for you, or we can send it to the NYPD lab."
"Does he have to be restrained?"
She gave him an understanding smile. "I have him on an anti-anxiety drug because being intubated is not the most pleasant feeling, but I really don't want to give him anything stronger. As soon as I'm sure he's able to breathe on his own we'll pull the tube and remove the restraints. A lot of people try to pull the tube out, even when they're sleeping, so we really have to use them. They're not painful." Peter wondered how quickly Neal would slip out of them, even in his current state, and smiled the smallest smile.
She walked to the door. "You can wait here, if you like. I'll let you know as soon as you can see him."
About fifteen minutes later a nurse popped her head in the door and told him he could see Neal. Dr. Kiley and several others were at his bedside. He seemed to be sleeping. He was wearing a hospital gown with heart monitoring leads poking from the top, and a pulse-ox was on his right index finger. IVs were in both arms. The lower part of his face was obscured by the ventilator tube and tape to hold it in place. Softly chiming monitoring screens seemed to be everywhere.
Peter put his hand on Neal's head. His hair was damp and had a slight disinfectant smell. "Hey, Neal," Peter said softly, not expecting a response. But Neal opened his eyes and looked around in a daze until he caught sight of Peter. "Hey," Peter said again, ruffling his hair. Neal's eyes widened with panic as he tried to speak.
"Doctor?" asked Peter worriedly.
"Mr. Caffrey, I'm Dr. Kiley," she said, taking one of Neal's bound hands in hers.
Neal was twisting in the bed, pulling against the restraints and trying to breathe over the ventilator.
"Neal, Neal, calm down, it's okay. You're going to be okay, but you have to try to relax," Peter said, running his hand from Neal's hair to his cheek so that Neal would face Peter. Damn, he thought, Jones did not exaggerate - he really doesn't have pupils. "Please. You're going to be okay."
Neal seemed to calm slightly, but it was taking an obvious amount of effort. He nodded, and Peter moved his hand to Neal's other wrist. Dr. Kiley spoke again.
"Mr. Caffrey, when we first saw you, you were having trouble breathing on your own, so we had to intubate you. I'm willing to remove the tube but if you have any problems I'll have to put it back in. Is that alright with you?"
He nodded.
"Agent Burke, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."
Neal shook his head and blinked rapidly.
"It will just be a minute, Mr. Caffrey, I promise," she said. Peter could hear the velcro on the straps open as he stepped past the curtain into the hall. "On three, I want you to cough as hard as you can for me," she said. Peter heard Neal cough, then gag, then gasp and draw a few loud breaths. Dr. Kiley was murmuring encouragingly to him, then it was quiet while she listened to his lungs.
"Good," she said, "you sound so much better than you did a couple hours ago. I would like you on oxygen, though. Joe, two liters for now," she said to the respiratory therapist standing by the corner of the bed. He set Neal up with a nasal cannula.
"Thank you," a voice Peter barley recognized as Neal's replied.
and on to part 3 (the end)